Morning-Hater

The average, healthy, well-adjusted adult gets up at seven-thirty in the morning feeling just plain terrible. ~ Jean Kerr, Please Don't Eat the Dasies, 1957

I'm not a morning person. When I say "morning-hater" who pops into your head first? Well times that by two, and that's me. I hate mornings. Always have. You know how kids generally wake up about eight-ish on their own, until they hit their teen years? I never did. I'd go to bed at eight-thirty at night, and sleep in 'til ten in the morning. And I would have slept longer but my parents rule was that I couldn't sleep past ten.

Here's my typical morning routine: Hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, hear the alarm clock, hit the snooze, etc. for about forty-five minutes. When I finally look at the clock and realize I'm late, I get up grudgingly, grab myself some cereal, some comics and go into the bathroom. I lock the door, turn the fan on, and eat in there. Gross, I know. But it's not like I'm licking the counter or anything, and the point is, when I'm in the bathroom, no one bothers me. After about a half hour or hour I feel like vocalizing and I might go out into the land of the living. AKA the non-bathroom-part-of-the-house.

Once, about three years ago, my dad decided that he was sick of me grunting in response to his "good mornings" and insisted that I respond to him in the morning. So, I did. The problem was the conversation started to get longer. Dad: "Good morning, Rochelle." Me, mumbling: "mornin'." Dad: "How are you, Rochelle." Me, mumbling: "good." And it would continue on like that for a while. This lasted for about two days until Dad realized that I was just not a morning person and that he kind of missed my usual reply, and he told me I could go back to "grunting" my replies if I wanted. So, I did. Dad: "Good morning, Rochelle." Me: "Mmmph." Dad: "How are you, Rochelle." Me: "Mmmmph." And then I'd go into the bathroom with my cereal.

The point of this story? I just had a really miserable morning. Why? Because my dear father decided to give me the evil eye, and my mother wanted me to proof a paper, and I had woken up (awakened?) 45 minutes late (as usual), and it was the morning. The result, me bursting into uncommon tears and downing 3 B6 in a hope I'd recover my day. Now, lest you think I'm a baby, imagine waking up in the morning with your father standing over your bed yelling his head off at you. Now, that's not what happened, but that's what it was like. He realized it was a misunderstanding, but I'm telling you, I was sufficiently traumatized.

Hopefully, I'll be able to avoid such mornings in the future.

Just Say "No"

Don't find love; let love find you. That's why it's called falling in love, because you don't force yourself to fall; you just fall. - Anonymous


Alright. So I've been percolating on The Jason Situation. I think the best way to go about this is to simply tell him I'm not interested. You know those long lists that girls make that have all the attributes that they would like their Mr. Right to have? Well, I've never made one of those. Never. I suppose part of it has to do with the fact that I absolutely loathe lists of any sort. But, I think most of it is the fact that I don't feel that I can put a personality into a list of traits. While I've never verbally or literarily voiced my thoughts on the matter, I usually know fairly quickly whether or not a guy and I could hit it off. I've known Jason long enough to know that we can't hit it off. Sometimes I can put these impressions into words, and sometimes I can't. My biggest problem, I think, is this: I want a husband like my dad.

Girls growing up tell their daddy that they will marry them when they grow up. A lot of girls, when they grow up, realize why marrying someone like their daddy is not a great idea. I won't ever suffer from that disillusionment. I might realize it's not attainable until you're twenty years into marriage, but I won't ever think that perhaps someone like my dad wouldn't make a good husband. What's so amazing about him? He and my mom are perfect partners. They both work hard. My mother has never had to ask my dad to take out the trash, or clean up the house, or mow the lawn, or anything. As a matter of fact, she frequently has to ask him to stop working, to take a break. Now, he's not a workaholic or anything, he just gets things done. My mom's the same way so they go perfect together. I won't go for a guy who has a propensity toward laziness, lack of motivation, or a strong inclination towards televised sports. It's not happening. Mostly, because I refuse to be the hen-pecking wife. I'd rather be single and pull my own weight, than be married and pull both of our weight.

Wow. Enough introspection. The point is, Jason's not the one for me. We just wouldn't be good for each other. So I think the best way to handle this is to just tell him I'm not interested in dating. The hard part will be explaining why. We've always had open communication, we're good friends, and I'll have a hard time coming up with an answer to that. It's never as easy as "just saying 'no'" is it?

We'll see how it goes. And I'll let you know.

An Asian Date

Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk by again?

So, my Valentine's weekend was pretty good. It started out on Saturday where I got to hang out with my life-long friend, Stephanie, and her boyfriend. We went to see Sherlock Holmes in celebration of my birthday. Yeah, my birthday was weeks ago, I know, but Steph and I have an understanding - "Always late, but never forgotten."

Our tradition is to take each other out to dinner or a movie for one another's birthday for some one-on-one time. So, we decided on Sherlock Holmes. Needless to say, I was a bit surprised when I got an email saying "Hey, Chelli" - pronounced like "Shelly", and yes, it's a nickname, but one only those who knew me when I was eight or younger can use without risking friend-inflicted injury - "Alan and I were wondering if we could take you out to Sherlock Holmes this Friday." So much for one-on-one. It was still fun, though the evening was cut short, because, after arriving back at Steph's place, she asked me if I wanted to come in with her and Alan. I told her I'd been around couples enough to know that imposing on their one-on-one time isn't typically appreciated.

On Saturday I went to Maddox, which is amazing by the way, with the family and got salmon, as usual. I ate more raspberry-butter rolls than salmon, but it was completely worth it. I also hung out with my sister's boyfriend, Josh. He and I are good friends, which bodes well for him, because if I didn't like the person my sister dated I would make sure he didn't stick around for long. I have my ways, believe me. So, we got to hang out and watched Les Miserables with Liam Neeson and the Captain Barbosa from Pirates of the Carribean. Good show, see it.

Sunday, Jason - Josh's little brother - called and asked me out for Monday, since it's President's Day and we didn't have school. I told him yes. The problem with this? We've tried it before. It's a long story, but let's see if I can sum it up. He and I were always just friends. But at times we tentatively experimented with the idea of moving past that. At one point, while he acted like he was interested while dating others, I pretty much out-and-out asked him if, as far as I was concerned, he was ever going to pursue anything. The problem was, he acted like I was a backup plan ... if the other relationships he was trying out, didn't work out, then at least he had me. I got sick of that after the third (or was it fourth?) girl. So I decided to discuss it with him. The outcome? The whole, original, "I like you as a friend, but there's no chemistry there."

I kind of was like, "Alright." But then I was mad for a few months about that. Hey, it was insulting, regardless of how it was put. It was still a rejection. Well, this was last summer, to give you an idea of the time frame. And ... now he's asking me out. I think I said yes 'cause he caught me off guard. But we did go on a date. But here's the best part. We went to Gateway Mall in Salt Lake for the date. We had just finished dinner and were slowly meandering toward the theater where I was going to see Avatar in 3D for the second time, when a young Asian man stopped us on the sidewalk.

Him: "Hey, sorry. But can I say something."

Us: "Sure...?"

Him: "I just want to say that you two are a cute couple. You look great together."

Us: (laughter)

Him (looking at Jason): "I want you to know that this is a very attractive girl."

Us: (laughter)

Him: "Are you a couple?"

Me: "No. Not really."

Him (looking at Jason): "Do you mind if I ask her for her phone number?"

Jason (being the completely easy going guy that he is): "No. Go ahead."

I proceeded to give him my phone number. Why? I was caught off guard, the same reason I said yes to Jason asking me out. Meanwhile, he and Jason chatted about how we knew each other, and whether or not Jason was sure it was cool. His name was Ellias or something (pronounced kind of like Elliot, but with an "s" at the end instead of a "t"... sort of). Anyway, we laughed so hard when he left. I told Jason, "You're supposed to say, 'No, it's not okay, and I do mind' in situations like that." And then I hit him, hard, in the face. Just kidding. In the arm, and not so hard. But it made my day. I told Jason, jokingly, "See what I have to go through?" But really, I felt like saying, "Ha! See? Perhaps you weren't sure whether or not you're interested in me, but obviously other guys don't have that problem." I mean, the kid didn't even know me, and he decided to ask for my phone number despite the fact that I was obviously on a date.

It was too good. Anyway, that's the update for this week. I'm out.

Inconsistent

A sister smiles when one tells one's stories - for she knows where the decoration has been added. - Chris Montaigne

Okay, I have an admission to make. (Can you make an admission, or is it a confession that I'm thinking of?) Well, either way, you get the point. It all comes down to this. You may have noticed that all of the posts are from me, Rochelle, the younger of the Soul Sister pair. Well, that's because my sister isn't here. She is in Argentina, on her mission. She will not be back until May. I started this blog in January with the assurance that she would be home in March.

Kay, so here were my thoughts, "Alright, she'll be back in March and I really want to start a blog, and I'm sure I can convince her to do one with me." - After all she is the consistent journal-writer, and what is this if not a public journal entry? But then, being the slightly indecisive person she is, she decided that she won't be back until May, so I've got to keep this thing floating until then, all by myself.

I know that it doesn't take much to keep blogs afloat. More of the problem is getting them afloat. But I'm such an inconsistent blogger (as I'm sure you now know) that the buoyancy is a little low. The other problem is, her life is a lot more interesting than mine. I was kind of counting on that. My typically uneventful life being the foil to her, generally, complicated one. Now, I'm a complicated person, but I keep my life simple. She's a simple person, so her life needs to be complicated. Don't misunderstand me, not "simple" as in dumb, but as in, you can read her like an open book. But reading her takes less effort than reading a book. And perhaps I'm not complicated, just ... atypical.

Anyway, back to the point. I, the inconsistent blogger, am going to be the sole writer for this dual-blog until my sister deigns her return. Thereafter, hopefully, the blog will improve in consistency and content. Until then, adieu.