When Things Get Complicated

Life is a bit of a funny thing. Just when I think things have settled, chaos and distress threaten to take hold. Thankfully I have great coping skills, but I still find myself being influenced by stress. While I know it's pretty much the only way to learn or heighten my tolerance for such things, it stills alarms me a smidge. What keeps me going is the fact the days I feel like I'm imploding from OH MY GOD ALL THE THINGS I NEED TO DOOOOOOOOO (aka being someone with responsibilities) are much lower than the days where I feel pretty confident that I actually do said things. In short, I'm facing my fears on those days where I just feel like I want to hide. And yes, I will admit that I do sometime hide to a certain extent. But here, Gentle Readers (Amelia Peabody anyone?), is where I would like to clarify what hiding actually means.

"Hiding" is now an act of self-care. "Hiding" means I admit to myself that I am not super-woman. That I am not perfect and 12 hours of sleep are well earned after a stressful research paper. "Hiding" means recognizing I need to read to be myself: calm and happy. "Hiding" means a re-prioritization of my life. Thus, it means a reward for a job well done; it means I can face another day with sanity. And truly, going forward it is best that I meet my days as such for I have a mountain before me to climb!

The struggle to keep my head is further exacerbated by the fact I believe a gentlemen classmate of mine is keen on me. You see, I sit next to this particular fellow and through a group project we have become friends. He is attractive, I will admit, and thought so the moment I saw him weeks ago. We have similar interests and he is an ambitious fellow of the highest caliber. The hints have been coming since last Friday with little comments such as "cute and funny, I like it" and volunteering the fact he is unattached. Or others such as, "like me" when I spoke of how I enjoy men who are not the norm (I was speaking of my infatuation with the beautifully rugged men of Scotland). This was promptly laughed off by me as I would classify his lineage of French-Mexican as normal, to me. Also, I may or may not have been trying to drop hints in that same conversation that well, I like a dominant man. You know this, I know this... he and his 18 years does not.

Ah yes, this fellow I speak of is 18. He does not look 18, but I am of the school of thought that how you looks does not make up for the number of years and experiences a person. Equally, I don't sense he possesses the dominant qualities I desire. He is exceedingly nice. The bend-over-backwards for anyone he knows because that is his nature type of fellow. Sweet, smart, attractive, intelligent, and ambitious -- he is quite a catch. Just not my type of catch. The boost to my ego, however, is rather tempting.

Tempting and easy, a rather vicious cocktail for me to be presented with. Any advice from you lot? Clearly it's too soon to see how this pans out, but I don't remember ever being put in a situation like this before so I'm equally amused and mortified.