Monday, December 19, 2011

How Texting has Ruined My Dating Life

The title of this entry is a little misleading, because I really don't have a dating life. (Though I did have an awesome first date last night.  But that's neither here nor there, I'm sure I'll come up with a way to screw it up soon.)  In the interest of keeping this blog as schizophrenic as possible I decided to make a foray into a subject I know almost nothing about...Relationships!  I have been lucky enough to have had a couple of great boyfriends.  Obviously, as I am still single, something went wrong eventually.  School has effectively reduced my social life to a small, dysfunctional jello-like mass on the back burner.  Recently, I have made some effort to branch out and meet people, not necessarily with life-long romance on my mind, but just to have some age-appropriate companionship from time to time.  The first problem is that the mean age in this college town seems to be slightly over 21.  I've been buying beer legally for a decade, and I'm getting to the point where I'm tired of being a babysitter.  The problem I'm facing now is that almost every guy I meet wants to get my number and start texting right away.  Now, I am a texting fiend.  I have a 450-minute per month plan on my cell phone and I use less than 60 of those minutes in the average month.  I'm not a talker.  Luckily it comes with unlimited texting.  Texting is a great way to keep up with my friends, share jokes, and send quick info when I'm at work or in class.  (Yeah, I know, I'm a terrible student for texting in class.)  Texting someone I just met is awkward.  I have a dry sense of humor and a smart mouth.  Even face-to-face, people don't always know how to take some of the things I say.  In my experience, most of the guys I meet fall into one or more of a few categories.

#1:  The Overtexter.  This guy starts message overload the minute he wakes up in the morning.  Most overtexters open with "What r u doing?"  One guy used to send me this exact message at least four times a day.  I got to a point where I would send back some bizarre, cryptic activity that I had never done in my life, or a summary of something veterinary-related that he would never understand...bonus points for me if it was something that could be taken the wrong way ("Cleaning an artificial vagina."  Instant conversation killer...until the next "What r u doing?" which would arrive in less than two hours most of the time.)  Sometimes, it seems that ignoring the overtexter is the best defense, but this usually unleashes the barrage of "R u mad at me?" messages.  Yeah, dude.  We met for 10 minutes at a bar and you've texted me 14 times today.  I'm a little annoyed.  I don't talk to my mom that often, and I spent 9 months in her womb.  The real issue with the overtexter is that he manages to talk all day, without ever saying anything.  If you've sent me 29 messages in an hour and I still don't know anything about you, I'm bored!

#2:  The Disappearing Act.  Less annoying than the overtexter, this guy sends a few messages back and forth, then just stops answering.  Yeah, I do that too.  Sometimes my ADD flares up and I forget about my phone, but I try not to make it a pattern.  Text conversations are inherently awkward in some ways; in a voice conversation you pretty much have to say, "Hey, I need to go wash my dishes now so I'll catch you later."  Honestly, my phone service is not that reliable sometimes and I'm left wondering if the message didn't go through, if it went through and offended, or if a bird flew by and you felt the need to chase it.  I'm a girl.  We wonder about these things.

#3:  The Text-Only Guy.  This guy will not call.  On the rare occasions where I call, he doesn't answer.  If I leave a voicemail, I get a text reply.  He's more than willing to communicate over text.  I'm thinking he's married.  Or has a stuttering problem I didn't notice when we met.  Or he's married.

#4:  Send-Me-A-Picture Guy.  Why in the world would I want to take a picture of myself after I've told him that I'm cleaning horse troughs and organizing my trailer tack room?  I'm sweaty, I'm muddy, I'm wearing old jeans and a t-shirt, and my hair is under a ball cap that may or may not be covered in cobwebs.  We met, he knows what I look like, but we aren't living together (or even actually dating) so I'm not really into showing him my unretouched dark side.  If he has some weird "grubby girl" fetish, that's probably something he should keep to himself for now.  I'm not a narcissistic teenager.  I don't take endless pictures of myself on my phone.  I take endless pictures of my dog.  Dogs are always cute.

All of these texting types are annoying, but I have saved the most heinous for last.  Behold!

#5:  Penis Picture Guy.  DON'T BE THAT GUY.  Ever.  Just don't.  I will block the number.  And you are an idiot.  It disappoints me that this has happened more than once, with sober men, in my age group.  Seriously.

Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Take chances. Find your passion.

The title of this entry is taken from a bracelet I wear.  A good friend gave it to me at Big Phil's funeral.  I hardly took it off in the next few weeks after, and I still wear it frequently.  It makes me stronger.  I have taken some big chances in my life.  One of the biggest was applying to veterinary school.  I have lost a lot of my passion for it in the stream of daily BS that vet school has become, but I still believe I am on the right path.  Part of the problem is simply my attitude.  I can't control what my life is like on a daily basis and there's a part of me that wants to sull up and fight some of the stupider things that come my way.  Once in a while, though, my passion finds me.  That's what happened this weekend.  After finals wrapped up, I got to make a flying trip to Vegas with my mom for the National Finals Rodeo.  A guy I grew up with was competing (and representing our little town quite well, I might add!) so we got to visit with him and his family for a bit after the 10th round.  There was a girl in the group who started telling my mom about the vet clinic she works for, so Ma, of course, introduced her to me.  She works for THE bucking horse vet in the industry, a man that I spent a couple of days with the summer after first year.  Now, I'm looking forward to being a veterinarian, and I will do what I need to to make a living when I graduate...even if that means (*shudder*) doing some small animal work once in a while.  But bucking horses are my passion.  I love their athleticism, their looks, their attitudes, and really everything about them.  Some people go to a rodeo to see a great ride; I go to see a 1500-lb bronc catch some air and snap their hind feet straight over their head.  I've had a pipe dream of having a roughstock practice someday, and only working on bucking horses and bulls.  There are a few great bucking bull vets, but only one guy is really doing much with bucking horses.  They can be hard to handle if you don't have the right staff and the right facilities.  Running into a girl who works for THE bucking horse vet was a reminder that I might be able to live out my pipe dream someday, I've just got to get off my ass and get after it.  As a result of a five minute conversation just outside portal 9 in Thomas & Mack Center, I now have a place to stay when I go extern with THE bucking horse vet.  Thanks for the reminder that all this crap will be worthwhile someday, God!  I know Phil is up there with you and it was probably his idea to nudge me back in the right direction.  I'm betting the Hard 8 and I think the dice are on my team now.

Sunday, December 4, 2011

'Twas the Night Before Finals...

Shockingly, it's the night before finals and I'm having trouble focusing on studying...I know, I know.  It's weird.  I'm actually interested in veterinary medicine, I promise!  I'm just so burnt out on studying.  It's frustrating to have 400 pages of notes to go through and not much idea what is "important" and what's not.  I guarantee that I will not retain all of the information.  Tomorrow's exam is all small animal medicine, so it's not my forte, but with my mantra "Cooperate to graduate" I'm ready to suck it up and get on with becoming 5/8 of a DVM.  Let's do this thing!