There's being good, and then there's being Brian.

I've been gone for awhile. Symbolically "lost", if you will. I was stuck in a place full of miscommunication, heartache, anger, sadness, confusion, and bitterness. What happened that could have possibly brought me to such a state of being? Well, most people blame their problems on a streak of bad luck; one thing after another... but in reality, for me, it was merely a strong case of self-consumption. I blamed my problems on jerks, on the president, on the economy, on my upbringing, on my good heart, on the American educational system, on the snow, and on anything and anyone but myself. I became absorbed with the idea that this time in my life was "Nicole Time". I felt that enough was enough, I had paid my dues, been through all the toil and hardship I could take, and now life owed me big time.

Oddly enough, life did not get this memo. I was duped by acquaintances I thought I knew, let down by friends I trusted, hurt by loved ones, and I had no idea what to do about it. I found myself in a rut, asking the heavens above, "Why me?! What did I do to deserve all of these craptastic things? When will things start going my way? I'm a good person, I deserve good things!"

I ate A LOT of Oreos.

This thought has been pondered by many wise people before me: Why do bad things happen to good people?

And many wise people have responded with the ironically inconvenient answer of, "No one knows."

As I was laying in bed, day after day, wallowing in my own self pity... the world kept moving. Good things and bad things were happening to my friends, family, and the world around me. Kindergartners were brutally murdered, my little sister fell in love and got engaged to a boy who lives out of state, friends were diagnosed with illnesses, parents took well-deserved vacations, grandparents were in and out of the hospital, coworkers lost their jobs, and I was abruptly forced to recognize their lives realities, along with my own.

I have no idea if fate and destiny take a hand in our daily lives or if there is some cosmic power that controls everything in the world. Personally, I believe in God. I think God nudges each one of us towards a good direction in life; sometimes we go with it and other times we brush it off. I don't believe that God is the one striking some of us down in hard times, without rhyme or reason... or that God gives better luck to some people rather than others, just because that's the way God is feeling at the time.

Some people disagree with me, and that's okay because I cannot prove myself right or completely off-base. It is just something that I have faith in; an idea that my heart insists is true. It's a tricky subject to discuss because so many people have only known easy and simple lives, while others were forced to graduate from "The School of Hard Knocks". It's all a matter of opinion, of circumstance, and of perseverance and resilience. Therefore, it's no wonder to me that the world is diverse with those who are grateful and those who are jaded.

I myself have tried many different strategies when it comes to handling life, and here is what I feel pays off, rejuvenates, and in turn helps me move forward to happier times...

Goodness.

I fail miserably in my attempts to "Be good" more times than not, but I am trying to make it my highest priority. In life, I want to be good and do good.

What do I mean by this? What is this "goodness" I speak of? What are the stipulations?

Here's how I see it... If you are 64, say "please" and "thank you" to the 17 year old serving you pancakes at iHop, even if they seem unpleasant and moody. If you are 23, late for a meeting, hungover and impatient, help the elderly person who is struggling to use the ATM instead of honking your horn at them. If someone bumps you in a crowded hallway and doesn't bother to say "Excuse me", let it go. Smile at strangers, even if they look at you like you're insane. Release old grudges from your heart. Call your mom and tell her you love her. Think about what you are saying before you say it, and how it will sound to the person you are saying it to. Hug your husband. Learn from your mistakes. Help your neighbor bring in their groceries. Don't make excuses for your poor behavior and don't be so proud that you won't admit when you're wrong. Comfort a friend. Laugh with your siblings. Forgive sworn enemies. Be present and patient in your children's lives. Reflect on your actions daily. Cook your grandparents dinner. Pause when you are in a rush and allow yourself to feel grateful just to be alive.

Most of these things feel like huge hassles 90% of the time. When you start this life-exercise, you will begin by forcing yourself to do these tasks, then you will routinely remind yourself to do them, then you will start involuntarily doing them, and then after awhile... you will realize you are happy when you do them. Why? I don't know. I just know that eventually, the pain-in-the-ass of it all goes away, and you just feel good when you selflessly do good for others.

Bad things will still happen. Something will come along to spoil your fun, ruin your day, and attempt to bring you down. "It's not 'if it happens', it's 'when it happens'"
... And then what?

Well, I have an older brother. His name is Brian. Brian is a very good person. He was born with more health problems than I have fingers and toes. He has had more surgeries over the span of his life than the amount of birthdays I have celebrated. He can't see, so he can't drive. He has a bit of a mobility problem, so he can't play sports. He gets lost instantaneously in unfamiliar settings. He doesn't have many friends his own age. He struggled just to graduate high school.  Most of the time, he can't remember if he brushed his teeth in the morning or fed himself dinner the night before, which means he has to live with my parents, who he loves, but that in itself can be quite a tricky and unpleasant situation from time to time.

HOWEVER... I do not, nor will I ever, feel bad for Brian. Brian has the strongest grasp on life's mysterious and unfair ways out of any person I know. Brian has been knocked down and defeated, told no and dismissed by life's "elite", yet he still gets up and gets after it every single day. He works hard, he gives 110%, he never has ever given up. Why does he do this when he could be coddled, pitied, aided through life's tribulations? Because he knows that he, just like anyone else in this world, has the strength to survive them. This possession of strength is something he is aware of, yet his humbleness prevents him from fully understanding it's phenomenal rarity. I think for the most part, Brian goes to bed every night, just happy he made it through another day, safe and sound.

Brian often has frustrating days, full of inconvenient hurdles, and will come home, walk up to me, give me a smile and a big-bear hug... and he says "Thank you."

When he does this I say, "Brian! What are you saying thank you for? I didn't do anything, ya silly head!"

He shrugs, says "Oh." and walks away.

I always thought he was just confused or trying to be nice to me or something. Only recently did I understand this ritual of Brian's.

According to doctors, Brian almost wasn't.

No matter how good or how bad life is to him, Brian will always be thankful to be here; to be present and to be given a chance.

Some people might look at my big brother and think "Oh, poor guy... he's had such a rough life!", but whenever something negative happens to me now, I remember that Brian is my brother, and he is and has always been a total beast with a heart of gold aaaaaaaaaaand...

... we have the same genetics and he taught me everything I know, so chances are, I can probably be a beast and handle life too.

Blame The Angst On *NSYNC

"It's tearing up my heart when I'm with you. But when we are apart, I feel it too."

Call me crazy, but I don't think at the age of 24 I should still be emotionally identifying with these lyrics. As of recently, I have come to a self-awareness that I'm still as angsty and compelled by irrational emotions as I was at 15. Can you imagine a grown, successful woman, sitting in an office cubical, sobbing and blaring "Quit Playing Games With My Heart" by the Backstreet Boys? Honestly, you shouldn't have to. That is an image that NO ONE should ever have to see. However, that woman, may or may not have been me at one point in recent history.

There are many immature habits which I have yet to outgrow. For instance, ordering chicken fingers and fries at any sit-down restaurant, simply by default... (I get nervous when I look at menus.) But this gut-wrenching heartbreak pattern might take the cake and it's undoubtedly my most difficult bad habit to break. 

Just so you have an idea of the self-inflicting pain I speak of, when I was 16 and a boy hurt me, I wanted the world to know what I was going through, so I would sit in my room, blast some cheesey pop music and post an away message on my AOL Instant Messenger that would look a little something like this...

Fortunately, no one uses AOL Instant Messenger anymore. Unfortunately, Facebook has completely replaced our hours spent chatting online with pals. With this new form of socializing readily available on our iMacs, iPhones, and iPads and over 700 "friends" to "share" my personal life with, it takes all of my mental strength not to post lyrics, music videos, and pictures of myself looking adorably lovable on my page, so the world can see how hot I still look after someone has done me wrong.

The problem is subliminal messaging. Yes! I sure do believe in that crap, as firmly as I believe that Miss Cleo was a phenomenal cosmic power in the psychic world!

As a young naive girl, I can guarantee that 90% of my time was spent with headphones on, engraining the wise words of Justin Timberlake, Hanson, Backstreet Boys, O-Town, 98 Degress, etc. into my hormonal, puberty-stricken mind. Have you ever paid attention to the lyrics of these artists? At the time, I swore that these words spoke to my soul. "Baby when you finally get to love somebody, guess what? It's gonna be me." and "Where's the love? It's not enough. It makes the world go 'round." and let's not forget! ... "Am I original? Am I the only one? Am I sexual?" 

I mean honestly, come on guys... "Show me the meaning of being lonely." ?? ... What the heck does that even mean?! I'm thinking it means the skills of song-writers hit rock bottom in the late 90's and all the while, the lyricists of "Stairway To Heaven" and "Hotel California" were rolling over in their graves.

Here's my theory, I struggle with starting relationships, discarding emotional baggage, and picking myself up after ties have supposedly been severed because these boy bands told me that's how it's supposed to be. In the majority of their songs, the message being sent to the listeners is that when you fall in love, it's going to be with someone that sucks. And that is going to suck for you. And you're never going to get over it. And you're going to cry yourself to sleep at night, wishing that you never met this person, while at the same time thanking the heavens above that you did, because there just isn't anyone out there that could possibly break your fragile heart quite like they do. Because of these boy bands' stupid advice, we do irrational, psychotic, bat-shit-crazy things for our lover's attention, go after unattainable people, and refuse to let go when there isn't a shred of hope left in a relationship.

Ladies and gentlemen, love doesn't have to be this way. When you decide that you are ready to be committed to someone, it should be with someone who is considerate of your stereotypical-pop-culture-emotional instability, who takes this in high regards, and because of this awareness, won't do things to hurt your feelings. Quit wasting your time on The Selfish and patiently await the arrival of The Selfless.

Love should be simple: "You like me, I like you, we like each other, and ALAS! We are happy." 

End. Of. Story. 

Forget the lyrics, forget the gut-wrenching drama. If it's keeping you up at night because you have knots, not butterflies, in your belly, it's time to let it go.

Here's one final a tip, if he sings "I'll never break your heart, I'll never make you cry.", has unnaturally colored, frosty platinum hair, and wears matching windbreaker pants with four of his buddies, run far, far away and never look back.

Dating Woes of The Modern Day Independent Woman

I just spent the last two hours of my life trying to unclog my toilet. 

No, the clog isn't a result of a massive dump taken. I have a very old apartment... cute, adorable, quirky and lovable... but very old. And it has a very old, very iffy toilet in it's very old, very outdated bathroom.

Needless to say, after two hours of tirelessly plunging... my toilet is still very old... and very clogged.

It is during times like these in my life that I wish I had a male companion the most. I wish I had a boyfriend now, more than ever, to unclog my godforsaken, rickety, teal-colored toilet... and then maybe he could hold me and we could just cuddle and lie there when he was through.

They say that when you are dating, you are attracted to features that your mother or father possessed while they were raising you. Although, this Freudian hypothesis is undoubtedly creepy as hell to me, I do find it to be universally correct.

Looking back on my childhood, I realize that my father was a literal "Jack of Trades". His nickname is Jack, that's why it's literal. Stick with me.

My dad cooked the food, cleaned the house, squished the bugs, fixed the leak, raked the leaves, worked the job, packed the lunch, nailed the drywall, talked the talk, and walked the walk.

Don't get me wrong, my mother is a very awesome lady. She is steadfast, moral, trustworthy, reliable, firm, hardworking, giving, and extremely intelligent. She just doesn't like to cook. Or clean. But, my father will be the first to tell you that he would be dead or in jail, if it wasn't for her.

Basically, my parents are the kind of people who did, and continue to do, whatever it takes to survive, without a grimace or complaint. And they do it together.

Growing up with such a powerful, ready-and-able couple, both of my parents felt it was very important that I learn life skills at an early age, so that I would never have to be dependent on anyone for anything. Anytime there was something wrong with my car, my dad made me come outside and watch him fix it... even in the blistering cold and pouring rain. Anytime, I fudged my finances, my mother made me sit down with her and look at where I went wrong and what I should do in the future to prevent it from happening again.

For all of this and more, I am so grateful. I am not a girl who is scared to kill spiders. I know how to unjam a garbage disposal. I can replace most fluids in my car. I know the proper way to paint a wall. I can bake a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies. I rarely need a knight in shining armor to come to my rescue.

HOWEVER...

For one reason or another, I suck at unclogging toilets. This is EXTREMELY frustrating to me. I am the kind of person that figures out ways to get the job done, even if it isn't necessarily the same way that everyone else does it.

But, unlike eating reese cups, I really think there is only one way to unclog a toilet. And it is a mythical mystery, in a far away distant fantasy land, one that I fear I will never travel to and discover.

This admission troubles me on multiple counts.

First: What kind of nancy sissy baby of a female can't unclog a toilet? It seems as though it's pretty self explanatory... just keep plunging until the flush flushes freely.

Second: I hate asking for help. I hate admitting that I need someone. My generation of females has been taught to behave as though we can do anything and everything that a man can do, and sometimes we can do it better. I know more girls that can change a tire than I do guys. It used to be that women were looked down upon if they didn't behave like a lady and now the most respected women curse like sailors while smoking Marlboro Reds. We no longer have to wait for a man to call and ask us on a date, if we want him, we have no other option but to be assertive and go get him.

Third: I want a man who knows how to work his plunger! (Please giggle at the potential dirtiness of that last sentence.) A man who doesn't scream if he sees a mouse in the house. A man who will let me squeeze the living willies out of his hand when I have to get a shot during a doctor's visit. Does such a man exist anymore?! I know how to do MANY difficult and distasteful tasks in life that are necessary for my survival, but that doesn't mean that when I am with someone, I want to be the man of the house. Of course, I enjoy being a handy woman, but I also enjoy curling my hair, painting my nails, listening to Mariah Carey, and crying throughout the entire ending scene of "An Affair To Remember" and I won't have time for any of those things if I'm always taking out the garbage and hooking up the cable box.

This is all well and good, but I just wonder what happens when we regress back to history's past ways of girlishness and want to be taken care of for a change. Will we begin wearing unbearable petticoats and take to fainting on chaise lounge chairs? Does needing a male companion make us any less of a strong female? Do we lose all sense of independence once we let someone into our lives? Is it okay for us to believe that we cannot do it all? Or is it at that very moment, that we lose the sacred womanly strength we once possessed?

I cannot answer any of those questions at this point in my life. One day in the very distant future, I may have that ability. All I'm saying is, after today, I'm adding "Knows how to unclog a toilet" to my list of dating qualifications and there isn't an ounce of energy left in my ever-loving plunging body that will admit to being ashamed of that.