High Anxiety

Do you ever wonder how you get yourself into such a naturally untenable position? Well, I've managed to get myself into two. And I'm seriously wishing that I had some type of prescription drug habit to help me cope. Dr. House? You there with the Vicodan?

I'm not a social creature. I'm pretty sure some people would classify me as downright anti-social or as my new beau so politely put it, a little on the reclusive side. To clarify though, Im not mean spirited nor do I think most people are somehow bad. I just don't have the mingling skills most girls seem to acquire somewhere along the way, so unless I know someone, I don't really know what to say.

But this weekend, I have two huge (one figuratively and one literally) social events. Gah. Why me?

The first is the most emotionally signifcant -- a birthday dinner for the new beau's sister. That is happening tonight (supposedly anyway -- I still have no details!). Which means, in addition to his mother and son, to whom I was briefly re-introduced to last weekend, I get to meet and hang out with his dad, his sister, her husband and presumably her three-year old daughter. That's a lot of people. And because he'll have his son, whom he hasn't seen all week, his attention will rightfully be on him, not me. So I'm kinda gonna be out there on my own. Thankfully, it's a birthday party, so hopefully the focus will be on his sister, so I won't have to talk much.

The second is literally the bigger of the two -- a karate tournament. Which means that I've somehow decided that it's OK to put myself in a situation where people are going to stare at me. Fortunately, most people don't care about the girls, so the crowd watching me will be significantly smaller than if I was one of the guys. But there will still be a degree of people watching and yes, judging what I'm doing. There's obviously a lot less talking involved in this, but there's still an awful lot of people I have to interact with.

So gentle readers, please say a kind prayer to the deity of your choice for me tonight and tomorrow. I think it's Nietsche who said that what doesn't kill us, makes us stronger. If that's true, I'll be giving Achilles, Xena and Muhammad Ali a run for their money by Sunday.

The Surreal Life

Remember when you were little and you had these ideas about what life would be like when you were all grown up? Because I'm not much younger than Methusaleh, my initial thoughts were something like my parents had -- I would become a housewife with lots of kids and a husband who wore a suit and went off to work every day. Obviously things have turned out much differently for me. Which is probably better. I'm a littel ADD, which works out GREAT in advertising, but probably not so much for a housewife. What I'm trying to say is that I'm used to curve balls in life and have abandoned Plan A through about Plan H.


This weekend, I re-met my new beau's mom and son. (I had met his mom during the previous relationship and his son about 4 years ago totally randomly at a AAA office) As I sat in the same dining room I once sat in 20 years ago, watching my ex- and now current boyfriend interacting with a son who is just 7 years younger than he was when we met, I'm just blown away at how circular life is. I mean, who could have predicted when we split up 17 years ago that we'd end up right back where we started? And I wanted so much back then to have ended up like this.


I don't want to get ahead of myself because I still don't know how far this can go. And I absolutely still cherish the life I had with my husband. So I'm absolutely not in the "this was meant to be" kind of mindset. We've both obviously have a ton of issues to deal with, both separately and as a couple. But just the sense of deja vu or deja future or whatever that I had in that dining room was cool.

The first rule of Fight Club

So, I've talked a little about my karate club. Some vital background info: We have four paying members -- two boys and two girls (let's call the others Ginger, Gilligan and the Skipper). The club is in some serious financial trouble because our dues don't really cover the rent, but our master (from herein to be referred to as the Professor) is covering the difference in hopes that the economy will turn around. In addition to the financial stress, there is a huge gap of talent between the students. Suffice it to say that Gilligan and the Skipper are really, really good and Ginger and I are, well, about what you'd expect for 30ish and 40ish women who aren't all that athletic. The boys don't particularly like to work out with us because they don't see us as much of a challenge.

At the tournament on Saturday, Ginger and I were talking to our young champion from my blog over the weekend (Gilligan). as we watched different sparring matches. Somewhere in the conversation, he happened to let it slip that he, the Skipper and a number of our former male students were participating in a "fight club" to hone their sparring skills. At our school. For free. And this whole thing was being directed by one of the other teachers in our school. Who I'll call Mr. Howell.

I thought it was odd that Ginger and I weren't included -- we are the only ones in our club who aren't. But we've never participated in tournaments, so I didn't think too much about it. Ginger did, though. She was thoroughly offended and feels that our dues are what's keeping the school alive, as well as funding a fight club that we aren't allowed to participate. So she confronted the Professor at our Monday class. I could tell right away that he was uncomfortable talking about it, but she was furious.

So I go to class on Wednesday and I'm the only one there. The Professor is freaked out because now Mr. Howell is pissed off because the fight club was supposed to be a secret. Mr. Howell then emails Ginger and I inviting us to participate in said fight club. But he's angry with Gilligan for telling us about the club and has now ex-communicated him not keeping it a secret.

I know that discretion is the better part of valor, but really? Gilligan can't play because he spilled some big secret? When he's the only champion we've got? And now the Professor and Mr. Howell aren't speaking, Mr. Howell isn't speaking to Gilligan, the Professor is frustrated with Ginger. And I'm stuck in the middle. We're not talking about teenagers, here. Most of the parties involved (with the exception of poor Gilligan) are in their 30s, 40s or 50s. So why do I feel like I'm back in high school with the bickering, name-calling and cliques? Seriously, next time, can I just fight a schizophrenic Ed Norton??????

And the winner for best drama is...

There's a curse out there that goes something like "May you live in interesting times." I have long believed in this. For past 5 and a half years, I've lived a very quiet existence. And I really like that. It's not just that I don't like drama, I also worry way too much about everything. So really, things are better off when I'm just worried about getting home in time to walk my dogs.

Things started getting a little more interesting when I had my not-date, which led to a sort-of-date, which led to a definite date, which is leading up to possibly something more. Which is exciting and wonderful. Except we both have two very eccentric families to deal with. And for most people, this would not be a problem. Holidays and special events, otherwise, who cares, right? Well, I have the meddling family from hell. I do my best to set boundaries, but I will confess that when I was newly widowed, I needed their help -- with everthing from home repair to legal issues. And they sank in the claws and haven't backed off since.

His situation is even more complicated. Because he had a child at a rather young age, he is just now going back to school. And so that he can afford to go back to school and help support his son, he's living with his parents. Yes, that's right -- that means that there are two generations of his family I have to worry about making a good impression on. And because of our rather complicated history (including a lot of crying on my part) and his current lack of employment, my family is not positively disposed toward him. And while, in the long run, I don't really care, I don't need the lectures.

I know that anyone reading this would be thinking, oh surely, Trixie, this is so not a big deal. And it probably wouldn't be if it wasn't coupled with drama no. 2 -- the karate school soap opera. More on that tomorrow. If I'm not dead from High School Musical overload.

The Art of War

I belong to a tiny little martial arts club. We have four real members and about four others who show up every now and then. Today, three of us went to a tournament. Two of us (including me) were too nervous to sign up to fight. We've only been doing this a little over a year, so we didn't feel qualified. 

The one who did is one of the people I admire most right now. He is just now 21, has a two-year-old daughter and is living with his parents while he's trying to go to school. A while back, his mother got really, really sick, but they don't have insurance. So now they have no money. Needless to say, the odds are really stacked against him. One of my other classmates and I have been taking private lessons from him, both so that we can improve our skills, and also so that he can have money to attend our martial arts classes.

Today, he made us proud. He fought beautifully. He has skills way above his belt level and took on a much more experienced fighter.  And won. Despite all of the things that have to be going on in his mind, all of his worries and concerns, he was able to concentrate enough to do what he needed to do to win. He's putting the same amount of commitment and passion into school, because he wants to be a cop someday. He's seen some of the worst that many people can see and he still believes in working toward making the world a better place.

I don't think I'll ever be the fighter in the ring that he is. But I hope that I have the courage to fight to make things better that he does.

My Non-Date Part Deux

So just to wrap things up, because I don't like to leave things hanging, my movie excursion with the ex was not a date. I don't think. He bought dinner and the movie tickets, but there was nothing romantic whatsoever about the entire evening. That's not to say I didn't have a good time.

There is something very comforting about being with someone who has known you for 20 years and has seen you at your very worst and is still willing to hang out with you. And that as much crap as we've both been through, neither of us has really fundamentally changed. He's still the geeky comic book guy that doesn't seem to understand that I'm not all that fond of sci-fi unless there are hot actors involved and I'm still the idealist that tries to talk about stuff no one else cares about and he's patient enough to listen. Or at least pretend to, which is more than most people do.

I think we'll be friends. Not the soul mates I once thought we would be, but not strangers either. And it's good to have someone to hang out with.

A Non-Date

So, to follow up on an earlier post, eHarmony guy has vanished off the face of this earth, which oddly doesn't bother me. I'm not even suffering from a bruised ego. He was cute and seemed to have a generous nature (I'm basing this on him being a teacher and adopting a stray dog), but he did like sports a bit too much and he has the same name as my husband. Which would be ... well, awkward, in the long run.

But the ex on Facebook has stuck around and we're going to see a movie tonight. And I'm really not sure what that means or what I want it to mean. Up until now, our communications have been pretty un-romantic. (We've discussed Alexander the Great's military tactics and sexual politics, the general state of education in the U.S., why neither of us really cared about the Oscars, my work, his school, etc. -- you know, normal stuff.) The movie thing came up after we both decided that we really do want to see Slum Dog. He had asked me about another movie previously, but not in a hey-do-you-want-to-see-it-together way. So, bottom line is that we're going to see a movie tonight.

I actually didn't think too much about the whole situation until he asked about logistics, i.e., where to meet and when. Because we want to grab some food before the movie, I'm going right from work. So that leaves three options: him picking me up at work, me picking him up at his house or meeting at the theatre. So I suggested meeting him at the theatre. I mean, I'm not sure that this is technically a date, so if I was going with anyone else, that's what I would do.

So now, I'm starting to get a little unnerved. Which, given my levels of social anxiety, isn't really that hard to do. It's just that one of the reasons I've been so happy to talk to him is because I've been so comfortable with him. So hopefully once we're face to face, I'll be comfortable again. Otherwise, I have a feeling that I'm going to once again regret giving up red wine for Lent and wishing that I was at home with my dogs re-watching Season One of Prison Break for the 1oth time.