Let's Blame it on Mom & Dad, As I Usually Do

girl, it's in the genes. it must be. there is no other reason for us, both young and interesting creatures, to be habitual old ladies at the ripe old ages of 19 and 23. I can completely empathize with everything you wrote of, since you are speaking to the Queen Creature-of-Habit. I use it as an excuse for just about everything, from eating tuna salad EVERY SINGLE DAMN DAY to being unavailable on Saturday mornings (weekly movie & muffin) to constantly re-adjusting picture frames that Krista moves to make me mad. I don't know how it got to be this way, I only know that besides having to eat the exact same breakfast and lunch on the exact same days, there are many other ways in which I prove my anal retentiveness, each and every day.

Rule #1 (and this is a big one): if it's not in the planner, I don't do it. This is not to say that if I have a gap between activities or something minor changes I can't just hang loose, but basically no one else realizes that they cannot just ask me to go somewhere or do something at the last minute. If I have realized one thing by reading countless online dating profiles, it's that the words "spontaneous" and "adventurous" and "young" are wrongly thought to be synonymous. Everyone wants to be young and spontaneous. I want to be young and adventurous. I can be adventurous without being spontaneous. No one else gets this. As my close friends (and sometimes strangers) have come to find out, I will literally try ANYTHING and go anywhere- but it must be either pre-planned or fit neatly into the weekly diary.

Rule #2: you cannot change me. You cannot change this aspect of me. If your name is not in my planner on a certain day, or someone does not cancel on me, or it is not the rare Friday in which I have nothing to do, you will just have to wait. I constantly wonder how I got to be such an old woman about this, how I must seem so rigid when I pass up shopping at Bloomie's for my daily workout, and why I get so irritated when people "forget" about things they have to do and it affects me. I think a lot of it must have to do with Dad and his 7 P's : Proper Prior Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. Yes, that being drilled into our little brains must be a large reason why such petite and sweet young girls act so militaristic when it comes to our daily schedules. The other thing that must have contributed is the simple fact that I have rescheduled or missed too many nail appointments for boys that, in the end were not worth it. Nail appointments, "me time" that is so desperately needed after a long day, my "date" with Sun-Wah Chinese takeout that I looked forward to since the crappy salad I had at lunch- these are things that seem a little sad and unimportant, but are endlessly more fulfilling on a regular basis than a person who is unfulfilling on a non-regular basis. And I don't mean this only about the boys who have let me down in the past, but female friends who are SO spontaneous that they forget important details too (like when and where to be somewhere). Most of my friends are amazing people to hang out with, but the few that can't handle actually following our plans have left me waiting at a club or eating dinner alone in Chinatown one too many times.

My daily rituals, my obsessive planning, my writing every detail in the little book so I won't forget it, my carrying the little book everywhere so I'm never lost- this will never end. I have come to terms with the fact that this is who I am, and while I will never turn down an invitation to live music, a new restaurant, or a dance-off, I will want to know EXACTLY where and when I am going. And if you can't tell me, I refuse to wait on any more street corners while you get your act together.

having said all that, truthfully, I must tell you that last weekend was one of the rare occasions where I did not exactly follow my rules. it started off being a little play-it-by-ear because on Friday I originally had plans with one of the apostles, M (take a stab at it dear) but something came up at work and he couldn't make it to dinner. which ultimately turned out to be fine with me because I had simultaneously been invited to happy hour by another apostle, P, and I was pretty sure his cute coworker, one of the Lance Armstrong twins, would be there- so I was definitely in. so it even began unplanned and I just had to go along with it. I did get some good flirt time in with Lance Armstrong, before I found out that we had a 10-year age gap and he was "really diggin" this girl named Cindy. but anyways. fast forward to Saturday night and a new cast of characters. I went with Carolina to Shawn's party in Williamsburg, where I was determined to meet a cute guy "in real life," which rarely happens. And I did. And I visited his mad cool loft apartment with other random people I had just met. And we stayed up all night, and I found out the sun rises around 7 these days. And I was a little bit naughty. And his name begins with J and is not an apostle name. And this was sooo not me. What was me, I guess, was that I totally won the dance-off (if it hadn't spun out of control after Carolina and I brought it DOWN), and that I really miss college and staying up all night, and not having to go to work (this being a Sat-Sun event I really didn't). Perhaps my subconcious (or my drunk conscious) was trying to chip away at the responsible side that usually rules (or ruins) my life. Whatever it was, it was damn fun- and even though I didn't get home til after 10 am, I don't feel all that bad about it. In all fairness, by the time I trekked around B'burg to the second party, I hadn't a clue where I was and therefore could not possibly try to get home anyways. I probably would have ended up in the East River or eaten alive by subway rats while I waited for the L, if I even made it back to the station.

sorry for the length of this (as usual) but I started it 3 hours ago and have added bits between meetings and eating yogurt (which yes, I must do every morning at 11)

xoxoxoxoBon
ps- COOKIE CAKE! JEALOUSY! and diabolical red lips? supreme.