To Kill or to Chill?

First thing's first- salsa dancing is hard. Zuma is like salsa on meth. Therefore, Zuma class followed by a night of salsa dancing is a bad plan, but a great work out- just a little FYI.

Moving on, I've been wondering all morning, what's the difference between being a doormat and being easy going? I think it might have something to do with letting things go that you can't change (thanks serenity prayer) but I'm having trouble walking the line between the two options.

My inquiry is sparked by two things. First, I'm in line for a new contract at the school I work at. I know what I want: to be English coordinator for the middle school and I have a certain number in mind for my salary. With these two things, I will sign a contract to stay for next year. If not, I'm going to have to seriously think about it. But do I go to them and say- 'this is what I want'? Or do I wait for them to offer and then counter with what I'm looking for? Who knows, they might have a way higher number in mind... or way lower. So do I sit back and wait or actively push my own agenda?

Secondly, I'm currently in a relationship. The ex of the guy keeps popping into the picture. They have a good relationship, and I'm all for being friends with ex's. I'm putting on the "chill girlfriend" front, repressing any jealousy or urges to scream, "If she calls you again, I'll shank a

hoe!", because, you know, that would not be very chill. So last night he gets a call from her at 5 am. I hear her tell him she's outside and ask if he's busy... (this is the part where I am trying my hardest not to grab the phone or better yet, walk outside) Like a good boy, he tells her he's happily asleep with the girlfriend he loves and she hangs up. The whole thing seems very sketchy. So what is my plan of action here readers? Is it a doormat move to let him handle it? Would it look bad for me to politely ask her to stop such tomfoolery? (Ask her with my fists? I mean....)

I know I'm in charge of my own life, making my own destiny. But at what point should I bulldoze my way to my own goals and when should I allow life to offer me what it has to give? Hmm.

A Little Masochism in the Morning!

I have a bad habit. Two actually, but it's the same habit in different forms. I love punishment. Like all problems, it's best to blame the mother. When I was little, probably old enough to understand she was joking (mostly), my mother would brush my hair- hard. She didn't have time to gingerly work around the knots. When I would yelp, she would "lovingly" smack me on the top of the head with the back of the brush and tell me it's the price of beauty. Ahh, the ways the rabbit hole twists. I'm sure there are more origins of my slightly masochistic ways, but the end result is- I get some satisfaction from suffering. The two main ways I self inflict this punishment is with shoes and men.

We'll start with the former. I love shoes, I love the way they look lined up in my closet, I love the way they feel when I slip them on, I love everything about them. Specifically, I adore high heels. The higher the better. Which means I love heels that hurt. My hands down favorite pair of heels are my gold glitter ones. The first time I wore them, my feet bled from the glitter rubbing the sensitive part under my ankle bone. I have scars from that night. Do you think I stopped wearing them? No. I keep them for special nights; the logic being that, it's not a special night unless I'm in pain. Wow, that came out a little more twisted than I had hoped. This is what blogging is about right? Uncovering things about yourself? Anybody? (crickets squeaking) Back to shoes! The weird part is, when I'm buying shoes, I don't think about how comfortable they are. I worry about how they look, what I will match them with, if I have some like them, everything that should come second to whether or not they will hurt me. Pain is not a factor. The similarities between this questionable habit and my choice of men are bountiful.

Ahh, boys. Sigh. When I think back on the "important" romantic relationships of my life, I realize they were all incredibly... painful, for lack of a softer word. Ups, downs, fights, break ups- the works. Admittedly, they were also full of intense love. Heartbreaking love, painful love, love that makes you ache. Does this sound healthy? Not so much. If everything was peaches and cream, butterflies and shit, the relationship doesn't register with me as one of the Big Ones. I actively look for boys that I will conflict with. Again, did I really just say that? I look for interesting men, confidant men, opinionated and strong. Put me in the mix, and you have fireworks.

I love boys and shoes that don't quite fit. I keep thinking if I just break them in, work on it long enough, I will be more comfortable. This plan never works. I start off the night, or the

relationship, happy and comfy. I look great, I feel beautiful, compliments flow freely. The moment some dancing starts, some challenge, I feel a tinge of pain. I ignore it, I deny its existence, until finally the pain is unbearable, and I toss them aside. The next day, I swear I will be better. I wear clogs, I date nice boys, but sooner or later, I feel the itch for something a little dangerous, a little painful....

(I hope I didn't get your hopes up for stories of whips and chains; maybe next post.)