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.

Gentleman, 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.

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.

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.

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.

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?