Super Sweet Birthday Post

Another year of life lived, Blog! I always try to post a little somethin' somethin' on my birthday, and this year is no different. I ended last year's entry with an optimistic "I'm going to try and make 28 the best I can make it." Even though I fell into a weird winter funk shortly after that, I feel like I eventually got my ass in gear and made some really scary but exciting decisions. I learned that when you say yes to stuff, you can end up in an elementary school with a bunch of 3rd and 4th graders singing happy birthday to you. And then you can end up at a Pizza Hut afterwards, gorging yourself on the lunch buffet. And then you can go on a lovely walk with your tour partner in the sunshine and point out how you happen to be wearing all black and standing in front of a high school taking a picture. Oops. And then you can spend the afternoon perusing Facebook and all the lovely people you know who took the time to wish you a happy birthday. And then you can talk on the phone with your friends. And after that you can go roller skating and not fall even once! But afterwards while you're watching The Bachelor special, your legs start feeling a little weird because roller skating is something that you don't really do... ever.

What I'm trying to say, Blog, is that I had a really great birthday today. And I didn't drink any alcohol whatsoever! That makes me sound like a lush, doesn't it. But let's face it, Blog. I'm usually going to have a drink of some sort when there is cause for celebration. Being an adult is fun, but doing kid things (like an impromptu foot race across a roller skating rink) can also be fun.

So now I'm in the last year of my twenties. Frankly, they've been all over the place. I've earned a bachelors degree, and have moved from what I once thought was a city (that would be Bemidji) to Minneapolis. I stumbled through three long-term relationships only to continue to stumble through dating. I've gotten stuck in an office job, yet traveled to more countries than I could have ever imagined (I've never imagined traveling to vast amounts of countries, for the record, it's been like 6). I've shunned playing music for years only to join a band within the last six months. I feel like I've figured it out over and over again and now am realizing I probably never will. I can only do what I want to do to the best of my abilities, which are growing because I've putzed around so much in my twenties. I guess that's what they're for. To one more year of putzing! Then shit gets real.

Putzing = Overly Posed Skating

 

Big Tour: Tired (It's a Pun. Read This and You'll See Why.)

Well Blog, I've done it. I've escaped the humdrum desk job life that once consumed me and am wrapping up day one of what has become known as "big tour". We had plans for Rockford, Illinois tonight, but a suddenly-leaky tire held us up in the appropriately-named Hixon, Wisconsin. I was hoping it was a slow leak, but alas Blog, I could hear the air hissing out of the tire immediately after filling it up. In moments, our pressure was at a sad zero pounds per square inch, and we were stuck amongst truckers and Sconnies alike in a quiet cafe that serves GIANT chocolate malts.

Here's where I wish I had skills, Blog. I should know how to change a tire, but I don't. It is a basic process, but the last time I attempted to remove a lug nut, it was rusted on so tight not even my super strong and manly boyfriend at the time was unable to loosen it. In the end, it ended up stripped and swearing ensued.

Of course I'm going to assume removing a tire from a 1992 Mercury Topaz is a bit of a different experience than removing one from a brand new Toyota Camry, but I wasn't about to dive in to find out for myself. Not in my tired and hungover state (turns out my last night in Minneapolis was a friend/bar hopping extravaganza... totally worth it). Plus we're traveling for business, so this sort of a thing is taken care of for us.

Here's the part where I would post the sad picture I took of the deflated tire, but you're not having it for some reason, Blog. Are you not feeling up to uploading images this evening? I've never run into this problem with you before. Then again, I've never really run into having a low tire in the middle of Wisconsin, or missing the exit to our hotel in the middle of Wisconsin, or having faulty hotel keys once we finally checked in to the hotel that is in the middle of Wisconsin. Maybe it's not you, Blog. Maybe all of this has something to do with the middle of Wisconsin.

I still don't feel like I'm gone from home for the next two months. Probably because I'm only about 50 miles away from Winona right now. Yup. Winona. We didn't even make it to the actual middle of Wisconsin.

Still I love that my job has turned into finagling websites to find tire places that are open on a Saturday morning. I also love that my current job makes small children laugh and squeal with joy. Children are amazing, Blog. I had no idea. I could go on, but I'll save it for another day.

Here's to hoping we actually make it to Chicago tomorrow to see the one Goblirsch Jr. wow us with his Macbeth skills. I like to think I'm getting all the hairy stuff out of the way with this touring thing on my first day.

Just My Final Manic Monday

Blog, today was the last Monday at my job. I just did some simple math based on there being 52 weeks in a year and also taking holidays and random days off into consideration. Including an 8 month hiatus that took place back in 2008, I came to the rough estimate that today was my 220th Monday at my job. I have woken up after 220 Sundays. I have dragged myself out of various beds to various busses and cars that have brought me downtown to start the week 220 times. I have gone to the elevator lobby and waited for the familiar ding to tell me that it was time to climb into a tiny box with other people 220 times... no wait. That would be more like 1,100 times (a conservative estimate too) since I do that every day. My God. What have I done?

It's easy to allow the mundane repetition of coming to work, hitting the elevator call button, and making my way down the same hallway of cubes 220 times over the past 5 1/2 years to take over everything I've experienced at my job. It's been an amazing job. It's one that allowed me to leave for stupid reasons only to let me come back. It's a place I met a guy who gave me one of the most formative relationships I've had. It's a place where I've met some of my best friends. It's a place that has allowed me to grow and cultivate a set of skills I never thought I'd have. I seemed to have this uncanny ability to predict vague details of what would happen to me right before I started working at Capella (as far as crisis go). However, little did I know that I'd walk away from the place with a newfound motivation to pursue what I really love and not care so much about money (though that's easy to say when you're making it). I also never thought I'd actually be the type of person to be brave enough to challenge people who are bitchy and stupid. We live, we learn I guess.

Looking back at those old Livejournal entries has allowed me to realize two things: 1) I used to be a lot funnier than I am now (probably because I was a lot dumber) and 2) My priorities were completely superficial and  monetary. It makes sense. Those priorities have every chance of coming back in the near future when I come back from tour with no job. But for now I'm going to do my best to live in the present and begin my 220th Tuesday knowing that the dull and repetitive Tuesdays that have come before it haven't always been so dull and repetitive. They've been exciting. They've been sad. They've been collecting for the past 5 1/2 years into this crazy growth that I'm only recognizing now. Retrospect is freaking my brain out right now. And it's telling me that leaving is totally the right thing to do.

Oh and for the record, this time I'm leaving for something infinitely cooler than working at a lame insurance underwriting association as a trampled-upon receptionist.

Despite all of this, I kind of never want to do the same thing 220 Mondays in a row again. I can't say that won't happen, but here's to hoping.

Sing My Name, Sing My Name

Have you ever thought about songs that have your name in them, Blog? I haven't either. But thanks to the magic that is the internet, both you and the ability to look up songs with our names in them exist. Look at this gem I found just for you, Blog. You're welcome:

Today, a slight facebook tiff with my ex-boyfriend (one of the two I'm still friends with) lead me to look up Cole Porter's array of songs that he wrote for musicals, movies, and the general public's ear back in the first half of the 20th century. I won't get into semantics of exactly why I was looking up Cole Porter music*, but as I perused the long list of hits, a title stuck out to me: "I Love You Samantha".

Whaaa? I've never been aware of any songs that featured my name. When Mambo No. 5 came out during my freshman year of high school, I anxiously listened for my name so I would know the flavor of sexiness I was destined to represent. Unfortunately, the only person I knew who shared a name in the line up was my mom with "a little bit of Mary all night long". Great.

I've pretty much thrown out the novelty of having my name in a song ever since. The internet wasn't a thing I did back in high school and when it finally did come into my life, I had better things to look up.

But today, the simple and fun thought of looking up songs with my name as a defining detail was presented before my very eyes. I was pleased to find that Bing Crosby himself was the man who was in love with me. He's a one gal guy, in case you didn't know:

I also need to invest in a fabulous yellow robe.

Hearing my name sung by Bing's voice is so strange and fun! I was hooked. I did an official Google search for songs about Samantha and found this other one by Sir Elton John (one I probably should know about but don't because I'm terrible with pop culture):

I'm both amused and disappointed that I can identify more clearly with Lady Samantha, but what do you do. Having a slight case of the sads with you at all times can lend itself to creativity and the forlorn listening to a 1960s superstar's remorse for what he had said 'round the campfire. At least the truth came out in the end.


*A viewing of De-Lovely in late 2005 combined with my ex-boyfriend's loose wrists equalling an inside joke that includes the phrase "Cole Porter-Gay" might have something to do with it if you're really curious.

The Title is Untitled

I have calluses on my fingers, Blog. I haven't had calluses like this in years. They are an achievement for me. They tell me that I've been diligent in playing music.

I can play for longer and longer periods of time each day. I've replaced conditioning my body by running two miles at a time with conditioning my left hand to twist and wrench itself in unnatural positions for half an hour at a time. A month ago it was painful and foreign. Tonight it was comfortable and satisfying.

Practice, practice, practice. Another thing my mom was right about.

I love that I once again have the ability to tap the hardened skin at the tips of my fingers on whatever hard surface that finds itself beneath them. I do it because I've never had the nails to make that sound. I do it to bask in the physical results of my accomplishments.

Oh man, Blog. I'm a little tipsy and therefore I'm a little poetic. I'm also a little bit happy. I really love this roommate thing. I am really loving this band thing. I am really loving my life for every moment that is given to me outside of the dull and monotonous corporate job that graces my daylight hours.

I want to punch myself for being so overly descriptive, Blog. That's it. I'm making a list.

1. I've spent a lot of money at Ikea over the past few weeks. This apartment I've moved into is actually a wonderful place. There are expansive windows that let incredible amounts of light to spill all over the hardwood floors. There is ample counter space in the kitchen. I have my own room with a reasonable closet and large window. The only thing that really sucks is the bathroom. There is no place for my toothbrush. My toiletries are often times lost behind the claw foot bath tub. There is a glass bottle reminiscent to a wine bottle lying underneath the tub. I don't know what's going on there.

2. I am getting old. I have gray hair. People don't believe me because I color it. But it's there, Blog. I am going gray. Big time.

3. Me going gray is an indicator that while I've inherited my mother's tone and demeanor, I've inherited my father's looks. I haven't seen a youthful picture of him since I was a child, but I'm hoping that he was a good looking guy back in the day. Please let him have been a good looking guy back in the day. I can't afford to be looking like this any time soon:

Though, I can afford that magnificent purple shirt.

3. Random thought: I've had to say goodbye to someone I've cared about immensely knowing that I would never see them again. That's the kind of thought that crosses my mind whenever I think of the Englishman. It's been over a year since I've seen him already. Crazy.

4. I want to make you fun again , Blog. I think the best way to do this is to write in you more often. That way I'll get sick of blanket blogging and will be forced to write about the stupid specific stuff that happens to me on a daily basis. Like today I was hugged by the Goblirsch Jr. as he told me he'd hug me until I starved to death. Unfortunately for everyone, I had just eaten. It would take him awhile. He gave up and left for Chicago instead.

I've drank a handsome amount of wine this evening Blog. I think I'm done. Until tomorrow... (because here's to hoping that I write tomorrow)

I Didn't Think I'd Be This Way

Blog, tonight I got a phone call from my friend Sam. She started out the conversation with a preface to some news she had to share.

"I wanted to tell you before you saw it on Facebook," she said.

"Ok," I replied tentatively. I was half nervous and half excited for what surely was some juicy gossip. She said she was going to text me, but thought that calling me would be a better way to tell me. For a second I thought someone might have died, but she was too upbeat for that sort of a tragedy. I was hopeful that it wasn't something that would ruin the pleasant Sunday evening I was spending with my new roommates. One thing I've learned in the last week is that coming home to people is an amazing thing. So far I love this living-with-people situation.

"Brian is engaged," she said. Or so I thought she said.

"Brian? Who's Brian?"

"Ryan," she tried again; emphasizing the "R" at the beginning of his name.

"Brian?" I could not wrap my mind around who she was talking about. Frankly, all I could think of was that guy I dated a year ago. I have my own reasons for going there... unfortunately.

"Ryan. Ryan is engaged."

"Ryan? Ryan. Ohhh! Ryan!"

Ryan, Blog. Ryan, my ex-boyfriend. Ryan, the one who I thought I was just going to end up with forever. Ryan, the one who would joke that he wanted to trade me in for a "younger model" and then really did. Ryan is engaged.

It only took a second for me to realize how he asked her. I knew even before Sam went into detail. It's the beginning of October in Minneapolis. That means the Twin Cities Marathon is on the tips of everyone's tongues. That means he ran it. And that means he proposed to her in a most public and flashy gesture right after he crossed the finish line.

Hit the nail on the head.

I anticipate a destination wedding to take place in Mexico in either the early spring or fall of next year. My best to the happy couple.

Sam was worried that I'd be hurt or upset or feel a sting of lost love. She even went out of her way to talk me up as a beautiful, one-of-a-kind girl who couldn't have a ring determined for her because of her terrific originality. It was sweet and I appreciated the sentiment (because it's totally accurate), but it was something I didn't need to hear. I already knew what she was telling me and frankly, I am so removed from the situation that I was a little sad I wasn't more jealous/upset/bitter that this has happened. However, I take great pride in this reaction since it was a mere two years ago I felt like my entire world was caving in around me because he decided that I wasn't the girl for him.

It's turned out to be the biggest favor anyone has ever paid me.

In those two years since he told me that he wanted someone who would do things like focus on their career and run marathons, I've experienced more than I could have ever imagined when I was wasting away in that suburban house.

If he knew what I was up to these days, he'd probably think that he's made it and I've taken a turn for the worst. I'm still single, just moved in with roommates and hate my job. But this change I've made has already started to make me happy. I'm interacting with people who inspire, support, and challenge me. I'm playing music on a regular basis which is incredibly satsifying and makes me happier than I have been in a long time. I'm realizing things about this world and this life that I was too scared to realize before. I'm taking risks and am going down the road less traveled. I'm incredibly single, incredibly unattached, incredibly determined to keep the things I've loved my entire life at the forefront of it. It's something I've never done before, and it certainly was something that wasn't on my mind when I was with Ryan.

So thank you, Ryan. Every time I learn something new about your life, I'm reminded that settling for you would have been the biggest mistake I could have ever made. Congratulations on the marathon and engagement. Two years ago I was the one at the finish line, screaming my support for you, but had you gotten down on one knee after you had crossed it, I know I wouldn't have said yes. I'm glad you just went to the water tent instead.

Bad Day

I had a bad day today, Blog. Only now am I starting to feel better. I don't know what happened. Maybe it was the Benedryl I took to lull my conscious to sleep last night amidst the heat and humidity that has settled into the hot pavement of the city. Maybe it is because everyone around me is turning monumental corners in both the career and family arenas while I continue to sit in this room plugging along at the same daily responsibilities that seem to have accompanied me since I moved here six years ago. Maybe it's because I'm realizing I'm just like my father in the sense that I can't finish what I start.

I don't finish what I start.

I'm totally capable of finishing what I start, but I don't because of this huge thing called fear. It revolves a lot around money, but also around my image and my comfort level around other people; friends and strangers alike. I want to take risks in both areas but I fear the regret that may happen after dropping a couple hundred dollars on a piece of furniture or by the simple notion of what others think. I have to somehow get past this, but I don't necessarily know how. I haven't achieved a goal in a long time. I think this has to do with the depression I've been feeling lately. That and the slight resurfacing of old love interests during a very lacking and disorienting dating dryspell have me sitting in this room that I've called home for going on two years contemplating what my next move is going to be.

Now I see why running away from this city has been so enticing to me lately. When I'm left to my own devices I end up having to face the fact that I haven't challenged myself in recent years with the things that pique my interests. It's an uncomfortable feeling and doing something like dropping $130 on a plane ticket to Chicago so I can look forward to hanging out with this guy is much more appealing than putting that money towards something like a laptop that doesn't take 8 minutes to link to a previous entry about your college boyfriend.

I feel like I'm doing life wrong.

So because of that, I'm going to open myself up to the potential opportunity to move in with an old college friend and theater confidant. If things work out in my favor, I'll be saving a couple hundred dollars a month and will no longer be coming home to an empty room that is cluttered with laundry and shoes. Instead I'll have two roommates who do the cluttering for me and I'll have someone to say goodnight to.

And maybe it's a juvenile move at my age, but I've proven to myself that I can live alone just fine. Now it's time to suck it up and save some money while I figure out what to do with my life besides be an academic advisor. I know I was meant to create, I just don't know how. Wine is involved though. I've got that much figured out. I should probably figure out how to make a living doing theater too. I'm so pissed right now that I was "blessed" with the desire and need to pursue a career in the arts. So not fair.

I'm still planning on dropping $130 on a plane ticket to Chicago over the Labor Day weekend. I love Chicago. It's a place I haven't been to in years and I would love to go back and visit with someone who knows their way around. And not only is that someone knowledgeable in the directions of the Chicago streets that will surround us, he is also one of the few people in this world around whom I feel completely comfortable and open. I was reminded of that over the 4th of July holiday. It was like discovering a new friend in one that I have known for almost 10 years.

It was still a bad day. But writing and wine can make any day's heartbreaks fade away.

No Excuses. Just a List.

I've been on a hiatus, Blog. I'm not going to make excuses. I'm not going to feel guilty. Instead I'm going to take the easy way out and make a list of thoughts. I guess you could call them updates. For your reading pleasure, let's put on this new favorite of mine:

Ok. Let's begin.

1. I have a tan. This hasn't happened in years. Last summer I made my way up to my grandma's for the Fourth of July and was reminded that having family that live on a lake can make for a pretty kickass summer holiday. This year, I managed to take more time off than I meant to, but as a result I spent nearly every day in a lake of some sort; toasting my skin to a pleasant golden brown that hasn't gone unnoticed. Even my legs are a shade darker than they have been in the past. Skirts are not a means of reflecting light anymore. I feel like a new woman.

2. I not only spent days (that's right days) with my extended family, but I also somehow fanagled a way to spend a few days (yes, days!) with my dear college friends Andy and Will. You may remember Will from my post about how I ran into him in April and was reminded about how he was my first love, and probably the most satisfying and healthy relationship I've had. I guess I haven't been blessed with a wonderful man to love and cherish me for the rest of my life, but at least I have a picture perfect first boyfriend and subsequent friend who has somehow defied all the ex-boyfriend stereotypes out there over the past 7 years. Add Andy to the mix and it was suddenly hours and hours filled with laughing turned to small talk turned to deep life conversations turned to silly games and scenarios leading to a myriad of inside jokes that only live between the three of us. I feel so special that they let me tag along with their boy time. I couldn't have enjoyed myself more.

3. This computer sucks. I know I didn't want to make excuses, but I'm going to categorize this as a reason for why I haven't written. This computer is slow. I type faster than it can process words. Do you know how frustrating it is to wait for a machine to catch up with the brilliance that spills from my fingertips, Blog? Of course you don't. You don't have hands. I was going to wait for another paycheck to go through before I buy a new one, but I might just bite the bullet and go in tomorrow. In to where, you ask? Good question. I've never bought a computer before, so I have no idea what I'm doing. But remember, there was a time when I had never bought an iPhone before either, and now I'm on my second one (unwillingly, but still) so I guess miracles do happen.

4. Kerin is leaving work. She is my best friend and confidant who I spend nearly every coffee and lunch break with. Now she's taking the leap to pursue a writing career. I'm excited and happy for her. I can't wait to see what she creates and experiences with this magnificent opportunity. It will be exciting to see her in this new light; one that is meant to shine on her. She's already noticibly happier and at ease even though she still has a week left of answering phones and making irritible people slightly less irritible. I know no one reads you, Blog, but if they did, and if they needed a writer for whatever things writers are needed, I would suggest that they hit me up for her contact information. I would also suggest that they hit me up just so I would know that someone actually reads this thing.

5. Over the last few days I've realized I am in the midst of the longest dating/hanky panky/boy attention dry spell of my adult life. I don't know what to do about it because the length of time that has passed since I last was "intimate" with someone has been so much so, that I've forgotten what it's like and am therefore slightly freaked out by the thought of a guy even being interested in me. It's like I'm 18 all over again. But even hanging out with my first boyfriend over the holiday weekend didn't really give me any insight into how to approach this... situation. I want to date boys. I want to be intimate with them. But at the same time I'm overwhelmed and grossed out. When did I become such a 4th grade girl about this? What do I do to regain the dating confidence I once yielded with the ferocity of 10,000 episodes of Sex in the City? My friend Trisha told me to rate boys on OkCupid to let them know I was interested in them. So I did. I have yet to hear a response. Confidence meter = Low. Very low. And thus another sip of wine is down the gullet.

6. Regardless of my current asexual state, I've found some solace in the fact that I'm going to be stage managing a Fringe show this year. I haven't stage managed since I learned how to do so in college, but I remember liking it even though it was stressful. This is a low key show though, so I figure it's a good opportunity to explore the position and see if there are other opportunities out there for me. Andy wants me to stage manage his production of Bash in September too. And while I want to continue auditioning for shows, it's nice to know I have something lined up over the next couple months that will be getting me back into the theater mode. I think once rehearsals are underway for both shows, I'll even consider myself happy with what I'm doing with my life. That'll be nice.

7. Chet Faker. New fave find on Triple J. Check it.

8. I was going to write something here, but since it took a good 8 minutes to hyperlink to Chet Faker's fun rendition of an old 90's favorite above, I lost my train of thought in frustration and dried out contacts. New computer. Tomorrow.

Good night, Blog. I hope you didn't miss me too much. Now that I've got this list under my belt, the rest of the summer should be smooth sailing for writing to you. So long and farewell until tomorrow or over the weekend or whatever. I've got tons to write about. I'll get it all out to you sooner or later. Hopefully.

Trying...

Blog, I've been away and now I'm back. I had a most amazing trip to the middle of the ocean and to Boston. Naturally, you'd think I'd want to tell you all about it, but I'm not in the mood. I just wrote part one of a series I'm working on recapping my trip and I'm rather burnt out on putting my memories into words at the moment. More of that to come.

Instead I'll look inward, as I tend to do with you. I think this is because I've given up on making you a relevant blog for the masses and instead will accept you for what you really are: a means for me to sort out my thoughts with a small internet audience that comes and goes as it pleases. It keeps you quaint, doesn't it Blog?

Last night and today I realized I'm letting self pity and sadness take over my life. This is a result a constant and subconscious comparison I make between myself and everyone I know. At this point, everyone I know seems to be at a place in their lives where growth, excitement, and change are happening while I feel like I am in a rut with nowhere to go. This of course isn't true, and I keep trying to remind myself of this in an attempt to get myself out of it, but I haven't been doing a very good job.

Tonight I think I came up with one of the better ideas I've had in awhile and contacted my dear friend Will for some advice. Why him, Blog? Well, not only is he a special person to me, as I recently articulated to you, but he also has been pursuing a life in the theater since I met him nearly 10 years ago. And he's done really well for himself as far as that sort of a thing goes. He's not world famous or anything, but he knows the ropes and is really good at putting himself out there. He's had tons of experience and has been in all sorts of productions. I decided to hit him up on the Facebook chat this evening to pick his brain about getting back into theater myself. My depression has been getting to me, and I know a surefire way to bring me out of it is to find creativity in my life. I need to make something. I need to contribute. I need to take a look at myself within and bring whatever I find to a venue where it is shared and molded into something new and different and worthwhile.

What I'm trying to say is that I need to be in a play.

I chose to go to Will for help because he lives this every day. He also knows me better than most people. Most importantly, he believes in me and I don't doubt him on it for a second. One thing I realize is that I didn't set up a support system for myself when I first moved here in hopes of becoming part of the theater community. I've met tons of people and have worked on projects here and there, but I never had the support and closeness that surrounded me when I was in Bemidji. Will is left over from that and he is the perfect person to keep me accountable for pursuing this thing. He told me the exact things I needed to hear:
 

"I'm more than happy to help keep you motivated... because you are talented. It's a little absurd how often Andy and I have had the conversation about how talented we both think you are... and hoped that you would find your way back to acting again."

Sometimes an ego boost is just what you need to become motivated about the one thing you've always loved to do. An ego boost and a plan for accountability. This week my job is to seek out two monologues and begin working on them. He will be checking in next week on my progress. Not only is he supportive, he's holding me accountable. It is just what I'd hoped to get out of him.

Thank God for the internet Blog. Without it I wouldn't have you and I wouldn't have the ability to have a dude in Chicago holding me accountable for memorizing Shakespeare.

It's Finally Happened

Well Blog, it finally happened. After over a year of cringing at the thought and the likely possibility of it happening, it finally took place. I'm honestly incredibly surprised that it hadn't happened sooner, or even on a more regular basis. I think the fates have been kind to me over the past year what with misaligning my morning walk to a timed perfection. But this morning, they finally decided to put me on a path that undeniably lead to the moment of awkwardness and intrigue that I have anticipated since last fall.

I finally ended up in an elevator with my ex.

I mean, there's got to be some sort of destiny at work here since my ex has been my ex for over a year now and has worked a mere floor below me the entire time. Sure I've seen glances of him here and there, but it has been on anything but a regular basis. And for the amount of time people around here spend in the elevator lobby waiting for one of the four to bring us to our respective floors, it's a goddamned miracle that this hasn't happened sooner.

It's also a goddamned miracle that I was nearly done with, for lack of a better term, a walk of shame from that guy's apartment. You know, Blog. That guy I've been dating. He happens to live incredibly close to skyway access and therefore my workplace. I happened to unexpectedly spend the night last night, because that's what you do from time to time when you date that guy.

Nothing like running into your ex and then having to ride 10 floors up in an elevator with him as you wear the same clothes you wore the day before without any make up on and an entire half hour of your day already behind you. That's right. I had been out of bed for half an hour at that point. Terrific.

At least I dressed cute yesterday.

At least I had had a terrific time with that guy last night.

At least this is a tangible confirmation that I really don't care what my ex thinks of me. I may have looked like shit, but it doesn't matter. And here's where I try to extrapolate on that, but I care so little about the entire situation that I can't even think of anything to say about it. Everything that there is to say has already been said.

All that's left is the fact that I need to shower something fierce. That and a special thanks to Kerin for bringing in a shirt for me to wear so I didn't look exactly like I did  yesterday. This is what friends are for, Blog. Take note.

Back to Blogging

Blog, I feel like I'm brain dead. Maybe I should start reading again. I've been so very bad at it for the past couple years, I just can't get into it. Maybe I should start exercising again; it clears my mind and allows me to think and focus. Maybe I should get into the habit of writing about things other than my love life and the inane feelings that overcome me when boys happen.

Maybe I'll get a cup of tea and take a moment during this slow work day to think about what it is I really want to write about in this, my first post in October.

This tea is not as hot as I'd like it to be. Sigh. No, that is not what I really want to write about.

It's actually been on my mind lately that it's coming up on a year since Ryan broke up with me. I'm pretty much over it outside of the realization I had the other day when I ran into him in the elevator lobby and ended up hiding behind a corner to avoid him. It's not the pain of no longer having him in my life that kept me so childishly behind the corner; that pain is long gone. What drives my avoidance is now the incredible awkwardness that would saturate any sort of interaction between us. I stood there peeking around the edge of the lobby, raking my brain for any sort of casual "how do you do" or "good morning" approach that would be appropriate if we were to end up in an elevator together. Absolutely nothing came to mind. With my cartridge completely depleted of any social ammunition combined with the buzzing feeling that had completely taken over my mind and body, I realized that Ryan is completely out of my life. There is absolutely nothing we have to talk about and there is no interest we have whatsoever in one another.

What difference a year can make. Last October we were still sharing a bed.

And thus Samantha chose to write about her feelings that boys conjure within her regardless of her laments over doing so an overwhelming amount in her blog. Christ I'm annoying.

What I really wanted to say was that I've lately been very aware of my typing habits. I think this is because I'm bored at work today and have become fascinated with watching my fingers hit the keys with the regular motions and strokes that I never think twice about. This is complex shit that's happening literally under my nose day in and day out and I never take note. Every bit of text I create whether it be in you Blog or in an email to a learner or to Kerin or chatting with friends on gmail is created so instantaneously with the the use of 26+ separate and tiny keys. It's really quite the feat when you think about the sounds that we've turned to symbols that we've learned to draw and write that we've translated onto a keyboard that in the end allows us to silently dictate our thoughts through what seems like random punching performed by our fingers. We can have silent conversations lead by our fingers. We can create thoughts and ideas as they form in our minds. It's almost as if you are a window into a piece of my brain, Blog. Lucky you. Keyboards and typing are amazing. That's all I really have to say about it.

Also, what I really wanted to say is that the longest academic paper I've ever written was 10 pages long. It was my senior thesis for my undergrad degree. Yes, I went to a state school. Yes, I feel incredibly inept at writing academic papers. No, I don't discredit my writing abilities due to the two previous facts I have just uncovered about myself. I'm going to be all charter school about it and let my writing style lead me to wherever it may instead of trying to box it up in an MLA format with quotes and commas and paranthetical citations. Gross. There is a time and a place for the, in my opinion "overuse", of punctuation (no punctual pun intended with the massive amount of said punctuation in this sentence, and yes, I'm completely aware it's probably incorrect).

I just re-read this whole thing and hate it. But it will do as far as getting back on track with my blogging goes.

Is It a Surprise My Mind is Working Like This?

Blog, is it weird that I fell in love with this song about three days after Ryan gave me the news that he wanted to break up?

I've never been one to overly examine fate, but sometimes I notice these things and can't help but think that there is something there working behind the scenes.

In any case, I love this song regardless of my connections to the country after which it is named.

FIN (that just happens to be French, FYI)