JustRunJustLiveJustBe

When I was little, I thought getting wishes to come true just took the same effort as everything else you wanted. Wish really hard.

So, when I wanted a new jean jacket or a pair of L.A. Gear, I would just sit, close my eyes as tightly as possible, picture the image of what I wanted and wish for it. I spent hours perfecting this and the fact that it worked once in a while (like when a birthday would roll around) was enough to keep me wishing.

Here I sit tonight after another twelve hour work day and a half-hearted four mile run and all I can think about is whether or not I can wish hard enough to get here:

Ivan’s

I really wish someone would write this book. Contrary to what many women believe, there are guys out there who will continually attempt to be around you though you are showing absolutely no sign of being into them.

About two months ago I went on a blind date. This guy and I spoke on the phone a couple times and the conversations were pretty good so I wasn’t surprised that when we went out, we were actually able to talk. The thing about it was, that’s all there was. Sure we had things in common but it wasn’t anything extraordinary. No butterflies. No spark. No major first impression.

So, I told him I had a nice time, gave him a hug and said goodbye. He asked if he could call me but it was only regarding some biking stuff I had for him and we didn’t really talk about going out again. I was pretty sure he was on the same page- no chemistry. Well, he called. And called. And called some more. At first, I’d talk to him and chat like friends do. Then, I realized we were, in fact, not on the same page. I started saying I was busy and that I didn’t think I could make plans any time soon. A sure sign for a guy, right? Wrong. He just waited three weeks and called again. We chatted, I was polite, he asked, again. So, I had to say “No thanks. I just don’t see dating in our future.” Fine. Blunt. But no, he replies with: “So we just go out as friends. No big deal. I think you’re really cool, even if you’re just my friend.”

So here’s what I’m thinking:

1. Cool. Mature guy. Knows how to be friends. Doesn’t blow you off. Could lead to many other opportunities in life, like a new mountain biking buddy (which is always good) or,

2. Lame. Pining. Could get annoying. Or even worse.

So, though it’s not common and this guy is not likely to spend nights crying over the girl that he can’t get, it turns out that men may need a book too.

Because it may be a while before the right book comes along, here are a few sure-fire signs for the guys that a girl is just not that into you:

- She doesn’t call you.

- She takes more than two days to return your calls and though she’s nice, she’s also really short with you.

- She ignores your calls altogether.

- She doesn’t laugh at your jokes, even if you have a winning personality.

- Unless she’s 16, she’s seen Casablanca, she’s heard every romantic song in the world, she’s read all the poetry and none, none of that is going to “woo” her into your arms. That’s the kind of thing that might impress a girl after she already thinks she’s into you. That was a little digression but nonetheless, important.

- Last, but hopefully the most obvious of them all, she gives you hints (if not comes right out and says) she’s dating someone else.

I assure you, there has never been a single, available woman in the history of the world that will ignore you for three weeks if she likes your attention. If she’s available and into you, you will know. If she’s doing any or all of the above, man up and move on.

If you want to keep the girl as a friend, tell her so and then leave her alone. If you can manage this, she might even think you’re normal and set you up with one of her friends.

I mentioned yesterday how my grandmother always asks me if I’ve “met anyone interesting lately.” I know this is her subtle, nonchalant way of asking me if I’m dating anyone. No matter the current state of affairs, so to speak, I always answer the same: I meet interesting people all the time.

As far as why I always answer the same, I suppose I have a lot of reasons for it. They vary from shallow and lazy to deep and well, deeper. The obvious reason is that no matter how much wine I’ve had at Thanksgiving dinner, a conversation with my grandmother about my love life is not my idea of fun. The more truthful reason is that I keep this information pretty close to me, no matter who’s doing the asking. I guard the information as if only the right combination of time, reassurance and love will be the one thing that will ever allow me to let it go. It’s mine, until I decide otherwise.

I sort of know why I do this, I’m careful by nature. I’m doing it to protect them. And I’m doing it to protect me. If I don’t tell them what’s going on then they can’t be disappointed when there’s no news to share. Also, if I don’t have good news then I won’t have bad news, either. But does it make sense?

I’m not trying to turn this into a “love never works for me” kind of thing though, because that’s not true. The truth is, love has worked for me. I’ve had a first crush, a first kiss, and a first love; both as a kid and as an adult. And for what I knew about it at the time, it was pretty good. Break ups aside, I’m alright with it. I’ve learned and will continue to learn; which really is a good thing most of the time. Knowing this makes it even harder for me to understand why I keep a lot of the details to myself. I’m not bitter about love, I just don’t want to talk about it-or anything to do with it. Convincing, right?

Today though, I’m beginning to understand a little more. I’m house-sitting for some family this week and while I was wandering around their house looking for the cat, the hundreds of pictures of their family kept capturing my attention. No matter where I looked, the pictures were everywhere; mom, dad, two boys, one cat, one dog. Then I noticed other things like handmade birthday cards and art work. There were painted rocks: “To Mom, I love you most.” There were carved wooden sticks with initials and dates. I stood staring at markings on the wall where the increasing height of the kids was measured and marked for the last eighteen years and it began to sink in.

There was a past and a future all wrapped up in this house. There were wedding pictures of the beginning of this journey and all the moments that followed. There were lives and futures and hearts all wrapped up in this one place. I know these people well and I see them all the time but I would have never guessed that one of my greatest moments with them would be when they weren’t even there. I realized the value of that. It’s special and precious. It should be protected.

Before now, I thought I wasn’t seeing things right or thinking clearly. I considered that it might be wrong for me to not just “put it all out there.” Why shouldn’t I share? Why shouldn’t everyone know? Not now though. Now, it feels right. As long as I don’t build a wall, a little safeguard is okay. It’s my life, my future and my heart. If there’s anything worth a little protecting, it’s that.

Two things that scare me so much I may not be able to sleep tonight:

1. My 80-year-old grandmother reads blogs.

2. She’s thinking of starting her own.

It will be a blog all about asking me if I’ve “met anyone interesting lately”, cooking, and Avon.

Hug the kids. Run for the hills. The end is near.

Sometimes I have such good days doing absolutely nothing. I often think of Mary Tyler Moore on these days because, you know… “who can take a nothing day and make it all seem worthwhile?”

This morning I got to sleep in three whole hours late. It was already warm and sunny (read: above 40 degrees) and before even getting out of bed, I decided which flip flops I’d be wearing today.

I went for a five mile run that felt like two and felt great the entire time. This might have had something to do with the iPod’s odd decision to get stuck in the early 90’s and only play Pearl Jam, Nirvana and Toad the Wet Sprocket. I know. So my 26 year-old brain started to drift back to my 13ish year-old brain and I think after the third or fourth song, it convinced my body it was thirteen again, too. Which explains the youthful energy and the way I got all flustered when I passed the boys on the running path. Oh no, I forgot, that’s been happening since I was thirteen.

I actually got to run errands like a normal person, too. I wasn’t some crazy girl running all around downtown trying to fit everything into a lunch hour. It was calm and timed and relaxed. And there were no lines at the bank or the post office; I just breezed in and out. And really, who ever gets to breeze anywhere anymore?

I had a late lunch with a friend and caught up on work, boys and sports bras without having to inhale food as if it was going to be my last meal. On the way back from lunch I took a detour and went by the park. I sat on a bench and read the newspaper for almost an hour, just because I could.

I’m glad to know that even in the chaos of an average life, I haven’t forgotten how to revel in the normalcy of it all. Taking time to enjoy days like this reminds me of what’s important. It reminds me of what’s real.

And then I came home and cleaned dog puke off the carpet. Reality is so refreshing.

Since I so often wonder if certain things that happen in life are a good thing or a bad thing, I’m starting a “Good Thing or Bad Thing?*” post. I’d like to say I’ll always have “Good Thing or Bad Thing? Friday” or something like that but honestly, that’s too much commitment.

Instead, this is Part 1:

Manager (boss’ boss): So you’re working early today?

JustRun: Yep, just a little. Have to get some stuff together for Monday.

Manager: Well, I’m glad you’re going to get everything done. I see you’ve worn boots to the office today?

JR: Yep. They’re very comfortable.

Manager: So you’re getting everything done, in jeans and boots?

JR: Yes, I think I am.

Manager: I should wear my boots to the office. I’ve never thought of that before.

JR: Yes, you should.

Manager: Cool. We should all wear jeans and boots to the office.

JR: I agree.

Okay, kids. Good thing or bad thing? Or, just very weird thing?

* I just realized this sounds like “Deal or No Deal.” But it’s not like that. There’s only a fraction of the excitement and none of the prize money.

I watched American Idol last night. Not to see who got booted. Not because I’m secretly in love with Simon.
Nope. I watched so I could see Barry Manilow. I’ll probably have to get into my love for Barry another time but for now, I’ll just say it was a “can’t miss” for me.

Anyway, as I watched Barry, I noticed something about him. His hair was darker. And so was Ryan Seacrest’s. And recently, so is mine. A few months ago I said goodbye to ten years of highlights and I’ve often wondered if I made the right decision to go dark. As insignificant as this may seem, it was actually huge for me. As a kid, I always had blonde hair. But as I got into the mid to late teen years, my hair started getting darker. One day, on a trip to L.A., (which I will always blame for the beginning of my never-ending personal appearance criticism problem) I got highlights. For the next ten years, I was always some wonderful shade of blonde. And I loved it.

Late last year though, I decided I’d had enough. I went to the salon and asked for my natural color back. Of course, it was darker than I thought it would be and I’ve questioned keeping it ever since. It just seems less interesting. Less, well, fun. Oh how cliche, I might puke just from typing that.

Now though, I know it will be okay. If Barry Manilow and Ryan Seacrest can go dark, so can I. And, as an added bonus, this little revelation has made me realize that as long as I continue to measure my style decisions against Barry Manilow and Ryan Seacrest, I will always be doing okay.

As if I weren’t cool enough already.

Update: I’ve been informed that Barry, in fact, does not have dark hair. Apparently, it’s just the roots. I stand corrected. But I’m still cool.