Christmas Miracles Do Happen.

This year was definitely one of my favorite Christmases so far.  My loving boyfriend, Yoshi, surprised me by conspiring with my family and coming up from Modesto to be with us.  He showed up about 9:30 PM on Christmas Eve and I was so shocked I couldn't even move when he came in the door.

I love that he loves doing things like that; things that surprise me and catch me completely off-guard.

My dad made breakfast-in-bed for Yoshi, my mom, and me on Christmas morning.  Then we got up and put together the foil Angry Birds Puzzle that my family gave him for Christmas.  It was only like 100 pieces, but foil puzzles are freaking hard!  We had to change the lights in the room so that they were dim enough for me to be able to differentiate colors in the puzzle.  Not that I was the only one working on the puzzle.  Yoshi did like five pieces.

My parents gave me some really comfy pajama bottoms for Christmas, so I wore them all day.  It was wonderful.

Coyote came over for dinner, which was great because I never get to see her anymore.  And we did another puzzle (this time a Thomas Kinkade painting of a lighthouse; Thomas Kinkade, painter of yellow) while Yoshi and my brother played a racing game and tried to fix the heater in my car.  Yoshi and my dad actually got it working (I have to have a part replaced for it to completely work right) the next day while I was at the office.

So, I got to see one of my oldest best friends, one of my most favorite people in the world came to see me, and I got to be with my family.  Who could ask for more than that?

Oh, and also...





My Christmas present from Yoshi.  Yes, it's from Disneyland.  There's a long story and a lot of meaning behind it.  But this is my promise ring from one of the two people who most complete me in this world-- and I've been wearing a ring from Oose for a while now.

Sometimes I am struck by how completely lucky I am.

I thought I had experienced love before, and it really was love, but it was nothing compared to this.  I think when you find the person you are really meant to be with everything just clicks and you just know.  That's how it's been with Yoshi.  Even when we first met it was as though being around him made everything else in the world make sense and I was just at-ease with it.

We both had to get over fear of intimacy that was left over from past relationships, as well as other random fears that probably stemmed from those unhealthy relationships.  When I let go of everything else and allowed him into my heart, it was as though my heart became so full it was bursting at the seams.  I think that's how it was for both of us.

He carries me when I can't carry myself and I do the same for him.  Mostly, though, we just walk beside each other as equals.  That's the way it should be.

Baby, It's Cold Outside.

This morning I was thinking about the differences between my parents' house and mine.  I love not living with them but being able to come visit them and stay with them.  And I miss them a lot.  I wish I was closer.

Anyway, differences.  None are necessarily bad or good; these are mostly just observations.

For instance, my parents have a woodstove and a furnace.  We just have a furnace.  Our thermostat is set at 65 (which I'm pretty sure drives Toad crazy).  My dad gets cold, so my parents' house is more like 70 degrees or higher (which is funny because I freeze at their house in the summer; it's like he has to feel the opposite of the weather outside while indoors).  Last night I had to turn the heater off and sleep without my comforter to be comfortable.  Granted, I was in flannel pajamas, but it's been really cold outside here and I thought I could get away with wearing them.  Apparently not.

My house has a fair amount of cat hair because I have two cats and Hunter hasn't been shaved since August, so he's all fluffy and pretty.  My parents' house only has a little cat hair now because they have one indoor/outdoor cat and one cat that is outdoor only.  However, since my dog became their dog when I left for school, there is Lab hair everywhere.  Even when he's not shedding that badly.  I wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been wearing black socks the day I got here.  And if it wasn't all up in my yarn all the time.  I constantly have to pick it out of my projects.  I guess I could just make a bunch of doggie sweaters.  Then I wouldn't have to pick it out.  But he's so cute I can't really say this is a negative thing.

My house has insane water pressure and tons of hot water because we had our hot water heater replaced last year.  My parents' house has medium water pressure and medium hot water.  They also have hard water, so after being home for one day my hands were insanely winter-dry.

My parents have a gigantic tv with satellite and a blue-ray player.  At my house I have a laptop.  My internet is probably twice as fast, so it's easier to watch movies on my laptop than it is here anyway, but having the giant tv is so convenient when I'm doing crafty things.  I feel like I have to pay more attention or I lose more details on my laptop.

I feel as though I have difficulty finding things to eat at my parents' house because they don't really keep a lot of food around anymore.  Or maybe it's just not food that I like or is easy to make.  I stock foods I use and they stock foods they use.  Therefore I end up eating a lot of crap when I come home to visit for more than a day.  Delicious, salty, sugary crap.

I think after I finish with my undergraduate degrees I would like to try to find a job somewhere that I can be a two-ish hour drive from them.  I miss them and and a four-plus hour drive isn't always possible, but a two hour drive I could manage more easily.  I also want them to be able to see their grandkids often.  We'll see how that works out.

Overall, I'm really happy to be home for winter break.  I think I'm having the opposite reaction of most people when they go away to school.  I was very un-homesick at first and the longer I'm away the harder it is on me.

That's All Over.

This semester was pretty not great for me.

I am currently (once again) poor as fuck and trying to figure out how I can manage to get a job next semester.  I'm still having issues with my back from being rear-ended in October and going to the chiropractor three times a week for the last nearly two months really threw off my schedule.

Most importantly, I am trying to decide whether or not I want to continue being a musician.  I used to love it so much.  Now it's just tedious.  It's not really boring, but it doesn't hold my interest because it's not enjoyable anymore.  It's just difficult.

Obviously I still love singing because that is something I've always enjoyed.  But that's part of my problem.  I want it to be fun and something I enjoy and it's not.  It's just work and a hell of a lot of me feeling inadequate.  All semester there has been no redemption.  The most I enjoyed myself was goofing off or at unofficial gigs.

I've decided to complete my business major instead of keeping it a minor and I won't be pursuing my Master's degree in music.  There's no point in continuing that far in a field of study that just makes me feel like shit.

I would actually like to nix my music degree altogether despite the fact that I would lose my scholarship, but I am more than halfway finished with it.  Unless I can find an alternative route (like getting a BA instead of a BM) I feel I have to stick with it.  The worst part about that is having to do my recitals because at this point I really, really don't want to do them and it's holding me back from performing well.

All this is exceptionally frustrating and stressful.  I'm surprised at how well I held up this semester, actually.


Now, on to other things...

In ways not related to school or money I've been really happy this semester.

I have wonderful friends, my family is awesome (I realized how difficult it would be to be far away from them for a long time; moving for school was hard enough), and I have the BEST boyfriend.  I'm not joking.

I met this amazing man who actually understands me and who I love so completely it almost hurts.  Things were rough at first because we were both afraid and standoffish.  But after we allowed things to progress naturally we realized how perfect we are for each other.

He is kind and tender with me, but also kind of a cocky asshole.  He isn't always predictable but he is comfortable in his own skin and he is comfortable with who I am.  He's constantly trying to show me off.  Constantly creating insanely romantic moments and ruining them (which I just love).  Constantly finding ways to make me feel like his queen.  And constantly surprising me.

I've never had someone make me cry from sheer happiness or excitement before.  But he does.

Also, when I told him that I looked in his Facebook on his computer he told me that he appreciated me telling him, but I didn't need to worry about it because he has nothing to hide from me and he never will.  I can look through his stuff all I want and it will never matter.


I'm glad that I talked to Sterling last semester and this summer because those conversations ultimately helped me see how not right for me he was.  I have not once regretted my decision to stop talking to him and I really think I did it when I was meant to.  I wish him happiness and success.  But I also wish not to be a part of it.

Finding the person who is right for you really helps clarify how wrong every single other person on the planet is for you.

Cats, Man. Cats.

Let me just start this out by saying I am poor.  Like, very poor.  Literally college student poor.

Last Friday I woke up to the sound of my carpet being scratched in an area of my room my cats never scratch.  

I wasn't wearing my glasses, but I sat up to yell at Sammy, who was doing the scratching.  Then I saw he was trying to use the invisible litter that comes out of the carpet to cover up...  Something.

Something stinky.

So I put my glasses on, got paper towels, a bag, and some Lysol, and went to work.  All the while trying not to gag.  

Then I realized there was a liquid portion to the goop that could only be blood.  Lots o'blood.  Sammy had been acting pretty normally and I hadn't found blood in his stool before, but I could tell he still felt a little shitty.  So I found a vet in town and took him over.  

$88 later I was sent home with what I'm pretty sure is children's amoxicillin (because I had to take that as a kid and it looks and smells exactly the same as I remember) and something to make his tummy less bloated and gassy.  

Cats are expensive.  

I am now more poor.

But my kitten feels better.  So...  Worth it.

Does That Make Me Crazy?

Today I learned something important: my boyfriend needs to put a password lock on his computer.

Why he does not have one I don't know.  What I do know is that I am insane and lack self-control.

You see, he left his computer at my house and didn't have a chance to come back to get it tonight.  So I came upstairs at three AM and thought it would be fun to play with it (it's technically a tablet with keyboard attachment and I like the big touch screens; I can't help it).  But then I was all, "Oh, look!  He has a Facebook app on here!  Just clicking it won't be a terrible idea because he totally won't be signed in.  I meant, why would nothing be protected, just in case?  He leaves his shit everywhere all the time and never gets fraped.  It'll be fine!"

I was wrong.  On every single count (except the part where I said he leaves his shit everywhere; that was right).

No password.

My first mistake was not exiting the app immediately.  My second was deciding to take a "quick peek" at his messages.  You know, to see who he's been messaging.  Over the course of the last year.  With a vagina.  And pinpoint when he was talking to those sluts girls and how much he was talking to me at the time.

I am legitimately insane.  I know.

I managed to only look at one.  And it was the one whose name I wasn't familiar with, who he had messaged the most recently, and who I thought for some reason he was least likely to have fooled around with.

Now I have to figure out how to tell him all of this, as well as try not to be upset with him at all because it's not his fault I can't control myself and he really didn't do anything wrong.  Except not tell me when he hung out with her last.  Or mention her to me at all.  Not that he really tried to hide it, but he never mentioned one word about her existence and it's as if them hanging out could have not happened at all.

I realize I can trust him and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, but there is still a part of me (the crazy part) that is kind of looking for a reason to leave him.

He makes me too happy and that scares me.  It's like I think I don't deserve how good he is to me.

It's that same crazy part that wonders what else he could not be telling me.  What he's doing when I don't hear from him for six hours and he's not at work.

What he's going to do that will break my heart.

And I don't know how I can make that not happen and still be with him.  So I have to trust him.  But now I feel like I can't.  And it's my fault because I did something I knew the whole time I shouldn't have been doing.

Crap.

Here, Kitty Kitty.

I have two cats.

One is Hunter, my adorable and amazing four year-old orange angora/tabby mix.  The other is the newb; Sammy.  He is a 5-ish month old black shorthair.  Hunter is neutered.  Sammy is going to be neutered as soon as I figure out which vet I want to take him to.

Since he's indoor only and my other cat is also male, I'm not super concerned about his siring capabilities.  It's more that I am freaking sick of watching him clean his damn balls.  I feel like every time I look at him it's ball-cleaning time.  If these things were silver they would be so polished that they would blind you at the slightest hint of light or reflection.

Also, I never want to see his penis again.  Cat penises are weird and gross and should be kept put away at all times.

I feel bad for neutering him.  But it's not as if it will change his life that radically.  I'll just save him about sixteen hours of ball-cleaning each day.

Of my two cats, one likes to shit in places that are not his litter box when he gets upset with me.  For instance, this month's prime shitting grounds are apparently the nest my roommate likes to keep on the floor of the living room for napping.  Blankets wadded up on the floor are a guaranteed cat shit minefield in my house.

The other cat has issues with aim in the litter box.  Therefore, I go to clean it and not only does he hover the whole time so that he can make sure to get in the box as soon as I'm done and make a big stinky something to share with everyone in the house, but he also ends up getting it on the side of the box.  Without fail.  At least once every two days.  I just don't know what his butt is doing that high while he's pooping.

Once he was having spastic colon issues (I think) and he got it on the wall next to the litter box.  Seriously, aren't cats supposed to be more obsessive compulsive than that?  How does this happen?

I can't even put the lid on the litter box because for some ungodly reason Hunter cannot pee with the lid on the box.  Apparently all those walls make it difficult to perch with all four feet on the edge of the box and his tail helping him balance his butt over the litter.  Yet he is not the one who craps on the wall.

Cats are disturbing and make no sense.  But they are also soft and like to snuggle me after I fall asleep, so it kind of makes up for it.

Though, now that I'm thinking about it, they probably are just snuggling me to make sure I'm still alive.  They're just biding their time until I die and they can eat my face.




Now there are cats fighting in the middle of my complex.  My little soldiers are going to protect me from the windowsill.  Cat fight noises creep me out.

Empty Bed Syndrome.

I got everything almost ready to write a post and then couldn't find my headphones.  No iPod = no personal bubble in which to write.  I finally found some headphones (not my regular ones; I think they might be in my car) and now I've kind of forgotten the outline I had started in my head for this post.

Awesome.

 I went to a Halloween party Friday night.  It was the first party since March that I've attended without Oose, so that was weird.  I didn't particularly like going without her, but she was pretty sick and she had an important weekend ahead of her, so it was better that she didn't come.

Before it was even a little bit of an option for Oose to come (obviously prior to her illness) I had invited the Boy to come with me and he pretty much said no because he wasn't sure he could handle being around some of the people that would be there.  He ended up surprising me and coming anyway.

He must really like me or something.

The next day, in accordance with our traditional day-after-party custom, my household got up and went to brunch.  I almost didn't go because it was pretty evident that the Boy wasn't getting up for anything, but I decided to leave him in bed.  When I came back with beignets two hours later he was still asleep.  My other guests left and I was able to spend an entire afternoon snuggling and talking with him, which is something I've wanted for weeks.

On top of having a nearly perfect night, morning after, and afternoon, the weather outside was pretty much perfect.

After I spent the weekend of my last post freaking out a little bit, I was somehow able to talk to him about it.  When he sat me down everything just came pouring out and I realized I was never going to be able to hide anything from him.  I didn't feel any better that night, but when I woke up the next morning everything was different.  I was okay.

I realized it's good that I'll never be able to hide anything from him.  I never want to hide anything.  He makes me feel like I'm safe with him.

I'm in such a weird place of happiness and general contentment.  All these feelings are super foreign to me, but that's okay.

He's never mad at me, even when I'm two hours later than I said I would be.  He never makes me feel like a child.  He doesn't mind that I always want him to drive; in fact, I think he kind of likes that.  He wants me to spend time with my friends.  He respects me.  He teases me and loves that I tease him back.  He trusts me and I can trust him.

For now he is still my lover and one of my best friends.  And that's okay.  For now.

I am only mildly irritated that he decided to show up and get me all used to him right after I realized I was used to sleeping alone.  Sleeping alone super sucks once more.

On a different note, I've noticed lately that I'm not homesick, but I miss my family like crazy.  Part of the reason might be that I was really looking forward to them finally visiting me for my recital (they visited once together and it was in August so my brother and dad could work on my car) and my recital has officially been postponed until February.  Now I might not see them until Thanksgiving and that's hard.  In part just because I like spending time with them and in part because they might not come visit me.  There are a lot of things I've been waiting for over a year to share with my parents.

I know this is definitely not the case, but that almost makes me feel like they don't support me or they don't care as much about the portions of my life that don't relate directly to them.  Especially my dad.  I know my mom would visit, but she would want him to come with her.

It's just really frustrating.

I think a big part of my current feelings is the fact that my mom is so close to me and I feel like we've barely talked because she's been so busy.  I worry about her a lot.  Plus, I want to share how happy I am with her and I can't because I've barely talked to her in about a month.  I miss her as my friend.

I really need to work on writing more often.  It's already been two weeks since my last post...

Falling Away.

I love that my pillows smell like his cologne after he leaves.  I love that he makes me smile almost constantly. I love that I don't compare him to my ex incessantly.  And I love that, on the infrequent occasions that I do, he is always obviously the superior choice.

These things and so many more or why I have to take time every day to talk myself out of running away from him.

I haven't felt like this about someone in years.  If I am truly honest, I'm not sure I've felt this way about someone ever.  I've definitely never been this open and honest with a man.  I can easily talk to him about any of the things I talk to Oose about.

 And I am so fucking scared I can barely keep myself in check.

It's a cycle of paranoia, really.  I freak out, then I have to talk to him about it so I don't freak out anymore.  But the next day I freak out because I talked to him about it and I apparently can't handle having this much trust and intimacy with a man.  Not another person, because I have an incredible amount of both of those things with several friends, especially with Oose.  But specifically with a man.

A man I have feelings for and am afraid to really give myself to because there is no guarantee he won't hurt me.

I shouldn't have to try this hard not to sabotage things with someone I really want to be with.  I shouldn't have to force myself to relax about the fact that we've only been casually seeing each other for a month and I don't know how to tell him I don't want him to see anyone else.

Not that I think he actually is seeing someone else.

Again, paranoia.

I also have to figure out how to deal with the idea that I deserve someone this...  Wonderful.  I've spent years thinking I was going to end up with Sterling and just hoping he would treat me better, all the while knowing he never would.

It's much more difficult than I thought it would be to handle someone who isn't phased when I don't answer his texts for three hours or is totally cool with me having to put my studies first (always) and my friends first (sometimes).  Someone who just accepts me as a crazy, erratic, fickle dork and still likes me.  Someone who treats me well and that I'm still attracted to.  Someone Oose actually likes and approves of.

I think my subconscious thinks he's either not real or too good to be true and wants me to get out now before he really hurts me.  But I can't make myself run away, either.

So, I'll keep forcing myself to stay until I'm no longer afraid.  Or until my heart is completely broken.

You know, whatever happens first.

Waiting for Gonzo.

I spent this weekend in Santa Cruz.  I needed some quality time with my Oose.  And we did have an amazing weekend together.  Though, I did get a little too drunk last night and spent most of today and a chunk of last night paying for it.

Sometimes the only thing that will help me out of a hangover is McDonalds.  I don't know why that is.  It's kind of disgusting, but whatever.

It's nice to be home again, though.  I have things to study for and my kitties missed me.

For now it's back to the grindstone for me.  I have so much music to learn before the first week in October that it makes my head spin.  I can do it, but I need to devote more time than I did this last week to it.  So, I will.

And that is my update for now.  I am sleepy.

Sleepy and very happy.

Forward... Finally.

I made the decision to stop talking to Bambi again a little over a week ago.

Over the course of the summer, particularly since I arrived in Alaska, I had been becoming pretty disenchanted with the concept of even being friends with him.  This was even more complicated by the fact that he would call me when he'd been drinking and get all affectionate with me.  I was trying to just be friends and he was calling me from his girlfriend's parents' home phone (so she wouldn't catch him talking to me on his cell phone that she paid for) telling me how he still loved me and just knew that I was his forever, that he was trying to ready things so he could move out on his own and I should come visit him.  He even tried to get me to come spend a day with him in the bay area.  He'd pay for my gas and I could drive over on his day off and we could hang out and go see movies or something.

I just got sick and tired of feeling as though he was being two-faced and lying to me.  I was tired of him telling me what he wanted and how he planned to do it, then standing by as he did nothing and not being able to say anything about it because he'd get pissed off at me if I did and spend a few days punishing me by not talking to me.

There is no reason for me to fight for something I don't even want.  So I stopped.

I stopped letting him try to fight me and manipulate me.  Gradually, I stopped caring.  Until I finally I told him all the things I'd been saving up that I knew he didn't want to hear.  He said we should probably stop talking and I agreed.  Then I told him more things I knew he wouldn't want to hear, told him not to try to talk to me when his girlfriend gets pissed and starts treating him like shit again, and logged out of the email account we'd been writing each other in, never to return.

I won't even go back in to delete it.

The funny thing is that I really haven't thought about it much since I did it.  Granted, I've been kind of busy.  But that's how my life has been for the last year.  And he is no longer a part of my life or who I am.  I've been thinking this would hurt a lot more than it did.  I barely noticed.

It's odd to think that I once defined myself by him and how he felt about me.  I'm glad I no longer do.  I'm a much stronger person than I ever was with him and there's no way he could handle who I am now.  I don't care to backtrack into who I used to be to make someone as worthless as him care about me.

I'm happier without him in my life at all than I am with him in it.  He is stressful for no reason and he really doesn't do me any good.  I'd rather hold out for someone who makes me feel good consistently; someone who is as good for me as I am for him.  I've finally come to terms with the fact that Sterling will never be good for me. My future is brighter without him in it.

He made me grow up and he made me feel loved, but he never made me happy.  And I'm okay with that.  I'm okay with moving on.

And so I am.

I'm Awake... Really.

I decided to throw a partly impromptu party Saturday night.  I made the official decision to have a party Thursday night and invited people Friday night.

Overall, it went quite well.  My Jell-O shots and butterbeer were all well-received and nothing got too chaotic.  It was just chaotic enough.

My favorite part was that Oose surprised me by showing up Saturday afternoon (she was supposed to have to work all weekend but ended up having it off).  My favorite part about every time I see Oose is that I get to see Oose.

This time we had a really heartfelt talk that I didn't realize needed to happen, but did.  I realized that she and I feel the same way about each other and that is important and powerful knowledge to have.  She is my most favorite person in the world.  Well...  It could be a tie between her and my mom.  But that's still saying a lot about Oose.

The best thing about having a party is how the house looks after you clean up the next day.  Our house hasn't looked this good in a while.  I decided when I got back home from summer break that I'm going to try to clean both bathrooms every weekend.  I'm sticking with it so far, but it's only been two weeks.  The bathrooms look great, though!

I have yet to clean my room once.

I have about a billion more things to talk about, but I'm very tired from hardly sleeping all weekend and I still have to finish a writing assignment for my sociology class.  I'm avoiding it right now because it's tedious and I really don't want to do it.  But I have to or I won't pass the class.  My goal is to get straight A's this semester.

I'll try to write more soon.

Hello, again.

It's been a while.  Let's catch up, yes?

So, I finished out my time in Alaska with generally good spirits.  I met some lovely people who I am hoping/trying to keep in touch with.  I got a level of drunk that I like to call "unfortunate" after our show.  I was unfortunately drunk.  Therefore the next day I was unfortunately hungover.  As in, afraid to get out of bed hungover.

I took a nap and woke up around 6:30 PM, then the roomie and I decided to walk down the the Tesoro gas station at the bottom of the hill the UAF is located on for some hangover snacks.  For me, not her.  She was fine.  Dammit.

Then we stayed up until three watching True Blood (I had only just gotten her to start on the first season) and I packed then read until about 4:45, when I called a cab and got my butt over to the airport for my 6:30 AM flight.  I fell asleep for an hour and a half or so sometime around 8, then I slept in the car on the way to my parents' house from Sacramento for maybe an hour.  My parents rock, by the way, and both came to pick me up from the airport.

The two weeks that followed were sort of a blur of working and trying to spend time with the family.  Before I knew it, it was time to come back home.  And I missed home.

I was supposed to take a trip to Santa Cruz over the weekend to see my Oose but my car decided to shit all over that idea and is now doing some weird things my dad is going to come check out this weekend. (Did I mention my family is awesome?)  I'm pretty much stuck only driving around town and to school because I'm too freaked out to get on the freeway.  And with the way my car is behaving I don't think he wants to be on the freeway anyway.

Since I couldn't make it to her, Oose came to me and we had a great weekend together.  It worked out perfectly because I had a birthday party to attend Saturday night and she really wanted to go to a party Saturday night.

I was so distracted by how much I loved having her here that I'm still not all the way unpacked.  I got all my clothes into my closet, but the rest of my shit is still in the middle of my bedroom floor.

School starts tomorrow, so I guess I'd better get that cleaning taken care of tonight.  I'd like to start the semester in an organized fashion.  I'm ready and not ready for classes to begin.  I'm really enjoying just sitting around relaxing, but I miss that feeling of productivity.

All in all, I'm glad to be back home.  I'm ready for school to start.  And my cat may be more settled in than I am.

By the way, I'll post some Alaska pictures soon.  Ish.

Frustration.

This weekend I saw The Dark Knight Rises (and it was fucking amazing), took an awesome nap, and went on a couple hikes.  The Alaskan wilderness is beautiful.

However, I've been living in a two-bed dorm room with a shared bathroom for the last week.  My ankles are covered in mosquito bites.  I'm tired as hell because I can't get normal sleep between the 24-construction and the itty twin bed in which I'm sleeping.

Above all, I'm fed up with my summer program.  It's not at all worth the money that I had to spend to do it and I'm really frustrated.  I either don't have anything to do or I'm expected to follow directions that were either not given clearly or not given at all.  If I don't I get yelled at.  If I do sometimes I get shoved out of the way.

I've been here a week and I'm ready to go back home already.

I just have to get through this to prove to myself that I can.  If not, why bother performing?

Dorm Life.

I'm currently finishing day three of the seventeen I'll be here in Alaska.  So far it's pretty much amazing.

The weather has been cool but not overly humid.  We've already had a good mix of generally nice weather with some light rain.

I arrived before 1:30 AM and as our flight from Seattle worked its way along the Pacific edge of Canada I actually got to watch the sun rise again sometime around midnight from my window seat.  I took what pictures I could through the airplane window, so I'll have to post them when I am able.

Four of the five other students from my university arrived within the same few hours as me and, after checking into our dorm rooms, none of us were tired.  The thrill of being in the 49th state, mixed with the ability to safely wander through a perfectly well-lit town at 2:30 in the morning, made us restless.

Also, the airline lost my luggage and I had to go buy a toothbrush.  We were also all very hungry, so we got a taxi driver to take the five of us through the Taco Bell drive-through, which was pretty much the only thing open.

Noon is still the brightest time of day and sometime between midnight and two or three in the morning is darkest.  Which is still not actually dark; it's more like twilight.  The sun pretty much stays just under the horizon all "night".  And in the daytime it doesn't get as high in the sky as it does in California.

I'm sharing a double room in the dormitories with one of my very close friends and things are working out really well with that.  We share the floor with the other students from our school and a couple others from the same program.  There's one big bathroom (eight or so toilets and about six showers) on the floor.  I think it's technically the ladies' room during the year, but we're college students and we just don't give a shit.  So we share and it seems to work.  There are a couple older women on the floor who were surprised the first few times they saw the young guys wandering around in there after a shower, but I think they're recovering well.

We're within walking distance to most things.  I'm using walking distance in sort of a loose sense here.  Fred Meyer, for instance, is the best place for us to go get groceries and other supplies.  It is also almost exactly two miles from the dorms.  So it's a good thing I brought good walking shoes.  My legs have been sore for what seems like forever.  There are also a lot of hills and such around the university here.  I just figure I need the exercise, so nearly every time someone goes into town (basically, down the hill from the school) I find myself offering to join them.  It's easier to comprehend walking when you're somewhere that isn't 105 degrees outside, I promise.


My favorite things about Alaska thus far:

1--It is absolutely gorgeous.  Like even more beautiful than "Into The Wild" led me to believe, and that movie made everything seem pretty awesome.  It's ridiculous and almost annoying.  I'm glad I got to experience it for the first time not only during summer, but right in the middle of July when it's warmest and everything is at its most lush.

2--These are some of the nicest people I've ever met in my entire life.  All of them.  There's only one person I've encountered in the last three days who wasn't very friendly (he's the cashier for the liquor counter in Fred Meyer, which, by the way, has an AMAZING liquor section) and even he is still nice.  Everyone is polite and helpful and courteous.

We talked to a man outside one of the bars on Saturday night (bars here don't close until 3:30 on the weekend) about things to do on the cheap in the area and Sunday we ran into him in Fred Meyer.  Not only did he recognize us, but he actively sought us out to say hello and see how we were doing.  He said people move away and move back because they miss the other people who live here and the general attitude so much.

I could almost live here.  If I ever get sick of California, it's either here or Seattle.

Or Europe.

But that's my "in case of wealthiness" plan.

On A Jet Plane.

In 23 hours I will be getting on my first plane in the last decade to fly to Seattle, and from Seattle to Fairbanks.  In approximately 28 hours I will be in Alaska.  

I'm pretty much crapping myself with excitement right now.  

On the other hand, my music is barely learned, I have yet to pack, and I am starting to feel inadequate because I'm so anxious.  So, we'll see how this goes.  

My boss recommended I buy copious amounts of liquor on the plane.  To him I say: noted, sir.  Noted.

"Gift" Horse.

I've been waiting three days for my period to start.  When it finally did I just thought I had to poop, so I was somehow surprised.  I hate it when that happens.

I started thinking, though, that if I find menstruating as annoying as I do, how annoying and uncomfortable is it for others?  More specifically, pre-op F to M transgenders.

If I identified as a male I would probably try to ignore my lady bits as much as possible.  Therefore, Mother Nature's monthly gift would kind of be a slap in the face.  For up to a week every month you get to deal with the mess from the little reminder that you are indeed one of the most magnificent things on the Earth: a woman.

So, that probably sucks.

I think bleeding is probably at least an equally devastating slap in the face to women trying to become mothers.  Women on all kinds of hormones and fertility drugs who are putting their psyche, body, and (probably) family through hell all for the slightest chance that they might become one step closer to conceiving a child.  Women who will try anything, even fucking upside down and walking on their hands for the next hour.

Or even women who have managed to conceive only for their bodies to reject the fetus.

Women who cry every time those first drops of blood line their undergarments.

I guess I should consider myself lucky that my biggest worry right now is being late for no reason.

Douche Theory.

Do people still douche?  Is that still a thing?

I've always been under the impression that you shouldn't do it and I just figured it was one of those things like shaving; once you start doing it you have to keep doing it or the symptoms that made you start doing it in the first place keep coming back worse than they started out.  Like how you start out with the fine blonde hair on your legs and shaving makes it seem all prickly and dark and weird.

I keep seeing advertisements for a vaginal pH balancing cream and one of the times the ad recommended use was after douching.  So...  Maybe if you don't douche you don't have to spend the money on the pH balancing cream?  Or the douche?

Just a thought.

Maybe I'm just super minimalist when it comes to my lady parts.

Less fuss, less problems.

If nothing weird goes in, then nothing weird comes out.

Control.

I'm coming back.


Four days in the sun and at the lake with Oose and I am ready.  Tired both physically and emotionally.  But ready nevertheless.

Clarity.

I am going to take a short break from blogging.

Bambi's girlfriend trying to contact me and control me the same way she tries to control him.  I'm getting sick of finding messages from her in every public forum in which I take part.  I'm also sick of her controlling him.

To be honest, I'm sick of them both.  Their general existences.  Her controlling him.  Him knowing I have the passwords to his everything, but not bothering to change them.  Both of them just intentionally trying to torture me and me not knowing what (if anything) I want to do about it.

At this point I'm feeling pretty manipulated and I really think that doing something about it is the only way I can break that control they currently have over me.

Basically, I'm just going over and over the same things in my head while I try to figure things out.  And that means that I will write about it.  I don't want that to be the primary focus of my blog.  I don't want Bambi to be a focus of my blog anymore.  My blog is about my life and he's not a part of it anymore.

So, I'm taking a short break until I've dealt with this.

Be back soon.

Severing Ties.

I had a hard enough time accepting Bambi back into my life when I thought I would never hear from him again.

Now I have to deal with his girlfriend thinking it's okay for her to contact me in anger, telling me to leave him alone.

I'm sick of this drama that I didn't invite into my life.  I'm sick of him calling me, telling me he still loves me and  misses me.  I'm sick of her stalking me and reading all his emails.  I don't want any of it.

I thought this was over after he got mad at me and stopped talking for a little while.  I thought it was over after I told him that if I didn't hear from him by my birthday I never wanted to hear from him again.

I thought I had left him behind when I left Redding, because that's what he wanted.  I was finally getting over him.

I'm sick of this bullshit.

I'm done with this drama.  I have too much else to worry about than two people who have no reason or right to be involved in my life.  So I won't worry about them.

Just Thinking

You know what's really stupid?

When your ex's "new" girlfriend is so threatened by you that she stalks your online 'social life'.  Then bitches about the things that she sees to your ex so much that he calls you and asks you to hide everything you can.  Because her obsession and irritation (over nothing) is pissing him off.

You'd think that her commenting on my blog and 'accidentally' "friend requesting" me would make me want to lock everything up just so she couldn't bother me.  But I don't really care.  I don't feel threatened by her.  

If I was I would try to look at her shit the way she does mine.  I would hack into his Facebook and change things to piss her off.  Or I would privatize everything I have online.  

But I just don't care.  

It's too bad, really.  

She has to live in the knowledge that she loves him and wants to be with him while he will always be in love with me.  She has to live with the fact that, no matter how hard she tries, she will never live up to me in his eyes.  In all reality, she will just never live up to me.  

Maybe they deserve each other.  Both (mentally) children who feed of each other's hatred and anger.  It's just sad that, despite that fact, their relationship will never have half the passion ours did because he will never be capable of caring about anyone else the way he cared about me.  And still cares about me.

And the harder she tries to keep him away from me, the less it will work.

In other news, I got mostly A's this semester.  I worked pretty hard for them.  School is out for summer.  I am going back to Redding soon.  Then, assuming I can get the money to do so, I'm going to Alaska for two weeks in July for my summer program.  I'm really excited, even though planes make me nervous.  I'm also almost done reading It, which I had to take a three-month hiatus from in order to focus on school.  Then I have ten or so more books to read this summer, as well as a couple jobs to do and probably another to acquire.  

For now, I'm just focusing on decompression, reading, cleaning, and the currently amazing Central California weather.

You know, if the breeze didn't smell like bovine feces.

Blerg.

You know how some people pretty much make careers of being professional college students?

Yeah.  I am not one of those people.

I miss working so much.

And this is not one of those instances where college kids decide they don't want to be in school anymore, so they set out into the real world to get a job and while working realize they miss school, so they go back.  And then once they're in school they miss working.  Continue this vicious cycle to degree-town.

I'm not one of those.  I didn't miss school when I was working.  I liked working.  Then I went back to school because I missed performing and it was sort of a means to an end.  I also knew I needed a degree to do anything worthwhile with my future.  But I never, ever missed school.

Now that I'm in school I hate it even more.  I fantasize about my old office in Redding.  I had an amazing spring break because I worked for most of it.  That's when I feel happy and useful.

The problem is that I feel happy when I have a good performance, too.  Though, it has been a while since that has happened.

This semester was awful.  This semester raped, pillaged, and molested its way through my entire being.  I have 15 hours left until I'm done for three months and I couldn't be happier.  If I could quit now, I would.  That's how much I don't like school right now.

Not that I've ever liked it.

At this point I'm going to turn in my final projects tomorrow, come home, and sleep for three days.

Madness.

Yesterday was my birthday.

I decided that even though it was in the middle of finals I couldn't just not do something like I usually do.  That would be too depressing.  So I invited a few people over last night to hang out, figuring we'd play charades or just sit around and talk.

That's kind of what happened.

I went to the store and when I got back I found Oose walking into my complex from the street.  I wasn't supposed to see her until Thursday.  From that point on I didn't care how many people showed up or what happened, I was just happy to see my sister again.

Thanks to Oose and my amazing roommate, Toto, there was a pretty good amount of liquor.  Actually, surveying the damage today, there's liquor with origins completely unknown.

By the time other people arrived, Oose and I had both already had a couple of drinks.

At some point more than half (actually, probably close to all of) the music fraternity from my university showed up.  From there things are a little blurry.  I remember pretty much everything, but I only know what was going on in the room I currently occupied.  I guess that sort of the way with parties.  Even parties that aren't supposed to be parties.

All the signs that show people had a good time at your house were present when I got up this morning:

I found at least two articles of clothing that don't belong to anyone still in the house.
Cups and plates occupied pretty much every surface possible.  Even my piano.
My bedroom floor is covered with playing cards.
One empty beer bottle sat inexplicably in the middle of my back patio next to an almost empty (but open) bag of chips.
I wasn't sure who was going to be on my couch when I woke.

I know these things (based on evidence and some memories):

At some point someone left to get McDonalds french fries.
I managed to blow out all the candles on my cake (Boston cream pie) in one breath (because being a singer rocks).
I had an allergic reaction to something in the grass in my backyard and ended up with small cuts all over my knees that became itchy and swollen, but hurt like hell if I actually scratch them.
I wore a tutu and sometime around 11:30 I decided to put on my pink wig and wear that for a while.
Oose dressed to match me because we do that.
And every single cup in our cupboard was used.  Even the mugs.



Above everything else I know this:  I have the best friends in the world.

Keep Pushing.

So, firstly, I decided I wanted another place to write short stories and whatnot.  Any stories I write in the future will be posted here.

Secondly, this week blows.  This semester has been bad enough.  But this week is not going as fabulously as I'd like it to. Unfortunately, it's not going to get better until after next Wednesday.  Which means I may be drunk next Wednesday night.

Unfortunately, my birthday is this weekend.  I don't think I'm even going to get to celebrate it.  That upsets me because 25 is kind of a big deal to me.  On the other hand, I'm pretty much going to shut down for it, so maybe it's better I don't get to celebrate until after I'm done with all the work for this semester anyway.

Tomorrow I have my voice juries.  Then I have a huge final, as well as a paper due, Friday.  Monday I have a piano final (that I'm not really ready for) and another paper due.  After that I have another huge final due Wednesday and the binder of things I'm supposed to have taken notes on all semester.

I have all these things to take care of and less than a week to do it all in.  That's bad enough.  But on top of it I have the fact that I have negative money right now looming over my head.

I'm doing everything I can not to shut down.

At this point I'm just barely succeeding.

My mom keeps telling me I have to focus on the things I have to finish for school because I need to get good grades and I need to do everything I can to keep my scholarship.

I'm just so scared.  And I no longer have Bambi to help me through anything.  Not that he was always a ton of help when I really needed him.  But he did know how to calm me down.  Somehow.

Now I have to calm myself down.  That's rough.  I've known for a while that I can be a really strong woman.  I just didn't know how strong I would have to be for myself.  And by the way, it really sucks.  I don't want to have to be the strong, independent, lone woman.  It gets old.  Like, daily.  I just have to keep it up because I don't have any other options.

Maybe that's how strength in a person works.  You keep being strong because that's what you have to do to survive.  I always thought I would shut down when it got this bad.  But I'm realizing that I have just enough push to make it to the end, and then I can collapse because I allow myself to.

It's just like jogging.  You know, if I actually jogged.  Well, more than twice every year or so.

Let's face it.  Nachos are better than jogging, anyway.

Mother's Day.

I miss my mom.  So.  Much.

I called and talk to her for the better part of 20 minutes this evening.  But it's still not the same.

I'll be 25 in six days and I still need my mom to let my lay my head in her lap and cry while she plays with my hair.

She is quite possibly my best friend in the world.  She and Oose are the only ones who even remotely understand what I've gone through and what I'm still feeling.

On top of all the other bullshit, I'm completely overwhelmed with school.  I have ten days left and I'm honestly not sure how I'm going to manage it.  I know I'll come out of next week feeling completely relieved and fine, but for now I just don't know how to handle this stress.  And I have no choice but to keep moving forward.  Unfortunately, giving up is not an option and I can't just ask someone else to handle school for me.  So, for now, I kind of want to die in a freak accident so I don't have to face this week.

Then there's the issue of money for the summer.  I just...  Don't know what I'm going to do.

It's funny.  The first time in years I have a real direction and purpose and am doing what I really want to do, I feel completely lost.  Lost and alone.

Running on Empty.

One more week.

I can do this.

Breathe.  Just breathe.

Mozart's Requiem is now over.  I have so much homework to complete.  So many tests to study for.  My voice jury to have all music perfect for.  A giant piano test.  Finals looming days away.  So many things I'm just not yet quite prepared for.

And my heart is still a little sad.

I will hopefully be making a little money in June, but I don't know how I'm going to pay my bills before then.  I mentioned it to my dad last night and he freaked out, so that didn't help.  I didn't even ask him for help with anything.  Just told him I was worried about it when he asked what I was doing.

I'm sure he thinks I'm just spending all my money on drugs and liquor, since that's what college is all about.  I think I've had a Mai Tai and a beer since Spring Break.  I don't have time to party with my friends.  I'm too busy being a student.  His misunderstanding of what that entails is extremely frustrating to me.

Sigh.

Time for sleep.  I have a full day of studying ahead of me tomorrow.

On Heartbreak.

Oose:  "We love men whose lives would have been better with us in them.  And even though we know it would have dragged us down it's still heartbreaking."

Bunny:  "God, that's so painfully accurate."

Oose:  "It's counter-intuitive for us not to want to make the lives of people we love better."

Bunny:  "That's true.  We're both really good at loving people.  It's a blessing and a curse."

Oose:  "Right now it's a curse.  Otherwise it's a blessing."

Oose:  "I just set my wifi as "Russian spy surveillance.  I'm waiting for the old folks to freak out."

Bunny:  *Chokes while laughing*


If there is a higher power, it gave us each other so that no matter what happened we would never be alone when the men in our lives disappointed us.  I am thankful I have you every single day.

Update.

I've hit a wall.

I'm a rough, unreal, manic mess.

I think I need to cry and I can't even force myself into it for more than a minute.  I can't tell if this is preferable to the night a couple of months ago when I couldn't stop crying.  Probably not.  I might feel better if I could cry myself to sleep.  But I can't.

I have so much to do and so little time to do it: three papers, 6 songs memorized, two performances and five rehearsals of Mozart's Requiem, a test, a powerpoint presentation/research project, learn all the music for my piano class, and re-work some of the material in the piece I wrote.

I'm tired.  I'm cranky.  I'm lonely.  And I don't like school any more than I did a decade ago; I just have to pay for it now.

Plus I have to worry about how I'm going to pay my bills and pay the ~$2000 for my summer program still.

Sigh.  I don't know if I can handle this.  But not handling it isn't an option.


Finally, I haven't written about Bambi in a while.  I'm trying not to because I realize reading about it over and over again gets tedious.  But that is definitely a contributing factor to my current state of mental un-health.  I also don't really have time to write for pleasure for at least two more weeks.  Maybe I'll be able to deal with everything then.

To sum up that situation I will say this: I wrote a letter to him telling him how I really felt about pretty much everything.  He reacted very negatively.  We are now no longer talking.

My heart hurts because I am lonely and because I had hoped that one day I would stop losing him.  I had hoped that one day he would choose me over something.  But that day is never going to come and he will inevitably make me last priority.

My ego hurts because there was a part of me that thought he would always love me.  And that was a lie.  Pretty much everything about him was a lie.

Pain always seems to come for me when I can hardly handle the rest of my life, let alone bullshit emotions from some stupid situation involving a stupid guy.

Litany.

There are times when I read this poem that my heart hearts and I want to cry.  But then I don't.

I don't cry enough anymore.



litany


Tom, will you let me love you in your restaurant?
i will let you make me a sandwich of your
invention and i will eat it and i will call
it a Carolyn sandwich.  then you will kiss my lips
and taste the mayonnaise and
that is how you shall love me in my restaurant

Tom, will you come to my empty beige
apartment and help me set up my daybed?
yes, and i will put the screws in loosely so that
when we move on it, later
it will rock like a cradle and then you will know
you are my baby

Tom, I am sitting on my dirt bike on the deck.
Will you come out from the kitchen
and watch the people with me?
yes, and then we will race to your bedroom.
i will win and we will tangle up
on your comforter while the sweat rains from our
stomachs and foreheads.

Tom, the stars are sitting in tonight like gumball
gems in a little girl's
jewelry box.  Later can we walk to the duck pond?
yes, and we can even go the long way past the
jungle gym.  i will push you on
the swing, but promise me you'll hold tight.  if
you fall i might disappear.

Tom, can we make a baby together?  I want to be
a big pregnant woman with a
loved face and give you a squalling red daughter.
no, but i will come insided you adn you will be
my daughter

Tom, will you stay the night with me and sleep
so close that we are one person?
no, but i will lay down on your sheets and taste
you.  there will be feathers
of you on my tongue and then i will never
forget you

Tom, when we are in line at the convenience
store can I put my hands in your
back pockets and my lips and nose in your
baseball shirt and feel the crook
of your shoulder blade?
no, but later you can lay against me and almost
touch me and when i go i will
leave my shirt for you to sleep in so that always
at night you will be pressed
up against the thought of me

Tom, if I weep and want to wait until you need
me will you promise that someday
you will need me?
no, but i will sit in silence while you rage.  you
can knock the chairs down
any mountain.  i will always be the same and you
will always wait

Tom, will you climb on top of the dumpster and
steal the sun for me?  It's just
hanging there and I want it.
no, it will burn my fingers.  no one can have the
sun: its on loan from god.
but i will draw you a picture of it and send it to you
from richmond and then you
can smooth out the paper and you will have a
piece of me as well as the sun

Tom, its so hot here, and I think I'm being
born.  Will you come back from
Richmond and baptise me with sex and cool
water?
i will come back from richmond.  i will smooth
the damp spiky hairs from the
back of your wet neck and then i will lick the
salt off it.  then i will leave

Tom, Richmond is so far away.  How will I know
how you love me?
i have left you.  that is how you will know


Carolyn Creedon

The End is Near.

I have too much to do and too little time in which to do it in the next couple of weeks, so please don't expect too much from me.  My semester is over in three weeks and by then I have to have 3/4 of an opera memorized, as well as the repertoire for my lessons.  And a multitude of homework assignments for my other classes.

I'm just a little overwhelmed right now.

Don't mind me.  I'm just going to crawl over here in the corner and melt down for a while.


Also, I feel compelled to note that I haven't felt so desperately lonely in a long time.  I think it's because I've never been in a place where I've been this overwhelmed and over-stressed and not had someone to really lean on or hold me.  At this point I am a thread away from being completely incapacitated by everything I'm supposed to accomplish because I honestly don't know if I can manage it and never before have I not had someone (even if it's my mom) to hold me while I cry.  I'm sure my roommates would be understanding and really try to comfort me if I broke on one of their shoulders, but I don't feel comfortable showing that kind of weakness to them.

So I get to be holed-up in my room for the next few weeks.  I don't know if I can last that long.  But I know I have to.

Life just keeps trying to push me into being a stronger woman and I keep stumbling and feeling as though I'm going to fall flat on my face.  Then, somehow, I find myself in the clear sunshine and relief of the other side.

Let's hope that happens this time, too.

Hope.

The Heat.

This semester has been pretty stressful for me.

I had thought that spring break would be a welcome reprieve from the stresses of my scholastic life.  I was wrong.

At least I got to get out of town.  But I came back to school with only four weeks left until finals.  I'm feeling completely overwhelmed and unprepared.  I have so much to accomplish and I'm not ready for any of it yet.

As usual, I'm sure I'll survive.  I'm just not sure how.


Please excuse me while I go sacrifice another lamb to the gods of academia.

Detox.

I think being back in Shasta County, surrounded by snow-capped mountains and grass and trees, is helping to clear my mind.

Maybe it's not just that.

I'm at day four of working alone in my office.  I haven't had time all to myself in what seems like forever.  I feel as if I have several months worth of bullshit corrupting all of my thoughts and now the smoke in my mind is finally starting to clear.

In short, I needed spring break in a desperate sort of way.

This visit home has been pretty reaffirming.  I've really been questioning my choice to remain a music major this semester.  My university gave me a good scholarship to come sing for them and it really doesn't feel as though they've been trying to utilize me at all.  So even though they obviously think I have a lot of potential, I don't understand why the powers that be seem to have no interest in showing me off, so to speak.

I've felt as though I'm backtracking and not going anywhere because of the treatment I receive at school, despite the knowledge that I am improving (even if it is gradually).

But this visit home I had a good talk with some of my old teachers in the area about my musicianship and the progress I've made in the last year.

Then my dad made me sing for my grandma when we visited her in the assisted living facility yesterday.  And the people sitting out on the patio enjoyed it so much they asked me to sing again before I left.  The person who really put the pressure on me wasn't even an older person.  It was a guy probably in his early 40's with really terrible pain.

Having a random group of people respond that positively to my singing negated many of the negative thoughts I've been having lately.  That and the number of people in the last two or three days who have told me they have no doubt how successful I'll be.

That's the kind of thing that makes me want to work even harder.  It makes me want to build success upon success.  It makes me want to sing this to excruciating perfection.  Then shove it in my voice teacher's face and make him eat it.

Porky Pie.

For some reason I expected that going back to school full time would be a less sedentary lifestyle than working full time. 

Somehow, that does not seem to be the case. 

Toward the end of last semester I was drinking quite a bit (for me) because I had a very difficult time dealing with all the stresses of my personal, work, and scholastic life.  Nights I felt like I was drowning I would drink an entire bottle of Barefoot Muscato Spumante (one of the tastiest sparkling wines I've ever had) by myself.  Out of the bottle.  I mean, when you now you're going to drink the whole thing anway, fuck glasses. 

Glasses are for fancy people with luxuries like self-esteem and moderation.

Apparently somewhere between the bottles of wine and beer (beer especially during the 'end-of-the-semester' parties) and my Burger King comfort food stress diet, I gained weight.

Big surprise.

And my semester has been hectic enough that I haven't had as much time to go to the gym as I would like.  At least not in the convenient hours between 9 AM and 10 PM. 

I'm trying to be conscious of not overeating or eating really shitty comfort foods and not drinking a lot.  I've been doing pretty well.  The upside is that I am no longer gaining weight.  The downside is that loss is coming very slowly.

I just want to fit into my jeans from two years ago.  I'm hoping if I'm able to get caught up on some schoolwork over spring break I'll have enough time to hit the gym with some kind of frequency for the rest of the semester.  And if I work hard enough over the summer maybe I'll be comfortable with myself again by fall. 

I miss my jeans.

Also, I just realized that I haven't been in an actual relationship with someone for almost two years.  That's pretty much an eternity for me.  Not that I should have been with someone in any way, shape, or form.  It just makes me wonder...  Am I so much of a bitch or a dude that guys have no interest in me?  Or am I even more oblivious than I previously thought?

Oh!  And I recently discovered that the last guy I dated just got married.  To the girl he started seeing two weeks after we broke up.  So...  That's awkward.  For me.  I'm sure he's happy and I'm glad for that.  I mean, I definitely would not have wanted to marry him.  He was a great guy.  But I couldn't handle how different we were and his constant need to be every little thing I could have desired.  I need more of a challenge out of my relationships than that. 

I need real people.

More than that.  I need the jeans I was wearing then to fit my ass.

Ultimately Unprepared.

Yay!  It's another menstruation story!  Bleeding is fun and not painful at all!

Not.



I knew I was going to start my period sometime near the first of the month.  That's when it always is.  And my period doesn't change to accommodate the periods of those I spend a lot of time with.  It drags others in and enslaves them.

My period is like the Athena of menstruation.  My hormones will battle yours.  And they will fucking win, dammit!

I actually had a conversation about this with one of my good friends recently. 

Rita--  "Curse you and your stupid contagious period issues...  I've never had cramps or mood swings before I started hanging out with you all the time!  Lol."

Me--  "I'm sorry!  My period is probably forcing yours closer to it, too.  It does that."

Rita--  "You're like a giant star, sucking in everything nearby and forcing it to follow you."

Can't argue with that logic.


So, you would think that, armed with the knowledge of my own personal impending massacre, I would have had the foresight to pack more than five pads when I left home for my parents'.  I mean, I have a two-pack of Always overnights from Costco (that's seriously like 80 pads).  But no.  Five pads.  No tampons.  Not that I'm even sure I have tampons at home right now.

I really just can't be bothered to be on top of anything at this point in my semester.  I'm lucky I'm still remembering to wear fresh underwear each day.

At least, I think I am.  I'm not always super clear on which day it is.  Or how long I've been awake.

Anywho, five pads.  By the time I left my office today I had already used four.  Which meant I had a choice.  The choice between buying more at Wal-Mart or Target.

My deciding factor in this choice was actually the knowledge that Target rarely has more than two lanes open in Redding when I go to check out.  So I'd have to stand in line with my period kit for, like, six days.  Wal-Mart I would have to wade through a sea of people to get to the lady diaper aisle, but then I could just sneak back to the garden center and avoid at least four days of waiting in line.

So that's what I did.

The downside was that Wal-Mart was out of the specific tampons I use.  Apparently they're popular.  I could get unscented Playtex Gentle Glides in a pack of multiple sizes (but I'd never use the regular ones) or I could get a package of unscented regular sized ones (again, same problem), or I could get the super size (yay!) in fresh scent (boo!). 

I have a problem with the concept of shoving something that smells like baby powder up my cooch and letting it hang out in there for a couple hours.  Not only are my lady parts super sensitive, so I'm pretty sure I'd have some pretty undesirable results, but my vagina is also not stinky.  Thank you very much. 

When I can't get a product I like I usually end up buying several other brands/types and either finding another one I like or realizing I hate every other product that was even an inkling of an idea and that's why I use the one I do.  This is currently happening with mascara because the brand I used to use changed the formula to my favorite mascara ever and turned it into useless bullshit.  So now I can't find another mascara I like as much (and am not allergic to...  Thanks, Cover Girl...) but I also can't go back to my old one because it really doesn't exist anymore.

Since I can't get the tampons I like (at least not without them being soaked in a vat of Febreze), I got two new ones to try.  We'll see if I hate them by tomorrow night. 

I also got pantyliners.  Except that by the time I got to the pantyliners I was ready to come home and fall asleep over my steering wheel in the driveway, so I didn't pay enough attention and accidentally got scented ones.  At least they won't be inside me, I guess. 

I'm actually really irritated with myself that I was so tired.  I really desperately wanted to troll some unsuspecting male cashier.  As it was I just bought two boxes of tampons, some pads, pantyliners and a pair of pantyhose.  Had I been more awake I would have purchased a few additional items.  Namely delicious Easter chocolate (Easter has some of the very best holiday candies), Hanes old lady briefs, a package of baby wipes, some milk, and cat food.

God, that would have made me ridiculously happy.

I Can See Snow From Here.

I cannot wait until tomorrow at 5 PM. 

Why, you ask? 

Because, silly goose, that's when spring break officially starts for my university. 

Technically I guess I'm already on spring break because I came back to Redding Tuesday night.  But I'm working in my office, trying to help my church choir out with the music for Easter, writing a paper, and composing a piece of music.  Luckily I finished the paper and turned it in on time.  Now I just have to do the music thing.

At least I just have to employ 20th century composition techniques, rather than pull something out of my ass completely.  The hardest part is going to be choosing my text.  I'd love to use a Pablo Neruda or Octavio Paz poem, but I feel like it would be awkward to have a quartet sing something dirty.  Maybe I can just find something...  Pretty.

So, I'm home until, like, next Saturday. 

It's kinda nice.  I missed my dog.  I get to hang out with my parents.  I'm going to attempt to utilize their exercise equipment.  You know, if I can get the massage chair and plants out from the space the treadmill is supposed to fold down into. 

Seriously, if this shit has been a coat rack for the last six months why can I not have it?  I don't understand.

Modesto has been unseasonably warm and dry for the last...  Always.  Tuesday I couldn't wear my sweatshirt outside because it was too hot.  I got to Redding Tuesday night and it was raining.  Yesterday it rained.  It even hailed at my office.

I forgot my coat because I haven't had to wear it.  I brought one pair of heavy socks.  I left my Converse at home.  I didn't think I'd need them.  I almost packed flip-flops.

I.  Am.  An.  Idiot.

I overpacked and still manage to be freezing. 

Not only am I freezing right now, but by the time I acclimate it will be time for me to go home and then I'll roast there. 

Also, I have cramps.  Bad ones.  I can feel my body actively trying to expel my uterine lining.  And any extra blood that might have been hanging out with the intent of warming my limbs is now all smushed into my core trying to join the party raging upstairs of my cervix. 

I seriously need to figure out a way to get to bed before 2 AM.  Maybe being more awake will alleviate some of my bitch symptoms.  Or maybe it will just make me more articulate.

At least there's snow on the mountains this time.  There was none at Christmas.  Maybe I'll go for a drive with my dad this weekend.

Two Days... I Can Do That.

I'm heading home the day after tomorrow.  Thank God.

As if this semester hasn't been hard enough on me, there's that thing with Bambi.

It's like he can tell when I'm just about to let go, then he tries to contact me.  Maybe that really is what happens.  I can't know what his thought process is.

I responded to him initially because I was curious.  I wanted to know why he would even attempt to talk to me.  I wanted to know what was wrong with him that he thought I was going to fix.

At first he just missed me.  And he was not at all happy with his girlfriend.  He's still not.  He's constantly talking about leaving her and he never does. 

He'll say he's leaving her and not coming back, then realize that he hates staying with his mom, that he has no money and really no one else to stay with, and that she technically owes him money.  Then he'll go back. 

He's still an alcoholic.  He still sometimes lies to me for no reason, then tells me the truth later.  The scary part is that he seems to eventually come clean to me but he is in general more honest with me than the person he's dating. 

She doesn't want him to talk to me because she's afraid he's still in love with me and that I'm going to take him away.  If I were willing to support him the way that she does and had the funds to do so, he probably would leave her for me.  But that's not a path I'm really willing to go down. 

Because she hates me (and, to be fair, she has some good reasons to; she just doesn't know about them) he hides that he talks to me.  He texts me almost every day and lies to her about it.  He even still tells me he loves me. 

Apparently he has my number entered in his phone under the name of one of his old girlfriends.  Oddly enough, it's the girlfriend he used to bitch to about his feelings when we were together.  The more I think about it, the more aware I become of the fact that this is not a space I'm willing to fill in his life.

I do not give a rat's ass about his worthless lowlife piece of shit girlfriend.  I do not care about her family.  I do not care about their weed trade.  And I do not care about her stupid birds.

Birds are not real pets.  Birds can be adorable.  But it's like having a less cool flying version of a Velociraptor as a pet. 

I am sick of being the person he calls every time they fight.  Which is pretty often. 

I kept talking to him because I missed being friends with him.  He knows pretty much everything there is to know about me and he really understands me, which is a blessing and a curse.  He knows how to make me feel better when I'm upset and encourage me when I'm feeling discouraged.

But I just can't do this.  I shouldn't have to deal with this fucked up situation.  So I'm extricating myself from it.

There's your drama for the week.  You know I'm always good for it.


In other news, I finally took the time to clean and do all my laundry yesterday.  My room hasn't looked this good in months and I think it really is helping my mental state not to have so much mess around me.  Also, it rained yesterday.  I'm sure that helped as well. 

Lastly, I'm planning on doing a summer program (for voice) in Alaska this year.  I'm really excited about it.  I have to make a recording of a few songs to send to them for my audition, though.  I plan to upload them to soundcloud or something like that and just give them the links.  Perhaps I'll post them here, as well, and then those who are curious (mainly Patty) will have the opportunity to hear what I sound like.

This will also present me with the opportunity to go to Alaska.  And I am stoked about that.  You know, as long as I can acquire the money to actually do it.

I may have to rob some people.

Don't tell anyone.

Oops...

By the way, I went back to the ophthalmologist this morning.  My eye is doing much better. 


However, I'm pretty sure I was thinking of the name of a dentist in Redding.  My doctor's name here is Daniel.  Which is weird.  Because I feel like someone in his life will have called him Danny at some point.  And the thought of this guy being called Danny freaks me out.

Also today, I went to see Mirror, Mirror with Toto.  It was cute.  Some of the acting was just okay and there was a weird scene in the end that didn't belong in the movie at all.  Other than that, cute. 

And prior to leaving for the movie I discovered my cat had somehow managed to shit in the middle of my laundry pile.  I don't know what his problem is.  But he had better check himself before he wrecks himself.

Uh-Oh.

So, I was just trucking along for a while, minding my own business.  Then, all of the sudden, the depression truck came out of nowhere and broadsided me.

Awesome.

It could be the weather.  It's warm.  It's sunny.  I've hardly seen any rain in ten months.  That in and of itself is enough to make me not want to face any part of the day.  (It's like I have reverse seasonal mood disorder.)

It could be the stressful and moderately crappy year I've been having.

It could be that my personal life is just not getting any better.  And I've reached a point where I cannot deal with anymore tragedy or heartbreak.  I just can't.  The last two years have been more than enough.

It could be that, while I'm doing okay scholastically this semester, I am constantly fighting with myself over what I really want and whether or not I'm really capable of the things I fear I actually do want.

I have two days of classes left before I can leave for Redding.  Spring Break doesn't start till April 9 for me, but I'm leaving early.

I can't wait to go home.

I was okay for a while.  But I'm finally cracking. 

Maybe I Should Put Pants on Soon.

It's 4:30 on Sunday.  I have yet to shower.  Or put on pants.  I made some pretty bomb biscuits, though, so I think that cancels out all of the things I haven't done.

I lucked out with no classes Friday because of a festival at school that I wasn't involved in.  This means that Friday I didn't even get up until after five.  I slept till 11, then took a three-hour nap at around 1:30.

To sum up, I got a lot of sleeping done this weekend.  Which is good because I have not been doing enough sleeping for at least the last month.  Every time I think I'll have a chance to catch up, some other lame bullshit blows up and I have to spend six hours on homework.

Spring break seriously can't come soon enough.  And I am ecstatic that I get to go home to my parents' early.  Well, I have to for work.  But I really want to do that.

Monday I finally went to Student Health for the first time.  I had hoped that the first time I wandered in there would be for a cool reason like 'I need cheap birth control' (this would be awesome because it would mean I was getting sex).  Alas, no.

I had to make an appointment because the issues I've been having with my right eye for a while now sort of blew up over the weekend and I was scared enough to want to consult a doctor.

Student Health at my university is actually pretty great.  I was expecting some backwoods witch doctor attempting to cure my eye irritation by burning sage and henna, then prescribing drops of cannabis oil to put in it.

Not the case.

They checked me out and made an appointment with an ophthalmologist in town that they recommended.  The next day I was able to see the specialist, where I had the privilege of sitting in the waiting room for an hour while a Mexican toddler ran around in front of me and randomly stopped to stare at the beadwork on my moccasins.  (That's right.  I wear moccasins.  They are comfy.  And they go with a lot.  Plus they go with my dreamcatcher necklace.)  Apparently the colors are pretty.

By they time they called me back I had to pee so bad I almost couldn't sit down again after I'd stood up.  Luckily, going to the bathroom cut down on the time I spent waiting for the doctor to actually come look at my eye.

Sidenote-- Why do Japanese doctors always have names like Alfred Yen?  Is Batman really popular in Asian countries or something?

He looked into my eyeball for about two seconds before he told me what was wrong, then had some dude who had been wandering around in the hallway double-fisting eyedrops come dilate me.  I'm not sure why.

After my eyes finally dilated I realized that the shitty one looked practically normal and the healthy one looked scary.  Meaning I generally looked like an alien.




A sexy beast of an alien, right?

Doctor Alf said it was Iritis, prescribed some prednisone eyedrops for me to use once an hour, gave me blinders, and sent me on my way.

Also, I feel compelled to note that when I asked they told me I would be fine to drive after I was dilated as long as it was just around town.  Because apparently that makes a difference.  They probably should not have done that.

The eyedrops have helped a ton, so hopefully I'll be able to wear my contacts again soon.  Even though Alf doesn't recommend I wear contacts ever.  He also said that the Iritis was in no way related to my contact use.  And I have some awesome sunglasses I can't wear with glasses.  So I'm just going to be extra careful.

The drawbacks of the eyedrops are that they eventually leak through my sinuses and down the back of my throat.  Where I can taste them.  They have that lovely medicinal flavor of things that should not go in your mouth.

Also, they have been upsetting my stomach since I started using them.  That hasn't been fun for me at school.

Then again, I can see.  So I'm really not complaining.

I go back to Alf on Friday.  Hopefully my eye is cleared up of all redness and inflammation then.  And a few days after that I will be on my way to Redding for a much needed break from school.


Oh, by the way, here is a picture of me looking super hot (read: ridiculous) in an eyepatch.

Inner Turmoil.

I've been thinking a lot lately.  Always a dangerous pastime.  (Insert lines from Beauty and the Beast here.)

I'm really wondering why I'm a music major. 

I absolutely love being involved in this much music and talking about it all the time.  I enjoy being consumed by it. 

But lately I've been feeling as though I'm drowning in a sea of it.

For one thing, it's really, really hard to be a music major.  I have to attend and perform in over 15 concerts per semester.  As a singer, I have to memorize a lot of words in languages I don't actually speak.  But I also have to pronounce them correctly.

All of that would be fine if I had better work ethic. 

I feel as if I'm waiting for something to inspire me to be better about things, but nothing happens.  And I get discouraged because I want to be the best and it feels as though I can never make it into the top five.  For anything. 

What's the point in trying if I can't at least be one of the best?

That mentality is incredibly frustrating, but I don't know how I can shake it. 

I feel like no matter how hard I work on something I will still fuck it up.  It will never be perfect.  And I don't want to try and fail because I ultimately feel as though that is worse than not trying at all.

I don't know what to do.  I love music and I'm definitely not tired of it.  I'm just tired of failing at it.

Attack!

I am currently in the throes of the worst allergies I've ever had. 

Thank you, Modesto, you sadistic son-of-a-bitch. 

My right eye is red and irritated.  My entire face itches.  I'm not wearing any makeup.  My nose is running (part of that is the remainder of last weeks' cold, though). 

I took an allergy pill when I got up, so I hate to think of the tortures I'd be experiencing if I hadn't thought to do that. 

I am not pleased. 

Thoughts at Three on a Sunday Morning.

Toto's birthday was Thursday, so he had a celebration at our house tonight.  It was nice; a few of our friends stopped by.  We had some drinks and some food and general merriment. 

It's been another kind of odd week.  Guac decided that he really misses me.  And even made an effort to show up at Toto's party tonight.  He's also been texting me consistently again.  It's weird because I think I just don't know what to expect from him, nor do I understand what he really wants from me.  I think it's just friendship, but then he says something that throws me for a loop.

I finally got my butt in gear scholastically.  I've been reading It, but I took some time off reading this week to get translations written into my music and do some other things.  I have less than 400 pages left.  Still an excellent feeling.  I expected to be finished with it by now, so that's disappointing.  But I'll be done soon enough.

I had to cancel my wax appointment for tomorrow.  Maybe I'll try to schedule another one soon.  It's definitely waxing time.

Gray Days.

I've been feeling pretty down lately.

I can't pinpoint exactly what the problem is; it could just be PMS.  I think it's more that I'm lonely.

I'm sick of everything my roommates do.  Sick of their complaining.  Sick of complaining about them.  Sick of their dirty dishes.  Sick of their voices.  Sick of them leaving shit in my car.

Actually, I'm sick of my car being dirty.  And not remembering it's dirty until there's nothing I can do about it.

I'm sick of Bambi emailing me.  It's not that I didn't miss talking to him; it's hard to give up talking to the person who knows you best in the whole world.  It's that he has no business telling me he misses me and I'm the one when he doesn't see himself leaving his girlfriend (who hates me and he complains about all the time) anytime in the near future. 

I'm sick of thinking about Bambi.

I'm sick of gaining weight and not going to the gym when I know I should. 

I'm sick of pretending I'm okay.  But I have to pretend because I collapse when I don't. 

I'm sick of school. 

I'm sick of being bitchy and sick of things.

I just don't know what to do anymore.

Also, my allergies are awful here.  Like, awful.  I'm on allergy meds 24/7 and my eyes still itch.

Lonesome Dove. Or Bunny, As the Case May Be.

I'm having a study weekend.  Two of the three classes I have on Monday are having tests.  Then I have to go to my voice lesson. 

I have a vocal competition I'm auditioning for Saturday.  And a performance March 8 that I am nowhere near ready for. 

I'm still just not feeling very inspired this semester.  I think a big part of it is that I'm not really working now and I just don't feel like doing anything as a result.  Plus, about half of the 17 units of music classes I'm taking this semester are boring as fuck.  For instance, I am never going to have a reason to fully analyze the structures of a piece of music.  Even if I were great at music theory and felt compelled to find reasons to do it, I probably wouldn't. 

Approximately ten units are classes I'm truly interested in and one of those classes is a tremendous amount of work.  It might as well be a medical terminology course. 

I think above anything else is the fact that I am generally uninspired. 

Opera is always inspiring and I love the singing that I do, but beyond that I am finding no motivation.  I need something.  It just doesn't seem to be there.  And some days I just want to lie on the floor in my bedroom and sleep so I don't have to think about anything else. 

Most of all, I think the problem is this:  I am lonely.

I have wonderful roommates, family, friends, neighbors in my complex; people I can turn to for hugs, cuddling, food-sharing, conversations about feelings (which I have more than I used to, but still not a lot)-- pretty much anything I could possibly need another person for.  If I don't want to be alone, I don't have to be.  If I want to be with someone else for days or weeks on end, I can do it.  Without a problem.  But I'm still lonely.

I come home to men who love me every night.  I wake up and eat breakfast with them in the morning.  Well, I would if I ate breakfast.  They sit with me on the couch and we talk about our days, do our homework, sit on our computers and say nothing to each other, or even read.  Yesterday Churro and I read together on our respective couches (same book, actually, because he decided he wanted to read It by Stephen King since I was enjoying it so much; now I have to make sure I stay ahead so I can finish it first), then took a nap together.

It's just not the same.  It's so close it hurts and most days that's okay for me.  Just the last week or so I've been feeling as though I need more.

If I weren't so picky I would probably have it.  But I don't want to be with someone I know in my heart isn't right for me.

I've toyed on and off with the idea that I'm just depressed, even though I try to monitor myself for that lest it try to creep up on me again.  I've thought about going to student health on campus and checking into antidepressant options.  But I don't feel generally depressed.  Not like I ever have before, at least.  

So what do I do now?

Generally, I don't now.  Just keep moving forward seems like the best option.

Today, I will work on notes for my vocal pedagogy class.  I will eat another doughnut and probably more cheese.  I will practice for a little while.  I will read it and fall asleep thinking something is watching me from behind the clothes in my closet.

I will keep seeing his face, hearing his sad voice, in my dreams.  I will wake up in the funk created only by strange dreams I can't remember.

I will keep doing what I've been doing.  But hopefully better.