How We Met

We met my during my last year of college.  I was super busy.  I had a huge schedule with a maximum load of school hours, worked full time slinging drinks at a bar until all hours of the night, and was also working with 11 other women to create a state-wide women's leadership conference.  I was really too busy to be involved with someone.  It was in that bar that I spotted Jeff one afternoon playing pool with my friend Lew.  They had just moved into town.  He was really handsome.  He was disheveled handsome.  He had on long jeans, a dirty shirt, and his hair was all a mess curling up around his big, blue eyes.  He was pretty.  And he was hot.  He turned heads.  Nothing major happened that day.  We just said hi.   And in fact, that day was so uneventful that he doesn't even remember meeting me so I obviously didn't make a significant impression on him.  

He actually has a totally different story.  He says we met at my house one night.  Maybe I just looked prettier that night than I did in my working-girl mode at that bar and that's when he actually saw me.  I lived with a couple of boys on Hawkins Street in Murfreesboro where there was never a dull moment.   We were having a party one evening celebrating nothing, I'm sure.  I remember walking through the kitchen towards the door that was opened up to the back yard.  I can still see it clearly.  There were several people sitting outside sort of circled around each other.  Jeff was sitting on the side of the circle that positioned him so I could see his face while walking towards the door.  He was just as stunning as before.  But this time, he saw me.  And I could feel him seeing me.   I'm sure I blushed as I went on about my way to enjoy the good times.  But I don't think he stopped watching me.  One of my roommate's girlfriends cornered me inside later and told me that Jeff thought I was beautiful.  So that did it.  I flirted.  With my eyes.  I don't think I really even talked to him too much.  But we both knew.  So the night ended and that was that.  Until he called.  He called!!!!  Well, he didn't really call me, but he called.   I had just gotten back from a camping trip and hadn't showered in 3 or 4 days and I was raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaanky nasty.  He was calling the house to see if anyone wanted to go hang out for a bit . . .you know, like called to see if "the guys" wanted to hang out.  But they were gone!!!!  Yippy!  I don't know where they were, but they were gone and everyone else that Jeff knew was unavailable to hang out too, so out of sheer  boredom and the need to have a little conversation that Sunday afternoon, he gave in to his only available option:  Me!!!  I went to hang out all stinky and smelling like a campfire and with all sorts of leaves dangling from my wild hair.  I went as I was and he liked it.  Again it was playful and innocent and nothing major happened except that it set the stage for it to keep happening.  He would keep calling.  One night, he called to see if I was going to a friend's party and when I told him that I couldn't because I was studying until 11ish, he said that he'd leave the party and come get me then.  Thinking about it now, I see possible motivations on his part to come get me that I didn't see then and the waiting to get me is  probably not really that big of a deal.  But at the time, it just seemed so considerate.  It seemed so nice that at 6:00, he decided he would wait to see me so that I could study.  Most guys would have either tried to talk me out of staying in or found an alternative girl to spend the evening with.  But not him.  I was too busy.  And he waited.  

The whole obsession and chasing of beauty baffles me. It seems that everyone I know is really unhappy with their physical looks. And at least half of them . . . more really . . . have undergone surgery to correct something that feels wrong. Don't get me wrong, I have many, many moments where I am unhappy with my looks. For instance, the other day I was looking through a friend's photos from a night when we went out to dinner. Instead of remembering how incredibly perfect my seared halibut over chickpea stew was or how the laughter we shared was more than perfect, I thought, well, there's the 15 pounds put on during the last year. It was right there. But at least I can pretend that the concern over the 15 pounds is about health, not beauty . . . .Right? All of this is swirling around in my head in part because I read segments of a Patricia Arquette interview. I love her. I've always loved her because she has this sense of herself that isn't always seen in Hollywood. She seems to have an I-make-no-bones-about-myself way. She just is who she is. She has curves and those look better than most of her shapeless counterparts. In the interview, she explains that she didn't feel like straightening her teeth for other people that said, "Oh you're so pretty. You should have your teeth straightened." I love this. I can relate so much. I wouldn't do braces even after someone in high school referred to me as Bugs Bunny. In college, my mom called saying, "This is your last chance. The dental plan only covers braces until you turn 18." No way! This is me, mom. This is who I am. They work. I regretted that as I got older, but have come back around to embracing them in the last year or so. I also didn't do makeup for a long time. I took the plunge into powder and gloss the last year at MTSU and finally a full-face after getting married. Today, I can barely leave home without said face and have often thought that if I were stranded on a desert island, I'd at least want mascara. But honestly, sometimes on a good day when I'm really hydrated and exfoliated, I think my face looks best in its natural state. I could go on and on with my love-hate relationship with my looks, but mostly, I'm ok with it . . . .at least ok enough to not have major surgery to change things. And there is plenty that could be changed. My nose is too big, my belly needs tucked, things need to be lifted, reduced, etc.. But what is the point? Are people really so unhappy with themselves? What's wrong with looking like yourself? Why do you need your bustline to be so many inches and your hair a different color and parts of your face to remain immobile? What is it about changing these things that makes your life so much better? If Kanye West's mom knew the alternative to dying would have been to live with her ugly parts, would she have accepted herself? I've only found 3-4 white hairs on my head, but I really want to embrace the whiteness when it comes. I imagine being like Bonnie Raitt with her super-power streaks. But who knows, maybe when it comes in all gray and ugly instead of snow white and beautiful, I'll break out some dye. But I like to imagine that I'll keep to my same ways and be ok with myself.  We'll see!

i can't type with bracelets on

i think i'll stop updating on caringbridge.  

i know people want to know what's going on with jeff.  they care.  but i just get so tired of running there every time he sneezes.  and it's always the sneezes that seem to be the big issues.  i want to let everyone know, but really, it's always the same.  

jeff doesn't feel well,

having some tests,

could be this, could be that,

oh my gosh, this is looking serious, but probably ok,

waiting on tests,

yay, he's fine, thank goodness!

it was just a cold

we knew he would be

thanks for the prayers.

that's how it goes.  rejection can present itself in a number of ways and every typical fluke in your body resembles rejection.  tummy aches, head aches, colds, fever, tiredness, etc. . . .all of those are signs of rejection.  so anytime he experiences any symptom for more than a day or so, he has to call in.  more than half of the time, they have him come in for tests.  today is one of those days.  he'll be fine.  in fact, i'm so confident that he'll be fine, there is no need to update caringbridge.  he'll be back on his toes like nothing ever happened before we know it.

So, I haven't done well with my writing.  Actually, I just haven't done any writing.  There was a minor health set-back at the end of January and I'm just now back on my toes.  Jeff also had a bit of a health issue and we spent a couple of months taking care of that.  He got new job, but when he had to go back to UAB to see the doctors for said ailments after just three days at the new place, they had to give him the boot too.  I had a brief moment at a kid's birthday party when Jeff called on the way home from the hospital telling me that he had just hung up with the new place.  They knew he would have doctors' visits every few month, but they had know idea how soon this would happen.  They needed someone more reliable which seems to be a continuing theme in his job history.  So, I had a brief moment at this birthday party where I had to run to a corner and spew tears.  I traded my angry disposition I had at the first job-loss of 2009 for a softer, sadder look.  Actually, it was probably more pathetic than sad.  And it was more jolting than soft.  It sucked because the mom of the kid .  .which it was also her other child's first communion party. . . the mom of the kids  . . . happened to walk by this corner.  It was one of those moments where the more you fight it, the harder it comes.  My man had been out of town for days in the hospital and they were doing spinal taps and all sorts of stuff on him and we had no idea what was going on.  And I was trying to be good mom and continue about my day at the birthday party and give her a big ol' arm swing and, "great party!"  But with the stupid news of him losing another job, I just couldn't help it.  I was so sad.  I was sad for him.  I was sad and standing in this corner and it all came out.  I know I must have looked a wreck, but I was thinking that maybe no one else could really see what Oprah calls the ugly cry as long as I stood in the corner and pretended to look outside for a minute.  But she did.  Sweet lady.  She's a gentle person.  She placed both hands on my shoulders without asking what had happened and said, "You've earned your right to cry.   You're too young to have dealt with the stuff you have.  You've been given more than most people get in their entire lives.  Just cry."  Of course, it was unstoppable at that point.  Here I was, at her party for her two kids celebrating their days and having her take care of me.  I felt so stupid.  I also felt relieved quickly.  It was finally giving in.  And that's refreshing.  Anyone that's ever had extra stuff to carry around will tell you that it always happens at the wrong place.  And it's always something small that sends you over the edge.  I had already been strong through all that mattered and now it was this tiny thing, a job, that was getting me all bent out of shape.   And for those of you who know me, a job isn't where I place value.  Of course, we like to eat, but considering everything else, this was nothing.  You know, you handle all the big stuff and then lose it when your pencil breaks or you realize that you're out of dog food.  That's what happened.  I'm fine now.  Jeff still has no job, but we'll continue to be fine.  We are somehow lucky like that.  But considering that day, I just want everyone to give into their sadness or anger or fears or happiness or loneliness or whatever.  A friend once told me, they are just feelings.  It doesn't matter.  They're just there.  Who cares?  Stop beating yourself up for them.  Give in to them!  Cry at a birthday party if you have to.  Cry for five minutes, get it out of your system and then move on to joy or whatever else sneaks up on you!  You'll somehow sit in more happiness if you do this.  

Peace and Love, Crystal