Twenty-Something Else...

New Kids on the Block, had a bunch of hits...

2012-01-31T20:57:00.000-08:00

I was driving to the gym tonight, and somewhere, out of nowhere, in my car, I smelled a barbecue (barbeque? BBQ?). Like, old-fashioned, charcoal barbecue. It was dark, raining, and a whopping 47 degrees out, but in my car, it was summertime.

Cue LFO's "Summer Girls" here...Shut up, you know you like it too. And, R.I.P. Rich Cronin.

Perhaps it's the absence of vitamin D, or the fact that whatever I do, I am ALWAYS cold, but I am longing for summer. Not just the sunny weather...just that feeling of nowhere to be and all day to get your butt there...and all night, should you choose.

Sure, this isn't actually the case for me anymore. I have somewhere to be 5 days a week, all summer long. I can't ACTUALLY stay out all night, barefoot in the grass, forgoing a jacket, a diet of anything but Dr. Pepper, Subway, and Taco Bell, and sleep. Those things had their place in my life, and it was called 2004. My metabolism and bank account can no longer sustain such a lifestyle. But still, the feeling remains, when the days stretch out, and the sun lingers enough to remind you, "Hey, we're not done yet! Stay awake, stay moving, stay laughing, stay LIVING!" There really is a certain magic, a certain freedom, that comes with summer. Real life can never quite steal it.

I like that.

And so, a parting gift for now, as the countdown begins (6 months, 10 days, and counting...)

(you're welcome)

Minutiae.

2012-01-24T20:46:00.000-08:00

Yep, definitely just spell-checked "minutiae".

Because, at the moment, it's really all I have to talk about. Which is a good thing, I guess.

I'm finding my attempts at getting in shape a bit half-assed, as of late. Yes, excessive sickness has not been a huge help, but as of now there is nothing really holding me back. I did make it to yoga yesterday. I loved it. The studio I went to believes in "warm" yoga--that is, a room kept at 87 degrees fahrenheit. I've done some hot yoga in the past. Here are some of the differences I noted, yesterday:

- I did not involuntarily curse upon entering the room.
- A pool of sweat did not collect on my mat/towel.
- No one sweat on me.
- I never once felt like I was going to vomit, pass out, or die.
- I didn't spend half the class lying on the mat, wishing desperately for it to end, all the while wondering why it has to be SO DAMN HOT.

In other words, I actually got to DO the poses, for the entire class, rather than attempting them and then giving up because it was too hot/sweaty/slippery/terrible.

So we'll call that a win. I literally JUST stepped off my treadmill, after 3 minutes or so. Note: My treadmill faces a wall. No TV, no changing scenery, no people watching. I found it a bit insufferable. Obviously. Here's where I start to frustrate myself...shouldn't I want it badly enough to stare at a wall for 40 measly minutes? Then again, if I'm hoping to stick with any sort of workout regimen, shouldn't there be some aspect of enjoyment to the whole thing?

Anyway, in other news, as those of you who are friends with me on Facebook may have noticed, I'm trying to complain less, in general. (My last post excluded, apparently?) Truth be told, I have way too much to be thankful for, blessings beyond what anyone deserves. My focus should always, ALWAYS be on those things. Perhaps you, dear readers, can help stick to this little endeavor. Call me out on my whining, please!

Unless really bad things happen, of course. I get a free pass for those.

2012, so far....

2012-01-20T23:11:00.000-08:00

...Has been, frustrating.

Frustrating in that of the 3 weeks of the year, I've been healthy for approximately 1 of them. I'm supposed to be running another 5K on February 11, and a 4 mile-ish dash on St. Patty's day. Total successful 3 mile plus runs, on a treadmill no less, so far this year? One.

A slight rewind...Traveled back to Michigan with my love for Christmas. Had a wonderful time, but pretty much every last person in the family (and not in the family, in my case) got sick. Like, real sick. And somewhere between not enough sleep and definitely not enough exercise, I managed to get sick again this week, in time for a snowstorm (By Seattle standards. Don't hate, east coast/midwest. We know we're pathetic wimps)So, two more sick days burned and still unable to retrieve my car from my boyfriend's house, where it's been for a week.

Frustrating. Goals, goals, goals to accomplish...things I want to happen, things I can't just WILL to happen, things I have no say in and things I can't control. All of these present in my life right now.

There are some things, perhaps many things, I DO have control over. But so many more I don't...Does anyone else have any trouble deciphering between the battles we can fight, and the ones that are simply not in our hands?

..........

...............

"The Lord will fight for you; you need only be still." -Exodus 14:14

.......................

Oh, right. How easily I forget. There isn't a battle, ever, I'm meant to fight alone. Not my job, my weight, my relationship, my health, the weather.

How much worry, stress, sadness, and fear could I avoid if I remembered that? That there is a plan and design bigger than mine?

Thank God. Breakfast tomorrow is beyond the scope of my planning capability right now, so I'm glad He has the rest taken care of.

Just be still.

Except, you know, when I finally get back to the gym.

(First) 5K!

2011-12-18T12:53:00.000-08:00

Well, there is good news, and there is bad news. The good news is, I finished the 5K, and just as I planned, I didn’t stop and (clearly) didn’t die.

The bad news is, I didn’t finish in 24 minutes, nor did I immediately drop 30 pounds upon completion of the race.

They don’t tell you that when you register.
Seriously though, it was a fun day and a legitimate accomplishment for She Who Does Not Run. My friends and I arrived and parked, toting our coffee and lamenting not wearing cuter outfits. I registered, and then realized that I would have to run with my phone, credit card, car key, etc. Turns out these things take some planning. We waited in line for the bathroom for about 6 years, missing our initial start time, necessitating starting with the “walkers and joggers”.

The run started out at a slight uphill incline, but it was tolerable. I feel like I spent much of my energy dodging those walkers. As the course continued, and I spotted the “1 mile” sign, I nearly laughed. I was certain it had been at least 2 at that point. Somewhere between miles 2 and 3, I got tired. And somewhere else between miles 2 and 3, came a hill. I came, truly, THIS close to slowing to a walk.

Instead, I found myself in prayer. A prayer of gratitude for a body that allows me to walk, let alone run, and a prayer that my own fears, failures (fear of failure, really) and the voice that tells me it’s okay to stop, wouldn’t win this time. Truly, the finish line would not have been as sweet had I not crossed it with a keen awareness of what I can do, and who it is that allows me to do it. I finished in 31 minutes, 14 seconds. No 8 minute miles, but no giving up. You would’ve thought I’d run a marathon, and as completely ridiculous as it sounds, in that moment I was sure I could.

As with any goals, when the fun is over and you get peanut butter on your hard-earned t-shirt (yes, it happened) I found my motivation lacking. Once a milestone was completed, I lost sight of the long term goal.

So often, it seems, this happens in life, as well. In the minutiae of the everyday stuff and things I get so caught up in. I lose sight of the purpose to which I’ve been called, and grow discouraged and doubt that I can ever accomplish anything beyond getting through the day without accidentally setting any buildings on fire or causing some other catastrophe. So often I choose to slow to a walk, rather than continuing to run, believing in the voice that tells me, “You can do this. You can do this because I made you to do this, and I am right here with you. “
Some words of inspiration on the topic:

“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.” -Philippians 3:12-14.

I love it. Specifically, forgetting what is behind, and straining toward what is ahead. There is so much ahead, I hope. So much I haven’t planned for or even considered.
But first, my next 5K. Saturday, February 11, 2012. I’ll definitely remember to pee before leaving the house, this time.

Yes, you can.

2011-12-07T17:04:00.000-08:00

I've always rejected being TOLD that I can't do something.

In fact, usually, being told I couldn't (or wouldn't) do something has generally led me to do that very thing. In the motivational way, not in the rebellious teenager sense. Other people's lack of faith in me really seems to light a fire under my ass.

I'm sorry. I really do prefer "ass" to "butt", or "rear end." It just seems more effective.

Anyway. It occurred to me recently that while other people's lack of confidence in me inspires me to change THEIR minds, MY lack of confidence in me inspires, well...a further depletion of confidence.

And then it occured to me that this is simply no way to go about the business of life. Waiting for someone to doubt you so that you can prove them wrong. Setting goals for the sake of pleasing/impressing/surprising/giving the middle finger to OTHER people. To change for someone else, or to set out to achieve for anyone's approval but yours and God's is similar to the result you see when you choose not to forgive those who've wronged you:

YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE WHO CARES.

When you don't forgive someone, they don't mope around the house, wallowing in all the ways they could have done it better. But you do. And when you live your life and make your choices to impress/emulate other people, they don't agonize over mistakes and failures. But you do.

I'm learning I can live my life to LOVE other people, and SERVE other people. But other people should rarely play a role in the personal goals (career, fitness, etc) I set for myself. My confidence has to come from me, knowing that I'm not alone in any of these adventures.

"I can do all this through Him who gives me strength" -Philippians 4:13

So with that, I am running my first 5K this weekend. In the spirit of "my goals, no one else's" I am not aiming to finish with some record time. I'm aiming to finish, period, without stopping to walk. And to get the t-shirt. Goals of speed, longer distance, etc, can be explored at a later date.

Something else I've learned about personal goal setting: attainability is key.

So yay. I'm doing something for me, that not long ago I thought I couldn't do. Yes, I'm aware I haven't actually done it yet, but I'm choosing to be positive.

What can YOU start doing for you?

Weekly Goals:

2011-12-05T21:29:00.001-08:00

Pinterest. Where I spend (too) much of my time:

Yes, Pinterest. You know, internet crack.

I have but 3 goals for this week:

1. Spend time reading something significant and edifying.

2. Less Cheese/Chocolate. Obviously it's something to do with the letters C and H. (Like the sugar brand! OMG, there is conspiracy afoot!)

3. Making it so that my fitness board and future wedding board on Pinterest do not have such a huge discrepancy in number of pins. Bet you can guess which has more.

In my defense, I'm pretty sure I WILL get married someday. And when I do, I'm gonna be really glad I went through all this trouble. Just sayin'...

In other words, the idea is to bring my focus toward things I can actually address, you know, NOW*

Past the Past.

2011-12-04T21:43:00.000-08:00

In church today, the theme of the message was accesibility to God.

And, some things we do to hinder our ability to "access" Him when we need to.

Or perhaps, we hinder Him fron accessing US.

I found a couple of these extremely convicting/butt-kicking:

1. We don't get past our past. We get hurt, we fail, we screw up, and we let it consume us and keep us from making the change that we need to make in our lives. The analogy used today was the shot clock in basketball. 24 seconds to make a shot. And if you miss, guess what? The clock resets. And no one ever rebounded a ball, saw a clear opportunity to succeed and said "Nope, already tried shooting. Didn't go well."

I think of the attitudes I've had and carry as a result of my past. And I know I use them as excuses when I don't love as well as I could. When my confidence falters, when insecurity rears its head, making me needy and more dependent than I should be. When past infidelity makes me suspicious when I don't need to be, not in the slightest. When past failures--professional, relational, etc, and past heartbreak cause me to doubt that God has a plan for me, and that He has my absolute best interest at heart. He is a God who loves, and a God who forgives. If I couldn't forgive those who have wronged me, I would never be able to move forward. I'd be consumed by my own bitterness and my life would cease to be one with purpose.

But WAIT. If that's true of other people who've sinned against me, shouldn't it also apply to me? I've forgiven everyone else, but forgiving ME is the key step in moving forward. I've read that regret is simply not from God. Repentance yes, regret no. Regret can only serve to fill you with shame and longing for what cannot be undone. God has forgiven me, and will continue to do so. My turn.

2. We DOUBT. Our pastor talked about a story in John (as in, the Gospel of) 5, about an invalid trying to reach a pool with healing powers. Jesus shows up, sees him, and they have the following exchange:

"When Jesus saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition for a long time, he asked him, 'Do you want to get well?'
'Sir,' the invalid replied, 'I have no one to help me into the pool when the water is stirred. While I am trying to get in, someone else goes down ahead of me.'

Then Jesus said to him, 'Get up! Pick up your mat and walk.' 9 At once the man was cured; he picked up his mat and walked." (John 5:6-9, NIV)

The question "do you WANT to get well?" seems pretty basic. Uh, yeah, I do. But for many of us, myself included, getting "well", whatever that means, takes CHANGE. And change, more often than not, takes WORK. And it always, always takes faith. Had that man at the pool said to Jesus "Nope, I'm not getting up, I can't, duh" he would have remained there, for the rest of his life. He had to BELIEVE that Jesus could and would change him for the better, despite what he had always been before.

Two steps, that seem so elementary, hold so many back. Get over yourself, get over what you did or what was done to you, and believe that God can and will change you. Okay, maybe that was three steps. Anyway...

Easier said than done, I know. But what I loved about the basketball shot clock analogy is that number 24. How convenient that while players get 24 seconds to try again after every failure, there are 24 hours in every single day for us to do the same. Every day, God resets the clock.

So here's to the next 24.

Where I Get all Brave and Stuff.

2011-12-02T20:18:00.000-08:00

I detagged myself from the above photo on Facebook.

Let's do a little analysis on that girl up there, shall we? I'll be honest. She has a nice face. Her legs are okay too. We are not going to talk about her pale skin. Because that is not the point.

But that girl, on that day (a close friend's wedding) was unhappy with her body. Self-conscious. By no means do I think I look hideous or obese. But for a woman, for this woman, occasions that allow for dressing up and looking pretty are few and far between. You want people to tell you that you look beautiful. You want the man by your side to be proud to be there and want to show you off (this, by the way, is not to say that the man by MY side is not!) and you want to believe that you do, in fact, look HOT.

Even before the truth (photos) came out, I did not feel this way. I felt dowdy and chubby and unhealthy, next to the bride and several other beautiful women.

For the record, that photo was taken on May 20, 2011. Nearly 7 months ago. I weigh, at this very moment, about 4 pounds MORE than I did then. In other words, I've done precisely jack to improve the situation. That's stopping now, bee-tee-dubs.

I was given one body, and that body is a temple (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). I want to take better care of it.

I want to keep up with my boyfriend next time he wants to climb up a mountain. I want him to know how much it means to me that I be healthy for him, and our possible future together.

I want to wear all the crap in my closet that gathers dust as I recycle the same baggy tops, abandoning all of those things I swore I could wear as soon as I shed those pesky pounds.

I'm not trying to be Heidi Klum, or Cameron Diaz, or Britney circa 2002. The goal here isn't to be or look like anyone else. But I owe God, the people I love, and ME the best version of myself, and what I feel is hindering me in that is how unhealthy and unconfident I feel.

So we'll call that charming photo up there, "Before."

And, go.

26.

2011-11-30T21:19:00.000-08:00

Well, as you can see, I am in fact still alive.

And in roughly 2 hours, I will be 26 years old.

Tomorrow I will be the age my mother was when she gave birth to me.

Yikes.

Most anyone will tell you that 26 is still, in fact, quite young. Consciously, practically, realistically--I know this. But year 25...it changed me. Truly, some of the sweetest and saddest moments of my life occurred in this year. Moments of feeling lost, feeling found. Feeling like I've been given more than is fair, and then feeling like nothing in life is ever fair at all.

I have learned to love another person, in spite of who I am. In spite of my own selfishness, my own fears, insecurities, and past hurts. What can only be described as growing pains, clawing through the shield of "me" and "my" that I'd constructed, to reveal a person who gives not because she has to but because she wants to, who loves not because she's required to but because she CAN. Through hectic weekdays and lazy Sunday afternoons. In wandering conversations, heated arguments, and waking, sometines, to a hand that finds mine, even fast asleep. If I have it my way, he and I will sleep that way until one of us ceases to breathe.

But if there's anything this year has taught me, it is that my plans, my assumptions, aren't always correct. My constantly growing and changing faith in God has been shaken by the unfairness of losing a friend much, much too young. But to find hope in that loss has given me an awareness that thankfully, I am simply not in control. We all know how well that's turned out in the past. A day hasn't passed that she hasn't crossed my mind, and hasn't reminded me that my life still isn't MINE. I was placed on this earth for a purpose--again, not mine.

Bearing that in mind, I welcome 26. Praying to be constantly aware that I am a temple, a vessel, and merely a channel through which God shares His love with the world. Yes, I'd also love to be a wife, a mother, a grandmother, etc, but those experiences are not guaranteed or owed to me. My goal this year, besides to lose 20 pounds and get my relationship with cheese in check, is to simply do what I know to be right. To take care of my body, to speak words of kindness, genuinely. To spend my money and my time on things that matter, things that last. To cherish the people who love me, and recognize that I am blessed to love THEM, and then do so selflessly and with 100% of who I am.

I will begin this year with a prayer. I will not begin year 26 with a resolution or a to-do list. Those put the ball in my court, and let's face it, my hand-eye coordination when it comes to anything played on a court leaves some things to be desired.

So, yeah. Happy Birthday to me. And many more, on channel 4, etc.

Dear Jen.

2011-09-12T19:15:00.000-07:00

It's been 47 days since you left, and 46 since I heard the news. In the middle of another chaotic Thursday, I got a voicemail from a friend of ours I hadn't seen or heard from in months. He told me I needed to call him back, that it was an emergency. And I knew. My hands shook as I tried to call him, first losing the signal on my phone, then reaching HIS voicemail, in what had to be the worst game of phone tag I've ever experienced. I can never hope to explain how, but I knew it had to be you. I called my boyfriend, then my mother. I drove away from work sobbing, fumbling with my iPod, scanning through the songs until I found one that would remind me of you. I cried at your funeral, and I sat in front of your casket alone when almost everyone else had gone. I wanted to find the words, the right words, to say to you then. They didn't come. I whispered "I love you", blew you a kiss, and walked away.

To most, I've recovered well, whatever that means. No one close to me would look at me and say that I'm still hurting. I promise you, they're wrong.

Once the shock wore off, the initial blindsiding blow to my tidy world, the hurt simply became different, permanent. Real. It's the difference between acknowledging and FEELING that you're gone. The living of my life, moving forward, with the keen and terrifying awareness that whether or not I wake up tomorrow is not my decision to make. The awareness that everything and everyone I love, on this side of Heaven, is simply mine to borrow. It makes me breathe deeper, laugh harder. It makes me want to see more, do more, BE more. It makes the tiny, seemingly insignicant moments so much sweeter. Conversations with my students about the rain, and how it got its name. Text messages from my mom. The man I love with all my heart absently reaching for my hand in the car, just because he can. I want to memorize it, commit it to memory if God forbid I ever lose it. I wish I'd done that before you left.

Still, without fail, I find you stitched into my life. You'd be surprised how often you appear in the stories I tell, how many memories you made for me. You wouldn't be surprised at how often telling those stories still makes me laugh, though never as hard as I did while we lived them. It stuns me, saddens me, and heals me every time I get to speak your name. God willing, I will live my life better now, for me and for you. I will be a faithful wife to a great man. I will be a mother to cute and well-behaved children, just like we planned. I will turn 27, remembering you didn't, but knowing that where you are, you will forever be young, and always be beautiful.

I'll see you there someday. Keep things interesting until then.

Love you forever,

Jess

Jennifer Starr Malean
December 15, 1984-July 27,2011

Country music throwback.

2011-06-18T10:29:00.000-07:00

This is one demanding song, but I think it's all in reach, no? I particularly like the second verse.

Also, male viewers will enjoy the video because it features attractive women, and several closeups of their teeth.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FI1yK84MOMo&playnext=1&list=PL5C2B339FE22F31A3

Enjoy.

When you love someone.

2011-06-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

You start to love what they love, simply because you love them that much.

Case in point: My parents. I've been staying with them for awhile. They just bought a house recently and have been remodeling, so the three of us have been camped out in the basement while the upstairs is being finished. Well, 4 of us if you include...the cat.

Our family cat has been with us since I was 7. Quick math there...18 years. We estimate she's 19-20 years old. She's had every medical problem in the book...most recently a series of seizures that put her on twice-daily medication. I sometimes suspect that my parents have spent the equivalent of my college tuition on this cat. Why? Because my stepdad loves her. I've never seen my stepdad cry until this cat got sick last year. He stayed home from work for 3 days just to keep an eye on her until her condition improved.

Fast forward to the present. There's only one bathroom in our current living space, and the cat's litter box resides in it. My mom's been complaining daily about stepping out of the shower and feeling grains of cat litter sticking to her damp feet. I'm not a huge fan of it either, to be honest.

A word about my mom: She was NEVER a cat person. In fact, if it were up to her, she'd have a little dog and dress it up in sweaters and carry it in her purse or something. She agreed to the cat idea all those years ago because cats are a less high-maintenance pet.

Today, while sitting at the table, I was watching my mom interact with the cat. Talking to her, carefully feeding her the medication she so detests. I realized there'd been a shift. My mom doesn't just tolerate the cat anymore. She loves her. This didn't come until, well, now. Only when it became clear to her how the person she loves, loves the damn cat.

Love is patient, love is kind. Love showers with the bathroom door open so the cat can pee if she needs to.

If You're Gonna Play in Texas...

2011-05-30T17:46:00.000-07:00

FYI: I wrote this post last Friday, 5/27, but am just now getting around to posting it here. =)

As I write this, I’m sitting at my gate at the Austin airport….closing out leg 2/3 of my first business trip, ever. My company is opening a new location here, and I was asked to come down here to hire the staff, train the staff, and perform various other tasks that need to be done before the center can open for business next week.
It’s been a very valuable experience. I always thought I was so wise and independent and could handle anything. On day one of this trip, I realized that actually, no, not so much. On my first day in Austin I rented my first car, and checked into a hotel on my own for the first time in my whole life. Sure, I’ve been on vacation with friends, but never really and truly ALONE. Never arrived in a brand new place, not knowing a soul, hopped in a car, and driven off as if I knew where the hell I was going. I didn’t, by the way. I wound up in tears, driving around unfamiliar freeways, cursing the condescending wench of a voice coming from my GPS for not giving me enough notice. I burst into tears, and the only consolation she, the machine, could offer was a terse “recalculating.”

After stumbling upon my hotel by accident, I checked in, and tried to psych myself up for the next day. Round one of interviews went fine, but I realized at that point that heels were not in fact more comfortable in Texas, and regardless of how sleek and sophisticated I think they make me look, none of that matters when I end the day wincing in pain.

By the end of the first week, my staff was hired. And for the first time in my ENTIRE life, I faced a weekend without the option of company. Sure, I’ve often spent the entire weekend at home with little to no human contact, but have always had the option to call up a friend, a family member, SOMEONE who could alleviate the loneliness. And the loneliness came, and I hated it. Coupled with the paralyzing fact that I was getting hopelessly lost anytime I tried to leave the hotel grounds, it was rough.

It got better. It’s still getting better. I’m starting to regret only being here for 3 weeks (Though I spent last weekend at home for my former roommate’s wedding…more on that later) because I just now feel like I’m GETTING this place. Other than that first, sad little weekend, I’ll only be here on weekdays. Kind of a bummer because the place has so much more to offer than the few snippets I’ve gotten so far. But I will say this experience, thus far, has afforded me a new respect for those brave enough to pick up their lives and go somewhere completely new. I never had that kind of confidence before. Moving away from my home state just never seemed like an option. Now, it’s decidedly less scary. Of course, if I were to ever move out of Seattle, there are several factors that would have to perfectly fall into place. Namely, there’s this guy…more on that later too.

Anyway, that’s what’s going on with me these days…(somewhat) insane, in love, and currently…in Texas.

Change.

2011-04-13T21:09:00.000-07:00

Yes, again with the change.

My roommate is getting married. Yes, married. Turns out, I have reached the age at which my friends are allowed to get married and no one raises their eyebrows, saying, "Really? But they're so young!" Apparently, we aren't.

My roommate is getting married, and I'm finding an all-too-short time of my life is coming to a close. The obvious reason it seems so difficult to let this go is that, to put it simply, I'll miss her. She's one of my very best friends. But deeper than that is the season of our lives we spent meeting each other, getting to know each other, failing together, succeeding together, growing together. We didn't just share space, we really and truly LIVED together. Few words, and none that I could write, could ever really describe how grateful I am for the appearance of this woman in my life at the precise moment I needed her. She has witnessed so many of my failures, so much of the me that was willing to settle for less than I deserved. She made it okay for me to turn and run the opposite direction of what was healthy and right for me. She recognized that I needed to learn some lessons on my own. The words "I told you so" have never left her lips. No other woman in my life has ever exhibited such grace and wisdom. She faced her own struggles, and in doing so allowed me to rise to the occasion and become the kind of friend I'd always wanted to be....the kind she's been to me.

She met her fiance last May. They're saying "I do" one year, to the day, after their first date. And he couldn't be more perfect for her. As she was falling in love with him, I was struggling, both with the pain of finally letting go of a relationship that truly, fell short of every desire my heart had ever felt, and with the notion that someone so wonderful could not exist for me. She told me, she was sure, it was just around the corner.

This is where I become the girl who can't get through a post without bringing up her boyfriend.

But she was right. Despite my past, despite my failures, despite my being, well, ME...he showed up. And he wanted me. He pursued me, and then he loved me. And he's still here, constantly amazing me with his patience. I can't yet be certain of what the future brings, but I am experiencing the sweet and terrifying feeling that accompanies telling another, "You have my heart, please be gentle". It is truly scary to have so much to lose, but if you're willing to commit to someone, shouldn't it be someone you know will handle you, your baggage, and your heart, with care?

In a sort of, "We have come full circle" moment, my roomie and I were out to dinner tonight. We overheard a girl at the table next to us telling her friends about the third time she'd taken back her cheating boyfriend. The temptation, of course, was to pity her and be smug about how that would NEVER be us. But no...that ISN'T us ANYMORE, and we didn't get to this point alone. We sat listening, and at the same time we both said "I am SO thankful right now." And it was so nice to be able to share that gratitude with her...someone who understands, and always will, the road I took to get here. Where the road goes from here is uncertain (though, between you and me, I have a pretty good idea of my destination of choice) but tonight I have no doubts that where it leads is EXACTLY where I need to be.

Makes all that change a little less scary, after all.

(Un)Captivating.

2011-03-10T17:50:00.000-08:00

Did you ever think, "I really thought there was more to me than this?"

Somehow, lately, I've been struggling with the notion that I'm not as interesting as I always considered myself to be.

Disclaimer: This is not an attempt to fish for compliments about how interesting I am. But if you wish to send them my way, I wouldn't turn them down, either. Just sayin'.

The small group of truly kickass women that meets at my apartment every Monday night is reading through "Captivating" by John and Stasi Eldredge. They write:

"God has set within you a femininity that is powerful and tender, fierce and alluring. No doubt it has been misunderstood. Surely it has been assaulted. But it is there, your true heart, and it is worth recovering."

Once upon a time, I believed that about myself. I fancied myself a force, a pillar of strength. I pictured myself making a difference, never settling for mediocrity from myself. I believed my thoughts were interesting, what I had to say mattered, that my body and my mind were, in equal measure, worth fighting for and pursuing.

And then real life (read: high school, college, and beyond) shook me out of that pretty scenario. That femininity, that "true heart" was indeed assaulted. The message sent to me was that neither my body, my mind, nor least of all, my heart, were worth consistently pursuing. Once one or all of these was won, the pursuit was over. I found myself constantly wanting to scream out, "WAIT! I have SO MUCH MORE TO GIVE!"

And now, I'm pausing to ask MYSELF, "Do I, really?" I feel burned out at work. A job for which I used to feel so much passion is feeling mundane and stressful. I feel like as hard as I try, no promotion is going to remedy that. Things I used to think I was good at, like singing, I feel just okay at now. I used to spend HOURS singing. I could lose myself in melodies, in lyrics, in the ability of my own body to produce those sounds. I used to daydream about learning an instrument and writing songs, even if the only place it ever took me was a coffee shop's open mic night. At least my voice would be heard. Now, sometimes it feels like it's not worth hearing.

Please, don't get me wrong. I still have these dreams and these desires. I'm just aching to rediscover the confidence (and perhaps find the time) to believe that they are POSSIBLE. I don't believe this world is the last stop for me, but I strongly believe I should do the very best I can to leave it better than I found it. A tall order in this day in age, but this is the only chance I get.

Also, it should be noted that there is a man in my life, who, for the first time ever, SEES me, and TREATS me, the way a real man should. It is entirely refreshing and wonderful to be told that I am safe. It is beyond wonderful that he makes it a point for me to FEEL safe. That said, past insecurity runs deep, old habits die hard, and sometimes I find it hard to trust. The doubts I feel about myself sometimes cloud my faith in HIM. Yes, I know how ridiculous and unfair that is. But it's my own security that causes me to scrutinize every word he says or move he makes. It's my fear that he'll suddenly realize it's true, I'm NOT good enough for him. I fight that fear pretty often, but it's getting better. Praying he has patience with me until it disappears.

Speaking of praying, I've done far too little of that lately. How can I expect to be healed without asking? How can I find the answer without looking for it...Speaking of the answer, the reason I need to calm down and celebrate, rather than berate ME:

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well. " Psalm 139:14

Or, if you prefer the non-Biblical version

"I'm beautiful in my way
'Cause God makes no mistakes
I'm on the right track baby
I was born this way" -Lady GaGa

Love is.

2011-02-07T18:00:00.000-08:00

That's right, friends. I have broken my 3 month (?!) blog drought in order to make it evident to the interwebs that I am indeed in love. Like, for reals.

I'm shamelessly admitting now that I hadn't a clue what being in love meant before. And subsequently admitting that I have become one of those obnoxious people who says crap like "I hadn't a clue what being in love meant before."

This doesn't cancel out, or erase, any feelings for anyone I've had in the past. Not a single sweet moment, not one screaming fight or angry text message. The past is there, it happened, and there were many strong feelings involved. But with experience (and, just maybe, maturity?) has come new insight, and I can't accurately identify those feelings as LOVE.

Let's explore that word a bit. According to dictionary.com, Love is:

1. a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.
2. a feeling of warm personal attachment or deep affection, as for a parent, child, or friend.
3. sexual passion or desire.
4. a person toward whom love is felt; beloved person; sweetheart.
5. (used in direct address as a term of endearment, affection, or the like): Would you like to see a movie, love?
6. a love affair; an intensely amorous incident; amour.
7. sexual intercourse; copulation.
8. ( initial capital letter ) a personification of sexual affection, as Eros or Cupid.
9. affectionate concern for the well-being of others: the love of one's neighbor.
10. strong predilection, enthusiasm, or liking for anything: her love of books.
11. the object or thing so liked: The theater was her great love.
12. the benevolent affection of god for His creatures, or the reverent affection due from them to God.
13. Chiefly Tennis . a score of zero; nothing.
14. a word formerly used in communications to represent the letter L.

...Huh. So you can, I suppose, understand my confusion. See especially definitions 1,3,6, and 7. Especially 7, ahem. With 14 existing ways in our language to define this word, Love,one of which involves TENNIS, it isn't really a surprise that it's so misused and misunderstood.

Let's try another definition. According to the Bible:

"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails." - 1 Corinthians 13:4-8

That makes it so much clearer, no? The question, I guess, was never what love IS, but what love DOES. I never once asked myself before if any of the above was true of the person claiming to love me. Could I substitute his name for "Love" in the above verses and find those statements to be true the majority of the time? No. And it wouldn't have been true of me, either.

But the crazy thing is, I can do that now. Not because he's perfect, he isn't. Not because I'm just THAT easy to love...I'm not. He is all of these things to me because he LOVES ME. It's not us inherently being patient, or kind, or selfless, or forgiving that allows us to love. It is love itself that allows us to be patient, kind, selfless, and forgiving. And that alone is so worth all of the times our being human lets us screw it up. It's a brand-new feeling when "I love you" means more than "Until you start to irritate me."

Anyway, thought it was about time I updated on the status change in the cheesiest way possible. With any luck I'll post again before 90 days is up.

JK.

2010-11-08T21:55:00.000-08:00

I'm back!

After the last blog failed to take off (I say this as though I have thousands of followers here...the truth has not escaped me) I decided to humbly return here.

Reason being, really...I'm still me. Yes, I am a Christian woman and am living my life as such, but underneath it all, I'm still me.

I still get all emo and put song lyrics up on Facebook. I still drink too much on occassion, and still swear like a trucker more often than I care to admit. I still think Stepbrothers is effing hilarious, and still complain ALL the time about how I'm too busy/fat/poor/what have you. I do the above whilst eating pizza, watching Modern Family on DVD, and buying shoes, of course....Like I said, same girl.

I'm still so gloriously imperfect that it suddenly seemed silly to start a new blog...did I leave some parts of my "old life" behind? Yes. Yes, thank you Lord, yes. But it happened, every single moment of it. If I just glossed over it elsewhere I would be doing the girl that lived through it all a disservice. All the highs (literally) and lows. Every sobfest, every broken heart and rejection--she still survived it. It doesn't seem fair to end her journey here and start over somewhere else like it was all a bad dream (if only, no?). She deserves to start over too.

Even when you turn a page, you're still reading the same damn book. Mine's just gotten a little more interesting and considerably less depressing.

Moving....

2010-07-20T21:48:00.001-07:00

Hi all...Wanted you all to know that this will likely be my last post here. Moving the Blog over to www.jessstandsamazed.blogspot.com

...For many reasons, but mostly that it's time for a new chapter. I have been strengthening my faith and my heart, and believe it's time to incorporate that faith into my writing. The new blog will still be witty (or as witty as I get) and honest and everything that this one has been, but I plan to document every step of the journey that God is leading me on.

I consider so much of what's happened in my life over the past few months to represent a new chapter of my life. It seems only right that I close this one too...there was so much good, but also quite a bit of darkness documented here. I will keep the blog live, so it will always be there for me or for you. But it's time to keep walking. For those who wish, and don't mind some God-talk, please please please follow me on the new blog. I hope you do.

=)

Thought to Ponder.

2010-06-26T10:04:00.000-07:00

Until I come up with the energy and attention span for a real post...

If you believe in God, or even if you don't...I kind of love/needed this:

"God never takes away something good unless he has something better to give"

Good to know.

Over/under/in between-whelmed.

2010-06-17T19:47:00.000-07:00

I have had such a...frustrating, odd week.

I don't think I've ever been so manic-depressive, tired, anxiety-ridden, depressed, or optimistic within 5 days in my life. I am loving my new job, though technically, I don't start working with students until Monday. So, I spend all day at training laughing and joking and practicing with my coworkers, and genuinely looking forward to working with the kiddos...but underneath it all, I am completely terrified. This job, this opportunity, is such a blessing for me. It can open so many doors, or at least point me in the right direction in terms of a future career. I feel like I've just been floundering for so long, waiting for something to come along that would inspire me, and here it is. That is INCREDIBLE, and I am so, so thankful. But I'm absolutely petrified that I'll screw it up. That I'll get lazy or careless and blow this chance. And it's so...silly. Silly, when I'm more than equipped, more than able to absolutely SHINE in this position. Where is my confidence?

It's been a tough week for others in my family. Life has dealt some tough, tough blows to some of the people I love most recently, and I've been feeling pretty helpless. Nothing gets to me more than watching someone I love in pain, especially when there is not a damn thing I can do about it but hold their hand. The only comfort there is knowing how, when I was down that low, them holding MY hand damn near saved my life. So that's what I'll do.

For one reason or another, I've also been struggling with the single life this week. Stressing out about everything else has literally kept me up at night, despite nightly doses of Tylenol PM (Can you become immune to that? I'll look it up). To keep my energy up, I eat crap, all day long. It could also be PMS. Or you know, pure gluttony. Either way, for the past few days, I've ended up so tired and frazzled from the ball of anxiety I've worked myself into that I just camp on the couch stuffing my face. And then I feel fat and unhealthy and disgusting, but remain single and alone, so who the f cares, right? Spiral, Spiral, Spiral. More on my thoughts on single life soon.

I'm sorry. I need a good night's sleep, sometime past 5:30am. I need my eyes to stop twitching and my back to stop hurting and my mind to stop racing. Any minute now, yes?

--aholic.

2010-06-12T14:42:00.001-07:00

I think (know) I have an addictive personality.

This doesn't extend to anything dramatic like alcohol or heroin, but rather to men and food that are bad for me.

Okay, I suppose those are comparable to alcohol and heroin, minus the unsightly needle marks and arrests.

Anyway, this week's obsession has inadvertently been chocolate. I've been training at the new job (more on this later) and on the first day, we arrived to a basket full o' candy in the middle of the table in our conference room/hole. I don't know if it's been the shock of getting up at 5:30am daily, or the 8 hour video conference which, despite its EXTREMELY entertaining moments, can produce some serious boredom....either way, I can't stop eating the stuff. I pack uber-healthy lunches, and have worked out after work every day but one, but still end up inhaling Starburst, Tootsie Rolls, and mini Herhsey bars like my job security depends on it. Which, by the way, would be great, because I'd be set. In reality, I'd be surprised if there isn't a deduction line on my first paycheck labeled "CANDY"

So, dear readers, any suggestions? My will power is shit, so if any of you tell me "just say no", I may have to scream. Should I get more sleep? Drink more water? Bring some healthy snacks? How do you all resist temptation whilst sitting in a room for 8 hours?

New Job, Day One.

2010-06-07T21:07:00.001-07:00

Love. Love. Love.

Let's hope I don't screw it up.

Thousand Words.

2010-06-04T10:27:00.000-07:00

Meant to post this yesterday. RIP Rue McClanahan...

You'll be missed, Blanche Devereaux!

Those I've loved along the way.

2010-06-03T13:51:00.000-07:00

For those of you who don't know and haven't already passed judgment on me for it...I love country music. Love it. Anyway, Eric Church is my new favorite artist. He's not too showy or overproduced, and his lyrics are so damn heartbreakingly accurate. His song "Those I've Loved" hits me hard these days. It's about loving, losing, and not trading a minute of it.

And it got me thinking about those that I'VE loved along the way. It's an equally painful and beautiful moment when you realize that loving someone--really truly loving them, is never a mistake. For everything it takes, without fail, it gives back SO MUCH MORE. I think of the people I loved who have passed away--closest to my heart being my Grandpa and Aunt Renee. I miss them, always will, but I wouldn't live the way I do without their influence in my life.

I've lost family members, best friends, lovers. There are one or two people I've loved who fall into more than one category. Best friends that felt like family (and vice versa) and a lover who became a best friend. It's taken me so long to see that the relationships I've lost, and the ones that have changed, or will someday change again....they all have their place. We all walk our own paths, and if we are blessed enough to have someone we love walking beside us, even for a moment--My God, what more can we ask for? And no matter how sad and bitter we might feel when someone leaves us to go where their own path is leading them, how lonely and HARD it is to keep walking without them, we're always better for them having been there at all.

Because as it does, life goes on, and we keep going until we find someone else to walk with--new friends, husbands, wives, our own children. And we love them with every ounce of experience we have to give. That's when it becomes clear that the ones we LOVED were teaching us to love the ones we WILL LOVE. And in that way, and maybe many other ways, we never stop loving them. It's heartbreaking and wonderful all at once, no?

Sigh.

Livin' on dreams and Spaghettios...

2010-05-28T08:18:00.000-07:00

Okay, no I'm not. Though between you and me, I kind of love Spaghettios.

But anyway, there's a Martina McBride song, "This One's for the Girls" that features the line about 25-year-olds, just trying to get by, eating crap food, and "wondering where your life is gonna go."

Well, I'm 2 for 3 on that. Kudos to me for kicking ass on eating well lately. Minus yesterday's chocolate binge. But that doesn't count...I was celebrating, because I GOT A NEW JOB. Celebratory calories don't count, everyone knows that. But about the job...I said I was going to look for full time employment, and that's what I did. I interviewed for a couple of administrative positions, editorial assistant positions, etc. I learned an invaluable lesson in that process: If the job doesn't inspire the crap out of me, I will give a shitty interview, period.

So yesterday, I interviewed for a job that would involve working with kids (and some adults) with learning disabilities and neurological/developmental disorders. The center uses a method that addresses cognitive issues hindering their reading/reading comprehension. The day of a clinician essentially is working one on one with students for an hour at a time...same kids, every day. They WANT you to get attached, they WANT you to get invested, they want you to CARE. During my interview, I drew mostly upon my experience with the little guy I nanny, who is on the autism spectrum. It hit me, as I babbled, all giddy, about how much I adore and have loved working with this awesome kid, that I was NAILING the interview. Not because I'm some amazing interview subject, but because I am PASSIONATE about the job I'm seeking.

Two hours later, the center director called to tell me she was very impressed, and would like to offer me a position. Done and done. The job does not pay well. It does not include benefits for the summer, and I'm not guaranteed (but will probably have) a position in the fall. Benefits kick in then, but it's not glamorous or particularly lucrative. No expense account or business trips, client dinners or health club memberships. And I couldn't be happier or more at peace. I won't be making a lot of money, but I'll be making enough. And I'll be able to go to work each morning and leave work each day knowing I did something GOOD.

Sigh. Love how things turn around. Lest I forget, I will say it now: I am a blessed and grateful woman.

Thousand Word Thursday.

2010-05-27T11:14:00.000-07:00

This, on this most hellish of hormonal weeks, is all I want. Period.

Ew, no pun intended.

Sorry.

Oh, I just saw "Crazy Heart" last week and wouldn't turn this down either:

Colin Farrell = My vague idea of what Heaven might be like.

Colin Farrell playing guitar and singing country music = No words.

Yum.

Only when it's dark enough.

2010-05-26T21:22:00.000-07:00

Lately I've been reminded of the silver lining. Wise words from all over remind me that even when life doesn't seem shiny and wonderful...dammit, it is.

Like Dolly Parton (wisest woman ever, maybe) in "Steel Magnolias":

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion"

Dolly also said, "It costs a lot to look this cheap"

Speak it, sister.

And this, which I read in a book this morning. A Persian proverb, evidently:

"Don't be afraid of the darkness. Only when it is dark enough can you see the stars."

Amen.

May angels lead you in...

2010-05-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

So, I know it's been a good million years (okay, 24 days, but who's counting?) since I've updated, so I wish I could talk about something upbeat...buuuut, this is life, and sometimes life is sad.

My great aunt passed away on May 11. Her mind had been failing her for almost two years, and her body finally followed suit. She was 80 years old. She was my grandmother's older sister, a teacher, an aunt, a friend, and for 15 sweet years, a wife. Her husband, whom she met and married later in life, died of lung cancer in 1990. By the time her own health began to fail, she had lived more years without him than she'd had with him. With no children of her own, I think she was ready to go home and reclaim some of the time she'd lost.

Her death was not a surprise. Complications from surgery coupled with her lack of mental clarity accelerated her decline. The Thursday before Mother's Day I went to see her alone. She wasn't lucid, nor peaceful. In short, she was not the sweet, gentle, intelligent woman I had known. My mom and I went to see her again on Mother's Day. My mom, bless her heart, just couldn't handle it. She sat behind me and cried. I held Renee's hand, and stroked her hair, and told her goodbye. I told her how much I loved her, how much she means to me, and how I would see her again someday. I sang "Amazing Grace". This time, it was peaceful.

I sang the song again at her funeral. Though her passing was peaceful, and a blessing after far too long a struggle, it still hits me at the oddest moments. Thankfully, I have not been a person overly acquainted with death. The last person I lost that was close to me was my grandfather. I was ten. Now, enough memories have accumulated, and enough life experience gained for me to really grasp the fact that this person is, indeed, gone. Though her life was ending for 6 months, it still strikes me as unbelievable that I will never see her face again on this earth. I will never touch her or hear her laugh.

God, this is morbid, but I can still feel her cheek against mine when she'd hug and kiss me. I can picture her handwriting on the birthday cards she'd send.

And I wonder, did I give enough? The answer, so overwhelmingly sad, seems to be no. I think of all of the phone calls I didn't make, the conversations I cut short because I was bored. I think of how little of myself I would have had to give to make this person's days a little brighter. And then I think of how much more she had to give me. And I only thought to be there for her when her life was ending, and it was too late. I hope on some level, she knows I feel this way. I hope she knows that years from now, when I show my children, God willing, her pictures, I will do her justice then. I will take her knowledge and her gentle spirit with me, and she won't be forgotten. I hope the rest of my family does the same.

In some ways, I guess we can never really give those we love everything they deserve. There are simply not enough hours in the day for that. If it were up to me, I would tell every member of my family what they mean to me, daily. I would tell them how their very existence shapes mine. How I can close my eyes and see their faces, hear them laugh, and read their writing on a page. They could never know, really, how much that means to me, but as long as I (and they) draw breath, it's my job to show them in every way that I can.

Rest in Peace Renee, we love you. Give Lee our love, and my Grandpa John a kiss. See you when we get there.

"Did you make a wish?"

2010-05-01T09:50:00.000-07:00

Whenever I hesitate to do something because I'm afraid it might be perceived as silly or childish, I always think about this poem my British Lit. teacher taught us during my senior year of high school...for those keeping track, that was 6 years ago. Whoa.

Anyway, the poem by A.E. Housman:

Loveliest of trees, the cherry now
Is hung with bloom along the bough,
And stands about the woodland ride
Wearing white for Eastertide.

Now, of my threescore years and ten,
Twenty will not come again,
And take from seventy springs a score,
It only leaves me fifty more.

And since to look at things in bloom
Fifty springs are little room,
About the woodlands I will go
To see the cherry hung with snow.

In class that day, our teacher (quite beloved in the school, still is) told us that if our life expectancy was say, 80 years, that would give us but 80 chances to see the cherry trees in bloom. That seems like a lot, no? And that day in that classroom, I didn't give it much thought. But now, six years have gone by. The cherry trees have bloomed six times, and I find myself wondering how that happened so quickly. I am starting to see how 18 turns into 80 at the blink of an eye.

But this post isn't about cherry trees, it's actually about dandelions. I was walking down a fairly busy street the other day, and passed a cluster of white dandelions. All I wanted to do was pick one, blow its seeds into the wind, and make a wish. Because that's what you DO. But I started thinking, "You're 24 years old, get a grip, people can SEE you." And then I thought about that day in class, that poem, and thought "How many chances will you get to do this??" So I picked one, closed my eyes, and blew until every last seed had scattered. Turns out, people could indeed see me. A guy sitting in his car at a red light yelled out, "DID YOU MAKE A WISH??" I considered being embarassed, but really, life's too short for that too. So I yelled back, "OF COURSE!!!!" He gave me a thumbs up, smiled, and drove away.

Of course.

Thousand-Word Thursday.

2010-04-29T10:49:00.001-07:00

This is what I miss today:

Oh, yeah. That's me as a brunette!

And still I see no changes...

2010-04-28T15:25:00.000-07:00

Sorry, had to throw the 2pac tribute in the subject line. Magically enough, in some arenas, I am seeing changes. Or I'm pretty sure I'm going to.

I've decided to slow down my school plan a bit. I still intend to go to nursing school, be a nurse, etc, but I realized last week, in only week 3 of the quarter, that if I am going to take both math and TWO science classes for the next 3 quarters, three things can, and likely will happen:

1. I'll get shitty grades in all 3 classes because I don't have the time or quite frankly, the intelligence to devote to these "technical" classes. I was an ENGLISH major during round one of college, so it's literally been 8-9 years since some of these concepts have even crossed my radar. If I overload myself, the chances of me doing well diminish. And I kind of don't have the option to NOT do well.

2. I'll have little to no social life or break of any kind. Some would say, "suck it up." To them I say, well, suck it. I have way too many wonderful and amazing people/things in my life to forsake them completely, even if it's just temporary.

3. I'll have a complete meltdown as a combined result of #1 and #2.

So there's that. I'm also going to look for another part time job, and schedule my classes online or in the later evenings. I'll be taking less per quarter so this is feasible. I'm getting really and spectacularly tired of being completely broke all the time. If I have to live with my parents, so be it...but when I have to beg my mother for gas money at 24 years of age, it's time to reprioritize a bit.

I just want to DO things. I realized the other day, when forced to sing (literally) at a coffee shop, that I want to pursue this music thing farther than I have. I don't need to be world famous, or even locally famous. I just want the opportunity to get up and be heard. Plus it's sort of free therapy. I also really want a new tattoo. And to go to Vegas. Etc.

In other news, some things NEVER change. I'm learning this, I'm accepting this. I'm hoping this doesn't hurt too much. But that's a blog for another day!

Thousand Words.

2010-04-15T17:56:00.000-07:00

Decided since I'm kind of exhausted, I'll just post a photo today that sums up my feelings, as of late.

Back from that soul vacation...

2010-04-06T20:23:00.000-07:00

For those who didn't know, I went on vacation.

Now I'm back.

And not very happy about it.

Anyway...Detailed vacation posts to come. I wish I would have taken a notebook along, or maybe, you know, a LAPTOP, to at least take rough notes for said posts. I always forget how easily all of those eloquent thoughts and life-affirming moments I had while away disappear the moment I return to the everyday.

Speaking of, after a CHARMING three-hour delay in the Phoenix airport, during which I completed "Are You There Vodka? It's me, Chelsea" and laughed like an idiot throughout, my plane finally pulled into the same gate I departed from. It felt like a good million or so years since I'd left, since between Palm Springs with friends and Arizona with family, I'd effectively taken two different trips.

Some hit the ground running when they return from a trip...I returned from my trip, and hit the ground, well, eating. My mom, bless her, knowing I would be able to eat cheese again, stuffed my Easter basket with chocolate and Easy Mac. I also found a package of chicken wings in the refrigerator...quite possibly the last thing I'd expect my mother to buy, maybe ever. But there they were. I had every intention of starting my "Back from vacation" diet today, immediately beginning to repair the damage done during the family portion of the trip. Somehow, I don't think Googling "Calories in chicken wings" with chocolatey fingers and cheese dust on my white shirt accomplished this.

Oh well. All things considered, I am happy to be back. The most recent ex, we'll call him B, turned out to be about 100 times worse than I ever expected him to be. I am so grateful to God for protecting me from the worst of him. Emotionally, I checked out of that relationship long before the final blows were dealt. By the time the truth came out, I was pretty much over it. But still, you feel stupid when someone's true colors, especially the ugly ones, are revealed and you KNOW you knew better. I had known all along something just wasn't right. So maybe if I had to learn one thing from him, it was to, without exception, ALWAYS trust my instincts. Women's intuition is no joke, and if it doesn't feel right, ladies, chances are it's because it isn't. Thankfully this time around I barely had one foot in the fire, let alone my whole heart. Still, I needed some time away from that guy, and the situation. The timing was perfect.

And back to life...

When Irish Eyes Are Smiling....

2010-03-17T09:10:00.000-07:00

Happy St. Patty's Day, y'all!

Today is going to be buuuusy. Tonight my family and I will eat corned beef and drink to my Great-Grandma Gert (yep, Gert) who is responsible for my being all of 1/8 Irish. Later tonight, my friends and I will drink to the fact that it's St. Patrick's Day and that's what you DO. Tomorrow...is going to be rough.

Celebrate safely, everyone!

Annoyance of the Day.

2010-03-16T10:29:00.000-07:00

Victoria's Secret has this new ad campaign, featuring the words "I Love My Body", coupled with photos like THIS:

To which I say, of COURSE you love your body, model with a tiny everything except boobs!

Irritating. I love my body, but I love theirs more! Way to go VS.

Dear Body...

2010-03-16T09:41:00.000-07:00

Work with me here.

I am exercising, trying to eat well, getting more sleep, etc.

Throw me a frickin' bone here.

Seriously, getting very frustrated with the lack of cooperation. I'm crossing my fingers, banking on PMS as the reason. Hopefully in another few days, I'll snap my fingers and the 5 pounds I should have lost by now will magically disappear. Looking forward to it.

Love,

Jess

Monday at Square One.

2010-03-15T21:04:00.000-07:00

As far as Mondays go...today was pretty choice.

The now ex-"boyfriend" told one lie too many last night...apparently he has trouble keeping track of the absolute crap that flies out of his mouth.

I told him that this, really, was why I was done. I couldn't keep his story straight either.

He had nothing to say for himself. Which I guess is appropriate, as I am quite out of excuses for him too. I guess that puts us on the same page. I expect he'll be on to his next victim in a week, maybe less...and good luck to her.

As for me, I'm pretty numb about the whole thing. Annoyed, sure...it all plays back in my head like a colossal waste of time. But really, it was another lesson. I needed to know, after the last really and truly horrible heartbreak, that I could get out there and date again. The fact that I chose to date the King of The Metrosexual-Bordering on Gay Douche Bags is sort of irrelevant. I went into this relationship after being so broken down and BUILT BACK UP. And now that it's over, I keep waiting for the inevitable fall, the crash. It's not coming. I'm still just as built up and strong as I was the day I met him, if not even stronger. Ladies and gents, I call that progress. Once upon a time, I would have begged and pleaded for his time and affection. If this were 2006-2009, if he asked me to reconsider, I would. Repeatedly, until I had nothing left to give to someone who never gave ME a thing.

But this is not 2006 with J***. Or 2007 with Br***. Or 2008 with J***(again) and C****. Ouch. Or God Forbid, the hardest of all, 2009--K****. How absolutely horrifying that I can define four consecutive years of my life by the men who treated me badly during those 12 months. How absolutely amazing to realize that after the first relationship "back out there", I have no plans to make this HIS year. This will be the year I make new friends, the year I start singing for God and not drunken karaoke goers (well, may sing for them here and there). This year will be a great many things--I'm praying mostly good things, but should there be some struggles I know I will be carried through those too. This could be the year I meet HIM, the one. Or this could be the year I stay completely single. But come what may, this will NOT be the year I give to the pursuit of another man who, whatever the reason, simply is not right for me.

Anyway, that got a little more emotional than expected. I know some people might object to my constant relationship talk, and wonder why I feel the need to broadcast my falling in and out of love on a regular basis. One might consider me somewhat flighty, impetuous, or just plain crazy. And you'd be right. But I believe--have always believed--that it's better to feel too much than too little. I rarely plan a post, so what you're reading is, for better or worse, exactly what's happening in my head. And if I have to think about it, I figure it's only fair to subject others to it as well, no?

Finally, after I dropped off this huuuuge Nordy's bag full of his crap at the ex's place today (just dumped it on the porch, no note. Hope nobody stole it. Okay, I'm lying, that would actually be pretty funny)I picked up the little man from school. It was a half day, so we played in the FREAKING GORGEOUS Seattle sunshine, had lunch, and went swimming. It was SEVENTY DEGREES out when we left the pool. I had my sunglasses on and the sunroof open. In my rearview mirror, the skinny 8 year old I have the privilege of nannying was shirtless, in swim trunks and rain boots, sipping a slurpee. Only in Seattle. Or maybe only in my car. Either way, I wouldn't change a thing.

Silly Rabbit.

2010-03-13T15:29:00.000-08:00

So, I'm driving back from lunch with my dad today and I see one of those irritating bumper stickers on the back of a pickup that reads, "Silly Boys, Trucks are for Girls."

No. In my opinion, trucks are for:

A. Men
B. People of both genders who need to haul things.
C. Lesbians

But it got me thinking about my childhood, and the Trix commercials with the poor rabbit and those mean little kids, waving their bowls of artificially flavored/colored cereal in front of him. I remember as a kid thinking "WTF, WHY NOT?" Why can this poor rabbit not have any damn cereal? WHAT is the problem?

I still wonder that. If I had a cartoon rabbit, I would let him eat Trix. Or Fruity Pebbles, because I actually prefer those.

Whatever, Happy Saturday.

I'll write something substantial soon, promise.

Eat, Pray, Love...and then eat some more.

2010-03-09T22:11:00.001-08:00

Ever since the lovely Lindsay bestowed upon me a copy of Eat, Pray Love, I've been somewhat (read: completely) taken with it.

I still can't understand why every woman out there in the world doesn't love it as much as I do, but to those of you that don't, I guess I can see where you're coming from. As for me, I'm reading the book for a 4th time. Yes, that's FOUR. It just SPEAKS to me. No, I have not been married and divorced like Elizabeth Gilbert. Nor, incidentally, have I actually been to Italy, India or Indonesia. Go figure.

I have, however, been through soul-torturing relationships (relationshits) and somehow managed to heal. I've read this book after every single breakup of mine over the past few years (please, let's not do the math there...we all know my romantic history is a complete and utter hot mess) and it always helps. It's like when you hear a song for the first time and are captivated by how well another human being has articulated the EXACT way you feel. This book does that for me. I'm more than a little apprehensive about the upcoming film version, but I'm sure I'll see it anyway.

On a less dramatic level, the book affects me DEEPLY in that every time I read it, I want to GET UP AND GO SOMEWHERE.

Elizabeth Gilbert wrote that in Italy, she spent the first few weeks of her time there completely lost. I loved reading this, because I can, naturally, relate...

Rewind to August 2008. I've been in Copenhagen for 3 hours, and have never set foot on European soil before. Cursed with an unfortunate inability to sleep on planes, I was wide awake throughout the red-eye flight and EXHAUSTED upon arrival, but the minute I stepped off the plane I was alert and ALIVE. Granted, it was just Copenhagen, a city I had never really claimed to want to visit...I think if I had started my European travels in Rome or something my head might have exploded. But still, it was EUROPE.

After a brief hotel stop my aunts, my mom, and I went to dinner in Nyhavn. After the meal, they were content to sit at the table, and I went for a little stroll. The sun was setting. I walked by cafes, and boats, and children, and gorgeous men who smiled at me. I walked on cobblestones and docks. I stood on a bridge and took this picture:

I had NO idea where I was or where I was going, but in that half an hour stroll, I felt more peace, independence, sheer happiness than I had in years. There is something so inexplicably awesome about standing in a place you have truly never come close to standing before. Everything, everyONE is new.

It's like a drug, and I'm not gonna lie...feeling a little deprived.

So, dear readers, I need some suggestions. Come December, I will have almost a year off of school. I'm feeling like this would be the time to feed my travel addiction before I buckle down for nursing school. Tell me your favorite place in the world you have or HAVEN'T been. I am desperately seeking the next place(s) in which to get hopelessly lost.

Oscar Musings.

2010-03-08T11:51:00.000-08:00

Okay, truth be told, I don't have too much to say about the Academy Awards, other than the following:

1. Why was Miley Cyrus there? Who let her onstage? Why is she SO tall?

2. I haven't actually SEEN Avatar, and I'm sure it's really good, but I am actually quite glad it didn't win Best Picture. James Cameron has enough awards, and I don't see how a movie which features blue people can win Best Picture. Okay, except Braveheart, but they were just PAINTED blue.

3. I heart Sandra Bullock. I loved her romantic comedies, and I loved her in the "The Blind Side" (one of the only nominated performances/films I actually saw)...She deserved it. Meryl Streep and Helen Mirren can take a break.

4. Dear Kristen Stewart...We know you can't act, and I am sympathetic to the fact that you are clearly ALWAYS constipated. But must you cough into the microphone? At the Oscars? Really?

That's all I got. Happy Monday!

Off the Wagon.

2010-03-05T23:20:00.000-08:00

Yikes...a bit of a disaster today, you guys.

I think I'm sick, or getting sick, or something. Either way, whatever my mystery headache/sore throat ailment is, it seems to only stop me from exercising, not eating. My mom was a little under the weather today too, so it was a bit of a mental health day for me. My physical health has gone to crap of course, as I have shoveled, well, everything in my mouth that would fit...plus some cookies.

Seems like the diet wagon is not the only one to leave me behind in a pile of potato chips today. Today, I'm lonely. I've been wondering for a good week now when the boy would finally realize I'm over his crap and just LEAVE ME THE EFF ALONE. Today, it seems, he did. It's exactly what I wanted, and yet I feel that loneliness creeping in, that irritating little voice that says to me, "Back here again, huh? You have NO ONE now."

Deep down, I know that isn't true. Deep down, I know I am never, ever alone.

But at 11:30pm on a particularly whiny and self-sabotaging Friday, it kinda feels that way.

I'll snap out of it tomorrow, promise. And I'm expecting a MEAN food hangover. Ick.

Weight-Loss Wednesday!

2010-03-03T12:08:00.001-08:00

Yes, that's right, Wednesday is getting a theme around here.

Since I am in a perpetual state of trying to NOT be fat, I decided weight-loss was just as good (and alliterative) a theme as any. However, so far today, I have consumed the following:

-Some egg/sausage/tomato pastry thing served at the "Invest in Youth" breakfast fundraiser I attended this morning.

- Yogurt and Blueberries, also served at the aforementioned event. It was really good, so I'm guessing it was also full-fat.

- One overstuffed peanut butter and jelly sandwich

-Two English muffins (why? WHY?)

-Two bowls of Cheerios with about 30 spoonfuls of sugar.

- 4 Ferrero Rocher Chocolates.

Oh yeah, it's barely noon. I'm blaming my mother for the muffins/Cheerios. They're in the house because she's on this pre-colonoscopy low fiber diet. TMI? Sorry. Clearly the real problem here is that I live with my parents. Given all this, I think it would best to start Weight Loss Wednesday next week. In the meantime, happy Hump Day, all.

A new song...

2010-03-02T21:17:00.000-08:00

"Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things; his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him"

-Psalm 98:1

March is currently OWNING February, my friends. February really sucked, and January was only marginally better...So far, March is clearly the frontrunner for "the month that saved 2010."

Though my audition today was technically not even supposed to happen, it could NOT have gone better! I'll explain.

Eastlake now has two campuses. One in Bothell, WA, and the other about 20 minutes to the south in Bellevue. The Bellevue campus is off to an AMAZING start, as Lindsay can describe better than I. She has been super involved at the new campus, and though I miss seeing her on the north end, I know awesome stuff is happening there. Including the establishing of a live satellite feed that links the two campuses during morning services so our Pastor (who is awesome-smart, relevant, HILARIOUS, and between you and me, kind of attractive) can speak the same message to and from either location. There were some glitches in this system last Sunday, so the auditiorium was torn apart at the Bothell campus, rendering the scheduled first-round auditions impossible for today.

Buuuut, genius that I am, I didn't check my "other" e-mail this morning and didn't see the message alerting me to this. So when I showed up at 3:30, all nerves and anxiety and hopped up on diet coke, Leah (one of our fearless, TALENTED worship team leaders) decided to just let me sing...acapella. No music, no mic, just me in the 2's classroom, the only available space. You guys, I was SO nervous. Leah is one of my real world vocal idols, not to mention that I HATE singing in front of small groups of people. Nutty. But somehow, after much stalling on my end, I stopped talking and started singing. I had been praying all day long that my heart would be in the right place for this audition. That I would recognize this talent I have as GOD-given. That I would remember that worship, truly, is not about me.

And somehow, the minute I closed my eyes and started singing, it was just that easy. I could have been standing in the 3rd row on Sunday morning with my coffee in hand. There was a pause in the song where there would have been an instrumental break and Leah cut in and said -"FYI, I want you to keep singing, but I already have chills".

She didn't make me sing the other two songs. Said she'd heard more than enough and will be letting me know ASAP about the next round audition...This entails singing for and with the entire worship team, full band, full equipment, etc. Her enthusiasm was SO flattering and exciting--I have been waiting so long for this opportunity, and am so grateful that I will (hopefully) be able to do something with this talent besides Thursday night karaoke. Eastlake is growing every day, and if I'm able to help to reach people while at the same time doing what I love--what more could I ask for?

Una Cosita Mas...

2010-03-01T19:15:00.000-08:00

One more little thing:

When in the world did it become Freakin' MARCH? Seriously.

That said, 24 days till Vacation. Holler.

Babies, Bars and Such....

2010-03-01T13:46:00.000-08:00

Ummm...time to slow it down with ye olde partying.

Less than desirable life choices are sure to result when one goes out drinking not once, twice, but three times in the span of a week. That said, I had a LOT of fun this weekend. Got to see quite a few of my favorite people and resolved to clean up my act. You know, again.

I stayed home Friday night after bouncing back quickly from Thursday's late-night Karaoke escapades. Saturday morning, my very talented friend and photographer Avery enlisted my help as her assistant for a shoot featuring David and Isabella--Twins! These little miracles were born several weeks premature in November, and are now happy and healthy little ones! I absolutely loved hanging out with them and watching Avery in action...I never turn down an opportunity for some baby-holding! Awesome day, followed by an awesome night out with some of the best girlfriends a girl could ask for.

Annnd, speaking of babies, a big CONGRATULATIONS to Julia and Nate on the birth of their long-awaited bundle of joy. No, I don't know Julia, and am being all sorts of creepy by congratulating a stranger who likely is not even aware this blog exists, but I find the event exciting nonetheless.

Back to the weekend. Sunday was a phenomenal morning at church...The message this weeked addressed our church specifically. The general theme at Eastlake is "Church for the rest of us"...That's what drew me to this place the most when I had assumed I screwed up too much to even attempt organized religion again, and that's what keeps me there, wanting to be a part of that. Speaking of, that brings me to tomorrow--my long-awaited worship team audition. I first expressed interest in getting involved back in November, but my relationship misadventure was evidently too much of a distraction, so I think the postponement of the audition was for the best. I feel more focused now, and in a much better place to use my abilities in the best possibly way. I know it's not in my hands how my gifts and talents are used, but prayers and good thoughts for a successful audition would be awesome, nonetheless!

Annnd, since it's been far too long since I've done anything interesting enough to warrant the posting of photos, I will leave you with this, my favorite shot from Saturday's shoot:

Precious. I know. It's almost ridiculous.

Sweet November.

2010-02-24T23:14:00.000-08:00

November of 2009, that is. November 2008, as I recall, can kiss my ass.

I have a playlist on my iTunes titled, "November 2009", and it is almost creepy how well it captures that precise moment of my life. The first song is "2 Steps Away" by Patti Labelle...it's this ridiculous mix of sadness, relief, optimism and hopelessness, all belted out within 4 minutes and 24 seconds. There are worship songs, Tom Petty's "Free Fallin", and Garth Brooks' "Unanswered Prayers" wraps it all up.

Hearing these songs I listened to simply get me through some days, and blasted in the car on the good days take me back, just like that. This is probably the single thing I love most about music. Even if just for a moment, it can take you back to right where you want to be, and right where you never wanted to go again. November can only be described for me as bittersweet. It was PAINFUL, not because I wasn't over my last relationship, but because I was learning to really and truly let it go. It was the ache that comes from finally prying your fingers away from something you held onto much too tightly, for much, much too long. It was the absolute sweetness that came from meeting Christian friends, from strengthening my faith and reprioritizing my life. Now, in February, after a falling out with one of those friends and a detour or two from the path I set in November, I find myself missing that.

And only RIGHT now, as I write this, do I understand why. November brought pain, to be sure, but SO MUCH JOY. The pains--those were GROWING pains. That was the kind of discomfort and sadness that only comes when old wounds and old doors are closed. When deep down you know that while you might stand outside those doors and knock, you will never be back there again. And to discover that that's okay--one of the best feelings in the world. To look forward, knowing your comfort zone is virtually non-existent? Better.

That's where I need to be again. That's where I ALWAYS want to strive to be.

Sweet, indeed.

At the end of the day.

2010-02-24T00:15:00.000-08:00

The last couple of days have been....interesting. Tumultuous, if you will.

Yesterday, I spent the better part of the morning in bed, trying to keep my body as absolutely still as possible, to avoid puking or explosion of the head. Yes, both were very real concerns. Thankfully, neither ended up occurring, which is good, because I hate puking. I hate puking to the extent that I would almost call it an actual phobia. I would rather be miserably for 12 hours than throw up for 12 minutes. No joke.

I then made the 20 minute walk to retrieve my car. Thankfully, I was no longer feeling on the verge of death, and my recap of the evening with Jen on the phone helped pass the time.

I then sat in Starbucks for an hour reading Breaking Dawn. Team Edward, Team Jacob...I don't know. I'm more, Team Why The Hell Aren't There Real Men Like This?

Watched the kiddos, gave them dinner and a bath and put 'em to bed. It's funny how in 6 months of watching someone else's kids, they start to consider you part of their family. And it's pretty sweet when you start to feel the same. I love them. And I think I'm gonna be a pretty good mom.

Somewhere between the bath and bedtime stories, I (thought) I accomplished the Breakup. For about half an hour. And then over the span of one ridiculous two hour conversation, I was left as confused as ever.

All in a day's work...or lack thereof.

Today was equally up and down. Had a complete meltdown in the grocery store parking lot, bemoaning my lack of progress in life--4 years of college and no real job, and 3 more years of schooling before I'll reach my (current) goal. A surprisingly high score on my math placement test (round 2) eased my concerns a bit, but I'm still slightly panicked over the fact that I'm 24 years old and moving out of my parents' house still seems a lofty and faraway goal. I finally caved on re-friending the ex on Facebook, and thought for a moment while watching Idol that maybe I'll try to audition again this year and get famous so I won't have to worry about all of this school/career bullshit.

Yeah. That sounds like a plan.

Ode to Jen.

2010-02-22T12:27:00.001-08:00

I adore my friend Jen.

Problem with Jen is that she and I can't seem to have a nice, quiet evening together. It always ends up in disaster, a complete and utter awesome mess. There are usually phone calls the next day and they always involve questions like "Where did you go?", "How did we end up THERE?" and "Do you have my ID?".

I guess that's how I went from a quick bite to eat before the gym, to just ONE sangria, to dancing to a kickass coverband at 12:30am in my gym clothes. Tequila was involved, to be sure.

Ahhh, well. Think I've talked said band into letting me sing with them next week, provided I wear actual clothes and ditch the sports bra.

The hangover today = Murder. So worth it. Happy Monday, everyone!

Help.

2010-02-17T13:40:00.000-08:00

It's 1:40pm...Lunchtime is upon me. All I want is a damn sandwich. And on that sandwich, I want there to be one slice of provolone cheese.

But there won't be. I may not even have time to get said sandwich since I keep screwing around on the internet.

IT IS NOT GOING WELL.

Daddy.

2010-02-15T19:28:00.000-08:00

Due to epic Valentine's Failure on the part of the really-doesn't-deserve-to-be called-boyfriend, my Valentine this year was...drumroll, please...My dad.

For those of you country fans, there is a song by the Zac Brown Band called "Highway 20 Ride." If you listen closely, you'll hear that it's a song from his father to his son, talking about the long drive across state lines he took every other Friday to see his son after a divorce.

My favorite verse:

So when you drive
And the years go flying by
I hope you smile
If I ever cross your mind
It was a pleasure of my life
And I cherished every time
And my whole world
It begins and ends with you
On that Highway 20 ride....

And it makes me think about my daddy. I'm his only child, and I do believe, to my very core, his whole world. I've written here many times about the guilt I carry around for not being able to more equally share my childhood and adolescence with him and my mom. But such is life, and we do the best we can.

Before I could drive, my dad would drive from his house to my school one afternoon during the week. He would drive the 30 minutes in rush hour, the 30 minutes back to his house where we'd have dinner, and repeat the process to get me home. Two hours of driving for, all in all, 3.5 hours together. He'd do the same every other weekend. Sure, it wasn't across state lines. I know fathers who fly across the country regularly to see their kids. And not until this song, when it was set to music, did I realize how much those trips, 2 hours by car or 6 hours by plane, meant. I was always grateful to my dad for making the trip, and always acknowledged that it was probably a pain in the ass to drive two hours once or twice a week to pick up a kid who would probably just want to watch TV anyway. My dad once said, after I'd learned to drive and could make the trip alone and remarked on how he did it for so long... "It was my pleasure, kid...I'd do it all again."

Yesterday, on a particularly low Valentine's Day, I had some extra time, and drove up 405 to see my dad. We've had some rough patches in our relationship, mostly because it took me a long time to learn to show him how much I love him, how appreciated he is and the place in my heart he will always occupy. It was a painful struggle but I'm happy to say things are good now. My dad is not just my dad, but my friend, and I don't know if we could be where we are without being where we WERE. He was surprised to see me,yesterday but pulled the card he had gotten me out of his truck anyway. We talked for a bit, he hugged me and told me he loved me, and as I got in my car said, "Thanks for stopping by."

My pleasure, Dad. I'd do it all again.

Lotion, and other magical things.

2010-01-29T11:53:00.000-08:00

This week, I've been making it part of my morning routine to put lotion on, all over my body. I know, that's a lot of lotion. I'd avoided in the past because it takes too long. You know, like a full minute.

But allll week, I've been all, "Wow, my skin feels AWESOME today!" All by making a small bit of an extra effort. It was WORTH IT.

And got me thinking, health and body wise, how many other small efforts are worth it to improve one's overall self-esteem and well-being. Things like tanning (yes, I know it causes cancer and is bad bad bad, but I only bought one package and am alternating with self tanner so I don't need to go as much...that's my story and I'm sticking to it)and flossing. Things like saying "gosh this pasta/pizza/sandwich is delicious...I'm full now, so I can stop eating it. Or maybe ordering a damn salad or some fish instead. And, rather than sitting on facebook for hours at a time, I should go to the gym. Or even do a little homework.

None of these things are THAT difficult. It is not hard to floss, Jessica. It is not impossible to put on lotion or wear a legitimate outfit rather than gym clothes all day long. I've been skinny before, and I (vaguely, it's been awhile) remember how good it felt. I need to start remembering that vs. how awful I felt at my very biggest (a number I'm not far from now, gulp) when I reach for another helping. The small sacrifices and extra effort is SO worth it.

I should note I'm typing this in my gym clothes, but did indeed floss today. AND did laundry, and have gloriously moisturized skin. Not a bad start.

Remember the (other) time the world was ending?

2010-01-28T15:52:00.000-08:00

There is nothing to remind you of how painful a breakup can be until someone you care about is going through it. So very true.

Especially when they're going through it with your ex, and it is, nearly exaclty, the same experience you had. Same script, different cast.

It is amazing the way God twists our lives around...If you want to hear God laugh, tell him your plans. Just when I think I have things figured out, I'm thrown for a loop. And it's incredible.

This is a story about a girl named Lucky...yeah, Britney fans, you know it. Lucky is not her real name, as I am keeping it out to protect her privacy, but I chose Lucky as her nickname because whether she fully realizes it yet or not, she is.

Lucky was the girl, after the last particularly rough breakup, who dated The Ex. She was the one I obsessed about, stalked on Facebook, was convinced wasn't right for him. Turns out, I was right. They broke up. I called it, saw it coming, blah, blah, blah. Not because I wished heartbreak on her, but because I had seen the story unfold before. I just knew. Anyway, long story short, this fantastic woman sends me a message on the all-powerful Facebook, and before I know it, we're meeting for drinks.

Okay, we're meeting for SEVERAL drinks. And you guys, she's phenomenal. And as we talked, I realized two things: 1) We are scary similar in the way we think, act, choose to live our lives, and 2) We were both conned into loving someone that was, quite simply, toxic (score 2 for Britney) for us. Hearing her story and telling her mine and finding they were more or less the same, to put it midly, irritated me. How dare he? It legitimatley pissed me off. I found it so unfair that after him, I took the time to heal, stayed single, and then found somebody great, who was good for me. I don't know what the future holds for my current relationship, but I know that it isn't doomed for failure right off the bat. And what did he do after me? Waited three days, and then got together with someone equally not right for him and pulled the same wool over her eyes as mine? Watched another great person fall in love with him, only to assert in the end that things would just never work out. Made another big huge effing mess. I would have remained understanding, even empathetic towards him if he had chosen to learn from his mistake with me. If he had seen the damage he'd done and made the necessary changes to ensure it wouldn't happen again, I might be able to get over it now. I don't hate him. I've even forgiven him. But I just can't understand.

Here's where Lucky's story (and mine) has a happy ending. She came into my life when, and ONLY when, I was ready to see my relationship with him for what it was (and wasn't). I am healed and happy...I left the bar last night and came back to a wonderful guy who had a bottle of water and a goodnight kiss waiting for me, two things he knew I'd be needing. I was so grateful to have pulled through and to be able to be there for someone else. Things have come full circle in the most incredible way, and I couldn't be more thankful to know this woman and call her my friend.

Here comes the sun, little darlin'...

Weekend Getaway.

2010-01-24T13:38:00.000-08:00

I'm a little out of it today. If you'll notice, in an attempt to start following Alex's delectable blog, I somehow started following my own. I realize this appears a bit narcissistic and odd, but I'm just gonna go with it.

What a weekend. It had been SO long since our family has gone on any sort of holiday as a unit. Only 15 of the, oh, 30 of us (if you include my cousins' spouses and kiddos) were there, but it was a full house nonetheless. Speaking of houses, the place we stayed was freakin' ADORABLE. It was this big log house right on the river, all surrounded in snow and magic. Of course, I didn't manage to take a single photo of the place. In fact, the majority of my pictures are of my cousins, aunts, uncles, and myself acting like fools. Typical.

But I love it. I love their quirks and the craziness, and the fact that because we all talk at once, and talk too loudly, the volume in the room always escalated to a completely unreasonable volume. I love that we can scream "SHUT THE HELL UP" across the table and no one gets offended, or even bats an eye.

I ate too much, and drank too much, and now feel (and let's be honest, look) like an inflated version of myself. As in, seriously, it looks like someone stuck an air hose in me and went to town. Before departure last week, I had attempted to start a "detox" program. This may be a TMI, but I think in the case of the particular pills I was taking, "detox" means "Clear your body of anything you may put in it IMMEDIATELY so as to avoid absorbing any nutrients at all."

So I guess I'll have to deflate the old fashioned way. Tragic.

Starting Early.

2010-01-21T23:15:00.000-08:00

The darling man tends to forget to act his age. Or maybe he doesn't forget so much as he really never tries. 98% of the time, it's adorable. Today, I was reminded that he really can't help it. His y chromosome doomed him.

The little man I nanny for is 7. Today as we're driving home, he says "if you don't stop for a slurpee, I'm taking out your brain!"

Honestly, I have to restrain myself sometimes not to be like "Are you f**king with me, kid??" a la Billy Bob in "Bad Santa."

Anyway, I repress a giggle and tell him that if he takes my brain, he'd be lucky, because I'm pretty smart. He agreed, which is how I know he's only 7, and a male. I smiled, because these are his sweet moments and they are few and far between. He then when on to say, "But I think I would have to take out all of the gender parts of your brain. Like the girl thoughts would have to be replaced with boy thoughts, because I have no use for them."

Right, naturally.

Shout-Out.

2009-12-21T20:59:00.000-08:00

Since the one of the, oh, 3 days a year in which I bake something besides nachos is approaching, I wanted to give a shout-out to my dear friend Alex, a culinary talent who bakes much more often.

I made the pumpkin cookies she wrote about for Thanksgiving. Though I ate half the tray, the fam still loved them. I will also be trying out her peanut butter brownies when I lose ten pounds and feel entitled to consume the entire pan in one day. Since, let's be honest, that is the likely outcome.

Anyway.

For all kinds of deliciousness courtesy of my favorite chemist, visit Al at

For The Love of Sucrose!!!

Yes, sucrose...the chemical compound we all know and love as sugar. I know, I wish I'd thought of it too.

Things I used to believe.

2009-12-21T00:25:00.001-08:00

I was at a Christmas party with some family friends tonight. I met a couple of elderly gentlemen, and for awhile I sat quietly (which, by the way, happens rarely, if ever) listening to them talk. The conversation drifted in an out of the present, and it struck me, hard, just how much these people know. Not because they have gone to school and earned degrees. They didn't know things because they read them or heard them, they knew things because they LIVED them. The respect I felt for them was immense. The past year of my life has been epic, truly. I have loved, lost, but more than anything, I have EXPERIENCED. And to think of all that fit into this year, and to think of all the years they have on me...the knowledge stacks up.

But it made me think about all of the things I've learned that books couldn't have taught me, and the things I used to believe, that by choice or circumstance, I don't believe anymore. Here is a selection, some favorites highlighted in bold.

-I used to believe that I was going to be the most popular girl in high school.
-I used to believe that being the most popular girl in high school mattered.
-I used to believe whales could live in Lake Washington.
-I used to believe sex wasn't a big deal.
-I used to believe Sun-in was an appropriate method with which to color my hair.
-I used to believe God wasn't paying attention to me.
-I used to believe I'd meet my husband in college, and we'd get married the summer after graduation.
-I used to believe a lower back tattoo was a good idea.
-I used to believe removing said tattoo would be easy, inexpensive, and relatively painless.
-I used to believe he was the one.
-I used to believe dancing provocatively with my girlfriends and drunkenly making out with them was sexy.
-I used to believe my mom hated my dad after their divorce.
-I used to believe my stepdad wasn't a "real" father.
-I used to believe business was spelled, "Buisness"
-I used to believe Church was boring and unneccessary.
-I used to believe I didn't deserve to be loved.
-I used to believe that parmesan cheese was called, "Farmer John" cheese.
-I used to believe my family was embarassing.
-I used to believe grown-ups knew everything.
-I used to believe my best friends in elementary, middle, and high school would be my bridesmaids.
-I used to believe time wouldn't heal me.
-I used to believe turning 18 made you an adult.
-I used to believe the people I love would never die or go away.
-I used to believe nobody understood me.
-I used to believe dry shaving my legs would be quicker and more effective.
-I used to believe the center part was the right hairstyle for me.
-I used to believe a slice of pizza, in college, was a suitable afternoon snack.
-I used to believe that the things I believed would never, ever change.

This is just to name a few, of course. But thank God for "used to"...thank God for BELIEVING. What did you used to believe?

But for the grace of God, go I...

2009-12-16T01:08:00.000-08:00

I heard some very sad news yesterday. A young man I knew from youth group in high school passed away yesterday. He was only a couple of years older than I am. In other words, much, much too young.

We were never friends, but had mutual friends. A couple of times I was invited to his house for get togethers. We probably had fewer than five conversations in all of our time in the same social circle, and I doubt if sometime this year he had seen me on the street, he would recognize or remember me. But I remember him.

When my friend texted me the news, I didn't have to scour my memory to place the name. Instead, his face immediately came to mind.He was probably 18 the last time I saw him, but he was someone you just don't forget meeting. He was just ALIVE. He was one of those people who was smiling even when he wasn't. In our few conversations, he always, ALWAYS made me laugh. It struck me just now that I hadn't thought of Justin since, well, likely the last time I saw him. We weren't friends, and he was never what I would have considered an integral part of my life. But I never forgot his name, or his face.

There is a Facebook group dedicating to remembering Justin's life. I've been reading through the posts and looking at pictures, and am blown away by this man's love for life. An MBA Student, World Traveler, Salsa Dancer, brother, son, FRIEND. A man of God with incredible, inspiring faith. It is tempting for us to see this tragedy as senseless, as a waste. It is almost impossible not to feel that way. But in less than 24 hours, this facebook group presently has 631 members, 19 of which joined in the past thirty minutes. SIX-HUNDRED and THIRTY-ONE. In 24 hours. They say your life was a success if you touched but one other life during your time on earth. This remarkable young man lived in such a way that hundreds are better for knowing him, however briefly. A tragedy, absolutely. But a waste? I wouldn't say so. No one knows why this life was cut so short, but it is evident in so many ways that his memory, just like his life, will be used for good.

Justin,I did not know you very well or for very long, but your life is an inspiration to me and so many others. I pray that we will remember you when we are discouraged, or forget to celebrate every day we are given. I will not tell you to rest in peace. I know you have found peace, but choose to believe that you are not resting, but continuing to dance. You are loved, and you are missed, but you are home.

Weighty Issues.

2009-12-14T12:27:00.000-08:00

Alright, I know I said in my last blog that I would not be concerned about a couple of extra pounds. But when it gets to be 8 extra pounds, it's a problem.

The problem for me is that I do work really hard to lose weight, and then in a matter of days/weeks, I pack it all back on, and then some. And then I feel all disappointed in myself. Not to mention fat.

Now, let's not forget the other issue: It is DECEMBER EFFING 14th! Only a genius like me would attempt to start a diet in the middle of the holiday season. But it has to be done, for my self-esteem/sanity's sake. This is turning out to be one of the best Christmas seasons I've had in a long while, so I can't say I really regret any of the dinners/parties/events. I'm spending a ton of time with those I love. That said, on days when I don't have something planned, I just need to stick to the lower calorie plan. No need to binge on crap on a Wednesday afternoon just "because it's Christmas!"

It's day one, and so far so good. It's already 12:34pm and I haven't eaten everything in sight. This could of course be related to the fact that I woke up at 10:30, or perhaps that I am still full from eating everything in sight YESTERDAY.

Whatever. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better measurement of progress.

I will choose peace.

2009-12-13T21:08:00.000-08:00

Fantastic, wonderful weekend.

Was invited to my first-ever Ugly Christmas Sweater party. It was held last night in a gorgeous condo overlooking the water. I had so much fun. I am learning more and more that the less I stress out about things--feeling fat, meeting new people, accidentally putting on too much mascara and looking like a whore, just to draw some examples from last night--the better I feel.

Yes, I stepped on the scale yesterday and literally gasped. Then I started applying my makeup, overdid the mascara, and really did look like Santa's Slutty Helper, circa 1982 (see sweater photos). But then I picked up my girlfriends, and they told me to calm the f down, and that was it. I was just CALM. And I knew, without hesitation, it was going to be a good, good night. And it was. I don't know where it came from or how it happened, but I have learned to walk into a room full of people and be COMPLETELY myself. And it works. Who would have thought? I had such a good time, met some great people. After an ill-advised yet totally worth it stop at Taco Bell, my girlfriends and I sat around in sweats watching The Notebook until we fell asleep. Despite being full of crap fast food and a little tipsy, I could with a clear head thank God for putting these people in my life. For putting this new perspective into my life.

This morning I overslept (of course) but made it to church with Nichole. Seeing Ella's smiling face made my day as usual, and I am so grateful that Nichole and I are getting to spend that time together. During service, the speaker spoke of conflict. I thought about the past year--how tormented and anguished I was. How completely STRESSED out conflict had made me. The speaker said that conflict is inevitable, but misery is optional. And that in conflict, we can choose peace. Peace that comes with forgiveness, some humility, and to be quite honest--hope. And I realized somewhat miraculously that I AM at peace. I am no longer just telling myself that I have forgiven, I HAVE.

Last week, I read through the past FIVE years of my blogs. They detailed every single misstep, every hurt. Mistakes made over and over again, all for my reading pleasure. I wanted to reach out and hold the hand of my 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, and 23-year-old self. I still wish I could give her a hug (or maybe a slap in the face) and tell her that someday she'll be fine. That someday, at Christmastime, she would be contendedly single, in a room full of people, feeling less alone and more hopeful than ever. But she had to go through it. My 24-year-old self forgave her, and all of the ones that hurt her. Life, truly, is too short. And when there is so much more in front of us than behind, why not? Why not, as often as possible, CHOOSE PEACE?

And now, on a lighter note, I will close with some photos...a taste of the Ugly Sweater Ridiculousness.

Myself and some of my new favorite people!

Josh and his ever-charming $2.99 ensemble!

And finally, one of our fearless hosts. Love it.

Promise.

2009-12-09T09:42:00.000-08:00

I had such a...promising evening last night.

Cute, smart, funny.

They do still exist.

Good to know.

Oh, and...

2009-12-07T23:45:00.001-08:00

I watched "Love Actually" last night. I never get tired of it, and am keeping my eye out for a guy who will stand outside my door with a stack of signs declaring his undying love. Any day now.

I also finished decorating my tree today. It is beautiful, with pretty and fancy and tacky ornaments alike, and extra-obnoxious lights. I swear, it looks like a freakin' disco ball. Almost seizure inducing, the lights. But I love it.

Combined, these two mean one thing: The Christmas Season may officially begin.

Excellent.

When it's cold outside, show the world the warmth of your smile...

2009-12-07T23:25:00.000-08:00

Thank you Rascal Flatts for the cheesy song lyric title.

And thank you God for my friends. They kick so much ass. I couldn't ask for more. My old friends are phenomenal, but the people I've met in the past 6 months especially are so, so incredible. I had no idea I was in need of more friends. I didn't ask for their presence in my life, but there they were, at precisely the right moment. They were the cure I never thought to ask for, but were just the right thing. I had no idea that WOMEN could help put me in the right direction--strong, powerful, sweet, amazing Christian women. Their lives, their hearts have touched mine so deeply. They remind me daily to strive for what is best for me, what I deserve. They remind me when I need that the past is the past--the good and the bad. Especially the bad...I get to leave it behind.

Celebrating the birthday with them was WAY too much fun. We went to karaoke, and between the tequila shots, dancing, and "Like a Virgin" performance, I can't remember the last time I laughed that hard.

It's funny how blah the bar scene seems now in terms of dating. I've met the last several people I've dated (save for the one I met because we worked together) at bars and can't say that method has a great track record with me. The lack of genuine, GOOD people is astounding. It's a whole new level of fun to go out with friends, and simply NOT CARE about meeting guys. Don't get me wrong, I still do my hair and put on my makeup. Not wanting to scrawl my number on napkins or make out with strangers doesn't equate to showing up with greasy hair and sweats. But the pressure to attract someone is gone.

It's so odd to me, to LIKE being single. I would love to be in a relationship, of course. But I don't plan on having sex anytime soon. In fact, I've made the decision to, from here on out, save it for marriage. I know. My mouth drops open every time I say it too. But when I think about the pain and suffering giving it up on the first, second, third, fourth, fifth dates has caused me...yikes. Sex became to me, like the tires on your car. You never really appreciate how important they are until one of them goes flat. I didn't understand what intimacy meant until I misused it and abused it, many times. To many this is crazy talk. Even to me, in many ways, this is crazy talk. I like sex. It was one of my favorite things...hell, it's barely been two months and I miss it already. But this has to happen.

I feel like everything happening right now is serving a purpose. Generally speaking, that purpose is to clear out the cobwebs, so to speak. To address every last messy part of me, to repair it and make it new again...or as new as it can be. Nothing it the same, but everything is looking better, every day.

Seriously? This again?

2009-12-04T00:05:00.000-08:00

What an irritating couple of days...How many times have I said I don't care? I'd been struggling over this fact though, regarding the ex: Why does HE get to be the one that isn't alone?

But after dinner with some friends tonight, and a long talk with another, a couple of things became clear. One, the relationship grass isn't necessarily greener. And two, who says I am the less alone? I have friends, a supportive family, and know what I want out of this life. It is my wish for him that he can say the same, but I don't know. Maybe I am the better off.

Still, why should he get away with it? Deceiving people, deceiving ME. It makes me angry that other than the absence of me in his life, he didn't miss a beat. Does he miss me? Hell if I know. So much of what he said and did turned out to be less genuine than I thought. "She's just a friend" -more untrue words were never spoken, my friends. So why should I believe "I wish things were different" and "I'm really gonna miss you?"

It just makes me angry. At me, firstly, but also at him. How unfair of him to take advantage of the way I felt. How unfair to the other person involved--did she know she was sharing all that time? What kind of lies did he tell her about me, does he still tell her? It bothers me further that he never apologized, and could always talk his way out of it, claiming that it wasn't his fault, but the situation.

For the honest record, and for my own venting purposes since it is futile to ever say these things to him, the situation was this: I met someone, and I fell in love with him. Plain and simple. I didn't care about his age, his money, where he could take me or what he could give me. We were happy together for awhile. Really happy. Happier than I've ever been, because for once someone treated me well, didn't lie, didn't cheat. But he didn't want more children, and I want to be a mom. More than anything else, that is what I want in this life. He said he wouldn't change his mind, and I wouldn't change mine. So we said goodbye, and I was miserable. I tried dating other people, he started dating other people, and as that was happening we reconnected. I missed him so much, and he missed me. We knew we couldn't stay together, so we agreed that we would see each other but break it off when the other found someone more appropriate. Basically, if he found someone who didn't want kids, or I found someone who did.

I should have known that was a bad plan. Once he was back in my life, no one else I'd been seeing mattered. I couldn't help it. I wish he would have recognized that and been less selfish. He should have just let me go. He just took advantage, and kept on dating me, kept on dating someone else. I recognize that many people don't date exclusively. But he couldn't even be honest with me about that. He downplayed every little thing. Every time his phone went off he'd claim it was an e-mail, a baseball score, or whatever. When I was with him, we were happy. I wasn't strong enough to let this person who I considered to be the best thing that ever happened to me go yet so I held on, even though every minute we were apart I was miserable, wondering what he was doing and with whom.

I just wish he would have seen what it was doing to me. I wish I would have seen what it was doing to me. It went on for months, and I always wondered if the other person knew the deal. I still don't know the answer to that question, but I hope so. He was dating someone else when he went back to me. Once I finally said enough, he continued dating that person. About 4 months in total, he and I were "back together". And for what? He knew we couldn't be together--I still want my babies. Was it just because he could? Keep one person in the dark and one person on the line? What purpose did that serve? It hurt knowing that after I told him I deserved better than this that he just continued on his merry way. It hurt more knowing that maybe the person I cared so much about wasn't as great as I thought he was. He was one of my best friends in the world when we were together, and it's now been months since I've seen or spoken to him. I miss my friend, but I'm not ready to go there with him. Too many bruises that haven't healed. Makes me sad that we had to let it get that way. I heard rumors that the woman he was dating did want kids, which made me wonder even more if he ever really cared about me, or if he was just having fun. I try not to think that way, though.

He and I got along so well--he's intelligent, witty, and fun. There was never a dull moment with us, but in a man I deserve better. I need someone who has all of those qualities and more--I don't need fancy dinners and jewelry as much as I need someone who will be faithful, loving, patient, and HONEST. Though dinner and jewelry are nice. He failed at all of those at one point or another. I deserve someone who wants me and only me. I deserve to be someone's everything, not a member of his collection. His excuse for carrying on two relationships boiled down to having never been in this situation before. It doesn't take going through it before to know the difference between right and wrong, though. He told me I set the bar so high that no one could really exceed it. He said that on his way to meet someone else, an hour after I left his house one morning. I broke up with him a week later. I said I deserved better. Better than a man willing to see, date, sleep with, and use me while he did the same with someone else. She probably deserves better too. Lord knows how long he would have let it go on, and what kind of stories he might have told me or anyone else to cover his own ass. But I had to walk away. There was simply no other choice for me.

Walking away from him was so hard, but the relief I felt when the door closed behind me was incredible. It's still a struggle not to be envious or angry (obviously) but I know I made my escape at just the right time. Maybe the anger and crap was necessary. I tell everyone that there are still parts of our relationship, many of them, that I will always remember as nothing but good. Those are what will stay with me long after the scars heal. I hope he knows that. And if there hadn't been a bad part at the end, I would have continued wasting my time. And what's the point in that? There are plenty of fish in the sea, with all of the great qualities he had, PLUS the ones that I need. That's where my focus is now. The angry moments are still there, but it's no longer my issue or my business what he does or doesn't do anymore. What he gets away with is really not my problem. I love him, I always will. But he is not the man for me, and I always knew that. Of course I wish he wouldn't have done the things he did, but that's life. You live, you learn.

Now, after a good half an hour of venting, I feel much better. Happy Friday.

24.

2009-12-01T22:54:00.000-08:00

No, not the show. Never actually watched that...

Anyway, I turned 24 today. It seems to me such an incredibly "mature" sounding age, but I am not complaining. That God saw fit to give me another year of life is a gift. I hope for many more.

Age 23 was...rough. So much up and down, so much hurting, and finally, so much healing. There are still some cringe-worthy moments. Tonight, while sitting in my last group meeting with my lovely ladies, I saw my ex through the window, walking across the street with his new girlfriend. Ouch. But then, not long after, my friends lit some candles on a cake and sang to me. They told me they love me, and I cried. Not because I was sad...the image from twenty minutes prior had faded completely and I was happy again.

I have EVERYTHING I need. A family that loves me, friends that love me, and the belief that my future is beautiful, if I have faith and respect and protect myself. When I think about 23, I remember a girl who was lost, and sad. I now am found, and I don't know that girl anymore. The past is in the past, and every experience pointed me here. I am right where I should be. Do I get lonely? Yes. But I know where to turn and how to get through the nights. And I am content and at peace because I have put it all behind me. I have let it go.

What a beautiful life. I am grateful for every single minute. And cannot wait to see what is next.

Post-Turkey Wrap Up.

2009-11-29T21:56:00.000-08:00

I. Am. So. Fat. Right. Now.

Other than the complete gluttony that followed me from Thursday to, well, earlier today, I had a splendidly relaxing weekend.

Thanksgiving itself was good...a little quieter than usual, but still laughed until I couldn't breathe on more than one occassion. Was reminded once again of all that I have to be thankful.

Must now try and re-establish some self-control where food is concerned. And work out for like, I don't know 8 hours a day.

Thankful.

2009-11-25T22:21:00.001-08:00

I had this big long Thanksgiving post planned, where I systematically listed all of the things I'm thankful for. But that would take too long, and be too sappy. I can sum everything up, my whole life, in one word:

Blessed.

I am so blessed. The past year has been a rollercoaster. Lots of happiness, lots of sadness, laughter and tears. I wouldn't change a moment. God has broken me down, and is building me back up in ways I couldn't have imagined. My friends are the strongest, sweetest, funniest, supportive, WONDERFUL people. Old and new, I cannot thank them enough for their presence in my life. My parents, my family...are beyond compare. I am, for the first time in a long time, content with my present and EXCITED for my future. The sad and lonely and anxious moments are few and far between right now, and really, only serve as reminders of how beautiful life is. The sweet couldn't taste as sweet without the sour. And life is so, so sweet.

And I couldn't be more thankful. Thank you family, thank you friends, and thank you God. I've got more than anyone should.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

I hope you think my favorite song...

2009-11-24T00:56:00.000-08:00

For the second time in this blog's history, I just titled a post with Taylor Swift lyrics. But I thought it appropriate. As I was attempting sleep just now, my eyes flew open remembering a dream from LAST night. About him. And it got me thinking.

This isn't the first time my adolescent summer love has visited me in my grown up dreams. Despite all the pain and heartache he once caused my 18 and 19-year-old self, I find that every time, I am always happy to find him there.

We were just kids. Wild, crazy, reckless, often stupid, very often drunk. But we were always having fun. There was no baggage to carry, no dealbreakers, no painful questions we would have to answer. Every day was new, every night was new, and three months might as well have lasted forever. In many ways for me, I guess it kind of has. It's funny how my opinion of him and how he fits into my story has changed over the past five or six (?!?!) years. Yes, he broke my heart once. He took away what I perceived to be a huge piece of my innocence at the time. There was a point where he was the one who hurt me the most because I'd loved him the most. So far. My most recent love and I talked about him once, and in the great drama of THAT relationship, my summer romance seemed to fade into nothing. It lost so much significance in the wake of a much more adult relationship, and subsequently "adult" breakup. I was certain that because of the intensity of that grown-up relationship and the lessons learned at its end, nothing prior was of any consequence. And then I had this dream.

I was somehow back at his best friend's house on the lake. He threw the front door open and saw me and smiled. Oh, that smile. It was a perfect day, and he took my hand and walked me down the dock and onto the boat. He drove us into the middle of the lake, stopped the boat, threw me into the water and dove in after me. I screamed and laughed, splashed and cursed at him. He just laughed and kissed me, with his wet hair and wet lips. And I was 18 again...crazy, happy, innocent, FREE.

I woke up at 4am, still 23, to the sound of the rain. In November. But for a minute there, it was like the last 9 months, or, hell, the last 5 years--had never happened. They did happen, of course, but somehow a piece of that girl has been restored. And I am, once again, thanking God for unanswered prayers. My summer love was nothing less than love, I get that now. Young, fumbling, impossible love, but love just the same. He wasn't the man for me, and still isn't. But he was the BOY for me. I have no idea where he is or what he's doing now. I hope he's happy. I hope he's still that kid, with no agenda or inhibitions, somewhere deep inside.

And if I could, I'd thank him for dropping in to let me know that real love doesn't always have to be jaded, scarred, dramatic, and sad. You know, all those mature things with which I've become so familiar. Real love makes you happy. Makes you feel alive, and free. And for the reminder that it's okay to want that. It's okay to seek that, and to find that now, just as I had then.

There was a time when I was convinced he was the one for me. I prayed that God would let me marry him, and we could live in the country in a big beautiful house with cute kids running around in the yard and country music playing in the background. God didn't go for that idea. Thankfully. Instead, I have the (admittledly creepy) dreams and memories to shine a little light into this particular November. And the really well-timed reminder that there is still a piece of me that remains innocent, free, and able to love without hesitation or fear. And that, I have to say, is incredibly good to know.

Sunday Musings.

2009-11-16T00:41:00.000-08:00

Some thoughts on today, in no particular order:

1. The ex, if my sleuthing is accurate, is taking the new girl to Mexico.

2. I don't actually care. Done sleuthing. See #3.

3. Church was incredible this morning. Our pastor talked about experiences--good or bad, but especially the bad. Two things I drew from it, especially, are applicable to EVERYONE. One, whatever you are going through, no matter how hard it is or how horrible, someone else has gone through it, or IS going through it. You are really and truly never alone, and the more we are willing to swallow our pride and SHARE our experiences, the better off we'll be. Two, when we go through horrible, inexplicably unfair and awful things, self-inflicted or caused by others, we have a choice. We can't get out of the pain. We can't escape it, and we can't gloss over it and expect to properly heal. Tears, screaming, kicking, mania, depression--they all have their time and place. They all have to happen. GRIEF has to happen. But when it does, after it does, we all get a choice. It all comes down to vowels. Will we let our pain make us BITTER, or let it make us BETTER? It can go either way.

Me, I've made my choice.

4. My friends are amazing. I couldn't ask for more.

5. I'm going back on a diet. Seriously.

6. Advice for the day: If you're putting your iPod in your cleavage for safekeeping, put it on hold. Otherwise you may inadvertently turn up the volume and come dangerously close to serious hearing loss. Just sayin'...

Dreamlover.

2009-11-13T23:41:00.000-08:00

Sorry, had to throw in the Mariah reference. Once a fan, always a fan. However reluctantly.

Anyway, seriously though, I really did have a dream last night in which I met HIM. You know, the one. Yes, I am aware of the absolute ridiculous nature of this statement, but in the dream, I was with a man who I could only explain as my soul mate.

I don't remember his face or his name. I dreamed him up and can't even remember what he looked like. I can't remember a single detail of this fictional character, but the dream itself is VIVID in my mind, still. Even in my dreams, I felt at ease. Completely, totally, unfailingly SAFE. It was like I was meant to talk to this person, laugh with this person, hold this person's hand. I didn't even doubt it. Though I can't remember anything visual, really (so for the purposes of this blog we're going to assume he looks like Gerard Butler) it was the FEELING I remember. Attraction was there, but it was so much deeper than that. It was instant, and it just felt RIGHT. Is that how it happens? Do you just KNOW? It was more powerful than any feeling I've felt for another person before, by far. In a romantic sense anyway. In the middle of the night, in my subconscience, I felt the deepest connection I have ever felt.

WITH SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T EXIST. WHAT THE F IS THAT?!

I woke up feeling:

A. Crazy. As in, certifiable.

B. Sad. As in, why have I never experienced this in my actual life? Can we expecting this anytime soon, sometime in my conscious hours, perhaps?

C. Cautiously optimistic. If that's what it's like...I could take a few more days and nights of that. It was also a reminder, as if I needed another, that I have never felt anything close to that wonderful before. I don't need to look back and wonder anymore if the best has already passed me by. It hasn't, not even close.

Perhaps the meds they prescribe for my crazy ass will provide continued fantasies and hallucinations until the real thing shows up.

Panic.

2009-11-10T00:09:00.000-08:00

I started taking Vitamin D this fall because I truly believe I suffer from S.A.D. That is, Seasonal Affective Disorder. Yes, another pill to add to my daily (neurotic) regimen so I don't look out the window on days like today and say "Screw it, I'm going to watch Primetime in the Daytime on TNT all day and eat until the sun comes out"

This is a good idea, in theory, except I live in Seattle and the sun hasn't been out for more than 15 minutes in WELL over a week. And today, as well as a few days last week, I really did just sit on my couch watching ER and two episodes of Las Vegas in a row every day, before finally rolling into the shower, leaving the house just in time to pick up the little man I nanny. Oh, I also stay up too late and sleep too long.

Despite all this rest, I have been having a complete panic attack/meltdown/hypochondriac episode for the past week. I tried to blame the breakup, but I am more at peace with that than ever. So what gives? I was so convinced that I was having a heart attack last week that I didn't work out for three days in a row. The inevitable fat feeling only worsened my anxiety, and by Friday I finally had to go to the doctor and make them listen to my heartbeat, more times than necessary, for reassurance that I was not in fact dying.

Obviously, not dying. So WHAT is the problem? I think the directionless, unemployed thing is starting to get to me. So many amazing things are happening in my life. I am contentedly single, making some amazing new friends and loving the old more than ever. My family kicks more ass than ever, and I've been attending church regularly and finding my faith is growing stronger every day. But still, I wake up every morning with nothing to DO.

The answer, I think, came last week. I hesitate to even share this, because I have changed my mind on career choices so many times. I've announced that I'm going to law school, that I'm going to be a therapist, a writer, etc. I know people are secretly wondering, "What's next? Yoga instructor? Astronaut? Engineer? Sandwich artist?" And I don't blame them. I do make an excellent sandwich! Last week though, someone said to me, "Have you ever thought about nursing?"

Ummmm...no, actually, I hadn't. But now, actually, I am. Like seriously. This is the first job I've considered for myself that I can actually close my eyes and SEE. I'm keeping it rather quiet for now, but am very strongly considering it. There are other things I still want to do...like write. I really must keep writing, but that can be done anytime, anywhere. And I think I'll start breathing with a regular rhythm again once I know that I have a plan that will not only work logistically, but work for me, for my future. Fingers crossed, etc...

On Forgiveness.

2009-11-06T22:28:00.000-08:00

They say love makes the world go 'round...fair enough. Perhaps to love is to forgive, then, because I think the world may get stuck without forgiveness. Truly, how could we get through the day?

I've been struggling with forgiveness lately. I am relieved to be out of my last relationship. I am so looking forward to what is in store for me--WHO is in store for me. I am healing, and it is a beautiful experience. It's like the last painful tug when the stitches are taken out. It hurts when it heals, too. The last step in that is always to forgive. It's not just him that needs it from me, not even close. I have held on to many hurts and kept a mental list of those who have trespassed against me.

It's time to let it go.

Anger is okay, yes, but only for a time. But without forgiveness, your righteous anger is nothing but poison. I should also mention that in many (not all) circumstances, the person you can't forgive loses no sleep over the pain they inflicted. The only one still hurting, as long as you hold onto it, is you.

It's time to let it go.

As if the pain of holding on to anger and hurt feelings isn't enough to drop it like it's hot, I think of all of those who have forgiven me. I have hurt people I love, for no good reason. I have made choices that, one way or another, caused another person pain. Some didn't forgive me. Some did. To those that didn't, I will always be sorry. To those that did...thank you. I don't know what else to say. Laughing with one of the best friends I've ever had tonight, I thought about where I would be without that forgiveness. Where would any of us be without the forgiveness of our families, of our friends? And if you believe in Him, and I do, of God? Knowing that, who am I to deny forgiveness to another person? Especially when at the very least, it will set ME free?

And there it goes--the final stitch. And the world keeps turning...

Movie Rant.

2009-10-31T01:01:00.000-07:00

So, I decided to OnDemand "He's Just Not That Into You" tonight. Because it's Friday of Halloweekend. And because instead of making plans, I took the kids I nanny trick or treating at Microsoft, which means I also took myself trick or treating. But, unlike them, I am a grown woman, so no one is standing over my shoulder telling me to stop at 2 pieces because MY ASS IS GETTING FATTER BY THE MINUTE. And because after a huge dinner I polished off the cheesecake in the fridge.

Why wouldn't that encourage me to watch a chick flick about men who suck and aren't interested? I also enjoyed the rest of the prosciutto I found in the fridge before the opening credits finished rolling. I am already retaining about 6 gallons of water as a result. FYI.

Anyway, regarding the movie: It's cute. Yep, happy ending, blah blah blah...but IT IS SUCH CRAP. I read the book...okay, begrudgingly, I read the book. I struggled through it because every five minutes I would say to the page "Hey! Screw you buddy! Maybe he really DID move to Morocco! You don't even know!" In other words, as sad as it makes me to admit this, I do believe the book makes some valid points.

Which would be glorious if the movie actually stuck to them. Why waste two hours telling women that we are the RULE not the exception if, as it turns out, every character in the movie gets to be the exception. They get the white horse and happy ending and essentially defy reality.

Oddly enough, as frustrating as I found it, I can truly say I still agree with the final line of the movie: You never gave up hope.

Was that the point of this cinematic charade then? To let us know that we should keep hoping against reality and past experience because there is something better out there?

Okay, fine. I'll buy that. And I joined eHarmony. There, I said it. Please don't judge me. Too much.

The thing about blogging...

2009-10-28T21:40:00.000-07:00

Is that I often get super excited for people I have never met in my real life. It's a little creepy. That said, congratulations to Julia, who found out today that she is expecting a BABY BOY!

This just in...

2009-10-28T00:50:00.000-07:00

An addition to my previous story...

I texted a couple of people regarding my muscle spasm just now. One responded back, a guy I was seeing for about a week there awhile back.

He said: Lol, that's great. What are you up to tonight?

I said: I'm in bed, getting my ass tapped.

Right.

TMI...Wednesday.

2009-10-28T00:35:00.000-07:00

So, Cavy occasionally participates in TMI Thursday. I think it's brilliant, because I am all about the TMI. But since it isn't Thursday and I can't keep quiet about this as it just happened, I'll (mercifully) mention a mild one tonight.

I was just laying in bed, by myself..because that is how I WANT IT RIGHT NOW, DAMMIT! Really! Suddenly, I apparently had some sort of muscle spasm in my gluts. But, it felt like someone was literally tapping on my ass cheek! I freaked out. I actually gasped and thrashed around in the covers for a second before remembering that no, there is no man in my bed who would be so bold as to tap on my ass.

Then (enter neuroses) I faced the question of, where did this muscle spasm come from? Why is this happening? Is this a symptom of swine flu? The smart money is on the unusual (read: legitimate) amount of exercise I've been getting lately...I blame the Stairmaster, specifically. Either way, the whole thing was very unsettling. Truly.

So, naturally, I figured the right thing to do would be to get out of bed and write about it. It's now 12:42am, and my muscles, ass and otherwise, have been calm for about ten minutes. I guess that means all is well and I can go back to bed.

Thank you for your attention. Sweet dreams, all, and may your ass cheeks not be tapped unless you want them to be. Goodnight.

Happy Birthday Greg!

2009-10-25T22:16:00.000-07:00

A Special Birthday Wish for Greg, my favorite Chicago resident and closeted Seahawks fan. A little over two years ago, Greg journeyed to Seattle, somehow made it to my hometown, and bought my girlfriends and I the best round of mojitos we've ever had.

I know your team isn't doing as well as we like this year, but there's always next year. Go Hawks, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!!

Thought for the day...

2009-10-24T00:26:00.001-07:00

I kind of blew my diet with a truly amazing Cookie Dough Blizzard...

...And an Almond Joy...

...And a Cheese Plate...

...And a few Bagel Bites...

...And a bottle of wine.

I did work out earlier, though. So that's a plus. It probably worked off bites 1-3 of my Blizzard. Minus. But, at the gym, I met an ADORABLE trainer. Plus. Seriously. Maybe I'll see him again, maybe not. Either way, he's kind of irrelevant to my new favorite comforting thought.

How many times do I need to be reminded that EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON?

Or, if you ask The Beatles, "There's nowhere you can be, that isn't where you're meant to be"

Or, as Elizabeth Gilbert put it in Eat Pray Love (and can be applied to any situation at any time), "This was never NOT going to happen"

The man, the breakup, the firing, the workout, the boy, the bottle,the Blizzard...Not one wasn't meant to be in my life.

Question is, what's next? I haven't a clue. Plus.

Ella Turns One.

2009-10-17T00:17:00.000-07:00

I am the WORST auntie. I've been home almost a week and have failed to give miss Ella Madison her birthday shoutout.

I feel so blessed that Ella and I were able to spend a few of her very first months together. There are no words for how much I love this little girl, except that despite what a "challenge" she was on occasion, taking care of her got me so excited to be a mom to my own kids someday.

Speaking of Moms, my cousin Nichole is kicking major ass at it. She is a beautiful woman and an incredible mama--I am so, so proud of her.

So Miss Ella, Happy First Birthday. I am so sorry I missed your party, but I will be there next year, and whenever you need me, understood? I love you!

You've come a long way, Baby...

October 11, 2008:

October 11, 2009:

An open letter....to cheese.

2009-10-16T23:02:00.000-07:00

Dear Cheese,

You know how I feel about, you right? We've had a long and wonderful relationship. You are wonderful in almost every one of your forms. Cheddar, Brie, Provolone, Havarti, Pepper Jack...Nacho. It doesn't matter, I love you just the same. I loved you in college, when I thought a paper plate-sized slice of pizza was the perfect afternoon snack, and proceeded to pack on twenty attractive pounds.

We took a break then, and I lost that attractive weight. Then I stumbled into a relationship with a man who believed wedges of brie and string cheese were the way to my heart. And dammit, he was right! Wish someone would have told him that jewelry would have worked too. Regardless, he took the cheese route, and I packed on ten ultra-sexy pounds.

Cheese, I'm beginning to think our relationship has become abusive. To the outside observer it may seem that I am abusing you. But, when I come home from the gym at 10pm and decide I just HAVE to make nachos, we both know it's you. Whispering from the refrigerator, "Psssssssst...Great workout. Now melt me over some chips, fatass! You know you want it!" And then I give in.

I don't want to end this, but quite frankly, I miss my jeans. If you just leave me alone long enough to drop a few, boost my confidence, maybe I could find a new boy, or, shit, a JOB. And with a job, comes, you know what--more expensive cheese, and wine to go with it. I'm doing this for our future.

Thanks.

Wanted: Distraction

2009-10-14T23:52:00.000-07:00

I must emphasize that I am liking being single. Especially after some good friends and I decided that SINGLE and ALONE are not, in fact, synonymous. However, lonely is possible. And, when you're single, so are unexpected yet satisfying drunken encounters with the guy you long ago gave up on as anything other than a booty call.

This is all hypothetically speaking, by the way.

Despite being okay with single, I can't honestly say Mr. Right (or, Mr. Where the HELL Are You?) whoever he may be, doesn't cross my mind often enough. My friend Amanda texted me the other day and said, "I'm sorry I haven't been helping with the search...how's it going?" I replied, "Oh, it's kinda slow...decided it's actually a good idea to be single for awhile."

To which she replied..."Oh, I actually meant the search for a job."

Oh.

Unemployment.

2009-10-12T18:16:00.000-07:00

Five days of my week-long blog lull can be attributed to my trip to Albuquerque, NM, for the 2009 Hot Air Balloon Fiesta, which coincided nicely with my mom's big bad 50th Birthday! Picture post from that event to come. However, before my departure, I was somewhat unceremoniously "let go" from my part-time (morning) job.

Here's a little back story on this job: I was hired about two weeks after the first breakup from The Man. At the time, I was heartbroken, lonely, and unemployed. A word to the wise-- Emotionally unstable and idle makes for a CHARMING combo. So, I scoured the internet, and out of pure desperation, took the first job offered to me: Part-time customer service for an online retailer specializing in the sale of Baby Keepsakes. For the first month or so, I tolerated the job. I was even good at it. After that, when the afternoon girl quit, I worked 8-hour days. I realize this is not miraculous or unusual and by no means impressive. HOWEVER, in this job, it was. Eight hours of phone calls from southern grandmothers-to- be, keeping me on the phone for up to half an hour, seeking advice and counsel on which version of the tacky baby book she should order: The loose-leaf or tight-bound edition? Oh, and while she has me on the phone, could I just place the order for her? And, Honey, do ya have a coupon code? It was either that or 8 hours of my creepy asshole of a boss, hovering near me with his bare feet and halitosis, or wandering the grassy knoll near the parking lot on his phone (still barefoot, mind you) for hours at a time.

It was a long summer. I can't tell you when exactly things went awry for me, but they did. I just stopped caring. I did my job satisfactorily, but it had to be so obvious that I was miserable. I would roll in, usually on time, unshowered with no makeup. I NEVER let this happen--some men get a 5:00 shadow--My hair gets a 5:00 grease spot. But I just didn't CARE. I literally dragged my ass in, sat in my chair twitching, and then bolted immediately when I had served my time.

So last Monday, I arrived to find the office completely rearranged and redecorated. And at 7:15am, my boss was there. He called me into his "office" and said he was letting me go. That it just wasn't the job for me, and while he was confident I will go on to do great things, it was clear I was unhappy. I tried to conceal my joy, but let it slip anyway. "I agree!" It was the most enthusiastic the man had ever seen me, since my interview, maybe. Other than the whole, "Oh crap, I have just reduced my meager income by about 60%" thing, I could not be more thrilled.

Most people would look at the last couple of weeks of my life and think, "Wow! A breakup and a firing--what a blow". I am quite happy to say that despite the occasional, "Well, fuck, I'm alone and largely unemployed" I could not be more relieved and excited about the way things are going. The breakup was a weight off of one shoulder, and the job a weight off the other. I'm free. Broke, but free.

There are lots of perks my (hopefully, somewhat) temporary unemployment afford me. Among them are sleeping in a bit, more time to work out, read, and write. And today, when I got home from nannying, I realized (as part of my dairy-free experiment) that the only thing on my to-do list was to hop on over to Starbucks.com and find out how many calories are in an iced, double-tall soy latte. Nice.

Oh, 90 calories. Should anyone be curious.

Regarding The Rules of the Road.

2009-10-03T19:55:00.001-07:00

Alright, I have a bone to pick.

I live in Greater Seattle, so traffic is a given in my everyday activities. I know this, I understand this, and for the most part, I accept this. I realize that even on a Saturday (much like today, for example)I am going to run into traffic.

But friends, it is not the traffic that aggravates me so. Traffic is the result of too many cars traveling on a road or highway that simply cannot comfortably accomodate them. Traffic, while not inevitable, is common. I can't really get upset when I'm on the way to the mall, excited to blow the money I've earned at my much-hated job, and I find that everyone else has the same idea. No, traffic is not the problem.

The problem, you see, is THE DRIVERS. Seattle drivers are among the most clueless people in the whole wide world. If they were just stupid, though, it would be okay. But in addition to being just plain dim, they are completely inconsiderate. The latest epidemic of bad behavior has to do with "The Wave". You know the one. When someone lets you into their lane (generally because you weren't paying attention to where you were going until it became absolutely imperative that you change lines RIGHT NOW...it's cool, we all do it) and you give them the little wave as if to say "Thanks"? All of you nodding your heads right now either do not live anywhere near me, or are very special people, because NO ONE seems to do the wave anymore. No one! Does everyone now just assume they are entitled to the courtesy of others, to the extent that they don't need to return that courtesy with some gesture of gratitude?

The result of this lack of appreciation, for me, breaks down like this: The more people don't give me the wave, the less inclined I am to let anyone in, ever. What's worse, more than once now, I myself have neglected to give the wave. It makes me sad, truly. It makes me a bit vindictive, as well...today, I let a woman in a pickup truck into my lane. No wave. About half a mile later, she puts on her turn signal again (yes, she gets some credit for that) hoping that I'll be nice again. Not so much. Instead, I accelerated and blew right by her. She looked pissed, but I do hope she learned a lesson. No wave, no more Ms. Nice Girl.

I know I sound a bit (okay, completely) nuts ranting about this, but it IS frustrating. And driving around here is a big enough pain in the ass without everyone being, well, assholes. So please, give the wave, and use multiple fingers.

That is all.

Some photos and such...

2009-09-30T14:23:00.000-07:00

I had a FANTASTIC evening with my girlfriends last night. I hadn't seen this particular crew since May, which is beyond my comprehension. Lord only knows how much being around them might have helped me over the past 6 months. But anyway, seeing them last night in my much-improved state was just what I needed. It is unbelievably comforting to know that there are people in my life who I can go months without seeing, but walk into a room and feel as at home as I would have had I seen them yesterday. We attempted board games, drank, talked about life and love and sad and happy things, drank some more, and laughed. Mostly we laughed. I sometimes forget how much fun it is to laugh until you can't breathe and are quite sure you WILL pee your pants...I didn't, by the way.

Anyway, to break up the overabundance of words I've been putting up here, here is some cuteness for you, from my long-overdue visit with Nichole and Ella last week.

The sunglasses were a hit.

My favorite little munchkin, a couple weeks shy of her first birthday.

Good Lord, I feel old.

*Correction

2009-09-28T20:12:00.000-07:00

Alright, fine.

I feel the need to issue a retraction. I'll be honest. My Mr. Wonderful was and is indeed wonderful. Some of his decisions toward the end there...not so great. Some of my decisions, equally poor. The whole situation left me a little stung, as I knew it would. Much of yesterday's post was simply me taking the opportunity to vent, somewhat untruthfully. The truth is, EVERY aspect of our relationship was good for awhile there. In and out of bed, yes. I loved him. I always will, but it is time to get on with life. And while the details get fuzzy,I could not in good conscience write that anything he did or said in my presence was anything but wonderful. I am grateful for (almost) every minute I had with him.

So that is that. Happy Monday.

Here comes the sun, little darlin'...

2009-09-27T21:34:00.000-07:00

So, the bad news is, my former Wonderful Man, is, by many accounts, turning out to be a bit less than wonderful. Maybe not as bad as some of my past winners, but certainly not as perfect as I once believed him to be. It hurts to find this out, but the good news is...

It doesn't matter. I'm free. I stood up and walked away. Sure, I cried a little, but I cry a little at A Baby Story, and commercials for the United Negro College Fund. The good news is, whatever horrible things he may have done or might still be doing, it is not my problem anymore.

Hell yes.

I'm suddenly feeling all kinds of excited about life. When all of the anxiety I formerly carried because of him was finally lifted off of my shoulders, it was like every other aspect of my life came flying back into focus. I dropped out of school, for starters--I don't want to be a psychologist, go figure. I realized I hate my job, so I'm going to look for a new one. I lost five pounds last week! Not "I'm so depressed I can't eat" pounds, but "I'm eating healthy and exercising like a madwoman because I finally FEEL good!" pounds. I'm going to start singing a bit with a band, and recording. I also really want to write, a whole lot more. Expect to see the overflow of that on this blog--perhaps with some photos, being that the word vomit is likely going to get old.

We broke up, allegedly, because of children. He was also old, and while the sex wasn't (usually) bad, let's face it everyone--I'm a 23 year old woman. I've had better and dammit, will get better on a regular basis in the future. Word.

But back to the kid/future/epiphany thing. Everywhere I've been this week, I've been seeing and noticing the little ones, and it just keeps reinforcing to me that I was just born to be a mama. Other than Prince Charming to father them, there is nothing I want more than babies. I want them to be loud, difficult, hilarious, cute, smart, special, slightly neurotic like their mother, just plain AMAZING little human beings. I want the chaos, the mess, and every sweet little moment that comes along with them. And I want to share that whole sweet, chaotic mess with a man who loves me, who is my partner, who makes me laugh and makes me breakfast. I deserve that. Shit, we all deserve that. I've decided not to settle for less.

It's coming, I know it. And while I truly cannot wait, I am looking forward to all of the experiences that get me there. Which, let's hope, given my current account balances, includes me becoming independently wealthy.

Fingers Crossed.

Big girls don't cry.

2009-09-23T19:48:00.000-07:00

Well, fuck that, I'm 5'1. I can cry all I want.

It's over, again. This time for good. This time it was my call, I made it. He agreed, it was the right decision. He told me how wonderful I am, and how I would sooner rather than later find someone who could see that like he did, someone who would want the same things out of life that I did. I got teary-eyed. He got teary-eyed. I walked out of the door, and made it all the way down the hall before completely breaking down.

And that's been the story for the remainder of the day, pretty much. I know it was the right thing. I know it. But never in a million years did I realize that it would be this hard.

They say only time will heal you, this too shall pass. Well, it's been less than 12 hours. And. I. Miss. Him. So. Much.

Why time? Why can't it be, say, brie? Or red wine, or you know, Cheetos? How about Butterfingers and cookie dough? Why can't Starbucks heal me? Why, of all the things that could be the sole cure for this loneliness, this grief, is TIME the only thing that will make it go away? The problem with time, it seems, is that it takes TOO DAMN LONG!

But it works. Everyone says so. Before I knew anything as wonderful as this man existed, countless boys brought my world to a halt. Time healed me then. Time will heal me now. Well, no, actually, not NOW. Not even tomorrow. Or the next day. But there will be a day, hopesfully soon, when I will in fact be just fine. Maybe--here's a crazy thought--better than fine.

I ripped off the band-aid. This is the sting I knew I'd feel, and Lordy, it hurts. It hurts so bad I can't see straight. I could season food with tears, I shit you not. It was a hell of a wound, and I never let it heal. Now is when that needs to happen. This too shall pass, and yes, time alone will get me to the other side.

So go ahead time. Do your thing. I'll be patient. But if you could pretty please make this as quick as possible, I'd appreciate it.

Oh life.

She works hard for the (lack of) the money.

2009-09-22T12:36:00.000-07:00

Alright, so I'm having yet another career identity crisis type of thing. I took one quarter of classes towards becoming a psychologist, and here I am, already changing my mind.

I want to write. I want to start a business. I want to be a waitress for 6 months of the year and then travel the rest. I want to sing. I miss that. I've actually made a couple of connections with musicians, a couple of whom want to record some stuff with me. It would be kind of cool just to hear my own voice on something again.

I've been spoiled in my life. I'm an only child of parents who have taken me out to dinner and on amazing trips my whole life. I am in the process of disentangling myself from a relationship with a man who spoiled me even further. Granted, he never had to, I was just happy to be with him, but I cannot tell a lie: it was NICE. It was nice to go nice places and stay nice places and not have to worry about a thing, financially speaking. And I know he worked hard for what he has, and I could do the same--I have the potential to, anyway. But I don't think a struggling musician, writer, teacher, etc, is going to earn millions.

Why NOT?!?!?! Why is it that everything I want to do, the things I think might make me happy, guarantee me nothing but financial stress? And from the moment I could talk, I was always taught to NEVER depend on a man. I am learning the importance of this more and more every day.

So now what? I think it's time to take a step back and remember that I am only TWENTY-THREE. Sure, I'm working two low-paying part-time jobs when some of my friends have full-time, well-paying jobs with benefits and vacation time, but that's neither here nor there. I think the lifestyle I've lived and the people I've spent a lot of my time with lately have skewed my perspective on where I should be right now. Because the truth is, I am okay. I'm fine. I am just where I need to be. As the Beatles put it, there's "Nowhere you can be, that isn't where you're meant to be"

How cool is that?

Now then, I am off to the gym, and to start re-reading "Eat Pray Love" for the third time. I promise to be less "poor me I'm not a millionaire, wah, wah" in the future. That is all.

Hey, thanks, thanks for that summer...

2009-09-07T21:24:00.000-07:00

Something about the end of summer has always seemed to break a piece of my heart. Ever since that one sweet summer, now five years ago (gulp) I've always found the chill in the air and the return of the rain and the rush of everyday life to be bittersweet and sad. There is, to be sure, something so magical about summer days, summer nights. Even now, as an almost grown-up, I still find myself a little tipsy at the end of the day during the summer. It's a strange feeling, being tired, sunburned, and disheveled, yet energized, exhilirated, and excited. Something about summer nights that will never fade for me is the feeling that the sun going down doesn't end the day. If anything, it holds more anticipation and promise than anything else. While my daily life is filled with equal parts sweet and shitty moments, whatever happens on a summer night happens more vividly. For better or worse, I always feel more alive.

So, it's no surprise that I mourn the passing of those days and those nights every year, but over the past year or two I have learned to look forward to the fall. Now more than ever, perhaps because it so visibly and palpably signifies that which I need most in my life right now: Change. I will always be grateful to September and October for making the transition so easy. The air gradually turns colder, sure. You know that before too long it will be ass cold out, your car will need about 6 hours of defrosting before departure, and summer is nothing but a photo album on your Facebook. But for a brief period in the fall, the air is not cold but crisp. The leaves are changing but they're there. You get to wear sweatshirts again, but aren't yet cursing the cold.

And so for me, things are changing. More on this later, but I think it's time to finally let go, once and for all, of something (someone) I should never have held on to this long. Like the summer, he has been sweet and wonderful and represents so many good things that I hope to take with me. Things that will keep me warm when it's cold outside. Things I will miss in ways I don't even know how to describe. He is a season in my life. I can't keep him, and he can't keep me. We could try to hold on a little longer, but that would be like wearing shorts in October. What used to be enough isn't enough anymore. Lord knows I wish it could be different, but it can't be, and it's time to accept that, and time to open my heart and my mind to the rest of my life and everything it has in store. It's time to be a big girl.

And I don't care what anyone says. Big girls do cry.

But this is where I am, and it's time. The leaves are turning, and so must the page. I'm terrified. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to find out that it doesn't get better than him. I don't want to have to wait for time to heal me, though I know that it will. But this just the next step. The part you have to go through to get to the other side. The valley, if you will. Oh life.

Love it.

2009-08-12T17:53:00.000-07:00

Dear Readers, I have been called out. Love it.

Yes, I have been back from Vegas for awhile, and YES, I am a slacker. The latter has always been and will remain quite true.

Speaking of Vegas, it was excellent fun, though I learned that while only 23, I am still not 19 anymore. It is no longer an option for me to start drinking at noon and continue doing so until 3am without wanting to pass out and/or die. At least not for three days straight.

Speaking of being 19...my best "adulthood" (that is, met after the age of 18--I have no illusions of actually being an adult now) friend is moving to China. In a week. For a year. Last time she skipped the country, it was only for 4 months, and I got to visit her. This time, I don't know. Funds and schedules are not in my favor. It is entirely possible I won't see my partner in crime for 12 whole months, and it makes me very sad. She knows all of my secrets--good, bad, ugly. She knows all of my former men--good, bad, ugly. When The Latest and I broke up the first time, I drove straight to her house, but only after I called her, and did nothing but sob into the phone for 10 minutes. And she is one of the few people in the world, besides my family and a select few others, who I can laugh about everything and nothing with, until I can't breathe.

And it makes me sad, and a little scared. The Man says sometimes life just pulls people apart. Do I think this will happen with us? Nah. Definitely not. But I will miss her.

God, that was depressing. Sorry. Good news is, between now and next Thursday, when I drop her ass off at the airport and cry for an hour, we have several fabulous, alcohol-abusing events planned. I bet I don't tell her (or anyone) enough, but how lucky am I? To have these people in my life who mean so much to me that their absence throws me into panic-attack mode? And, as Carrie Bradshaw put it, wise and all-knowing as she is, the ones we love are always in our hearts. And, if we are very lucky, only a plane ride away.

Oh, right!

2009-07-28T15:06:00.000-07:00

Sooo...bit of a hiatus there. I'm sorry.

Anyway, I am still alive, somehow. This breakup biz has kicked my ass pretty swiftly and thoroughly, I must say. And now, I am again seeing the ex, but I'm thinking this behavior is not going to continue for long. Too much has happened and we really can't be together. Whatever. Let's talk about something more upbeat...

I will post something a little more substantial when I return from VEGAS on Saturday. Pictures too!

By the way, for those whose blogs I read, I want you to know I check my blog roll daily. I just sit there, tapping my feet, saying, "Why the hell aren't they posting more for my entertainment and enjoyment?" Then I close my computer and wander off to do something else besides updating my own blog. Hypocrisy at its finest, I know. I'll do better.

Piecing life together, step one: Organization

2009-06-03T22:21:00.000-07:00

So, my parents are trying to sell this place. This requires the house to remain "staged" at all times when no one is home--meaning that I, naturally, am expected to keep my bedroom/bathroom looking like no one lives here.

I know, I'm stifling the laughter too.

Here's what the outside observer sees when looking at my closet:

This is what they would see if they opened the door:

Here's an up-close view. See those poor little weights? Anyone care to guess the last time those were lifted? And when I say lifted, I don't mean lifted as in used in actual exercise, I mean lifted as in MOVED OUT OF THE DAMN WAY AND PUT BACK WHERE THEY BELONG.

It has occurred to me that someone viewing the house may want to see the inside of the closet and open the door. To that end, I took all of the lacy thong underwear and moved it to the back of the pile. I should point out that these are all clean clothes. I guess in my crazed/depressed blur over the past 6 weeks-ish, I've been taking my clean clothes out of the dryer long enough for them to sit on my bed, waiting to be put away. This never gets done, because the room always has to be "presentable" and I haven't found the five minutes it takes to open and close drawers. So, apparently, if you're me, the closet is the new dresser.

I'm sure little changes like cleaning up my mess will make a big difference as I attempt recovery (and, ahem, day 2 of no texting has come and gone). I'm sure you're all wondering, "Well, if it's going to make you feel so much better, why don't you clean the mother-effing closet instead of taking photos of it and posting them on the internet?"

Good question.

Wedding Weekend!

2009-06-02T20:24:00.000-07:00

So...met up with the ex last night. Had dinner, chatted, retrieved things. We will be friends, but it's time I take my space. Time alone will not heal me. Time and space might give me a fighting chance. Wish me luck.

Anyway. I just noticed I haven't posted in, oh, a million years? Sorry. Memorial Day was the Weekend O' Weddings. I was in one, but the true fun was had at the Sunday wedding of a former coworker. I don't remember ever going to a wedding where the bride and groom were so happy and relaxed, and have never seen a group of guests so happy to see two people commit to one another. I caught the bouquet, I played with Mr. Wyatt (who will be turning ONE in two weeks!) and went out afterwards with some of my very favorite people. Because you have all been so patient with my whining and bitching and wordy posts, here, FINALLY, are some photos:

Here I am with Mr. Wyatt, my clearly adoring date!

With some lovely ladies...

My date, straying...

Love him. Yep, think I need one of these!

Fast forward to later in the evening. The AFTER-after party. The ladies and I decided to pick up a few things--Brie, Chipotle spread, a baguette, cheap red wine, and Rice Krispy treats. You know, essentials.

One more, then I swear I'm done.

2009-05-20T22:41:00.000-07:00

I just read on Facebook that this guy I went on like 2.3 dates with in January is now engaged. ENGAGED. What am I, Good Luck Chuck? That said, what a nice thought, that if some chick who can't seem to distinguish between your and you're can hook an intelligent, good-looking man, surely I can do the same.

Yes, I stalked her ass on facebook. So would you.

Anyway. Am feeling horribly unprepared for the upcoming weekend o' weddings. I was supposed to have lost 20 pounds, purchased a thoughtful and meaningful gift for my first roommate who chose me as one of her only three bridesmaids, waxed, done my nails, gotten a fabulous and naturally-obtained tan, and landed a date by now. In reality, the closest I have come to accomplishing any of that is frying the crap out of my cleavage in a cancer bed today, and made a waxing appointment for tomorrow. Well, at least my priorities are in order.

Into the dark.

2009-05-20T21:46:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine is a nurse, and posted an absolutely beautiful blog on one of her patients the other day. A woman in her 60's who suffered a brain injury, rendering her, essentially, unable to perform most basic functions. She is not who she once was, but merely a shell, a body. Yet her husband hasn't left the hospital, has hardly left her side.

I find it hard enough to believe that someday, someone will love me enough that when my hair goes gray (or I go from foiling to frosting, cap and all, anyway) and the wrinkles set in and it's clear the boobs are down there to stay, he still wants to be around. But it is my assumption that someone will, because my personality will be just that kickass.

But what if that's gone, too? What an amazing, precious thing--when all that you once were, both in body in spirit, is not what it WAS, someone loves you enough to let the memories of you be enough? To go on loving you that way as though you'd never gone. Made me think of that damn "I Will Follow You Into The Dark" song...gets me every time. I think that's all I ever want to have. I don't want to settle for anything less than someone who will walk with me through this life, and when it's time for me--whether it be my mind or my body--to go, follow me.

Tip of the Day: Automated Women Have Feelings Too.

2009-05-20T17:41:00.000-07:00

When trying to pay your just-a-little-past-due phone bill, and speaking to the automated T-Mobile lady, no matter how many times she tells you your VALID DEBIT CARD THAT YOU USED HALF AN HOUR AGO TO BUY PMS DRUGS AND GUM is not acceptable, under no circumstances should you swear at her.

Don't, for example, say to her "What the fuck????"

Because she will reply: "You just said: Goodbye!"

And then she hangs up on you. Apparently automated women can be just as sensitive and bitchy as the flesh-and-blood variety.

Confessions of a Fat Girl, Volume 1.

2009-05-17T18:13:00.000-07:00

Okay--let me preface this by saying no, I am not fat as in, The Biggest Loser should recruit you and make an example out of you so no one else balloons to your level of obesity, but I have always, always, always, struggled with my weight.

It didn't become a noticeable struggle until maybe 4th grade. By 5th grade, I was "developing", a term that STILL makes me uncomfortable. I'm sure all girls (and boys, don't want to leave anybody out) once cringed at words like "puberty" but it was especially joyous for me because I went through it a good 2-3 years before everyone else. I wore size 8 jeans in 5th grade. I was not proportionate, I didn't get these huge boobs with a tiny waist, I was just big. I am still, by the way, waiting for my huge boobs and tiny waist. Any day now. I started my period at TEN, and didn't tell my mom, so I spent that whole week fashioning feminine products out of toilet paper. Suck it, Bear Grylls. And the cherry on top of that was this 4-foot nothing kid with a center part and feather bangs calling me "Whale" for the duration of the school year. Really? Whale? Is that the best you can do?

It wasn't quite so bad when the rest of my classmates pseudo-caught up to me in size. High school was more or less okay in that area too, and I even lost enough weight my junior year to consider myself pretty much okay-looking. College was a struggle. I dutifully gained my freshman 20 using a carefully devised method of eating giant slices of Pagliacci pizza for a snack between my 3 square meals a day which usually consisted of: A bagel for breakfast with a 280-Calorie Odwalla sugar bomb, a burrito for lunch, and a good 12 pounds of pasta for dinner, topped off with one of those Uncle Seth's Cookies--you know, with the pink cream cheese frosting? God I love those. I was a TEN MINUTE walk from a beautiful rec center, complete with three pools and state-of-the-art equipment. I set foot in there TWICE freshman year, and once was to accompany my skinny bitch roommate while she signed up for yoga.

I literally put on 20 pounds in three months, I jumped to the only natural conclusion: I MUST be pregnant! I was so horrified by the number on the scale that I would have preferred an unplanned pregnancy at 19 years of age to facing the fact that no, actually, I had just really let myself go. After three negative pregnancy tests, all of which I stared at, asking of them, "Are you suuuuuure?" I had to face facts. That was sort of a miserable period in my life, but I still couldn't get myself to work out and stop eating crap. One day my mom took me shopping, and I shit you not, I CRIED. In NORDSTROM. I guess you could call that a turning point.

By Junior year of college I was under control again. Even throughout half of senior year. As of, oh, last summer, things started getting a little rocky again. As of now, after the beautiful relationship with the beautiful man who stocked his home with beautiful food and still managed to appreciate my bloating body, I am at my second heaviest, ever.

So here's what I'm thinking. It's going to have to go on the blog. The struggle, the good and bad and ugly. If I take the time to write about it, maybe I'll start to find patterns in my effed up relationship with food. Maybe I'll be able to see the good I'm doing and/or NOT doing for myself. Don't worry, I'm not going to post daily with my calorie intake, but a sporadic series of updates should do nicely. For now, I'll leave you with the most terrifying confession of all: My height and weight. May it inspire you, disgust you, bore you, whatever:

Height: 5'1
Weight: As of yesterday, 149
BMI: 28.2

Healthy weight range for my height: 106-132.

Right.

(Real) Update

2009-05-12T16:42:00.001-07:00

Soooooooo....

I suppose I can fairly say that I am starting to come to terms with the whole breakup thing. What, it's only been a whole month? Splendid. With that in mind, I guess we can move on to other topics, yes?

1. Work. Yes, work! I am now employed, part-time, doing Customer Service/general office-y stuff for an online Wedding and Baby accessory retailer. The hours and pay are not ideal, but the job is tolerable, as are my coworkers, and I'm choosing to see it now as simply a means to an end.

2. School-Yes, SCHOOL. I'm going back. I'm getting a second bachelor's degree, which some might say is counterproductive, but truth be told given my undergraduate GPA, I could use another chance to make myself a little more competitive for grad school. I am going back for a psychology degree, though presently am agonizing over whether to make it a B.S. or B.A. The Bachelor of Science would be sweet, but would mean medical school, residencies, internships, years and years of it, topped off by lots and lots of research and clinical work. The money would ultimately be better, but I'm starting to think I don't really care. The B.A. would still mean much more schooling, but I'd be working sooner in a career I'd be happier in.

Alright, I guess the decision is made. My ultimate goal is to go into child and family therapy. It's my compromise for never going into teaching.

3. Fitness....So apparently it is not too far-fetched to say that love makes you fat. I DEFNITELY put on weight while my myspace status still read "in a relationship" and now that I'm not, it's time to take care of it. Besides, no sense in adding the anxiety of ill-fitting (or not fitting) clothing to my already charming repertoire that already includes moody, lonely, emotionally fragile, and borderline bipolar, yes?

I am excited for these new things to be happening, and they are happening in the nick of time, truly. I so loved my travels over the past year, meeting some new people, and spending the time with that man truly did change me for the better. But at the same time I felt like I was just wasting time with no clear sense of where to go or how to get there. And while so much is still up in the air, and I'm still hoping none of it crashes down on my head, I do feel good about things.

So it's a start, yeah?

Starts With Goodbye.

2009-05-09T08:02:00.000-07:00

Okay, here's the deal.

We are not getting back together. A very wise person told me yesterday that if this person WAS the one for me, wouldn't we want the same things? Probably. His actions were starting to wear me down a bit, and it comes down to this: Life is too short to feel hopeless. I do feel sad. I will likely continue to feel sad for awhile, but as of today I feel a keen sense that the door is in fact closed for us. While we may be friends down the road, we're not ready now. And as Carrie Underwood's "Starts With Goodbye" puts it, it's going to have to hurt. I am going to feel it fully now until it gets better. And that does involve letting go of some of the good things, the things I thought I could hang on to. But I need to get back to me, and I can't do that when I keep going back to him. No texting, no calls. At least not after I get my shit back. So here goes. Finally.

And now, PLEASE enjoy the following, slightly hilarious video of the previously mentioned song, better known as my anthem for the next few days. I guess there isn't much you can do with a song they never made a video for, other than set the lyrics to the music and let it play?

On Relapses.

2009-05-06T21:30:00.000-07:00

Shit Shit Shit Shit Shit.

I'd like to blame the tequila. Or him.

Ok, maybe I can, to some extent. But mostly, it's my fault. Could have gone home, could have stayed with a friend, could have slept on the couch. But I didn't, I couldn't. But at the end of the day, all signs seem to be pointing to "lady, you knew better and have not a soul to blame but yourself."

But I miss him. I miss everything about him, from the way he smells to the way he sleeps. It had been a month. A month since I even touched his hand, and I still found it as natural as breathing. I'm not gonna lie, since it's pretty damn obvious anyway. Being without him has created a void in me that nothing else can fill as yet, and believe me, I've tried. But it had to be him. I wish I didn't have to work this morning. I wish I could have held on a little longer. I wish I could keep him.

As with any relapse, it puts me right back at square one. I went back and got my fix, and am now feeling the effects of withdrawal as strongly as ever before. Truth be told, though, I don't feel like I ever left square one, and this slip-up was a reminder that maybe I wasn't so crazy to still be feeling so fucking sad.

I know that this happens to people every day. I know people go through worse, and survive. All of this I know, on some level, but I don't feel it, not even a little. And you, courageous readers, are stuck with my depressing babble. I am sorry.

Maybe we could blame the tequila, just a little?

Dear Men: Watch Your Mouths.

2009-05-03T12:49:00.001-07:00

While I know this affliction applies to women as well, I have noticed lately that men seem to suffer from it the most--the complete and utter lack of ability to control what they say and their reasons for saying it. With that, an open letter:

Dear Men,

Please, please, please: Watch your damn mouth. I'm not talking about profanity. In fact, I could not give a shit how often you say "fuck". I refer in this case to your talent as a gender for running your mouth about the future, about relationships, about, well, everything, when your actions do not reflect your words.

Though you do not necessarily return the favor, we are LISTENING TO EVERY DAMN WORD YOU HAVE TO SAY. Every conversation, casual or deep, long or short, sober or drunk, is remembered. Once the words leave your mouth, we hear them, we take them to heart, and we ACCEPT THEM AS TRUTH. So when you say things like....

"I'll call you"
or...

"We should definitely go away for a weekend soon"

or....

"I'm really happy with where our relationship is going"

or....

"Don't worry, I'm here for you"

....WE BELIEVE YOU.

Should we? Maybe not. We should be aware of the fact that you will say damn near anything to get us into bed. But must you, really? And once you've hooked us, and we're dating you, please do not make us believe our relationship is going somewhere when you know it isn't. Don't say the words that make us believe we're safe and it's right when we aren't and it isn't. And when we realize that, we replay every conversation we ever had, trying to pinpoint exactly what we missed. And you know what we come up with? NOTHING. Bottom line--if you don't intend to take us out to dinner, to Vegas, or even call us back, don't tell us you will. If you don't intend to stay with us, don't tell us you will. If our relationship isn't going anywhere, don't tell us it is. And if you don't think we're worth it or don't prove it to us through your actions, for the love of God, do NOT tell us we are.

I PROMISE YOU, we will be better for it. We would rather never hear the words at all than find out the hard way that they weren't true.

Please consider this before you run your mouths some more. Thanks.

Love,

Jessica