At first glance, I am so unlike my mom. She is more rough around the edges and simple in many ways. She’s not only driven by emotions — she’s fueled by them. I try to use logic to make better decisions and communicate more effectively. I’m a complex person, even though I’ve come to understand that I can be simpler than I ever thought and that maybe being complex isn’t bad.

I care more about appearances and presentation. I take more care with my looks and the words I choose. I am better, overall, at language and communicating effectively. I also have deeper understanding of the interactions people between and how things work, especially when it comes ot technology.

But when you compare us, you’ll see likenesses. We say some things in similar ways. It’s a tonal thing; although, we do use some of the same turns of phrase. There’s another similarity that I’ve been thinking about lately, too.

Both my mom and I come off as the type of people who won’t stand for anyone’s crap. In reality, we both shy away from confrontation more than you expect. I think this surprised people. No one is super comfortable with confrontation, and the way

I “avoid” confrontation by attempting to deal with issues in a forward and logical way. Thanks to marriage counseling, I’m much better at arguing in a constructive manner than, well, many people. So confrontation becomes less about fighting and more about understanding, thus making it less anxiety-causing to begin with.

Mom, on the other hand… Well, she’s not so good with the communication. If she’s frustrated with you or you’ve hurt her, she’s more likely to tell other people. This only increases her frustration and multiplies the drama. Of course, the original issue remains unresolved.

There is a common thread, I think, between the two of us. There’s a sort of fear about dealing with other people, I think, and not being able to express ourselves or appearing foolish. While Mom takes the angry route, I try to aim for the higher road — to understand why people do things, to forgive them and to be the bigger person as much as possible.

I’m generally more at ease and content with this aspect of my life because of this, and it’s something I wish she was more self-aware about because then she could be, too.

Still, I’m not so good at dealing with certain people. Usually it’s because the way they argue triggers a more emotional response to me. Some of my friends fight in a way that reminds me of my ex, and I respond in kind. It’s not so pretty.

I’m also afraid of pushing some people away with confrontation. While I realize that I have good intentions and anyone who should know this but runs away maybe isn’t the sort of force I need in my life to begin with, it’s hard because sometimes I wind up caring about those types of people.

Ultimately, I would rather err on this side. But there is still progress to be made. I think I can be understanding of others without selling myself short. I can — and should — be able to explain myself in a reasonable manner and should expect others to react in kind as much as possible. Realistically, I know we are fallible humans, but I should be able to confront people when it’s called for and be prepared to lose people who aren’t as rational as I am.

But I’ll probably avoid that change for a while. ;)

People just seem to love me. It might sound arrogant, but people love me more than I tend to love them. I often take more time to warm up to them than they do to me.

And my first impressions are just god awful. I’m not kidding guys.

But I’ve come up with a solution! A quick and mostly pain-free way to determine whether a new person is friendship material. And perhaps even more!

And you, my lucky lab rats friends, can be part of the solution!

Just fill out this hand

So, there you have it, folks. A tried-and-true method to finding friendship in the 21st century.

Allow me to be a little dramatic. I was excited to get my hair cut and colored — something bold and bright in this dismal winter time. So I made a same-day appointment at the salon I’ve gone to for the past few haircuts. I hadn’t had my hair colored there before, but I deserved  a treat, didn’t I?

I played with a couple ideas. I knew I wanted to go back to black and red or something similar to that. I found a style that I liked both cut and color, so I sent it to my phone and took it with me to the salon.

I did wind up deviating from the color a bit — I wanted more red than black. We picked colors and the stylist began hacking away.

But somewhere along that way, she cut too much. It didn’t look like the shape of the cut I had chosen at all. You would never guess the photo I took in with me.

and the color? What looked like it would work with the swatches didn’t. Perhaps because of my base color. These things are never exact, I understand. But even though I wound up going lighter than I expected, perhaps black would have been more appropriate in the end.

Overall, it just looks like a bad wig. And it reminds me of this:

Yea..

[edit]

Hair is slightly less terrible after going back to have it fixed.

2015 will be awesome if for no other reason than odd years seem to be awesome.

2011 was the year I traveled to cons and concerts and reconnected with many friends.

2013 had all this potential and I was more confident than I had been in quite some time.

2015 has already had many good times with friends, drinks, cat cuddles and tons of dancing around my living room to awesome music.

Here’s looking to the rest of the year!

Goliath is a sleeping beauty, stretched out along my arm and contoured against my body. He keeps me warm with his soft fur. If I listen closely, I can hear him purr, a small purr for a cat his size. I’m more likely to hear his breathing than to hear him purr.

Sometimes we’ll stay like this all night, with me waking periodically to the warmth of him against me. Other nights, he can’t seem to get comfortable. So he’ll toss and turn and eventually leave, perhaps to come back a time or two to repeat the process.

There will be night when we don’t quite fit right, and his tail or paws will cover my face, and I’ll struggle to breathe. Sometimes our slumber will be broken by his brother, who unknowingly — or perhaps knowingly — walks over Goliath as he tucked under the covers.

Goliath is a sweetheart, who lets me pet him when he just wants to sleep. He tilts his head just right so I can scratch his chin or touch his ears.

He is, in almost every way, my sweet baby boy, momma’s cuddle bug.