I only eat hot dogs at baseball games...

So, in thinking about how to introduce myself just a little more to the blogging world, I decided that sharing some interesting - and by interesting, I mean weird - facts about myself might be fun. What better way to get to know someone than by sharing some “that might not be normal” facts.

I only eat hot dogs at baseball games.
I don’t like hot dogs. They’re weird and there are too many unknowns about that piece of meat. I officially turned against hot dogs in middle school. I still remember the moment clearly. One day during lunch after receiving my tray of a hot dog and other various items that I forget - much less traumatizing foods, I suppose – I bit into my hot dog and discovered that it tasted funny and that the inside had a weird green color to it. I spit that thing right back out. Since then, I can’t stand the thought of eating a hot dog…unless it’s at a baseball game. There’s just something about eating a hot dog at the ball game that tastes good and can make me forget my disgust for hot dogs.

I like to point out cats whenever and wherever I see them.

Usually, it is done with enthusiasm because I want the person I am pointing this cat out to to be just as excited about seeing this kitty cat. However, this enthusiasm is usually only met with confusion. Not sure why I have this impulse. I think I may have done this as a child (I looovvveeeddd cats when I was little) and never outgrew it. Interestingly, I don’t do this with dogs. I consider myself a dog person as much as a cat person; however, I don’t find this need to get excited about pointing dogs out.

This is going to be kind of a gross one...I like that taste that is left behind after eating onions.

You know how most people just want to go brush their teeth after they eat something with raw onions, well not me. I actually like the aftertaste that is left behind.

I will not live in a house that has those little doors.

Not exactly sure what they lead to since I have only ever seen them in houses on TV, but I am assuming to some kind of storage space or to the water heater thing or to the HIDING PLACE OF A DEMON.  I just don’t understand why they have to be so small. I mean only leprechauns can fit into those things. Creepy…

What about you? I know I don’t have many followers – exactly 0 right now – but in the off chance someone stops by to read this post and would like to give a fun fact that others (or even yourself) may think is “not so normal,” please do. After all, it’s these little tidbits that make us one-of-a-kind, right. And who wants to be “normal” anyhow?

Look ma I'm blogging

What do you call a crisis that occurs when you are in your 30’s? I’m not yet at the midlife crisis age and I think I passed the quarter-life crisis age, so if I’m going through a crisis, what can I call it? The 30s crisis? WHAT???

Guess that is why I am starting up a blog. I mean why not…seems like everyone and their mother is doing it. And, hey, maybe this can finally be something I was meant to do and most importantly, actually LIKE. Don’t get me wrong. I have a great life and for the most part, I am happy. I have a great fiancé, who is beyond supportive even during my periods of mental breakdowns. We’re getting married in a couple of months (prepare for the wedding posts!) and I cannot wait to be a Mrs. It’s exciting to think about being a part of a team, coming home to someone each day, growing old together (well not the growing old so much), finding a place to set our roots together, thinking about our future children, and of course, combining incomes (Halleluiah!).

So, besides the blessing of having a great man by my side for the rest of my days, I live with two cats and one dog, all of whom I absolutely adore, and I have a roof over my head, a warm bed to sleep in each night, the means to treat myself usually whenever the whim hits me, and a job that pays well. So, you may ask, why are you in a crisis? Why do you have breakdowns? What the hell is the matter with you? Well, I guess it is that ever nagging question – “is this it?” Again, I love my fiancé more than anyone and wouldn’t trade that man for anything, however, I just feel like I am meant for something… else. Call it white girl problems or whatever…I am stuck in a ho-hum job that is going exactly nowhere and I hate it. DESPISE IT. It may not even be the job necessarily but it is definitely not the place for me and each day I feel like I am dying inside. But what is it I am meant to do?

I have absolutely no freaking clue.

And there is the crisis.

What am I supposed to be doing? What will make me happy? Shouldn’t I have figured this out in my twenties? How the hell am I going to deal with this if I haven’t figured this all out by the time I’m 50? Am I just being selfish?

I’m lost and I have no clue what direction I should be heading, and now I just want to curl up in a ball and wait for someone to come and SAVE me. Why doesn’t Bear Grylls have a show on how to survive life…REAL life, which is way scarier than any desert or jungle?

So, here I am. Just a girl in this world trying to make it. And that is where this will begin. I’m setting out on a path and I have decided to share this journey. I have no clue where I’m going or how I will turn out in the end but here it goes…