Over the holidays I work in a deli. It's terribly exciting. I mean, who doesn't find slicing meat, making salads, and putting sandwiches together rivetting? Everyone loves working at four-thirty in the morning so they can put an order away right? After all, sleep in the summer is highly overrated.
However, the point of this entry is not that I work in a deli. The idea of this will be the great care the matchmakers--I mean, women I work with, take when it comes to finding me a man.
There was the summer of the police officers. During this time the women I worked with did whatever they could to place me in a position where I was serving the attractive officers of our community. No matter what I did, they placed me in their way. It was at times very embarassing.
There was the neighbour of one woman. She thought he was perfect for me; she even claimed he didn't do hard drugs (which in this community is apparently a pretty big deal). Alas, he was not quite what I was looking for.
Then there was the fact that no matter where I was in the deli, a voice would call me to a service counter any time a man (whether he was attractive or not) came near.
I did have one week where the same guy came in to get a sandwich every morning and I made it for him. I rang up his order, handed him his sandwich, and there was eye contact. This eye contact led to sparks. The sparks led to me never seeing him again. Go figure.
As I accustom myself to working in the deli again after teaching all year, I find myself on guard. Already one woman had me checking out of eyes of one man at the sandwich bar. Sadly, trying to explain to the women I work with my standards as a Christian single are a little difficult. And so I shall see what this summer holds for me. Will more good-looking police officers make their way to the deli? Will eye contact guy ever come back? Or will I spend a summer in quiet, single solitude.
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Monday, 11 July 2011
Tuesday, 5 July 2011
Annal 37: Tale from a Drive to Remember
Today started off as a relatively encouraging day. I took my kinda-nephew and his friend to Vacation Bible School, took my youngest sister for a run, and planned a nice long walk with a friend for the afternoon. Very productive start to a day, the kind of day that makes you feel confident, and in turn attractive.
Just to put this out there, I am not Mandy Moore. I think she's lovely and has a beautiful voice, but I am not her. Apparently this does not stop me from pretending to be her, which in turn leads to dire circumstances which give rise to great humiliation and the realization that there are reasons why I am still single.
My youngest sister was called into work early this morning, so I was dropping her off. She keeps the soundtrack from A Walk to Remember in my car, and so we were listening to this. In a moment of brilliance I decided to sing as high as I am incapable of singing (have I mentioned that when driving I like to sing loud? I feel it makes up for any poor singing). Apparently singing this way also requires me to contort my face (have I mentioned I'm a face contortionist?)
So here I am driving, face contorted and singing as offly as I possibly can, when I turn my head to look out the passenger window. I somewhat attractive mailman is watching me. At this point my sister loses it and starts laughing, I start laughing, and I once again realize that there is a reason I am single.
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Just to put this out there, I am not Mandy Moore. I think she's lovely and has a beautiful voice, but I am not her. Apparently this does not stop me from pretending to be her, which in turn leads to dire circumstances which give rise to great humiliation and the realization that there are reasons why I am still single.
My youngest sister was called into work early this morning, so I was dropping her off. She keeps the soundtrack from A Walk to Remember in my car, and so we were listening to this. In a moment of brilliance I decided to sing as high as I am incapable of singing (have I mentioned that when driving I like to sing loud? I feel it makes up for any poor singing). Apparently singing this way also requires me to contort my face (have I mentioned I'm a face contortionist?)
So here I am driving, face contorted and singing as offly as I possibly can, when I turn my head to look out the passenger window. I somewhat attractive mailman is watching me. At this point my sister loses it and starts laughing, I start laughing, and I once again realize that there is a reason I am single.
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Sunday, 3 July 2011
Annal 36: Tale from a Nerd
A friend of mine was recently browsing the internet and came across a webpage called "The Nerd Machine." She told me that they sold shirts with the word NERD plastered across the front and I have to be honest: I was intrigued.
Do I wear pocket protectors? No. Do suspenders hold up my pants? No. Do I mimic Steve Urkel? N... okay, at times, yes, I will fight the urge to say in a nasally voice, "Did I do that?" Regardless, as my father tells me, I'm not your typical picture of a nerd. I tend to feel like I fall more under the category of dork, but I will take what I can get. I do love super heroes, I play video games, I have the theme song from The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past as my ring tone, and my sisters gave me an X-Men comic 196- for Christmas this year, and so I feel that I can still identify with the social category of nerd.
Now that I have established why I feel like I would be justified in purchasing one of these shirts, I will share something that perhaps reveals the extent of my dorkiness. I will be participating in a half-marathon this summer, and am trying to get some other people to join me. I thought it would be cool if we all got NERD shirts to go together.
Here I am, the person who still cringes when I look in family photo albums and see pictures of my younger sister (five year age gap) wearing our matching outfits (go leggings and big sweatshirts!), and yet I'm will to submit myself to further matching faux-pas.
My theory? If the jocks used to be the "it" crowd, followed by the preps, and now the geeks/nerd, I can only hope that pretty soon it will be time for the dorks and freaks to step into the spotlight!
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Do I wear pocket protectors? No. Do suspenders hold up my pants? No. Do I mimic Steve Urkel? N... okay, at times, yes, I will fight the urge to say in a nasally voice, "Did I do that?" Regardless, as my father tells me, I'm not your typical picture of a nerd. I tend to feel like I fall more under the category of dork, but I will take what I can get. I do love super heroes, I play video games, I have the theme song from The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past as my ring tone, and my sisters gave me an X-Men comic 196- for Christmas this year, and so I feel that I can still identify with the social category of nerd.
Now that I have established why I feel like I would be justified in purchasing one of these shirts, I will share something that perhaps reveals the extent of my dorkiness. I will be participating in a half-marathon this summer, and am trying to get some other people to join me. I thought it would be cool if we all got NERD shirts to go together.
Here I am, the person who still cringes when I look in family photo albums and see pictures of my younger sister (five year age gap) wearing our matching outfits (go leggings and big sweatshirts!), and yet I'm will to submit myself to further matching faux-pas.
My theory? If the jocks used to be the "it" crowd, followed by the preps, and now the geeks/nerd, I can only hope that pretty soon it will be time for the dorks and freaks to step into the spotlight!
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Saturday, 2 July 2011
Annal 35: Tale from Blah
Today has felt like a "blah" sort of day. It was productive, but right now I just feel at loose ends. I woke up, had coffee, did my devotions, went to the gym with my dad and older brother, came home, had lunch, spent two hours cleaning my car inside and out and cleaning the outside of my parents' car, and then had a bath. I feel proud of my day, but I also just feel... well... blah.
I'm supposed to go to a neighboring city tonight to hang out and play games with some people a single friend of mine knows. I've been anticipating this, but again, today I feel blah about. I'm thoroughly exhausted and to be quite honest with you, I don't trust myself to drive the hour and a half later to go to this. I've driven tired before and it is never a good idea for me. My body and brain seem to be begging me to crawl into the nearest bed and hide out there.
The last week has felt like a really good week for me. I've felt encouraged and I've had a few days to relax. And then I get hit with a day like today. Am I just tired? Am I getting sick? What does it mean when I am willing pass up an evening of possibly meeting single men because of exhaustion? Am I not being proactive? Do I not care (okay, I know it's not that one)?
Maybe I should just go take a nap.
Such is the life of a Christian single.
I'm supposed to go to a neighboring city tonight to hang out and play games with some people a single friend of mine knows. I've been anticipating this, but again, today I feel blah about. I'm thoroughly exhausted and to be quite honest with you, I don't trust myself to drive the hour and a half later to go to this. I've driven tired before and it is never a good idea for me. My body and brain seem to be begging me to crawl into the nearest bed and hide out there.
The last week has felt like a really good week for me. I've felt encouraged and I've had a few days to relax. And then I get hit with a day like today. Am I just tired? Am I getting sick? What does it mean when I am willing pass up an evening of possibly meeting single men because of exhaustion? Am I not being proactive? Do I not care (okay, I know it's not that one)?
Maybe I should just go take a nap.
Such is the life of a Christian single.
Friday, 1 July 2011
Annal 34: Tale from a Summer of Pre-Teen Stories
The summer I was eleven I started reading a new series. These books had to do witht he concept of spiritual warfare and were also my first introduction into occultic practices and satanists. Naturally, when my cousin came to visit, I had to introduce her to these stories as well.
The result of these books was that my cousin and I proceeded to write our own short stories, all of them centered around satanists who were trying to get our main characters.
I was talking to this cousin on the phone last night and we both began to remininsce about that summer, shaking our heads and laughing at what we thought were brilliant plot lines. Our characters were always beautiful, were always rescued by some guy who was a total babe, they always doubted the sincerity of this gorgeous man, and then they always got together in the end. Oh, and they usually got together after the main character had ended up in the hospital with some mild injuries and lots of bruises.
You can shake your head, but when you realize that this was the same cousin who polished my mother's silver with me while we pretended to be a part of Henry VIII's court, or who did dishes with me while pretending we were servants in a grand castle trying to solve some bit of court intrigue, this will all make sense. Naturally we would read such novels and our imaginations would assume that there were satanists behind every rock and that that would create the perfect plots for the stories of eleven year olds.
I suppose my whole reason for writing this, beyond the fact that it continues to prove what a dork I am, is that this story gives me hope. This same cousin whose imagination was just as rambunctious as my own will be celebrating three years of marriage this summer. She found a man who loved everything about her, including her creativity and imagination. I can now only hope that there will be hope for me as well!!!
Such is the life of a Christian single.
The result of these books was that my cousin and I proceeded to write our own short stories, all of them centered around satanists who were trying to get our main characters.
I was talking to this cousin on the phone last night and we both began to remininsce about that summer, shaking our heads and laughing at what we thought were brilliant plot lines. Our characters were always beautiful, were always rescued by some guy who was a total babe, they always doubted the sincerity of this gorgeous man, and then they always got together in the end. Oh, and they usually got together after the main character had ended up in the hospital with some mild injuries and lots of bruises.
You can shake your head, but when you realize that this was the same cousin who polished my mother's silver with me while we pretended to be a part of Henry VIII's court, or who did dishes with me while pretending we were servants in a grand castle trying to solve some bit of court intrigue, this will all make sense. Naturally we would read such novels and our imaginations would assume that there were satanists behind every rock and that that would create the perfect plots for the stories of eleven year olds.
I suppose my whole reason for writing this, beyond the fact that it continues to prove what a dork I am, is that this story gives me hope. This same cousin whose imagination was just as rambunctious as my own will be celebrating three years of marriage this summer. She found a man who loved everything about her, including her creativity and imagination. I can now only hope that there will be hope for me as well!!!
Such is the life of a Christian single.
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