There are plenty of awkward things going on in my life right now… okay.  Who am I kidding?  There are plenty of awkward things going on in my mind right now.  I should be so lucky as to be brave enough as to let the awkward spill into the universe.  You know, action and reflection and action and blah, blah, blah.  Okay.  That sounds harsh – even to my salty ears.  Let me explain.

Recently, on A Day in the Life…, I shared a TED Talk on vulnerability presented by Dr. Brene Brown.  I’ve also been thinking about resolutions and have attempted in the brief 2.5 weeks since determining “yes! this is the one for me!” that I can and will live in the present.  [And I'm doing an okay job of it.]  But I’d like to add – here, where I chronical my most blush worthy moments – that I’m going to attempt to be as vulnerable as possible.  To be honest with who I am and what I want.  Even if that means that I need to let the awkward out a little more.  Which I suspect it will. 

Wish me luck, kids.  I suspect I’ll need it.

When I eat peanut m&m’s (trademark thing), for example, I like to eat two similarly sized m&m’s at a time  - so that I can chew equally sized bites on each side of my mouth.  Sometimes, if I can, I also organize them by color.  Either matching color or complimentary colors… but the primary criteria is size.  Each bite should be balanced.

This obsession (sigh… I know.  But I have to call them how I see them) also extends to my walking habits.  I like my gait to be as symmetrical and rhythmic as possible.  My stride should be such that each leg covers the same amount of distance.  Luckily, the cracks on a sidewalk are excellent for measuring your stride.

So I can already tell that I’m losing you… but I’m not just the Noah of m&m’s, pretzels and grapes – I have a point.  Kind of.  Promise.

Image courtesy Bitte Ein Kuss

I totally want to do this to a picture of my face!  …I wonder if I would still look like myself.

**This has been an episode of the random and likely awkward outward musings of Aimee Piper.  Stay tuned……

In case I failed to insert this video properly …and you should know that the chance of that is hovering somewhere around 85% (as this is my second attempt)… here is the link to this fabulous and hilarious TED talk.

Suddenly not-so-dreading the thought of precocious children.  Enjoy!

It seems that trying to maintain an anonymous identity in the world-wide interweb community is somehow similar.

As you may know, my friend Linette and I started this little blog as a repository of our more awkward moments.  If you’ve been following from the beginning, I’m the one previously known as Elliette.  I thought I was clever.  Naturally my complete technological ineptitude has caught up with me – and here we are: the grand unveiling.  My name is Aimee Piper.  …and yes, this is likely one of the more awkward moments in my life.

And I used to think I’d make such a good spy!  But another friend and I thought to carve a space in the blogosphere for a more serious discussion than I was typically having on my “real life” blog – and I wanted to use my real name.

I was at an impasse and decided that it was best to reclaim my identity.  It’s possible that I’m not making much sense at this point… it is, after all, approximately 47 minutes past my target bedtime – and I’m not very good at being tired.

So yeah – I guess the short story is “Hi.  It’s me.  Thanks for reading my true life adventures in awkward-town.  I’ll be keeping it even MORE real from now on.”

Cheers.

A lesson learned the hard way. Many many times.

As I was going through the checkout line last week, the guy behind the computer [read: Judgy McJudgerson] actually looked at my tray and said “Woooow…”.  Whatevs – what he doesn’t know is that I swim a minimum of 3 times each week.  What you don’t know is that we had pizza AND watermelon that day!  …and I may have taken the liberty of packing a little extra for post-swimming dinner.

That’s also all I bought. So when I rocked up to the cash register there was a girl in one check out aisle and a boy in the other. Of course, I wanted the girl to check me out. 12 pairs, people. 12 pairs.

But the girl was busy and the guy was not so he motioned me over. I froze and then decided to pretend I wasn’t done shopping yet so I said, oh I’m not done yet, and started digging through the bargain bin conveniently located next to me, waiting for the girl’s one client to leave. He did not. Then I noticed the boy cash registrar staring at me and LAUGHING. That’s right. I think he figured out why I was stalling. So I grabbed something out of the bargain bin which I did not need but didn’t mind having, marched myself right over to him, and with my head held high, looking him directly in the eyes, I handed him all 12 pairs.

Six were the same color. After charging me for three in that color and then seeing the other three, he looked up at me and said, but, they’re all the same. “Mmm-hmm,” I said. Jesus, is he going to ask me about my underwear selection! I thought. He didn’t. Instead, he decided to unfold and refold every.single.pair.

WHY IS THIS MAN TOUCHING MY UNDERWEAR I thought, but couldn’t figure out how to tell him to just leave them alone without making the situation more awkward. Then he tried to cut off the price tag on some of them–which, fyi, they NEVER do–and I realized this guy was either sick and twisted, or nervous and bumbling around. I actually think it was the latter. Which was then sort of amusing in a Mr. Bean kind of way, but mostly just annoying.

Seriously, that is the last time I ever choose the male cashier when the products are delicate. I don’t care how hard he laughs.

Now I don’t mean to sound militaristic or impolite or anything like that – but screw that guy.  …didn’t think that would feel as nice as it did.  But there you go.  Bob’s your uncle – or …you know.  Whatever little euphemistic expression you fall back on.  Insert here.

So in this real world of mine – of which I only offer an anonymous glimpse – I live in a country that is foreign to me.  This is not entirely correct, I have lived here sometime now, and I know my way around pretty well – I participate in extracurricular activities and even holiday within this country.  But while nearly everyone I meet has near perfect English (the only excuse I can offer for my poor command of the national language here), English is not the primary language here.

Anyhow, I was walking to the bus stop last night – before sunset, even – but in a quiet, residential neighborhood.  A man on a bicycle approached me and began speaking to me in the national language, but quickly switched to English when I explained that I didn’t understand him.  He asked if I was an open-minded person.  I think of myself as pretty open-minded, so I replied yes.  Then he asked if he could ask me a question, a question that I might find a little weird.  Naturally, reader, my back was up at this point – but I wanted to catch my bus and indicated that he could get on with his question.

**The following text is not PG-13**  He asked if he could masturbate in front of me.  I can only guess at the face I must have made, but I told him that his question was, in fact, more that a little weird – and it was not nice at all.  I had the sense that he would become more excited if I displayed any dismay, so I played it pretty cool when he asked if I were disgusted with a pretty creepy hopeful expression on his face.  I informed him that that was his word and walked off into the sunset.  I may have also indicated that, yeah – disgusting pretty well summed things up….

Ugh.  I felt so yucky.  The good news is that Jane came to the rescue with an amazing dinner (three cheers for comfort food) and a Glee mini-marathon. 

Sorry this little snapshot excerpt from my ongoings is so uncomfortable, but I feel that writing it down helps.

But then…it slowed. He stopped initiating conversations and I was too proud to do it myself. Feeling defeated before it ever really began. So a few days ago there it was again, his name in my inbox. Isaiah. That perfect name in.my.box.heart.dreams.

Excitement flooded the chambers of my heart and mind as I opened it to see what he had to say. My eye quickly fell to the signature line.

“Your brother”

He signed it your brother. Given that neither one of us is from Kentucky I’m guessing this is nota good sign.