Getting back on track

Hi, Internets! Are you still there? Are you wondering if I'm still here? Well, I am... barely.

For everyone that's stuck around and still believes in the empty promises Little Ms. Notetaker's been doling out about how she's going to get back in the habit of posting, thank you. You are what is good about the Internets. Well, you and Indian Thriller! But I probably love you more.

So much to fill you in on. Here's me in a nutshell, the play came and went, and I had a tough time letting it go. Work got crazy and then crazier, and has now settled. I learned I'm going to become Aunt Notetaker, and I'm thrilled to pieces. And let's see, what else. Oh, I'm in a relationship, and it's good, and it's healthy, and he likes me, and I like me, and more importantly I like him, a lot. So much so that I do crazy things, like act all schmoopy and girlie, and tell him about the blog because I want to be vulnerable with him, and I feel like he won't use that against me. See, healthy I tell you.

But here's something I've learned, note to self: when you decide to open up the book of you to the boy you're trying to impress, remember that he will read all of the chapters, and then remember the content of those chapters.

This vulnerability hit me smack dab in the face like a one-two punch the other night. First, I was talking about my monthly cycle, like you do, and he confirmed it with, "so, the sun's coming out." Ack! Seventh grade me was mortified. And later, I can't even remember what we were talking about, but he busted out with a, "kind of like how you like to sleep on your bed with no sheets." My secret single behavior... exposed. I screamed, covered my mouth, and turned bright red, in the middle of a crowded restaurant.

Yep. That's what I've learned is what happens when you're vulnerable. But I don't want to be any other way. It's quite reassuring to know that I'm not being judged for my quirks, in fact I think I'm liked even more because of them. So, Mr. McMichael, when you read this, please don't think that I want you to stop reading, because I don't. Ever.