Tuesday, August 30, 2011


In the overall scheme of things, I do not regret moving back here, mainly because my family is here, my friends are here, I'm FROM here. I get to gorge of T. ravs and have "china man" again. I can say the word hoosier and have people get what I'm saying. When I was away I missed it, but in a very "One time at band camp" kind of way. When I would visit Mel, being a native St. Louisan herself, we would wax poetic about all the shit we missed but we both agreed we'd never move back.

I had made it pretty well known to my family and friends that moving back was not an option. We'll come see you at Christmas, and if there was money, during the summer to go floating, that was it. Friends and family had come to terms with it and were ok with it. I had removed the city from my heart and was ok in doing so. I had pretty much removed the nasally accent from my mouth and had looked forward to bigger and better things.

Then the shit hit the fan, and I came back with my tail between my legs and an Old Vienna chip on my shoulder. All that trash talking I did about never moving back here weighed heavily on me, and I felt like a failure. Basically, I came running home to my mama when the world kicked my ass and I couldn't handle it, and I kind of hated that about myself. That I couldn't hack it in the end.

Over the last 8 months, I've come to terms with being back in the Lou, but I still don't feel like "me" here and I kind of miss that old me. She was kind of a happenin' chick. I made a promise to myself that I would not allow being here to affect how I felt about me. That I would remain me no matter where I rested my head at night. I'm getting there. I realize I'm holding an unjust grudge against this drinking town with the baseball problem. I'm punishing the city for sins it did not commit.

I'll get over it eventually, because the other option, moving, is not one. Now that I am here, I am here for good. I don't think I could so easily give up my family and friends a 3rd time. No matter what I feel about being here, they all make it worth it. Even when that nasally accent creeps into my voice and I die a little on the inside.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Sharing is Caring

Somethng interesting happened to me the other night, something that took me quite by surprise.

I turned off the light, turned off the television, get snuggled in under my covers, my usual bed buddies with me, laptop, phone and extra pillow to block out the morning sun, all within reach for when I needed them.

It was dark, it was cool, it was..... lonely.

I was struck by a momentary pang of loneliness. For the first time in almost two years, my bed felt empty. I had the thought that having someone to lay next to wouldn't be such a bad thing. That maybe, having someone to reach over and touch would be kind of nice.

A friend of mine recently got divorced and he had a hard time adjusting to sleeping alone. I honestly did not understand his point of view on this especially considering he spent the last few months sleeping on the couch in the basement. He'd say "Man this bed is so big, I hate this." and I'd think, damn what a cry baby. If it's too big, sleep diagonal just because you can, man! Sleep spread eagle, sleep fucking sideways. OWN IT. BASK in it, learn to LOVE being in a BED ALONE. Because I know I did.

Maybe because I slept with *gag* a snuggler for so many years, I was all too willing to sleep alone. Maybe because I was a miliary spouse, I was used to it. Maybe I'm just a cold hearted bitch and insanely selfish. I'm all about personal space in general, especially when I'm ready to sleep. Maybe I'm just ok with being alone in general and I never saw sleeping alone as anything out of the ordinary. It just wasn't something I missed... until that moment that came quickly and passed just as quickly, but yet it stuck with me and made me think.

In that quick moment, I felt a longing I hadn't experienced in a long time. Instead of making me said though, it made me feel.. alive and kind of normal. Believe it or not, it was rather cool.

Sunday, August 28, 2011

"I Want to Learn How to Blow Shit Up With My Mind."

Well, hello there little online journal. This is ummm... kind of awkward. But, um yeah, I've been having a bit of a fling. He means nothing to me. Seriously, my sweet little online journal. He was just so old skool. (You know he's legit, I mean I used a "K" in school er I mean, skool) Yes, I've been writing my thoughts down on... PAPER. I know! But, I miss you! I miss the clickety clack of the keys, the way I can actually read my thoughts after I've written them.

I was weak. I was seduced by the smell of ink, the scratchings of a pen, the way I could furiously scribble out my inner most thoughts in my horribly unintelligible handwriting that only a crazy person or a doctor of medicine could possess. Please take me back. I love you.

Honestly, there are many reasons I didn't feel like writing. I didn't want to turn this thing into a "Today I had waffles for breakfast..." kind of a journal. Also, a few weeks back I was doing a lot of article writing which kind of ruined the whole "writing my thoughts out for shits and giggles" aspect because it took something I loved and made it a fucking chore, and you know how much I fucking hate chores. Yet, I would do the article writing again in a heartbeat because shits and giggles don't pay the bills people. Trust me, I tried.

The biggest factor to not writing is that I no longer have 24 hour access to my laptop anymore. I had to have a laptopectomy once I started the new job. Before, if ever I had a mad ranting pop into my head, I could sit down and pound it out (heh I said "pound it out") in two minutes and be done. Now, I get a thought, I have to like remember to write it down on some random scrap of paper and hope I remember what "punching people in the face" meant later on and if I did remember, I hoped I had enough energy to put it together. That's where pen and paper came in. Usually, I'd write at work when it was slow and I was just thoroughly annoyed with my co-worker. It was a good way to look busy so he'd leave me the hell alone and stop telling me the things God wanted me to know about my life. My good intentions of then transferring it all into type always remained just that.. good intentions.

Honestly though, I haven't had that much going on in my life. I've been busy, keeping my nose clean and to the grind and there isn't anything fun about that. I'm happy. I've had to make some tough decisions in the last few months and those are all behind me now. I am amazingly content with my life right now. I've gone out and done a lot of fun and new things in the last few weeks thanks to new people that have come into my life. I've also let go of some people who weren't adding anything positive to my life. It's funny when I let those kind of people go, life has a way of bringing people in who are better for my psyche. I guess that's how it works.

Sure, there are some moment when I have to repeat my mantra "Everything in this moment is as it should be" over and over until I can breathe again, but that's just my natural leanings toward anxiety kicking in. That will never go away and I know that. I can't change that about myself. I've been this way since I was a child and as an adult I'm finally finding ways to get over that panicky feeling.

Divorce update for those wondering.. papers filed, just waiting to be served. Yes. Still. I had to check "married" on some paperwork the other day and I cringed. But, I guess having a line for "seperated almost 2 years because of some fucked up Virginia law that made us wait a year, and then we had to move, that set us back another six months and the papers are in the courts, just waiting to be served but I FEEL divorced" would take up too much room.