Notes from the Red Bird House

It was a phone number, not an ulterior motive. I guess I should back up. I gave my phone number to a woman today. She's a co-worker and maybe a new friend. She's virtually 'married' and I've been very (VERY) clear that I love being single so much that I don't date. Still, for whatever reason, I wanted her to have my phone number. Presumably so she could use it. Unfortunately, the day was such that all I could do was pass it to her sixth grade biology class style folded up and on the run. I was speaking to another co-worker at the time and rushing to an off-site meeting. I didn't have time to talk and explain and give it to her properly. As I think about it, the clandestine-ish nature of the hand off might have made it seem like I had an ulterior motive. Crap. At the time, I didn't even think about it. I wrote out my number so I could swing by her on my way out and give it to her. Properly. With explanation. Like, 'Hey, here's my number...if you e...

I almost jumped for joy. Almost. It would have been completely inappropriate and hard to explain. Was I jumping to celebrate being right or to celebrate the 'truth'? Assuredly the answer was 'both', but I never would have admitted to that. Not openly. Not yet anyway. And probably not in the near future. Suffice it to say that progress was made today. My intuition was vindicated, even though I'd long since chalked it up to wishful thinking and held out little hope that I would ever be proven right. For tonight, though, I'm happy. Will I take action based on what I know? Hardly. When have I ever? It's just not something I do. And really, what action am I supposed to take? Cross a line? Make a grand pronouncement? Not a chance. Of course, they say you can't get something from nothing (In fact, I said this to a friend just today). However, in this and similar cases, inaction is probably the most prudent choice. I'm not saying forever, but definitely fo...

I feel like I should write tonight, so I'm writing. I haven't posted much at all this month. Granted the semester started two weeks ago and I've been kind of taken up with that. Frankly writing is the absolute last thing I want to do when I'm finally done doing all the things I need to do. I used to love it and I suppose I still do. It's just that... Well, my brain and body are both on overload, and writing takes most of one and a little of another (I'll leave it to the reader to figure out which is which). Needless to say, my intrinsic motivation is nearly non-existent. I wish the same could be said for the extrinsic. Sadly, even though I'm currently exhausted, I still hear that niggling voice of obligation - 'You started this blog. You need to post something'. Ugh... Yes, you're right, Niggling Voice. Dammit. When I get like this I usually resort to a Top Ten List. It kills two birds with one stone, so to speak. I get an easy (enough) post an...

I didn't play well last night. I think it was a combination of things. I went to class against my better judgement. I didn't fee like playing, which is moderately unusual for me. First bottom line - It was cold and I'm tired of being cold. Second bottom line - I'd already hit for an hour earlier in the day and my partner was a lot better looking than Mike McVay the pro leading the evening clinic. I like Mike and really enjoy his 'ring-ring' drills, but yesterday I just wasn't feeling it and my game paid the price. I could blame any number of things - I was tired; it was hormones (I always play badly right before my period starts); it was cold; I hadn't played in a week; I was preoccupied with already being behind just three days into the new semester; my contacts were bad; the pressure of being the only woman in class which was only exacerbated by playing horrifically bad. It doesn't help that I'd been playing so well for so long. Unfortunately...

I wonder how this statement would go over - 'If I could find a woman just like you [but not straight or married], I'd actually consider dating'. I guess I'd be flattered, though I'd probably feel the impending doom that invariably comes with a backhanded compliment. It's like when women say that I'd make the perfect man or tell me that if I was a man they would date me. At first blush it seems cool, flattering even, then comes the roll of thunder in the distance. Wait a minute... So, I'm only good enough if I'm a man. That is of course a rhetorical assumption that I never voice to anyone, but I don't think I'm too far off the mark. After all, no one's ever jumped the fence or even suggested that they might. By virtue of being female, I'm a non-entity. Eh... I'm used to it. So, right back at you, Ladies. 'If I could find a woman like you [who dated women], I'd consider dating'. Notice I didn't say, 'I'd da...

I arrived on the scene of 2013 single. By no means was this a surprise nor was it some kind of tragedy. I've started (and ended) most years single so it's business as usual for me. And contrary to popular belief, I'm not kidding myself when I say that I'm good with it. All of it. Being single. Living single. Ending years. Starting years. And everything in between. I told a friend recently that had I had a girlfriend in August, I wouldn't have one now. I said this in December shortly after successfully (read: 4.0) completing my first semester of graduate school. The look on her face said that she didn't exactly believe me and I guess, in all honesty, my statement may not be exactly true. At best it would have been a trade off. I'd have had to choose between spending time with my girlfriend and doing school work. Here's the easy math: Choosing schoolwork = 4.0 = break up with girlfriend after twenty million ultimatums OR Choosing girlfriend = < 4.0 =...