Adventures in Online Dating

Just try and resist this face!

   I've had a couple people ask me to blog about this particular topic...maybe because its a strange phenomenon and I talk about the whole thing in a ridiculous manner.  The world of online dating simply confounds me.  Here I am ladies of North West Washington!  Please judge me based on my essay responses to these formulated questions.  And check out these super great pictures of me going on adventures!  Do I post that sarcastic duck-face self-portrait I took a week ago?  Or will people think I am being serious?  Or maybe they'll know I'm joking and take offense to it.  Don't worry, I didn't actually over analyze it...that much.
    Let's go back a step.  First, one must choose a username. Oh, the possibilities!  Unfortunately, I couldn't browse other users until I named myself, which meant I was not given any examples to work from.  So, in my inexperienced online dating decision making, I went with something generic and missed my chance for creativity.  I would have liked the sound of Singly_Confused...it has a nice ring to it.  Before you ask, no, I will not tell you my actual username.  I won't even tell you what site I'm using! Because I prefer to be judged by strangers online who may or may not be attracted to me.
   Next, selling myself through these wonderful essay questions.  What are the six things I can't live without?  What am I doing on a typical Friday night?  Here's my favorite.  What am I doing with my life?  Somehow, this turned into a counseling session.  How much honesty should I pour into these things?  "Hey there!  I'm reinventing myself while trying not to go crazy during graduate school," or "I have no idea what I'm doing on here, but I thought I'd try it out.  Please be nice."  At least I can be pretty objective in my Friday night answer.
   Now, in order to be matched with anyone, I was put through the gauntlet of questions about politics, sex, drugs, religion, and everything in between.  After about 100 of those (more if you want your match statistics to be a little better), I can finally "accurately" search for people.  By accurate, I mean this.  I am given three different numbers when looking at a girl's profile.  First, the percentage this site believes that we will be a good match.  Second, the percentage of amazing friendship we will have.  Last...the best one...the chance that we will actually be enemies.  Thanks?
   What the hell do I do with these numbers?  How willing am I to meet that 92% match right now?  What does 74% really mean?  Did I answer those questions correctly?  Screw it, I just want to meet new people!
   And then comes the biggest test of online dating.  The pictures.  How much am I judging this girl based on her picture?  What does it say about me if I am judging her?  As humans, we can't help it.  And if this site didn't tell a person that I looked at their profile, I would try to look past that first picture.  But, I feel weird about the girl knowing I checked out her profile and moved right on along.  I see what visitors I had and wonder..."why wasn't I good enough for you?"  Not really.  But I am curious to know why people decide to make contact or just pass on through.
   Which brings me to this.  Getting a message from someone is so exciting!  Hooray!  And why?  Because, feeling wanted feels pretty damn good.  And sometimes I'm just a little too nervous to initiate that contact.  How do you start a message to someone on a dating website?  The act of saying hello already implies that you are interested.  Our intentions are laid out by being on here in the first place.  So, what's the point of small talk?  Then again...you sound like a creep if you come right on out and say, "Hey, you're hot and I could see myself kissing you sometime."  Throw that draft out the window!  A simple, hello, followed by some statement which proves you read their profile seems to do the trick.  And then, hell, what do I have to lose by pressing send?  That's the nice thing about the internet.  I don't see their look of disgust or confusion.  I just never hear back and move right on along.
   There are so many more thoughts I could put up here for you to read, but I haven't yet organized them and don't want to put you through that.  Just know this...my adventures in online dating are quite amusing, pretty great, and further practice in being open to what's out there.  Plus...it makes for good stories!

Adventures in Hooray!

   Do you consider yourself lucky?  I don't know if I would say I'm lucky, but I consider myself fortunate.  The other day in class, one of my professors mentioned this study on luck.  Researchers asked participants to come to a restaurant and just get a free meal.  All the participants had to do was sit and eat and be themselves.  After the meal, researchers asked them what they thought of the experience.  How was the food?  How was the atmosphere? What the team found was that those who did not consider themselves lucky would comment on those questions and just say thanks for the meal.  Here's where it gets interesting.  Participants who considered themselves lucky always had a story to tell.  One couple was thinking of building their own home and the waiter's father happened to be a contractor.  Another participant was looking for a place to live and the cook just happened to be renting out his mother-in-law suite (I haven't read the study so these examples are just made up.  The point is...weird connections were made).  Now, does this prove that luck exists?  The researchers said nay.  These instances weren't luck.  They are explained by a person's willingness to open up to the environment and experiences around them.  The participants who don't consider themselves lucky could have had the same stories had they been able to open up their eyes to what was around them.
    So, what's the connection to my Adventures in Hooray?  Well, I've been using that word a lot and wondered what it was about.  Hooray to new friends!  Hooray to fun adventures!  Hooray to smiles from strangers! Hooray to sunny days and crazy connections!  I was attributing this to some message the world was trying to send me.  "Syd, you've had enough crap, here are some awesome things!"  But, I didn't really believe that.  Because even through some hellish times, I have found amazing people and created some great stories.  And  I don't really believe in luck.  I do, however, believe in learning who I am and trying new things.  I have learned that by going with the flow, or pushing past my comfort zone...by being vulnerable...I allow these things to become visible.  Maybe that stranger was always smiling, and I finally noticed because I told myself to stand tall again.  These people have always been here.  Hell, I've even met some of them before.  But I'm finally allowing myself to connect again and become that person who leaves the restaurant with a story.

Adventures in the Year of Sydney

   I have come to the decision that, starting a couple weeks ago, the next year will be amazing.  I'm not sure how this will happen, I just have faith that it will.  There have already been small glimpses into the possibilities.  I wrote before about how my vulnerability brought about stronger connections with those already in my life...I'm now learning that by allowing myself to be comfortable, I can make new connections altogether.  Maybe its the simple fact that I am literally looking up when I go places.  I notice people smiling, and it makes me smile back, which reminds me that I'm not alone.  And this helps me stand a little taller.
  
I have been making some new friends and spending more time with those friends who I didn't know too much about before.  Saturday, I found myself huddled under a cozy blanket, watching Disney movies on a rainy day with a friend I have only spent time with on a couple other occasions.  We were supposed to be working our muscles and enjoying a nice hike in the Chuckanuts, but a lack of planning and some printer errors sent us hiding indoors.  Dumbo, Robin Hood...how can you go wrong?  Maybe ending our movie day with Pulp Fiction was a bit of a jump, but it was worth it!  I even found myself passed out on the couch at one point in an attempt to recover from my previous night of new friend adventures.

  Sunday was not going to stop me from getting a hike in, so my classmate and I were determined to find some trail that would take us.  A few weeks ago I would have found an excuse to postpone the hike and lay low, but I am seeking adventures and anything that looks like it might lead to one.  So I found myself at the Samish Overlook with a friend who I would know a little better at the end of our three miles. It was cold, but I had coffee.  And it was the perfect amount of quiet to have amazing conversations.  We found snow at the top and sunshine at the bottom, then warmth back in town.  I would have missed all this if I had stayed in what I thought was my comfort zone.

   Taking the active step of putting myself out into the world again has brought changes and events I didn't plan on.  I was unsure what would come of my decision to let go, but I'm happy I did. These new friendships and unexpected smiles have led me to believe that this will be an amazing year.  This will be the year I learn to push past what I think I know and see what else I can learn.

Looking Back

   Looking back through my binder full of old journal entries I found this.  I had in mind that it would be the first page of a book I may never write.  This is the wall I talked about.  I tweaked it a bit to fix some writing and add a couple other things.  I know its a bit heavier than the things I usually post, but I'm practicing that vulnerability I talked about.

   STRENGTH, a word most people view as a compliment, a positive attribute, a rare characteristic that puts them above the rest.  For one reason or another this is a word that many around me have to used to describe me.  When looking from outside I can see how easy it could be to quickly throw the label my way.  No matter what seems to happen in my life, it was a rare occasion to ever see me show any sort of emotional pain.  Even when it had become an expectation to see my father drunk, never would I let on that it was tearing me apart inside.  Only the few that I had allowed to come close would ever see me for who I was, who I am.  They were the chosen ones who were given permission to witness my own personal anguish that I had learned to hide, without effort, from the rest of the world.  Yet, even with my complacent attitude in times of distress I had to ask myself why no one questioned my ability to stay utterly calm when my best friend had given up on life.  Or when my family friend took hers.  What they didn't seem to understand was that to me, the idea of strength has simply been used as a tool, a shield against my own mentality...an escape from myself.  In living with my depressed father, my strength was avoiding the problem in its entirety.  I would pretend to be strong until the time came to go home.  I had somehow managed to convince myself that this was how life was supposed to be; full of battles that are constantly being fought.  Full of reasons to hide.  And with that explanation I created a box to hold my battles and my true emotions.  When my friend tried giving up, I went back to that box in hopes of carrying the burden she could no longer handle.  I have tried to take the burdens of others and put them in this box and carry it on my own shoulders.  Through all of these experiences, it was the box that continued to strengthen, not my ability to truly endure the situation.
    STRONG, a word I have grown to hate, a word that I had chosen to hide behind.  To me, being strong is no strength at all.

And I will end this post with a quote that I can't take credit for.

"Vulnerability is not weakness...it is our most accurate measurement of courage."
-Brené Brown

My Adventure in Vulnerability

   What does it mean to be vulnerable?  Capable of being physically or emotionally wounded.  Doesn't that apply to people everywhere?  Physically yes, but not everyone gives themselves the chance to be emotionally hurt.  People hide from it because vulnerability can bring shame and fear and uncertainty...but it brings about chances to so many great things.  Connection and compassion and the ability to love and be loved with your whole heart.  The shame and fear and uncertainty come when you jump in with both feet, only to find yourself on the floor like a rag doll.  People applaud me for being vulnerable.  I tell them I don't have a choice, that the things I'm feeling won't allow themselves to be hidden.  But maybe I've been training for this.  Maybe the years I spent hiding in high school and part of college, maybe they have shown me why vulnerability is so important.  Because when I opened up a tiny part of that pain I had been holding onto, I met amazing people who helped me break down a little more of that wall.  I recognize that part of that wall still exists and I feel myself wanting to begin building it back up.  I struggle with the urge to protect myself from this physical and emotional pain, but I know this would only leave me locked up within my own prison.  Building a wall is a temporary fix.  
    I didn't realize how vulnerable I had become over the years until I lost the future I fell in love with.  I find myself reaching out to friends I've known for a few months, and those I haven't talked to in years.  I have discovered stronger bonds, and am beginning to realize that I helped build them.  The journeys I have taken throughout my life have helped me step away from uncertainty.  Sometimes I wonder what to do with uncertainty when it comes up, and I struggle with wanting to know the outcomes when there are bigger things at stake.  For adventures, I crave uncertainty.  I become nervous when heavy emotions and hearts are involved.  But I need to remember to push through that fear when the time is right...when my heart tells me its ok.
    So my new mission is to hold onto that vulnerability, because pushing through that terror creates connection.  I am going to remember to love with my whole heart, even though there's no guarantee.  And to be thankful for these moments of intense vulnerability...because it means I'm alive.

   

An Adventure in Civil Rights

   I have amazing friends who post wonderful things.  With the election growing closer I have woken up a fight for my rights and it appears that blogging is one of my outlets.  And because I am also in grad school and slightly brain dead, I will steal the words of others.  That's why I make a note to give full credit to Drew, and have changed it because some of you don't know who he is.  Here goes...

Dear Friends who may be thinking about voting AGAINST an initiative, amendment, or candidate because of it's stand FOR marriage equality: When you hear or read comments about gays, please replace the word "gay" with my name.

Syd getting married is a threat to all families.
Syd doesn't love, it is only lust.
Syd shouldn't be allowed to marry.
Syd is what is wrong with this country.
Syd is 'fixable' with electroshock therapy.

Syd has enough protection already, he now wants special rights.
If Syd can marry then we should just let people marry animals/children/objects.

Syd isn't fit to be a mother!

The "marriage equality movement" is simply about people who are in love and want to spend their lives together. It is about a legal recognition and protection of my commitment - Sydney's commitment - to another person.

Thanks, Drew.

Grad School...My Most Challenging MisAdventure Yet

   Why has it taken me so long to post?  I know this has been burning question on the back of every one's mind.  All five of you who read my blog.  Cue my list of excuses

1)  My computer was broken and I felt the need to ship it back to Minnesota to get it fixed
2)  I had to finally think about starting grad school
3)  Moving 3 hours north takes a lot of work
4)  Classes started and I needed a chance to freak out

   After getting a chance to stop and take a breath I can finally tell everyone how excited I am!  This is first time I have been excited about reading all text books I have. The first time I am taking notes because I am sincerely interested in what is on the page.  And I better enjoy it because I have 2 years of this and a whole lot of reading.  I plan on keeping track of how many pages I have read as time passes.  So far, since Friday I have tallied 124 pages (I want to note that those are class readings and do not include the book I'm reading to stay sane).

   I will admit that my greatest fear was not the reading, or the assignments that will undoubtedly keep me busy throughout all of this...what put my stomach in knots was whether or not I get along with my classmates.  For those of you who I haven't told, my program runs on a cohort basis.  There are 6 first years total (yes, I said 6) and we are all in the same classes throughout the program.  This means that if one person clashes with my awesome personality, there is no escape.  Let us all be thankful that the powers that be (the department) chose well and I am can safely say that we will all survive.  There will be a lot of chilling.

   We were told by several second year students that we would cry at least once in our first year, probably more than once.  So far, just once, from one of the passages in my text.  I didn't cry when Dumbledore died, or in any books I've read of abuse, genocide, or other things of that nature...but a text book finally pushes me over the edge.  So now I feel obliged to share this father's metaphor for his grief after losing his 2-year-old son.  I hope you have tissues close by.

   I am building a three-sided house.
   It is not a good design.  With one side open to the weather, it will never offer complete shelter from life's cold winds.  Four sides would be much better, but there is no foundation on one side, and so three walls are all I have to work with.
   I am building this place from the rubble of the house I used to own...It had four good walls and would, I thought, survive the most violent storm.  It did not.  A storm beyond my understanding tore my house apart and left the fragments on the ground around me...And so I rebuild.  Not, as so many onlookers would suggest, because I need shelter once again.  The storm now travels within me, and there is no shelter from the tempest behind doors or walls.
   Who can show me how to build here now?  There are no architects, no experts in designing three-sided houses.  Why is it that that so many people seem to have advice for me?  "Move on," they say, quite convinced that another house can replace the one I lost...I grow weary of consultations based on murky insight, delivered with such confidence.
   ...And yet among those who wish to see me house rise again, there are real heroes too.  People who are not daunted by the wreckage.  It is not a pleasant role for them to play because the dust clings to those who come to see and it will not wash off when they go home...Above all they know how difficult this task is, and no suggestion comes from them about how far along I ought to be. 

   This time I was able tot make it through without tears, but...wow.  This is what I'm getting into.  I will be learning how to walk into these houses and let dust cling and make no judgements. 

   There is another side to my future path, one that fits my hopes and goals to a tee.  I read over and over again that the role of the school counselor has roots in advocating for social justice.  These things pop up out of the page and I find myself nodding my head with a smile on my face.  So, I am sitting here, listening to music which points out these injustices and thinking "hell, yea, I have a purpose!"