Monday, January 31, 2011


And then there was Chikyle...
I  have this issue with attracting people from Sandy, Utah. Boys from Sandy seem to be a strange strain of human, who just don’t quite get it. (Well at least the ones that I meet.)
I actually met Chikyle the exact same night that I met 18 Hour Date Guy. Ironic, right?
Chikyle wasn’t very nice to me that night. As I was following Cutie Patootie around and looking at his hot motorcycle, Chikyle kept making jokes that alluded to him thinking that I was dumb or something. I really do not appreciate it when people treat me as if my hair color or the pitch of my voice reduce my IQ to a low functioning number. I will probably be very sarcastic back to you, or even throw down a slightly rude comment- so slight and dripping so thick with sarcasm, that you don’t even know that I am making fun of you.
          Clearly, the rest of that evening was monopolized by 18 Hour Date Guy’s pursuits after me. However, I met Chikyle again. And again.

The Sunday following THE 18 HOUR DATE, I had a really rough day. I was damaged to my core from the night before, and the rest of that day did nothing but aggravate my unstable state. As I walked down the steps at church after leading the music to the congregation, I was approached by 4 old men- the ecclesiastical leaders of my area. Each of them said almost the exact same thing so me, “Thank you so much for leading the music. Did you know that you have the most beautiful, perfect smile? You are just gorgeous- You really just glow up there!”
My reply: “Thank you. Yes I have heard that before.”
I know… I probably sounded a little full of myself, but I really didn’t know what to say to all of them over and over again. I felt very uncomfortable and even a little ill.I felt like I needed to hide and not be stared at for a second longer.

About 18 steps later, a boy jumps in front of me and asks, “So when are we going to make cookies together?” I really didn’t know who he was, nor did I know when I agreed to bake with him.
So I asked, “When did I agree to make cookies with you?”
He proceeded to explain that one time we talked for a second and he mentioned that I should make cookies and deliver them to manufacture opportunities to meet more people.
I scheduled a time with him for a couple days later in order to escape the close proximity of our bodies.
I made it about 20 more steps to the doorway of the meeting room, and then there was Chikyle. He stopped me, said hi, and struck up a casual conversation. One of my roommates had been following me through my walk and had thankfully stopped for this conversation.
I, naturally, was oh so charming and I just sparkled away. He followed me to my little Sunday school class and sat down next to me.
At one point, I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to replay from a text. As I started to put it away, he snatched it from my grasp and pulled the whole, “call myself from your phone so that I can get your number and not have to be a man and ask for it.”
          He preceded to text me throughout the class, even though he was sitting so close to me that all of our limbs were touching. The type of text messages that I was receiving went something like this: “Oh my gosh you are so gorgeous. Did you know that? Thanks for sitting by me. Wow you are so funny. What are you doing later? I want to take a cutie thing like you out sometime. I wish I was with you right now. This would be way more interesting if you were here and teaching.  Hey… babe, hun, cutie, sweetie…” These distasteful purging of all icky-ness went on throughout the day. Plus also… I hate being called pet names by people who I don't love. I am not your baby, your sweetie, and I am most definitely not your love. I just puked in my mouth a little.

          I had a huge melt down. I got home from church and I started to cry- a lot.  My roommates worried about my mental health as I sat on the kitchen counter and had a panic attack.
          I called my mom and all she did was laugh at me. I filled her in on the night before with 18 Hour Date Guy, and then this day full of old men and lost boys.
I told her that I didn’t understand why I was attracting these kinds of people and that kind of negative attention. I explained that I had been praying to be led to people that would make me a better person and who would build me up etc.

She just burst out into uncontrollable, rolling laughter. Then she spit out these fateful words through her gasping laughter, “Maybe that is why you are meeting these lost boys. Maybe they are making you a better person?”  Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha.
I cried even harder and yelled a nice, big, “Oh my gosh mom! Shut up! That was so mean. I can’t believe you just said that to me! I. Hate. My. Life! This isn’t a joke!”
          She laughed harder, but tried to force out a fake apology.
           I blamed her for my life. She branded me with the label of Wendy and bred me to believe that I had to always say yes to a first date and be lovely all the time!
She felt no remorse.
       Chikyle did not disappear from my life even though I declined an invitation to go and play games with him and his hipster friends that night. It was progress though people. I didn’t go even though “the nice thing” would have been to just go and play a little game.
      A few days later, I got a text from Chikyle asking me what I was up to. I told him the truth- My friend Brittani was coming over and we were going to jump in the hot tub and vent about life.
    He mentioned that he might stop by my apartment and say hi. I just said ok, thinking Brittani and I wouldn’t even be there and I could easily get rid of him if he did show up. Brittani rolled in and it started to snow. We sat in my apartment and chatted, while we contemplated going in the hot tub even though it was snowing in April. I kept getting texts from Chikyle. He was confusing me with his comments. I thought he lived pretty close me and he might just drive on over and poke his head in.
Around ten that night he mentioned that the bus was just about to pull up to the stop near my neighborhood. BUS?!?!? I then asked where he was coming from. Sandy. At that point I didn’t know he was from Sandy. 18 Hour Date Guy was from Sandy and so were all his creepy little friends who made me feel like I needed to wear more clothing.

I had a panic attack again. Brittani watched as I ran around mumbling loudly, “Oh no! Sandy!  Crap! He took a bus from Sandy? Ah! It is already so late. How do I get rid of a guy quickly who took a us from Sandy and it is snowing outside?”
   Brittani laughed at me a lot, but provided a needed support when Chikyle finally burst through my door.  Brittani stayed by my side on the couch for about an hour or so. She was also charming and nice and helped me facilitate conversation. We had made a plan that I would simply say to him, “Hey I have a bunch of stuff to do. Thanks for stopping by- I’ll see you again sometime.”
I realized that I had a serious problem. I simply can’t tell people to “get the heck out of my house”, or “Thanks, but no thanks. I really am not interested.”
Brittani was sick of watching me suffocate myself with the situation. She made her escape. I walked her out to her car and she gave me a quick pep talk. She is very supportive. I was just going to march in there and kick him out.

So I marched. And then I…. sat down and talked. However, I didn’t give up on my mission quite yet! I gave it another 10 minutes, threw out a little yawn, and told him that I was super tired and I had a few things to do before I needed to go to bed. I had a patient at 8 A.M. you know!

He kept talking… and talking… and talking. And then he would try to tickle me. Yes.
And that is where he crossed the line. Don’t tickle me. I get violent and lose control over my limbs. I think I warned him that if he didn’t stop, he would get hurt. (I had head-butted a friend once on accident while being tickled.- If he got head-butted that night- it wouldn’t have been an accident.)  
     He made a comment of something like, “So you are trying to kick me out egh? Well I am not leaving yet. I just got here, and I don’t want to go over to my friends’ house. I would WAAAAY rather be here with you.”

Oh now… isn’t THAT flattering?! (puke)

          I don’t remember all of the conversation the rest of that night, but I do remember my facial expressions. Facial expressions like that get burned into your muscle memory and you never forget. These expressions were those of pure shock, discomfort, and abhorrence.
However, one of the topics that was discussed was that he didn’t go on a mission. He was shipped out to Utah to live with his sister so that he could get out of trouble, move out of his rebellious stage, and clean up his life.
         Really? Why on earth do boys feel like they need to tell me how messed up they are? I really don’t want your dysfunction dripping onto my couch. Wipe that up before it makes a mess in my life.

        My roommates kept a close eye on me and would sit down every once in awhile in order to not leave me feeling abandoned. At midnight, they gave me “the eyes”. The ones that say, “girl, get him the heck out of here. We hate him. Do you want me to cut him for you? Even if you don’t, I am going to anyways, because I want him gone that badly.”
You know… “THE eyes”. 
So I did it. I pulled all my guts to the surface and I said it, “Ok Chikyle, get out of my apartment. You really need to go now.” (Of course I said it in the sweetest possible way.)

He whined with a, “Are you serious? Oh come on! We are having so much fun babe!”
Ummm…. No.
“Nope, Chikyle. Seriously, it’s time to scram.”
He packed up his backpack with his life in stow, and I pushed him out the door.

      Luckily, I never let Chikyle back into my house or even saw him in that kind of social situation again.
         However, to this day, I still get random texts from Chikyle asking, “Hey babe. How you doin’?”
         Oh Chikyle! Get yourself a Tiger Lily or something.

Monday, January 24, 2011

Lost Girl / Shot down Wendy Bird

(A Bipolar ranting from several different episodes in my life)

So this Wendy is going to take some convincing.
 Falling in love is going to be hard to do I think. I have just had so many awful experiences and then some averages. I may have been in love before or even just been very excited about the possibility… but it has always ended in a little broken heart. Then my heart mends to a tougher state.
Don’t get me wrong, I am not a bitter ol’ maid yet. My heart is not a heart of steel. I think I have gone from jello to a hard candy shell. It can be melted.
But… what is it going to take?
I have actually been dating quite a bit lately. More than ever before in my life as matter of fact , and so far, I have not been all that impressed. I haven’t had any overwhelming feelings of “I have to see him again”. 
I have had the thought. “He was cool. I’d see him again if he asked.”
And I haven’t been too upset if they don’t call.

But a reality has set in, that love isn’t easy. I thought that once I found someone who wasn’t lost, I would be set and I would know it right away. Sounds easy, right? However, I have been surrounded by so many lost boys that I find myself a little lost in their world.
I don’t care about being committed
I would rather not see most boys again after kissing them.
I like having freedom to be whomever I want to whenever I want to.
So when I am getting called baby and love, all I want to do is puke in my mouth and run away,
Not so healthy for a 21 year old Mormon girl.
Pretty soon, the mother mafia is going to be after me. There will be too many questions about when I am going to finally get married or since I am not married, when am I going on a mission?
Ladies… not everyone has to go on a mission if she is 21 and not married.

I think that today I am a lost girl.
How could I have avoided this? It seems almost like a fate that karma has slapped me in the face with. I have been slapped in the face with a big slimy karma fish.  But really, I put myself in this position. I wanted to be here. Free and independent with the wild side I never had. Why am I becoming less mature as my life is steadily progressing? It is probably fear; a fear of the unknown and the feelings that I possibly missed out on some grand adventure that I was supposed to have in college.
But hey, why not think like Peter?.... “To die would be an awfully big adventure”. But to “Live is an awfully big adventure” too! (Hook)
Why not make everything my new awfully big adventure?
I could do that.
I had taken a lot of personality type quizzes lately. One of them said that I am probably too optimistic. Being too optimistic can hinder your ability to use critical thinking and to problem solve.
Excuse me?!
I don’t think so. Optimism makes you burst from the cages in your mind.
That’s what I think.
I am a great problem solver.  (Ask my old roommates… I fixed a lot of tires, and mended some broken hearts and got us out of icky situations.)

The Wendy Bird wasn’t really shot down. She just got stunned for a little bit. She was sleepy. (Maybe she had mono?)  She may have felt a little lost sometimes, but she never really was. She knew where home was and she knew how to take care of herself and the people she loved.
She loved her brothers. And she loved the lost boys… like little brothers.
And she took them home with her and let her mom be their mother. Then she grew up. She left Neverland, and never went back. She left the nursery; she got married and had her own daughter. She let her own daughter go to Neverland and make her own life choices; which is what I will do.

We all need moments where we choose not to grow up; when we play pretend for just a little bit. It’s fun. But then we remember… it’s not real. We have to put down the toys, get some pixie-dust, high-tail it out of Neverland, book it from the nursery and decide that living is going to be our next awfully big adventure. When we decide that, no pirates can stand in our way; no other lost boys, no Tinker Bell, and no Tiger Lily.
It’s us, the real world, and another grown, up setting off into the awfully big adventure of life together; conquering any real life crocodiles in our way.
THAT is the real adventure; not the silly games, nor the dangerous feats!
This Wendy Bird just woke up… so I am flying away from the little house my lost boys have built around me, with the label on the front door. I am ready to start committing!
I am not your Wendy.
I don’t even need magic to get out of Neverland. I just need to open my eyes, open my own door, and leap.

My story is definitely not over.  There are many more stories to be told. There are so many characters that you have not met, and you have not yet seen Neverland. So don’t you fret. You’ll see it all.
Plus also… To really live is my next awfully big adventure.

Dear lost girls/ Shot down Wendy Birds and/or Tiger Lilies and Tinker Bells,
Wake up. Open your labeled door. And get out of Neverland.
There is a grown up waiting for you at home.

Dear lost boys/ Pirates/ Peter’s,
Please grow up. Follow your Wendy out of Neverland. She has magic enough to help you a little too. If you won’t leave… then let her go. Her daughter might just come back later and maybe then you’ll be ready. But you’ll probably even meet her granddaughter if you aren’t ready now. But right now, there are some awfully big adventures going on in the real world. You don’t have to let Neverland define you either.

Your (flying)Wendy Bird

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Eyes Up Here

Meet Marvin Marshalls. Marvin Marshalls is another boy whose eye I got caught in at church. (Yes I do know that the saying is “whose eye I caught”, but that is not what actually happened.)
It all started out because I was nice. Marvin Marshalls had come to visit a friend at our singles group at church. We also happened to have a dinner after church that day. In the line for food, I struck up a small, polite conversation. I asked him his name, if he was new, where he was from. You know… all the same old questions.  He had just returned from a 2 year church mission from India, and was definitely still socially stunted. However, he conversed with me with great energy and excitement! I ended the conversation with a smile and an eye twinkle (my signature).
            I sat down with my best girl friend to eat. Marvin Marshalls sat down with his guy friend. About 5 minutes later, he got up, brought his plate, and sat down next to me. I knew at that moment that I had just gotten myself into a little bit of a predicament. I still continued to smile and be nice throughout the meal, even though he decided to stare at me when he thought I wasn’t looking.
            Exactly one month later, he showed back up at church on the Sunday dinner day. When he saw me, he decided he wanted to give me a hug. I don’t think that he had hugged a girl in way over two years, because the hug felt more like a truck hit me. A was probably a hundred pounds heavier than me and 6 or more inches taller than me, so when he chest ran into me at a more than casual walking speed and his arms flailed and slammed me in the back, I did not feel very good afterwords.
            I replied to his hug with an “Oh wow that was aggressive”. It popped out of my mouth like word vomit, but he just blushed and said that it had been awhile since he’d hugged a girl. To recover from my lack of tact, I said, “Yeah, that’s one of those things you have to get more practice in once it has been awhile.” I don’t think I recovered well.
            He proceeded to follow me around the building, to my table and to watch me eat for the rest of that evening.  Just as I was getting up to go home and make my escape, he quickly stood up in front of me. SIDE NOTE: A member of the church was sponsoring a BBQ date night for everyone a month in the future.
He stumbled through his words, “So Cara, are you going to the BBQ?”
I replied, “Umm, well, no I am not.”
Marvin: “Well are you opposed to uh going to it? Or are you like busy, is that why you aren’t going?”
Me: “No…Marvin, are you trying to ask me if I would like to go to it? Are you trying to ask me on a date?”
Marvin: “Umm yeah. Would you like to go to the BBQ with me?”
Me: “Yeah Marvin, I would like to go with you. You definitely asked far enough in advance, so I should be able to make that work.”
(It is really hard to convey, but this whole dialogue was really awkward. I should have probably said no, but my mother always said that I needed to say yes to a first date. “Always give someone a chance”. Also, there were about 15 people who were very aware that he was trying to ask me on a date. The room was silent and 30 eyes were on us. Very uncomfortable.)
Throughout the rest of the month as we anxiously a waited the night of this glorious date, his friends teased me about going out with him (great friends huh?) and I continued to receive truck hugs in the hallways of church.
            The night finally arrived! He picked me up for the date in his little sister’s car very early. He started driving and asked me where the date was to be held. I had never been there and I had told him that several times before. He failed to get directions even though I told him to do so previously. I started out this date in an annoyed state. We drove to his friend’s house and found a couple that was also on their way to the date and we followed them.
            I was so feeling that I did not want to be with him any longer. One reason was because I had a very big midterm the next day, which I was not yet prepared to take.  (I would use this to my advantage later however.)
Luckily, my girl friends showed up to the house a few minutes after we did. However, while I waited, I was faced with a situation I had never before been in, or at least I had never before noticed.
            Marvin Marshalls was staring at my chest. I was modestly dressed, but felt like I needed to pull my tank top up to become a turtleneck. This is the first time in my life that I felt like an object or a piece of meat. I am sure that a guy has looked, but this guy was having a conversation with my cleavage.  I was sitting higher than him, so in order to bring our eyes on the same plane, I moved from the arm of the couch down to the seat.  It didn’t help.
I tried very hard to not get even more upset with this individual and to make anyone else uncomfortable. I made it through the dinner and through the game in a stellar fashion.
However, during some mingling, my best friend leaned over and whispered in my ear that Sammity Spamitty was staring at my chest the entire night. With wide eyes I turned to find, that yes, indeed, he was staring. I got a little upset and told her that Marvin Marshalls had also been staring. I asked her if my shirt was a lot lower than I perceived it. She said that I was totally fine.
Well Grrrrr!!! Stop staring at me!!
Meanwhile during conversation, I found out that this was Marvin Marshalls first date. Not his first date since being back from India…his first date EVER. He was 22 years old. This explained the weird comments, the painful hugs and icky looks. But I mean really, that is just ridiculous. TWENTY-TWO YEARS OLD… you should have at least gone to a school dance or an ice cream date in high school. This behavior is just unacceptable. When I have kids, they will be required to go on dates so that they can become socialized.
Everyone else seemed to be dispersing from the house, but Marvin Marshalls was lingering. He asked if I wanted to go do something else fun. This is where my test came in handy. I had previously mentioned that I had a test in the morning, so when he asked if I wanted to go out and do something more, I was able to say, “Oh you know, I really need to go home and study a bit and get to bed earlier since I have that big midterm SOOOO early.”
Luckily, he said he understood. And I got to go home. At the door, I gave him a side hug, since my ribs were bruised from our greeting.
Future lost boys… Eyes up here please! 
.... I am sick of hearing: " You have perfect teeth and breasts.", "You have the biggest boobs ever." "Your husband will be a lucky man". "Did you know your tits are huge?" 
Yeah... I know. So please, eyes up here. I am not meat.

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Here's The Deal

So this is it... I will write more, if I know that more people are reading this thing! I have quite a few almost finished stories, but they are more intended for the book version of my life. However, if I find out how many people are actually reading and if I can get a few more, than I will post them. SOO... leave comments here and on my other posts if you are reading.... AND share it. I don't want to really write a book that no one is going to read. So help me find out if it is worth it!!

Your Wendy Bird


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