Connie Seguin

Connie Seguin

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I like Solitude

There are times I really appreciate being alone.

That seems to cause some problems, though. Many people think I am depressed if I choose to sit alone in the back room, rather than sit with others in the busier front room. No, its because I appreciate some quiet time. Right now I am on my lunch break at work, taking some time in the quiet conference room to write this blog. I find that writing is soothing, especially on a busy Saturday in the world of retail. It's almost like meditation.

However, the last time I tried to do this (the other day) some friends marched into the room and started demanding I tell them "what's wrong?" and started asking questions about my life, as if I was sad.

I don't like it when people pry into my life, either. So here I am, just taking some quiet time, and it turns into me being annoyed with friends. It really is a backwards cycle.

Last night, with the same group of friends (plus a few more) I decided to leave a social event "early." Though I would not consider it early, the reason I left so suddenly is because I really felt like some relaxation time. I had spent most of the afternoon and evening with these people, and I find I just get drained if I'm doing the same thing for a long period of time.

So I went home, relaxed, watched a bit of my favorite Star Trek series. Went to bed. It was a nice evening. I did not need to stay out late with people to have fun. I find it easier to go home and give myself a couple hours before bed to relax.

But so what?

The next day these people are like "how are you feeling?" "Are you okay?" Like, I don't have a problem. Seriously. There are just times I don't feel like hanging out.

There have been many nights where I have just gone home, relaxed, made some dinner, popped in a movie and then went straight to bed. There have been plenty of nights, too, where I have stayed out socially with people until the wee hours of the morning.

I just don't feel like doing that all the time. Just because I have a day off, doesn't mean I'm free to hang out.

I need friends who are okay with me doing what I want, coming and going. I'm not required to hang out with the same people on a regular basis. But sometimes I feel like I am. It can be annoying.

I guess all I am saying is that I like my solitude. I can appreciate quietness. If you are reading this, and happen to know me, then perhaps now you realize why I am "not very social" (as the eavesdropped words about myself ring constantly in my head).

Reading and writing are great alone-activities. And believe it or not, I kind of prefer it to socializing sometimes!

Drama Queens

So the entire duration of this Summer I have unfortunately been graced with the presence of what I like to call a "bad apple." Every social group has one: It's that person who thrives on starting drama, creates problems, etc etc.

So my boyfriend is on this trip in Ecuador, and occasionally photos are posted on Facebook. There is a photo of him, at a bar, posed for a picture with some chick, probably one of his tour-mates, with her arm over his shoulders. Who cares, right?

Well apparently this "friend" of mine care so much that she has been trying to get in contact with me for days, only to tell me that she thinks the photograph is "inappropriate." Wow, like oh my god. My boyfriend must be an awful person for letting another put her arms over his shoulders, according to her.

But the thing is, it's drunken hugs. I experience these occasions all the time: One of my male friends is leaving the occasion for the night, so I jump up and hug him. Sometime in my "drunken fury" I may even manage to knock myself over, as well as this male friend. Had someone taken a picture, and had it ended up on Facebook, it would more than likely appear at first glance that I am rolling around on the floor with a male friend. But, I'm not. And I don't hold my boyfriend or anyone else to higher standards than I hold myself.

I don't care what he does, as long as his pants stay on. But apparently this chick totally cares too much about what other people's boyfriends do:

Earlier this summer, she calls me up in a frantic pant about "THIS IS SO IMPORTANT. I NEED TO TALK TO YOU NAW!" So I seriously thought she got in a car wreck and landed in the hospital or something. So naturally, my senses were already at alert, and I dropped everything to call this gal back. Apparently the "important news" was this:

"Your boyfriend is a cheater." Why? Well she for some messed-in-the-head reason decided to Facebook stalk him, which lead her to Google stalk his email accounts, which lead her to Hot or Not profiles which by the looks of it he made as a teenager.

Really? So she got me all concerned just to piss me off. It's how she works: Gets you all concerned, has "important news" and tries to make something out of nothing. I told her if she wanted to continue talking to me, that she please not do stuff like that.

Didn't happen. She still does stuff like that. I guess people never change. However I did learn that anything she says is not to be taken seriously, at all.

Enjoy a sunny Friday, everyone!

Men should not be "Rocks."

The other day I was chatting with a friend and we were discussing men, and living with them, etc etc. This gal mentioned something about her growing used to her man, and without her "rock" there, she could not sleep.

It makes me wonder what this "rock" concept is that women seem to be so accustomed to. Are women losing their independence? I suppose when someone sleeps next to you, and suddenly is not there, then yes, the natural rhythm of sleep is disrupted. I have experienced that. But never have I been afraid to sleep alone. I have been sleeping alone longer than I have been sleeping with a man.

I grew up around a lot of money. Always had a huge house. I recall in high school, when I lived in the hugest of the houses, my dad would be out of town on business, my brother would be off doing his thing, and at the time I did not have any cats. I slept alone. I literally slept alone in 3300sqft of vacant property many nights. Vacant because nobody is living there. Furnished, yes, but so quiet. Very quiet. Particularly because the home backed to forest.

I didn't have trouble sleeping though. I was not scared. I never grew up to the rhythm of other's breathing whilst I sleep. This gal grew up in a small, crowded home. Where everyone was always there. Very welcoming home. So I can understand why sleeping alone may be difficult for her, and even scary.

But me? I don't mind it. It's not like I prefer it, but it just doesn't bother me. I am not afraid to sleep with nobody there. Even in the echoed environment of my hardwood floored home. It can seem empty. But it doesn't contribute to sleeping problems.

I don't need a "rock." I wouldn't even call him that.

But I have heard that term thrown around a lot by several of my female friends. It makes me wonder...where is the independence in this world?

Where would they be without their husbands, boyfriend, male roommates...?

On Obesity in America

Or maybe Canada too. It's hard to tell who is who this close to Canada, unless you check the license plates on cars that people get into.

The other day I saw a woman wearing a long dress made of t-shirt material that buttoned all the way down from the collar to the hem. The buttons were close to popping off all the way because of how huge she was. No, she wasn't old, and she wasn't unfortunate. She was walking. She was just incredibly obese, and probably incredibly out of shape as she asked me to pick up a bulky piece of furniture and load it into her cart for her. Bulky, yes. Heavy? Not even close. Probably like 20 pounds max. It was one of those cushy storage ottomans things. It makes me wonder....How do people get that way?

It's very common too, here in America. You see more obese people than skinny people. But in America you have a choice. Not a lot of countries do, some people have no choice but to miss meals and be really skinny. But here, you can choose whether or not to eat the large fries. I would probably choose not to eat if I was already that big.

A lot of people blame diabetes, joint problems, etc etc for being obese. But I find it hard to believe that THAT many people are so sick they gain so much weight...

What I blame are drive-thru's, cars, motorized shopping carts, etc along with the easy access of food brought along by grocery stores, canned food, refrigerators, microwaves...and drive-thru's.

Nobody has to work for their food anymore, in fact you can get through daily life without physically exerting yourself at all, for any reason. And that is why I think America has an obesity problem.

I always try to park furthest away from the food venue I am attending. Not only does it make me feel less lazy, but it makes finding a parking spot easier and pulling out of the parking lot easier.

Until next time...go for a walk.

On Teenage Marriages

What is the rush?

So I knew this girl growing up, and I don't really know her anymore. However, thanks to Facebook and whatnot, I still can see whats going on in her life (isn't it great how we know so much about everyone's lives now?). So she met this guy right after she turned 20. Five months later, he proposed. 5 months later, they got married. Crazy, right? But she was actually going to have a June wedding, but decided to pull it earlier because "my mom got married when she was 20. I want to get married whilst I'm 20 too." So she gets married right in time, before she turns 21. What a nice sentiment. But why? Why adjust your entire life based on this notion that you must do everything the way your mother did it? Why marry a guy you just met?

I know a handful of people who got married after their freshman year of college. Maybe its what people are doing nowadays. But its weird to me, now, that people a few years younger than me are getting married. And I'm only 21! I've always stuck to the sentiment that you should at least be old enough to drink at your own wedding. And even so, I feel like 21 (aka me) is a little young.

Don't get me wrong, I understand that everyone is different and people mature at different rates. But I really think that you're not giving yourself a chance to grow on your own as a person if you get married basically as soon as you leave your parents house.

Perhaps there is a subconscious need for these people. Like they just left their families, but they automatically need a new family, because they are scared of the in-between time. There is a time where you're not going to be recording "this is the _____ residence, please leave a message" on the message machine. And I think this is a crucial growing period.

I, myself was not able to grow at all as a person whilst living with my parents. Yeah, you get to discover your interests, hang out with friends, etc etc. But there was always something holding me back: I had to ask permission. Not saying that those young married gals are needing to ask their husband's permission to go out, but when they have kids and they never really knew what its like to decide on their own whether or not its a good idea to go out on any given night, then how are they supposed to form a 'yay' or 'nay' for their kids?

I also know that marriage doesn't necessarily entail kids, but many of them are having them. But that ones that don't have them yet, aren't they wondering "did I really make the right decision when I decided to spend the rest of my life with a guy I met 5 months ago?" Who knows. I know I would wonder that myself.

I do not think I could have become the person I am today if I had gotten married as a teenager. What would I even do with a baby? I would have still been a kid myself. Yet people are doing it. And they do it a lot. Whatever works, right? But does it work? I guess I'll check whatever social networking site is hip ten years from now and find out if it did.

Here's to well thought-upon decisions,

Until next time,

Me

Whatever happened to diaries?

When I was in middle school and such, diaries were the real rage. They would send out fliers for ordering books, but all I ever wanted was a fancy new journal. One with a fuzzy cover and a locking latch on it. Secrets. Giddy, giddy secrets. Mostly about boys. Some of them about life.

I don't really know what happened to my old diaries. I would imagine they are probably still at my Dad's house. Or maybe they are in those little boxes by the bed. Either way, its been a long time since I have looked at them.

Last night however I stumbled upon my most recent diary. The one I started keeping at like age 16 or 17, can't really recall, although I could look at the date of the first entry I suppose. I guess that marks the start of my adult life or something. But still lots of giddy entries, most of them about a certain someone whom I am still with...

Anyway, I wrote in it again last night. First entry in a little over two years. I feel bad for the poor journal, it only had about 20 pages used, and god knows how many left. It's a nice little hardbound journal which I have all intention of filling this summer.

I don't know what ever happened to writing in it on a frequent basis. Used to write in it all the time. I think slowly the diary was replaced by the sketchbook. As an art major I do a lot of sketching, and I mean a LOT. (Although I have not kept up with that so great this summer. Needed a break I guess). I would fill sketchbooks to the brim.

But sketching got lost too. I briefly teetered in the Industrial Design field, and the program here at Western is very rigorous. Sketching turned into an assignment, and all creativity was lost. I was hard pressed to fill the sketchbook because that was part of my grade in classes.

So, here I am, sitting alone one quiet summer, realizing that I have not recorded thoughts and feelings, in any form, in a long time. Facebook statuses offer little more than what they are at face value. It wasn't a good enough outlet for me, I guess.

I need an outlet. So I decided to start writing in the diary again. And interestingly enough, I decided to start blogging again. Being alone is...interesting. I have come to realize that I have never really experienced being absolutely on my own and alone before. When I lived with my dad, he would go out of town and whatever, but my brother would always be there (even though he spent a lot of time out of the house). But here I am, alone in a new house, finding myself with little to do and a lot of time to think and reflect.

I think that's what attracted me to writing again. Reflecting. Recording. Soothing my soul. I became a raging pitfire shortly before my boyfriend left. A constant worry wort about stuff that really didn't matter at all. Whatever. I'm 21, why I worried about so much detail so early in my life is beyond me. I guess I kind of can get that way. But in the lonesome I have decided to stop worrying. I realized that worrying really is a waste of energy, and there are more important things.

Like the only important thing in my relationship is the person with whom I am in the relationship. Go figure, right? Life is too short to be stressing about the details and waiting until everything is perfect to be happy.

That's why I think so many people are broken down these days. I know a few people suffering from things, and they are as closed as a textbook on a sunny summer day. They are broken over their lives not being sound, I guess. But too caught up in it to make their lives sound again.

I think that's kind of what I'm going through on a smaller scale. Who fucking cares if I'm 10 minutes late, but I sure did. Little things like that would bother me. Coming into a fitful rage over things because I did not know how to deal with them as an adult, because I did not have the experience, probably because I am still young and learning.

Now learned, still young.

I think we all need a little diary here and there. How wonderfully liberating it is to clear my thoughts before I go to sleep at night. It's a strange thing, but I really think writing is therapeutic, particularly personal writing, like a diary.

I guess the only difference between now and middle school is that I am no longer doing it to be cool. And I no longer care if anyone reads it or not, because it's me. It's open, honest me. Without the caring what others thing.