Master of Disaster

Hello, blog. How do ya like being neglected, just like the others? Thought you were special, eh? Well you're a fool!

Nearly four months have passed since my last post, and I cannot honestly say that anything of great significance has occurred. I'm very nearly through with my first semester of school, and am close to getting my first ever straight A report card. (are they called report cards in college? eh? seems a bit juvenile) However, I can honestly say that it wasn't a big achievement, taking into consideration the "Dur, easy" factor of the courses I took. Computer stuff, mostly. Technical writing. 'S not exactly rocket science, yeah? Still, I suppose I cannot take everything away from my victory, no matter how insignificant. After all, I managed to earn a 4.0 average (I think) while functioning as a single parent, thus earning said grades whilst doing the "single mom" thing. Not bad, I guess. It's something.

Socially, things remain the same. I did manage to ease my ass out of my comfort zone long enough to entice a man to sit at my kitchen table and eat my sub-par cooking, but that's as far as it went, and I suspect that's as far as it will go. I'm not sure what ultimately worked as the repellent: my weight, (though, in my defense, I've lost a significant amount (60+ pounds) and continue to shed the excess poundage) my awkward prattling, the awful food, or all of the above. I suspect that it might be the latter.

As a woman who was born and raised in a culture that teaches women to blame themselves for everything, I'm rather quick to assume the apparent lack of interest was all because of little ole me, and all the things I did wrong. I have, on occasion, entertained the idea that maybe, just maybe, this bloke is the one with the issues. And I can't help but to be a little annoyed at his blindness to all the things we have in common, even those that are less than stellar. Difficult, aloof people have an awful time with relationships - this is fact. And I suppose if you're a bed-hopper it helps to ease the loneliness. I, however, am not, for reasons both practical and personal. Men don't frequent my bed, sadly, but rather an impressive collection of objects that are to be kept in drawers and hidden under clothes makes their rotation on a constant basis. And though it helps me to unburden, I can't help but to chuckle at the stereotypical lifestyle I've found myself in. I have not landed man. I tried, and I failed. So, it's back to the sock drawer for me. Well, hey.

To say that I'm disappointed would be an understatement, but the fact remains that there's nothing that can be done. Also, sometimes, you're just not going to be someone's cup of tea...no matter how much stuff you have in common with them. A lot can be said for animal magnetism. Chemistry. It's primal. Biological. And few of us have risen above it. So it appears as though common interests aren't enough. Well, duh.

I have made goals that go unsaid, devised plans that I am determined to see flower. There's plenty of fish in the sea, yeah?

Back to the boat I go.