My Picker

If that headline didn’t get your attention, I don’t know what will.

As you may or may not know, I’ve been single for an excruciatingly long time. Three years as of August. And I have honestly be OK with that. I’ve been on this whole “getting to know myself” adventure. I’ve dated a few gentleman in that time but no keepers. I’ve been on dating sites, but no keepers, just creepers.

(Side note: It seems friends that I’ve had since grade school believe I moved to San Francisco to become a lesbian. As much as I support equality and free love, I still enjoy the penis. Sorry Niki if this disappoints you and your husband. I’m still pretty bitter about this conversation, obviously.) 

My conclusion: My picker is broken.

Yes, my picker. That little voice inside of me that says, “Man, I really like this guy”. My picker is broken. It hones in on any unavailable, unreliable, unexciting man and makes me do stupid things.

Remember a few days ago, I was drinking “water” and wrote this incredibly silly post about some crush I was having. My picker is broken – point proven.

First, I work with him. I made a rule not to dip my pen in company ink (I think that’s the saying), ever again. Second, he’s a pup and acts like it too. Third, I spent an entire week helping him with a project and did not get so much as a thank you.

Picker = Dead to me

So, there is a new game plan.

SingleGentleman, come and get me. I’m single, fun, not horrible to look at, and only slightly crazy. I am not longer chasing love. Love can chase me.

And that doesn’t mean that I’m going to sit in my apartment waiting for prince charming to knock on my door; however, that would be incredibly convenient. I’m going to get out there and try looking available. I’m just not picking, someone needs to pick me for a change.

“But Lefty – you could be single forever?” Yep, I could. And I could be miserable with some guy with the emotion IQ of -571.

Alone and happy > Together and miserable

Those are my happy thoughts for the night. Sweet dreams interwebs.


Another First

First, on this “Another First” post, I’d like to apologize for the drunk ramblings last time we met. I need to invent a breathalyzer to disable text messages, Facebook, Twitter and now my blog when over the designated limit. For me, that limit would be lame ass. Seriously, I’m amazed that I’m 35 years old some times.

And just to clear the air, I did not ask the boy. I did text the friend who has said all of three words to me since….apparently she thinks I’m an idiot. I’ll keep you informed as to any movement on the boy situation. Don’t hold your breath, I don’t need that on my conscience.

Anyway – on my list of 13 13’s in 2013, #13 was to try 13 new things. This weekend I went to the Oakland A’s game. This was my first sporting event in California and my first ever Major League Baseball game! And it was fabulous! I spent $9 on a beer! I had a pretzel with cheese (YUM!). I had cotton candy. I saw a CarBQ. The game was stopped because of a fight in the stands and some dude almost came over the railing onto the field.

Good times!!

IMG_20130615_161559_501 IMG_20130615_155341_299 999900_4885072404002_414813465_nOh the adventures I’m having…

Red Wine Confidence

Right now, in my red wine confident mind, I would ask the boy I’m interested in getting to know better to hang with me on Saturday, at a beer fest at a baseball game.

Or, less confidently, I’d ask a friend if this would be a good idea.

Most likely, I’ll pass out within minutes and neither will happen in the light of day.

I have a love/hate relationship with my red wine confidence.

On Writing

I’ve written many the posts….in my head. By the time I get to a place where I can type them out, the entire post seems irrelevant.

Writing has always been therapeutic to me. It gets these crazy ideas, day-dreams, thoughts out of my head and onto paper. I have thousands of pages of journals – some required, some just for me. I still keep one now. I carry a notebook with me at all times and have two apps on my phone for notes.

In regards to Left Bean, I’m not sure what I want the theme to be. I read so many other blogs. I started reading running/fitness bloggers. I follow a few San Francisco bloggers. I follow a few random blogs that I honestly cannot remember why I followed them. I sometimes feel that I know these individuals. They’ve started a little community. They share break-up, bad days, sickness, babies, marriages – basically all of life’s trials and tribulations. Many have “boundaries”, people or things they won’t talk about in “public”.

I started Left Bean on a whim. And thought it was going to be a healthy, accountability blog. However, I quickly learned if you don’t tell the blog you’re lazy, you don’t have to feel guilty….or accountable. Then I thought it would be a relocation blog. But this relocation has been so much more than I could have ever imagined – both good and bad. I have no idea how to capture that.

There is a part of me that wants this to be more random. Then I fear of “over-sharing”. I fear the post may be completely ridiculous. I fear my typos will be overwhelming as my thoughts come faster than I can type. I fear that I offend someone. But in reality, you, dear reader, can choose to remove me from your feed or inbox.

Maybe it’s time to blog for me….not pigeon hole myself into one genre. Who knows – I could be penning the next great novel. (And yes, I write those in my head too).

I guess, tonight, I just feel like writing.

PPP Update

So, this whole positive thing is tough.

Yesterday,  I did well. Lots of positive self talk. Deep breathing. Little bitching. I was proud.

Today, started out rocky. Slept later than planned. A little groggy. But I had work to get done. My program engineers needed finance data for a new report (that they were none too excited about) and by golly, I was going to get it done.

After lunch, I started getting suspicious that none of the kids (program engineers) had mentioned it, but kept chugging along. At 6:30, I finish up, send an email with the data and begin to wrap up to go home when the most naive of the children stops at my desk.

PE: Are we doing PMRs tomorrow?
Me: Well, I’ve been working all day on these charts so we better.
PE: Oh well our boss told us they may not happen during our weekly meeting and never got back to us. I’ll go find out.

So, I continue to shut down and gather my belongings and head out the door. As I get to my car, I see the PE going home as well.

Me: Did you get ahold of your boss?
PE: Yep, we aren’t doing them tomorrow.
Me: Are you f $@king kidding me? Have a great evening.

My coworker busted his ass yesterday to get files updated for me today. I busted my ass today to get files ready for tomorrow. Meanwhile the whole damn thing had been postponed.

If this was a rare occurrence, I might let it slide. But the communication is so horrendous on a daily basis, it infuriates me.

I drove home, fuming, singly “shine on” by Florida Georgia Line very loudly to calm myself.

If I put the PPP into action, I’m not bitter because it’s done. Whenever we do have this meeting, my part is done. Template is set. Everything is linked. Done and done.

My God am I trying to hold onto that little nugget.

Tomorrow may bury the PPP.

This Week: The Positive Pammie Plan

As far as weeks go, last week was a rough one.

Heading back to work after a glorious four-day weekend, add a little work strife, a dash of personal drama which all led to a sobbing, emotional breakdown Thursday night – not my finest moment.

This week, I am planning to take a different attitude. Positive, some may call it.

Last week:
“I don’t want to get out of bed.
This week:
“Hey, I woke up this morning. How’s that for a great day!

Last week:
“Nothing fits me. I’m enormous. Why can’t I go to work in my PJs?!
This week:
“I have amazing hair and beautiful eyes! No, I’m not a fit as I once was but I also am refusing to do anything about it. Anyone who thinks I am less because of my belly, doesn’t need to be around me anyway.”

Last week:
“He’s making a HUGE mistake. How can I convince him that he needs to listen to me?
This week:
“He is a grown-ass adult. He can do as be pleases. I can’t protect him forever.”

Last week:
“This job may be the death of me.” (slightly dramatic)
This week:
“This job keeps me in a cute little condo, less than a mile from the bay. This job is teaching me something that I need to learn (albeit, what, I’m not sure). This job is just that – a job. And, by the way, I do a good job at this job. And, and, if I make it to Friday (which is an off Friday), I get to lay by the pool all day because California is beautiful!”

I’ll keep you posted on how this Positive Pammie thing works out.

How do you keep positive during stressful times or every day life?

Roll Call……

Hello to those of you that are still out there! Guess what? I’m still here too!
Wanna catch up? Good! Me too.

My Type-A personality is itching for a list, so…….

Top 5 Reasons I’ve Been MIA

5. Dumbass blogger/“radio DJ” in Columbus, Ohio. The title of this ridiculous article is “Top 30 Absolute Worst Favorite Overshares”.  I’m #8. They didn’t get it from Facebook but from my blog. I was an idiot and didn’t remove my last name when I posted on my blog so there my last name is for the world to see. So, here is me and my “overshare” on this list at #8. And I am linking to this Miranda Ashley bullshit list because the other 29 are way worse than mine. If a first blind date and a box of Nice N’Easy is the worst she could find, she sucks at research. Shit, I read worse than that on a daily basis from my friends. Anyway, it spooked me.

4. April 24th. I had a birthday. I turned 35. I’m a single, childless, lonely, 35 year-old woman. I’m past that now (sometimes) but it was a rough birthday. Rough. Did I mention it was rough?

3. Resolutions/Projects/All the shit I said I was going to do that I haven’t even thought about since I wrote them. I take that back, I have thought about them. I’ve thought about them enough to not want to blog about how I’m not doing them. Once I get back in the swing, I’ll post an update. But until then, I’ll leave you wondering how much I such at resolving.

2. My Carrie Bradshaw nook is not as cool as I thought it would be. Let me explain. In my bedroom, I have this nook about 4 feet wide and 18 inches deep. There is a lovely window that looks out into the “wilderness” behind my building. (I’ll post a picture when it’s not dark.) I found this lovely little gem at IKEA and it fits perfectly! I thought for sure my inner Carrie would come rushing out. carrie-bradshawSo I had to wonder….Do I even like writing at a desk? The answer – NO. I like being wrapped up on my couch with some bad television on for back ground noise. And my back is to everything….and I hate that. (I’ve seriously turned around 15 times in the 30 minutes I’ve been at my desk tonight.) And my laptop battery lasts about 7 seconds away from the power cord. (FYI…I never said these were good reason…just a top 5.)

1. An introvert, moving across the country and only knowing two people….is hard. HARD, I say. I am thankful for Facebook and Twitter everyday for a little bit of “friend” interaction. Let me be clear – I love California. I would not change this decision for the world. But…if you know me…I’m not the first girl to sign up for the “Meet Ups” even though I get daily notifications of events. And if you do ask me to do something (and I go), I’m typically pretty quiet. Until you get to know me and my life story and wish we had never become friends. The people at work are lovely. However, the majority of them are engineers – either genius’s with a slightly smaller social gene (maybe I’m a genius!!) or arrogant as hell and I’d rather punch then in the face than hang with them. A few of the work ladies gather every couple of months for a “stitch n’bitch”. To date, there has been no stitching, lots o’bitching and lots o’wine. As I type this, I guess I’m ok in the “people” department….it’s the relationship and, I know, that takes time. And I’m still the quiet introvert in most settings, until about 3 glasses of wine (then I become the drunk oversharer). Do me a solid, my friends….next time you have a new gal or guy at work, in the ‘hood or in your workout class – befriend them. A little kindness goes along way. And if you’re the new kid, be receptive to the befriending….not the shy, introvert with one word answers (and I know I need to work on that!).

Until we meet again….

This week….

….what can you say about a week like this.  I’d blame it on a full moon but we’re a week away from that. Please forgive my rant, I’ve held so much in this week because work has been so incredibly hectic.

Monday started by following my favorite runners on Twitter during the Boston Marathon. Then explosions. Then disaster.

While I was a part of the running community, I loved races – even if I walk ran them. I loved the cheers. I love the sportsmanship. Every runner is running their own race for their own reason. Whether it be for health, charity, or fun, everyone has their reason. Every runner also has a goal for the race. Goals range from just finishing to personal best (PB or PR), keep a certain pace, pace my friend, don’t die. (As I sit here and read those last two words, I debate about deleting them. Am I being insensitive? No and I’ve decided not to delete because anyone who has or will every complete in a distance race/run will feel as if they are dying and will pray that they do not.) And unless a runner is perfectly fit all the time, there is a great deal of time and energy put into training, stretching, lifting weights just to be able to participate in the race.

The Boston Marathon is the holy grail of marathons. It’s the super bowl, world series, Indy 500 – take your pick – of marathons. People train for years to qualify to run. People train for years to qualify and never qualify. People who are not runners will go to Boston just to cheer for these athletes. In fact, half a million people were in Boston on Monday just to cheer.

26.2 miles. Can you really comprehend that distance? For example, I have a 10 mile round trip commute to work. That’s close to 3 days of round trip commutes. The thought of running to and from work every day for three days makes me cringe. These athletes do it for fun and in 3 to 5 hours.

My heart hurts for those that lost their lives or limbs, those still in pain, those who will never see their loved one again. My heart hurts for everyone who has ever ran Boston and mourns the sanctity of the race. Most of all, my heart hurts for those unable to finish the race because of this ridiculous act of violence. Whether they were held back on the bridge or had the finish in their sight, I ache for them. It takes so much fight – blood, sweat and tears, mental anxiety, and passion to finish a marathon and someone took it away from them for fun/revenge/spite.

The aftermath lingers on Tuesday along with a 12 hour day (left my house at 7:30 a.m. and returned at 7:30 p.m.) as new details are revealed.

And then Wednesday comes along and another tragedy in Texas. Hundreds injured and the number of deaths continue to climb….because they can’t find people. An entire community ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds. I pray it is not an act of terrorism….just a tragic accident.

I’m not going to lie – Thursday, I was spent. I was done. I wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until the world got it shit together. I struggled through the day and let’s just say they don’t call it happy hour for nothing. I didn’t realize how much I was desperate for a happy hour. A couple beers, good food, great company – even if I had to witness friends eating oysters – it was an excellent distraction.

As I crawl into bed that night, I begin seeing tweets about the MIT officer, suspects, more bombs, carjacking – seriously. WTF? It was an incredibly restless night.

How did we get here? Why do people want to hurt each other? I just don’t understand anymore. And, because it is all about me, this is not helping my big birthday (35) funk that I’m in. How can I be pining over my lost youth when so many others have lost their lives this week? But that’s for another post.

I’m so incredibly thank for the things I have and am able to do. I pray for those who have lost and will continue to pray for the world to be a better place.

Tail of the Blue Bunny

I’m not sure how it started but every year I ask the “Easter Bunny” for a blue bunny. And that darn bunny always delivers. Not always a blue bunny, maybe a beanie baby bunny or a polka-dot bunny, but always a bunny.

This year, I forgot to ask and the Easter Bunny delivered anyway.

This little guy was hanging out on the front porch when I got home from the grocery. It was exactly what I needed brighten my sick day.


Some bunny loves me?!

I love the Easter Bunny!