Unstable Psycho-Physiological Responses

Hello Generation Y.

That is me, isn't it? And that's possibly you as well... Welp, good ol' Gen Ys... we think we're pretty awesome to be frank. But when it comes to relationships... we genuinely are pretty special. 

In fact, current social psychologists can't explain us. 

After we go out on one date we start to act monogamous. You see it right? I myself can picture a 1950's ice cream parlor with several couples out on their "dates" and then the next weekend all the girls are out with a different guy. And those guys are out with different girls! without guilty attached feelings. That's not us. HAHA, at all. For our generation we go and get coffee with someone and from there on out we feel obligated to tell that person if we go out to get coffee with someone else. Not because they make us, but because we feel inclined to inform them. And this is actually coffee, mind you. This is not a sexual innuendo. One coffee date is all it takes for a mutual attachment. (Obviously, mutual interest in one another must be present, no five stage clingers). 

If this isn't how you operate, then congrats! You are definitely an outlier.  

Nonetheless, we as people like to be liked. 

Back in the forth grade, when Nicole was told that Hayden liked her and then magically she liked him back and then the next recess they were dating without ever speaking a word to one another? Yes, it's that simple people. (This was a real event, btw). We find more expressions of similarity when we like someone, then we too self-disclose, feel warmer towards them, have more positive attitudes and that results in the ACTUAL liking of this person. And next we're having coffee and suddenly couples are sitting in a tree, k -i- s- s- i- n- g.... 

But besides the playground at recess, where do couples meet each other?

Even today with online dating, people still prominently meet their partners through friends. Sometimes this is through church functions, or through social groups at the bar... so all you single ladies-- it pays to take Beyonce to karaoke night and be a little outgoing. 

And yet, when you land the guy, we all tend to wonder what does a kiss mean?

There's the attraction, then the kiss and then..... what?

A kiss generally gives indicates different things to each gender. Regardless of the prelude to the kiss, both genders are evaluating the kiss in their own fashion.

Women want fireworks. Most women have had that reaction to a kiss thinking "meh" or "I could work with that..." which indicates there wasn't any physiological bodily response. Most women don't pursue it any further. Kind of crappy, I'm sorry guys. And men are implicitly  evaluating access. In some cases, it is as simple as it seems "Am I getting any tonight or not?" Or it is more complex as is this going somewhere for me long term? Is the attraction heightened with this kiss? Access is measured of whether or not they get denied or decide to discontinue the activity based on other factors.

SO not to put any pressure everyone, but the first kiss-- it does matter. 

And now, to address the other cliche... is there such thing as love at first sight?

Social Psychologists say, "...why not?"

There hasn't been research against it. There probably isn't this sense of "enduring" love at first sight but if one experiences a physical component (eh-hem, such as butterflies) then why the heck not?

Just to be clear- Bird of a feather, do like to flock together. 

So opposites attract? Well sure, some people yes. (eh-hem, outliers!) But for the most part couples tend to be similar and that similarity is what draws them together in the first place. 

Three out of four American's say they are "in love." 

Are you?

Here, let me help you.

Symptomology

-Intrusive thinking: can you not stop thinking of her?

-Idealization: you have positive illusions about the person (this is actually not a bad thing, it is almost essential in every relationship, to not see your partner in a negative light).

-Inclusion of Self: you use the pronoun "We".

-Sacrifice: its not a big deal to miss the Seahawks game for a date.

-UNSTABLE PSYCHO-PHYSIOLOGICAL RESPONSES: butterflies.

-Longing for emotional union over a sexual union: ex. you would bring her soup when she's sick, even though kissing may be out of the question.

-Desire for sexual exclusivity: self explanatory.

-Emotional dependence: Instead of having one good day, you have to have two. You get up every morning, put your clothes on, eat breakfast, go to work, come home, and go to bed. Good day? Then your mission is accomplished! However, even if your day went fine, your partner's day also has to go well for you to continue to have a good day. My professor in class spoke of how her partner that morning hit a deer on her way to work. Her day was ruined before it even started along with her partner's car being totaled. To add to this, her friend had called earlier that month and she too had hit a deer but it did not ruin my professor's day. Emotional dependence usually only occurs with your romantic partners, not friends. 

Lastly, I think the final stage of figuring out if you're in love or not, is to gauge if you are in the exchange stage or communal. When relationships begin, there is mostly exchange going on as things are still separate. When you go out together and it is not a date both parties may pay for themselves. Later, in the communal stage, if it is still not a date but one partner will pay for both because there is this sense of sharing. When couples are about to break up, they return to the exchange stage as they begin to sort through DVDs and CDs being territorial of what is theirs and not their partner's. 

So love. What gives?

"Love is a many splendid thing. love lefts us up where we belong. all  you need is love." -Moulin Rouge

"How do you know that you love her?" -Enchanted

"I believe in love, Alfie. Without true love we just exist." -Alfie

If there is one concept I can get across here, I hope it to be this. Make sure it's a love worth living for. 

Below is Sternberg's Triangle of Love Theory. 

It is pretty self explanatory but overall, the Consummate Love is a Western culture idea (pretty much how all Chick Flicks end). Isn't that the ultimate goal here people?!?

(Fatuous- a commited friends with benefits.

Empty love- is where a couple stays together for the kids.)

There was a study conducted to research how couples viewed their closeness with their partners and if this data could predict the longevity of their relationships. This was done by asking the couples, in separate rooms, to draw how close they thought they and their partner were using circles. Why not squares? I have no clue, but the results were interesting.

Some participants were very creative with the ambiguity of this task drawing one huge circle with a smaller circle beside it or even inside of it. But one thing was clear: the move overlap between the circles the couples drew, the greater the chance they were still together six months latter. 

Take away point? Ask your partner to draw your closeness and see where their head is at.

And certainly, if you are an outlier to Generation Y- you could have the dilemma of choosing who you like more. If that is the case, I suggest you try this:

Fantastic, right?

Obviously, I don't think love is this straight-forward. 

But I find it fantastically interesting. 

And reassuring. To realize that I'd draw the two circles representing Ian and I as close as possible even being miles away. To find where we are on Sternberg's Triangle and be content that we're doing everything right. One time, when we both got to a grocery store, after a night of drinking, we ran separate directions to go get each other's favorite junk-sober up food. I got him his Lunchables and he got me Tontino's... and I can only have a good day when he too has a good day. 

Lean in to the butterflies, it's worth it.

Beware of Virtual Display of Affection...

he still maintains a positive illusion of me, even when I do the Titanic pose...

I love you, Ian.

Happy (almost) One Year.

Eighty Years of Life

My grandma is the cutest thing. Ever.

On her birthday she thanked me for being there for her dessert and tea party because she thought I'd rather be down in Bend, Oregon with my boyfriend.
My heart literally melted.
Well, she thought wrong.
Besides the fact that he was actually in Washington doing manly-ish hunting things with his dad and friends, being with my Grandma and family this weekend is exactly where I was supposed to be.

This weekend humbled me, reminding me that all the awesome things about myself that I think are so 'original' and great, I actually inherited from my fantastic family.

MUSIC

is a huge part of my family.

Even if a relative claims they aren't musically inclined, they won't hesitate at a moments notice for an impromptu singalong. For Grandma's birthday, that was one thing she wanted at her party. Lots of music and singing. Cousin Sarah and I sang pieces we have worked on in our voice lessons and for one song all the relatives got together to sing "Do-Re-Mi" from my Grandma's favorite musical, The Sound of Music. 

I don't think I even have to mention the multiple layers of harmonies that occurs when we actually sang happy birthday. 

PICTURES

I used to think this was my own obsession.

This is definitely not so.

Many cameras were out and flashing for this whole event and I even got feedback from two photography professionals who happen to be close family friends. 

The value of documenting our lives together is strong in my family.

Here are some moments I captured. 

My parents are wonderful

My cousin Sarah bought these for the party. 

SOOO the love of cats, is very prominent in our family.

More singing!

And of course, the bunny ears.

And must I say, the drinking of wine at two in the afternoon was a plus.
My family sure knows how to have a good time. 

<3 p="">

"none are so old as those who have outlived enthusiasm." -Henry David Thoreau

So life.
It passes by super quick. A cliche, this is true. But it still feels absolutely foreign to say the words, "I'm 23" after someone wishes me a happy birthday with the dreaded (another cliche), "how old are you, today?"

And to continue with the cliches, no one really likes getting old. I've had twenty three fuh-reaking birthdays. Of course, I don't remember the earlier ones and my 21st birthday is slightly hazy (seriously, who lets their friend order eggs from a Shari's to sober up? major fail) but a birthday is still a birthday and I have had 23 of them. (Which brings up something funny, I feel like I stopped keeping track of my own age after I turned 18. I'm not sure why, but when I was 22, I was telling people I was 20, etc... maybe prepping for later in life? wah wahh.)

Regardless, my 23rd birthday was by far, the best. I mean my fifth birthday in  Georgia when my parents rented out an old dinner movie theater that played The Swan Princess just for me on the big screen was a close-almost-tie... but I'm letting Ian take the win on major spoilage this year. I am going to keep all the disgustingly cute details to myself because quite frankly, I don't think anybody particularly cares to hear them, but all this hub-bub inside my head leading up to this celebration of another giant step up my own metaphorical hill should be shared.

People either love birthdays or they hate them. It's true! I'm quite wishy-washy myself and I'm sure it's common for people to get excited for some birthdays, dread others, and kind of be 'eh' towards the rest. I remember being excited to no longer be a teenager, excited to be 21, and excited to be not 21 any longer because all non-peers give you this look and you can literally see the fear in their eyes as they picture you at parties twerking like Miley Cyrus. And this year... I was really pretty 'eh' towards turning 23. Besides the fact that I'm not too fond of the number (weird right? but I played sports. Numbers are significant) I couldn't really pinpoint it at first.

But it's because I am growing up, guys.

Cheers to entering the second year of living in my apartment by myself where I have essentially turned into my father. He is the kind of guy who gets up at 5 am every Saturday to clean my parents rather large house from top to bottom. He dusts, vacuums,  then shampoos the carpet, swifters the floor, sometimes wax the hardwood, and much more (but I don't know all the exact details because I refuse to get up that early on a Saturday.) He also cleans the liter boxes, feeds the cats, and does a load of laundry every single day. This man is a machine.
Besides my personal conflict with my non-existent dishwasher, I am a clean freak. And besides the fact that Ian taunts me about putting the toilet paper on the roll... and I guess if we're being completely honest, sometimes I end up falling asleep, snuggling with my clean-soon-to-be-folded-laundry. (Hey, I have a queen size bed, there's still plenty of room..) Alright, fine. I'm not perfectly clean. But I love cleaning and it makes me happy. I like things in a particular manner. Consequently, messes stress me out more. I never fully understood my father's cranky frustration as he dropped five pairs of my random stranded shoes that I had left aimlessly about the house, until now. I have issues leaving my shower curtain open or a random cup of water by my couch. Similarly to something my dad would have a pet peeve about. And this, totally freaks me out. I even have routines set, like my mother. I plan out what I'm doing for that day... even if it is my day off. It's nearly impossible for me to play the day by ear or lay in bed without an agenda.
I always knew I was organized and yadda yadda, but when did I gradually turn into this adult?

Getting older also bleeds into my academic life too. I have always enjoyed learning and being dedicated to my studies... but I am do the point that I walk across campus and no longer see the point of a campus social life. I've always been one to not regularly dress up ( I roll out of bed fifteen minutes before I need to leave) and lately I've been putting on makeup to not scare away residents at my new job or my team members from class projects (I literally have group work in ALL of my classes. And some groups change halfway through the semester which means I will have approximately eight different teams this semester. Mind will explode.) So all of these cute end-of-the-summer sorority outfits are super tempting but bottom-line, I'd rather be sleeping. Oh yeah, sleeping has been an issue too because of my new job. Since working at a 24 Hour Desk, I am having to force myself to take naps at three in the afternoon or otherwise Wednesday I go 20 hours straight, and Thursday 22 hours straight. But did I mention I love my job?!? I'm literally getting paid to sit and do my homework or watch Grey's Anatomy. (Which is pathetic on my part because I just started watching it in August and I am almost done with season four). And honestly, I am great at being a night owl. It's just the whole getting up and going to class that makes me feel wonky.

So as a result, it is a blessing that I love my classes. Apart from having to awkwardly explain that I'm a second year senior to all the quizzical eyebrow raises thinking "uh, what's wrong with her?" I really couldn't be any happier. I'm also in the new IBC Curriculum, meaning I am in a class or two that is designed for freshman/sophomore level. It's a nice refresher for the business classes I have already taken and then it is also still good to have some upper division classes that keep challenging me further. I also have a ridiculously interesting social psychology research class which I am quickly learning should actually be a part of a management degree....but I guess that's a different curriculum revamp, haha! (please, no more U of I!) And I guess the reason I am rambling on about loving my class schedule is because I am finally settled back into school, less anxious to graduate. This whole summer my mentality of school was negative; thinking I will never graduate, never live real life, always be doing long distance with my boyfriend, always waiting for this new IBC Curriculum to be determined... when silly me, all of that is out of my hands. No sense in stressing over something I  don't have control over and in fact, I actually... enjoy. (Yep, that NHS nerd from high school).

so guys, what I'm getting at... is I'm old.
I clean to be happy, I love school, I enjoy my new job, and I sleep whenever I can. I do visit my parents weekly; either dinner or crashing on their couch between classes (their house is closer) or if I'm super drained, my dad's office. Yep, don't even make it off campus. This is only week two of classes and I cannot wait for the weekend for the sole reason I will have excess amount of time to clean, do homework, and sleep.


When did I grow up again?

Creating Value By Choosing -Satre

He’s got it easier than me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining and am not implying that he doesn’t miss me like I miss him- I am just being factual about the circumstances. On July 3rd I returned home to my apartment after a lonely drive from the westisde of Washington with barely enough time to do laundry for work the next day. I said goodbye to him this day for the second time, the more official time, just as he was about to embark on his new life in Oregon. When he moved back home at the close of his two internships in Pullman there were many tears for that first goodbye, but the second goodbye just felt different. It hurt worse. And as a result, when I returned to my apartment, he was everywhere. In lamest terms it felt like an abrupt breakup without any logic or that he had died. I still held my feelings for him staring at our pictures on my wall but yet here I was- a blubbering pathetic mess. And I use the word pathetic intentionally because that was exactly what it was. Haha!

And yes. He was everywhere. 

For hours I was confused about how my toilet paper had multiplied underneath my bathroom sink until I remembered the groceries that were in my car. Not only had he unloaded my car for me but he also must have put it all away! There were coins on my floor; coins which must have belonged to him. I am still picking up these coins daily as they enjoy hiding in my 70’s style light puke green shag carpet. Little reminders of him. I even observed how my desk chair was swiveled towards the kitchen; the direction away from my desk, one which I never sit and face. Clear as day, I saw him sitting in my desk chair talking to me while I was in the kitchen making us turkey sandwiches for the drive to the westside. I remember how I was slicing the cheddar, chuckling at my own story as I tried to verbatimly retell the incident talking to him over my right shoulder. I’m almost positive I concluded that obnoxiously long tid-bit with my usual phrase,

“Okay, now you tell a story” as a bashfully pretend like I didn’t ramble for an obnoxious amount of time. I can literally see him try to smile at my silliness as he munches away at the cookies my mom had given him that day.

But see what I mean about the dead person thing?

I miss him. And he does have it easier. He's off in new places doing exciting new things without the ghost of me bringing up old memories in familiar places.

It’s a crazy thing, this life. So much to experience, to live through, to process. And sometimes it’s wasy too tiring. I feel like that is all I’ve been doing lately. All this summer. Just processing.

Processing my undergraduate degree journey- where I’ve come, where I’m going. Processing working a full-time job- thankful I have one but greedy of my days off. Processing my worth- how I am treated and why I let people pull me down. Processing my lifestyle habbits- finding something stable and giving myself enough “me time.” Processing the long distance relationship lurking in the future without knowing when where or how.

It’s all a transition, or a constant process. And at the beginning of the summer I was not okay with this limbo, this gray area. I found myself destructive with negative thoughts as I was anxious of the summer zooming by.

Ah, but the processing has ended and the transition has passed. My boyfriend is now safely a resident of Oregon, my jobs are more laid out, and my fall schedule has lightened a bit… I am finally at ease. I started to worry about myself as my codependence on How I Met Your Mother grew stronger and stronger each day as I cried with Lilly left Marshal, when Ted was left at the alter, when Marshal’s dad died, and when Barney dumped Nora for Robin and how Robin was supposed to dump her boyfriend for Barney but didn’t and….. well anyway. You get the picture. I was living bicariously through Marshal and Lilly’s relationship. Do note, I started watching HIMYM after the Tony’s this year (because Neill Patrick Harris is a beast) and yesterday I watched the last episode of Season 7. Yeah, like I said PATHETIC and quite frankly, I don’t mess around. (I may or may not have stolen Lilly’s idea of putting Marshal’s shirt over a body pillow… but I’m not talking to it haha.)

After all this processing and getting over the stage of hating all couples who do live in the same area code and completely take it for granted, I was able to sit down and knock out some positives. During those four days when I felt like the world would not go on as it did when he lived 8 miles away- I discovered all of the perks to these 281 miles lying between us.

1. I don’t have to shave my legs--- ever.

2. No makeup, less blemish potentials.

3. Yoga pants for days. (Never knew I could wear yoga pants to the bar and still get hit on, but hey! That’s Moscow for ya…)

4. Fun packages via snail mail…

5. Snapchat for days. Best invention ever. We can send goofy faces and what he ate that day without racking up my telephone bill.

6. The obvious: More time to myself.

7. Less sweet temptations. (Yes, Ian- you have one of the sweetest sweet tooths I have ever seen!)

8. Working more: Whether it is at Bclub, RTOP, at the gym, writing… there’s more productivity going on.

9. I’m officially dating not only an educated man but also am employed Account Executive! (Insert picture of Marshal in his suit here)

10. No matter how many visits we will have to have over the days to come, I will consistently get the “sparkle stage” butterflies in my stomach every time I am about to see him again. It’s inevitable.

And the best part?

We didn’t need this long distance to make us magically realize how much we mean to each other. So after all my venting ultimately… this long distance really has got nothing on us. We have equal chase-age and whiney texts of “pay attention to me” and plenty of random pictures send to one another to make even the hopeless romantic super nausea from cuteness. So even thought this ghost of Ian lives in my apartment making this long distance harder on me- I’d still choose him. I’d still choose him over all the other Barneys on the street. (ha, see what I did there?)

Love you.

Disclaimer: Ian loves it when I write and jokingly pokes “when are you going to write something about me?” In the past the only thing I’ve really written about him involved a lengthy description about how he devours his food. Yeah, not too glamorous. At least he still likes me! So in honor of his birthday this Saturday I wanted to blog this journal entry for him, one I written at the beginning of the summer.