Yesterday was hard. Normally I wouldn't be so emotional about it, but I still can't wrap my head around how young he was. It keeps me up at night. Literally. I hopped on Facebook last night and noticed that his brother had also left him a message; quite simply it said, "Happy Birthday, Christian". It's weird when the world moves on from such a tragedy, even though I know it happens more often that it should. It also makes me remember the little things; to be kind to everyone, because you never know what they're going through inside and to tell the ones you love that you do every single day. Don't ever let them wonder. So, Christian, it's goodbye for now. Know that you changed my life and that I loved with you with my whole heart. I'm sure you will be in my thoughts each day.
I didn't sleep much again last night, but I've started to not be surprised by this. I can honestly say that this is the worst bout of insomnia I've ever had. Over the years, when Ben and I would go through tough times it would keep me up, but never to this extent. It's been two weeks and I've probably slept an average of four hours each night. I don't even let it worry me anymore because that just adds to the stress. I know at some point my body will have to relax and take over. It does have me wondering what the underlying problem is here. All I want is to wake up refreshed, instead of exhausted, so that my day doesn't always seem impossible.
Herb finally got down to the nitty gritty (we forced him) and finished the schedule for his vacation in two weeks and for ours the week after. Just seeing Vermont on the calendar gets me excited. 22 days and counting. I can't wait.
Alright, I need to get ready for work. I'm going to try and remember what day it is today (Tuesday? Wednesday!) and not fall asleep in my car, or at the counter, or in the shoe room. Wish me luck.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
You're in the arms of your angel. May you find some comfort here.
I've been thinking about you a lot this week. I couldn't figure out why. I know it's almost been a year, but I wasn't prepared yet.
Today is your birthday. I'd almost forgotten, but I like to think that maybe these sleepless nights have been your way of reminding me. Happy 14th birthday, sweet boy. I'm sorry that I hadn't been around for the last few, or that I let you grow so much without noticing. I started this blog with an entry about you way back in January. I remembered the time you fought tooth and nail to have me let you jump off the balcony only to have me tell you no. You convinced me, instead, to let you two slide down your stairs and out the door into the snow on sleds made of pillows. You weren't afraid of anything.
Thinking about this reminds me of the time you two wanted me to play goalie in your street hockey game. I put on your too-small pads and let you take shots at me. I ended up bruised and slightly more alert, while you two literally fell on the ground laughing. This leads into the many times you two would trick me into "hanging out" with the dead deer hanging in your Dad's garage. Do you remember the cookie dough? I can't recall how many times we got sick from it, but it was too many. We could never figure out the perfect dough to milk ratio.
I remember you being so little that you were afraid to go under water in the river behind your house. I'd take you out every day, hold you in my arms, and we'd dunk together until you finally got used to it. By the end of that summer you were jumping off the end of the dock with nothing but your "swimmies" to keep you afloat.
I remember when you were just a baby and I tripped over a chair at Linda's and we fell. I ended up bruising my tailbone pretty badly as I twisted to make sure you didn't get hurt. You didn't cry. I almost did.
I spent so much time with you throughout the years that you were more like a little brother to me than some kid I babysat. I remember giving up several night with friends to come and watch you two. Not just for the money, but because you were my favorite. That part never changed.
There's a kid in Gavin's class named Christian and he looks just like you. The last time I was "parent" helper, he'd lost his two front teeth and so when he said his name it sounded like "Chrithchan" rather than "Christian". He's my favorite, too. And one of Gav's best friends. Sometimes it's hard to look at him, the resemblance is so obvious. But he reminds me of how awesome you were, and that, my little boy, is almost enough.
So. Happy birthday. I hope that wherever you are, you're playing video games, and knowing that everyone here misses you so much. And that cookie dough will never be the same without you.
Today is your birthday. I'd almost forgotten, but I like to think that maybe these sleepless nights have been your way of reminding me. Happy 14th birthday, sweet boy. I'm sorry that I hadn't been around for the last few, or that I let you grow so much without noticing. I started this blog with an entry about you way back in January. I remembered the time you fought tooth and nail to have me let you jump off the balcony only to have me tell you no. You convinced me, instead, to let you two slide down your stairs and out the door into the snow on sleds made of pillows. You weren't afraid of anything.
Thinking about this reminds me of the time you two wanted me to play goalie in your street hockey game. I put on your too-small pads and let you take shots at me. I ended up bruised and slightly more alert, while you two literally fell on the ground laughing. This leads into the many times you two would trick me into "hanging out" with the dead deer hanging in your Dad's garage. Do you remember the cookie dough? I can't recall how many times we got sick from it, but it was too many. We could never figure out the perfect dough to milk ratio.
I remember you being so little that you were afraid to go under water in the river behind your house. I'd take you out every day, hold you in my arms, and we'd dunk together until you finally got used to it. By the end of that summer you were jumping off the end of the dock with nothing but your "swimmies" to keep you afloat.
I remember when you were just a baby and I tripped over a chair at Linda's and we fell. I ended up bruising my tailbone pretty badly as I twisted to make sure you didn't get hurt. You didn't cry. I almost did.
I spent so much time with you throughout the years that you were more like a little brother to me than some kid I babysat. I remember giving up several night with friends to come and watch you two. Not just for the money, but because you were my favorite. That part never changed.
There's a kid in Gavin's class named Christian and he looks just like you. The last time I was "parent" helper, he'd lost his two front teeth and so when he said his name it sounded like "Chrithchan" rather than "Christian". He's my favorite, too. And one of Gav's best friends. Sometimes it's hard to look at him, the resemblance is so obvious. But he reminds me of how awesome you were, and that, my little boy, is almost enough.
So. Happy birthday. I hope that wherever you are, you're playing video games, and knowing that everyone here misses you so much. And that cookie dough will never be the same without you.
Ramblings of an insomniac.
Okay. I'm tired. We all get that. I know that not everyone out there sleeps often or well. But let me just paint you a little picture: Sunday night I worked until 6:30, and because it was raining so hard Julia ended up staying the night. We watched "The Wizard of Oz" and "Goonies" until about midnight and then went to bed. I fell asleep somewhere around 4am, only to wake up to my alarm at eight and hit snooze. This, of course, meant that I overslept, as I did not actually get up until 10:10. And, I'm sure you all heard about last Friday and the conditioner incident. While I'm thankful for the extra sheen to my hair, I need rest. I'm cranky most of the time from simply working as much as I do. When I finally have a day off on 10/11, I will have worked for 21 days straight. I know, it could be worse, but it could be better also. I get excited when, like today, I only have to go in from 3-9.
I don't know what it is about this month and sleeping. We were getting along so well. My life has a lot of areas of stress that are constantly evolving, but I think I do a pretty good job of just turning it all off most of the time. I guess when I finally lay down, it all comes rushing in and that's why it takes me hours to unwind. Blech. Vicious circle.
Insomnia has pretty much consumed my life. Other than that, I've been working on saving money for Vermont (MAC counter, here I come!) and changing up my diet. Since I finally consider myself a non-smoker, my health has come into the spotlight a bit more. I've always been able to eat what I want and not exercise and be thin. Well, I'll never be thin, let's be honest. My ass has an area code of it's own. But comfortable. Since quitting, though, I've gained another seven or so pounds and I just can't be where I'm at. If I can't be comfortable with telling all of you, then I definitely can't be comfortable with waking up to it everyday. My new diet is not trendy or fancy, but simply includes eating a small piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast (because I hate eating before 1pm), a healthy low-carb lunch with as much protein and veggies as possible, and a smaller dinner. Really, I just need to evaluate my daily choices. So I've started a food journal which I used to think was cheesy, but now I understand it's effectiveness. When you have your day's previous choices right in front of you, it's easier to figure out what you should have next. I still don't really have time to exercise, which is both an excuse and a truth: my days are already 9-13 hours long. If I were to get up any earlier, they would hover around the 17 hour mark and I just think one day I'd fall asleep in my car and drive off the road. So. The key to all of this is sleep. I love two of my three jobs, and I love keeping busy. 17 hour days would be cake if I could sleep for the other seven. If any of you have any tried-and-true sleep methods, you know where to find me.
Alright, now I'm tired about talking about being tired and I've got a million things to do before three because my alarm went off at eight and again, I ignored it and slept until eleven. FML.
I don't know what it is about this month and sleeping. We were getting along so well. My life has a lot of areas of stress that are constantly evolving, but I think I do a pretty good job of just turning it all off most of the time. I guess when I finally lay down, it all comes rushing in and that's why it takes me hours to unwind. Blech. Vicious circle.
Insomnia has pretty much consumed my life. Other than that, I've been working on saving money for Vermont (MAC counter, here I come!) and changing up my diet. Since I finally consider myself a non-smoker, my health has come into the spotlight a bit more. I've always been able to eat what I want and not exercise and be thin. Well, I'll never be thin, let's be honest. My ass has an area code of it's own. But comfortable. Since quitting, though, I've gained another seven or so pounds and I just can't be where I'm at. If I can't be comfortable with telling all of you, then I definitely can't be comfortable with waking up to it everyday. My new diet is not trendy or fancy, but simply includes eating a small piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast (because I hate eating before 1pm), a healthy low-carb lunch with as much protein and veggies as possible, and a smaller dinner. Really, I just need to evaluate my daily choices. So I've started a food journal which I used to think was cheesy, but now I understand it's effectiveness. When you have your day's previous choices right in front of you, it's easier to figure out what you should have next. I still don't really have time to exercise, which is both an excuse and a truth: my days are already 9-13 hours long. If I were to get up any earlier, they would hover around the 17 hour mark and I just think one day I'd fall asleep in my car and drive off the road. So. The key to all of this is sleep. I love two of my three jobs, and I love keeping busy. 17 hour days would be cake if I could sleep for the other seven. If any of you have any tried-and-true sleep methods, you know where to find me.
Alright, now I'm tired about talking about being tired and I've got a million things to do before three because my alarm went off at eight and again, I ignored it and slept until eleven. FML.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Be thankful.
I just finished watching The Soloist and all I can feel is happiness. The movie itself is more than inspiring, but it got me thinking about all of the little things in life that I ignore day to day; all of the small things that make, and keep, me happy. As my mental list continued, I began to feel luckier. All of this anger and bitterness washed away, only to reveal a bright, shiny new surface. In it's reflection I see the old me and she looks great. I've missed her, of course, but she reminds me that all is not lost. Nothing ever is.
We celebrated Joe's birthday last night. 27 years. It was just me, Sam, Corey and Joe, listening to music from the 70s and 80s, drinking and playing pool. Our air band gave a good run and we ended the night around 2. I felt a little under the weather this morning, but nothing regrettable. Now, I'm sitting here, enjoying a glass of wine and my new "Be Thankful" candle, and the phrase resonates; I'm so thankful. There are things I long for, certainly, but I've got time. What's the rush? In this moment, exactly where I am, I'm happy.
I thought that this time of year would bring out the worst in me but it's been so much more than that. I don't know what it is about Fall but we agree with each other. I am an Earth sign, after all. Maybe I'll write more later. Right now I've got so much more appreciating to do.
We celebrated Joe's birthday last night. 27 years. It was just me, Sam, Corey and Joe, listening to music from the 70s and 80s, drinking and playing pool. Our air band gave a good run and we ended the night around 2. I felt a little under the weather this morning, but nothing regrettable. Now, I'm sitting here, enjoying a glass of wine and my new "Be Thankful" candle, and the phrase resonates; I'm so thankful. There are things I long for, certainly, but I've got time. What's the rush? In this moment, exactly where I am, I'm happy.
I thought that this time of year would bring out the worst in me but it's been so much more than that. I don't know what it is about Fall but we agree with each other. I am an Earth sign, after all. Maybe I'll write more later. Right now I've got so much more appreciating to do.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Venti Non-Fat Caramel Macchiato
My Harvest candle is burning and I recently discovered a new flavor of coffee creamer that has essentially brought Starbucks into my kitchen. Life is great. Unfortunately, Ben and Micaela did NOT get married this past weekend (much to my disappointment), but I think that it's coming in the future. This thought keeps me warm at night and helps me to know that where I'm at is exactly where I'm supposed to be. A year ago, if you'd asked me how I'd feel about Ben marrying the girl he not-so-carefully screwed around with, I'd have died; stopped breathing completely and passed out from a broken heart. But 371 days later, I feel like the Tin Man in Wizard of Oz. I've got a fresh set of priorities and a brand new heart.
Thank God everything happened the way it did. When Ben started calling me at the end of July, I figured I'd been dragged back in for another year of drama. I was reliving all of my old feelings for him, wavering between love and hate, while fantasizing about the day we'd be together again. It was a joke. I lost myself for a little bit there, and even I'm ashamed to admit it. But it's okay now, I've found my footing again, and the "anniversary" of our break-up came and went without a tear. I dreamt about him last night, but I can't recall in what context the dream took place. He's easier to forget now that I don't hear his voice.
The countdown to Vermont continues at exactly 31 days, and I can't wait. Ornament debut at Hallmark is the 9th-11th of October, and because I'm a huge dork, I'm excited about this as well. I always feel like September is hardest for me because I really want to start celebrating Christmas then, but by October, it doesn't seem as insane. Bring on the tinsel.
Alright, I must go. There's much cleaning to be done (even though our cleaning lady is, at this exact moment, finishing up for the week), and I still have to work at 3. I haven't counted to see when my next day off will be because I'm afraid of the answer. The only upside to this is that these next two weeks have a good mixture of long and short days. Sometimes only working a four hour shift seems like a day off because it's such cake. What has my life come to?
Thank God everything happened the way it did. When Ben started calling me at the end of July, I figured I'd been dragged back in for another year of drama. I was reliving all of my old feelings for him, wavering between love and hate, while fantasizing about the day we'd be together again. It was a joke. I lost myself for a little bit there, and even I'm ashamed to admit it. But it's okay now, I've found my footing again, and the "anniversary" of our break-up came and went without a tear. I dreamt about him last night, but I can't recall in what context the dream took place. He's easier to forget now that I don't hear his voice.
The countdown to Vermont continues at exactly 31 days, and I can't wait. Ornament debut at Hallmark is the 9th-11th of October, and because I'm a huge dork, I'm excited about this as well. I always feel like September is hardest for me because I really want to start celebrating Christmas then, but by October, it doesn't seem as insane. Bring on the tinsel.
Alright, I must go. There's much cleaning to be done (even though our cleaning lady is, at this exact moment, finishing up for the week), and I still have to work at 3. I haven't counted to see when my next day off will be because I'm afraid of the answer. The only upside to this is that these next two weeks have a good mixture of long and short days. Sometimes only working a four hour shift seems like a day off because it's such cake. What has my life come to?
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
I never thought that I'd love anyone so much.
I wanted to update this last night, but one glass of wine after a 12.5 hour day is a sure-fire way to fall asleep. I feel refreshed this morning after a solid eight hours of rest, and am wondering if I should make most of my weeks like this week. The combination of two days off, three 12-hours, and two short day seems to work in my favor. I had a bit of a sore throat for most of yesterday, but it seems to be gone now. Keeping my fingers crossed for no strep this season.
It's been a year. Sometime this week, I can't remember the exact date, which just tells you how much has changed. I know that I've got a journal lying around here that was my savior after everything happened. I found it a few weeks ago, and while reading it broke my heart, it also made me realize how thankful I am that everything happened the way it did. I was talking to my boss last night about why I work so much, why I don't want a boyfriend, and why I don't see one at all in my future. She asked whether or not I thought the divorce was the reason, or whether it was Ben. I've never compared the two side by side like that, but of course, it must be both. Events change a person, every little thing that happens to you on a daily basis makes you who you are, and so you can't ignore any of it when it comes to deciding why you feel the way you feel.
There is a bit of responsibility that needs to be taken, and that's why I've wanted to write about regrets lately. When I say that Ben is to "blame" for this, I have to blame myself as well. I didn't give it my all, my best shot, and I regret that. I do. Because I'll never know whether or not I could have saved us. I'm sorry that when you picked me up at the airport in London, I didn't drop my bags and run to you. I wanted to. I was tired, and scared, and the sight of you holding coffee and flowers at the gate melted my heart. Still, I walked. I'm sorry that I picked a fight with you in the square in Venice, or that I smoked and talked to that guy you hated. I swear I wasn't flirting with him, but I know you took it as one of many stabs. I'm sorry that I ever kissed Josh, or let him kiss me, or told you about it. I thought I was doing the right thing; I tout the virtues of honesty so much that I didn't think there was any other way. I see now though that that was the beginning of the end for us. I should've just let it be what it was: a kiss between friends because we both missed others. I didn't want him, I never did. I went home and cried all night while Heather stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. But I knew better. I knew you wouldn't forgive me. I am, after all, the person who knows you best.
It will take a very special person to love me the way that you loved me. It wasn't perfect, and there are things I wish for in my next boyfriend that you simply couldn't give me. It would be so much easier if I could just pick traits out of a catalog: honesty, sense of humor, good cook, great smile. I know that I simply haven't found my match yet, and that he's out there. Who really knows if I'll ever find him. If you see him, give him my number.
Gavin's birthday is tomorrow. And Jack Jack can almost say my name. These are the things that matter. These are the things that make my heart swell. So. I survived. I can breathe without you. I guess you were right, too. Sometimes you just have to let go of the fear, close your eyes, and jump. You never would've let me fall.
It's been a year. Sometime this week, I can't remember the exact date, which just tells you how much has changed. I know that I've got a journal lying around here that was my savior after everything happened. I found it a few weeks ago, and while reading it broke my heart, it also made me realize how thankful I am that everything happened the way it did. I was talking to my boss last night about why I work so much, why I don't want a boyfriend, and why I don't see one at all in my future. She asked whether or not I thought the divorce was the reason, or whether it was Ben. I've never compared the two side by side like that, but of course, it must be both. Events change a person, every little thing that happens to you on a daily basis makes you who you are, and so you can't ignore any of it when it comes to deciding why you feel the way you feel.
There is a bit of responsibility that needs to be taken, and that's why I've wanted to write about regrets lately. When I say that Ben is to "blame" for this, I have to blame myself as well. I didn't give it my all, my best shot, and I regret that. I do. Because I'll never know whether or not I could have saved us. I'm sorry that when you picked me up at the airport in London, I didn't drop my bags and run to you. I wanted to. I was tired, and scared, and the sight of you holding coffee and flowers at the gate melted my heart. Still, I walked. I'm sorry that I picked a fight with you in the square in Venice, or that I smoked and talked to that guy you hated. I swear I wasn't flirting with him, but I know you took it as one of many stabs. I'm sorry that I ever kissed Josh, or let him kiss me, or told you about it. I thought I was doing the right thing; I tout the virtues of honesty so much that I didn't think there was any other way. I see now though that that was the beginning of the end for us. I should've just let it be what it was: a kiss between friends because we both missed others. I didn't want him, I never did. I went home and cried all night while Heather stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. But I knew better. I knew you wouldn't forgive me. I am, after all, the person who knows you best.
It will take a very special person to love me the way that you loved me. It wasn't perfect, and there are things I wish for in my next boyfriend that you simply couldn't give me. It would be so much easier if I could just pick traits out of a catalog: honesty, sense of humor, good cook, great smile. I know that I simply haven't found my match yet, and that he's out there. Who really knows if I'll ever find him. If you see him, give him my number.
Gavin's birthday is tomorrow. And Jack Jack can almost say my name. These are the things that matter. These are the things that make my heart swell. So. I survived. I can breathe without you. I guess you were right, too. Sometimes you just have to let go of the fear, close your eyes, and jump. You never would've let me fall.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Shades of gray.
I've been thinking about writing this very specific blog entry, one about regrets. I've got to work up to it, and I thought I was ready this morning, but I have a feeling it's going to take a lot of out of me and I'm just in such a great mood today. I've only been sleeping, on average, every other night and this week has seemed endless. I started this new book about a mother-daughter duo both lost at their respective times in life; the mother, about to turn 50, can't seem to let go of the girl she was, and the daughter, my age, can't reconcile a broken heart and the desire to not be so afraid of the world. I think because I'm so much like the daughter, reading the book every day is a little bit like reading an old journal. Terrifying.
But I'm very happy. This week has been a rollercoaster, and I'm glad to say that I stepped off okay. The "day" is coming up here, in four days, and I'm not sure how I'll feel. I actually forgot that this time last year I was with him. It's weird for me to think that I haven't seen him in so long; I guarantee that, had you asked either of us, we would never have said that we'd even have gone six months without seeing each other. It's surreal, but in remembering how tortured I was last year, I'm thankful that 365 days later I'm able to breathe on my own, broken heart or not. I never thought I'd make it without him.
Which brings me to my attachment issues and how extreme they are. I either love you, in which case I want to see you every day, or I tolerate you and can't stand to spend more than 24 hours pretending to listen. Phase 1 is reserved for family and a select group of friends. Phase 2 is everyone else. That's how quickly I make a decision about people. There is no in between for me, no gray area. I either like you or I don't. If I don't like you, then I don't spend time with you. My mother says it's a LaCourse trait; this ability to turn things on and off so efficiently, to see things clearly and without muss. What that really means is that I lack the feelings to make decisions based on emotion, which translates to "I'm emotionally unavailable." Whatever. My problem with all of this is... who taught me to be different? My mother is so overly emotional sometimes that it makes me gag and want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. My father, the person I look up to most, was emotionally stunted for years, until his marriage ended in disaster. Only now, years later, has he become my best friend, and the man who cries at EVERYTHING.
I feel things, you know. Even if I don't always show it. I definitely have a bigger capacity for emotions when it comes to animals rather than humans. But that seems simple and logical to me as well. Humans make mistakes, they're inherently bad. Animals are innocent in all sense of the word. You know that Dawn commercial? Where they clean up animals who are covered in oil from a spill? I cry. Every time. I'm not exaggerating. And last night, I happened to turn to Animal Planet (big mistake) where there was a show about the ASPCA, and rescuing animals from neglect. I watched for maybe a minute, was already disgusted by what I was hearing, and had to change it. And that's the problem. Humans are bad by choice. Any animal that's bad is bad because someone made it that way. I suppose this is a bit of a digression. Apparently I needed to validate the fact that I do show emotions (even if only to commercials and tv shows).
I'm happy, though. I think I've figured out a way to beat this thing, and Jules will be here tonight. I have my first day off in forever on Monday and I've had appointments scheduled since May: hair, nails, eyebrows, the works. Sam and I are going to take a trip to Canton in search of a Pumpkin Spice latte and new purses, and then I'm having dinner with Mom and Jules. The Vermont trip is getting ever-closer, and I'm still waiting for the fortune cookie that will tell me I need to move to Saratoga with Sarah. So I haven't lost hope. I guess I never did. I just couldn't find it for awhile.
But I'm very happy. This week has been a rollercoaster, and I'm glad to say that I stepped off okay. The "day" is coming up here, in four days, and I'm not sure how I'll feel. I actually forgot that this time last year I was with him. It's weird for me to think that I haven't seen him in so long; I guarantee that, had you asked either of us, we would never have said that we'd even have gone six months without seeing each other. It's surreal, but in remembering how tortured I was last year, I'm thankful that 365 days later I'm able to breathe on my own, broken heart or not. I never thought I'd make it without him.
Which brings me to my attachment issues and how extreme they are. I either love you, in which case I want to see you every day, or I tolerate you and can't stand to spend more than 24 hours pretending to listen. Phase 1 is reserved for family and a select group of friends. Phase 2 is everyone else. That's how quickly I make a decision about people. There is no in between for me, no gray area. I either like you or I don't. If I don't like you, then I don't spend time with you. My mother says it's a LaCourse trait; this ability to turn things on and off so efficiently, to see things clearly and without muss. What that really means is that I lack the feelings to make decisions based on emotion, which translates to "I'm emotionally unavailable." Whatever. My problem with all of this is... who taught me to be different? My mother is so overly emotional sometimes that it makes me gag and want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. My father, the person I look up to most, was emotionally stunted for years, until his marriage ended in disaster. Only now, years later, has he become my best friend, and the man who cries at EVERYTHING.
I feel things, you know. Even if I don't always show it. I definitely have a bigger capacity for emotions when it comes to animals rather than humans. But that seems simple and logical to me as well. Humans make mistakes, they're inherently bad. Animals are innocent in all sense of the word. You know that Dawn commercial? Where they clean up animals who are covered in oil from a spill? I cry. Every time. I'm not exaggerating. And last night, I happened to turn to Animal Planet (big mistake) where there was a show about the ASPCA, and rescuing animals from neglect. I watched for maybe a minute, was already disgusted by what I was hearing, and had to change it. And that's the problem. Humans are bad by choice. Any animal that's bad is bad because someone made it that way. I suppose this is a bit of a digression. Apparently I needed to validate the fact that I do show emotions (even if only to commercials and tv shows).
I'm happy, though. I think I've figured out a way to beat this thing, and Jules will be here tonight. I have my first day off in forever on Monday and I've had appointments scheduled since May: hair, nails, eyebrows, the works. Sam and I are going to take a trip to Canton in search of a Pumpkin Spice latte and new purses, and then I'm having dinner with Mom and Jules. The Vermont trip is getting ever-closer, and I'm still waiting for the fortune cookie that will tell me I need to move to Saratoga with Sarah. So I haven't lost hope. I guess I never did. I just couldn't find it for awhile.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Behind these hazel eyes.
I'm not even sure I want to write, but I feel as though I should. I've been working so much lately that most of the time I'm too exhausted to do anything when I get home but crawl into bed. I feel refreshed for the first time in two weeks because I was able to sleep in 'til 11 today. The little excitements, right?
Seif and I haven't spoken since his little comment about me being too much drama. I don't buy it, and I don't particularly care, since I think I'm probably the least dramatic 23 year old I know. My life is quite predictable, actually. Go to work, come home, hang out with my family, repeat. There's very little that happens out of the ordinary. It bugs me that he used an excuse like that, but then again, I guess it's been determined that I'm not a great judge of character.
I've been a bit lonely lately, but nothing major. Every now and then it's just this little nagging feeling. Most of the time I'm too busy to do anything but ignore it, but sometimes, when I'm alone at night reading, I think about how nice it would be to have someone next to me. It's a bit of a catch-22 for me, though. I have the distinct feeling that if I were in a relationship, I'd feel trapped. I'm sort of a handful when it comes to love because I want the best of it all and I'm not totally convinced it's out there. I'm not big on compromise (shocking).
I love being back at the bookstore because it inspires so much in me. I truly love everyone I work with and their personalities bring out something different in me everyday. I've always had this dream of opening up a coffee shop/bookstore where people could just sit and read and enjoy some java. I don't know the first thing about running a business, but I do know there is nothing better in this world than the written word and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Other than all of this, I've been trying to plan some college trips for Jules so we can get some visits done before the snow starts coming down, which is hard with three jobs and no time. I'm still working on the end of September, so we'll see. I'd really love to see Les and Whit so I can hear about what's going on in their lives (read: you two could start your own blogs so I could stalk you in return). Then, of course, the yearly trip to Vermont with all the women in my family is coming up at the end of October, and Dad's 50th birthday is two weeks into November. So much to do, so little time.
On that note, I'm going to enjoy the delicious iced coffee that was waiting for me when I woke up, read a little bit, and then head into work. I don't even care that I don't have a day off for another nine days. The sun is shining, Jules is here, and I finally got more than 5 hours of sleep. Life is good.
Seif and I haven't spoken since his little comment about me being too much drama. I don't buy it, and I don't particularly care, since I think I'm probably the least dramatic 23 year old I know. My life is quite predictable, actually. Go to work, come home, hang out with my family, repeat. There's very little that happens out of the ordinary. It bugs me that he used an excuse like that, but then again, I guess it's been determined that I'm not a great judge of character.
I've been a bit lonely lately, but nothing major. Every now and then it's just this little nagging feeling. Most of the time I'm too busy to do anything but ignore it, but sometimes, when I'm alone at night reading, I think about how nice it would be to have someone next to me. It's a bit of a catch-22 for me, though. I have the distinct feeling that if I were in a relationship, I'd feel trapped. I'm sort of a handful when it comes to love because I want the best of it all and I'm not totally convinced it's out there. I'm not big on compromise (shocking).
I love being back at the bookstore because it inspires so much in me. I truly love everyone I work with and their personalities bring out something different in me everyday. I've always had this dream of opening up a coffee shop/bookstore where people could just sit and read and enjoy some java. I don't know the first thing about running a business, but I do know there is nothing better in this world than the written word and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Other than all of this, I've been trying to plan some college trips for Jules so we can get some visits done before the snow starts coming down, which is hard with three jobs and no time. I'm still working on the end of September, so we'll see. I'd really love to see Les and Whit so I can hear about what's going on in their lives (read: you two could start your own blogs so I could stalk you in return). Then, of course, the yearly trip to Vermont with all the women in my family is coming up at the end of October, and Dad's 50th birthday is two weeks into November. So much to do, so little time.
On that note, I'm going to enjoy the delicious iced coffee that was waiting for me when I woke up, read a little bit, and then head into work. I don't even care that I don't have a day off for another nine days. The sun is shining, Jules is here, and I finally got more than 5 hours of sleep. Life is good.
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