Life Under Construction

Posts Tagged ‘Life’

I’m sitting here in my room with a cup of hot cocoa watching large flakes of snow fall fast past the kitchen windows.  This is going to be my last winter in Rhode Island for a few years, and I love that it is snowing so fiercely outside.

the view from my livingroom window this morning

I’ve got Autumnsong playing in the background as I read and write.  Tom Milsom is very talented.

I had the chance to meet him in Central Park last summer where he put on a small show when Lauren and I went to NYC for a blogger meet-up.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how I’ll be moving away soon, so I wanted to share with you some of the things I love about where I live:

• My family is here.  I’m very close with my family.
• Nothing is really too far away.  The closest grocery store or WalMart is five minutes from my house.
• There’s nothing in the world quite like the peaceful feeling of being snowed in by a good old fashioned blizzard.  Wrap a cozy blanket around yourself and curl up with a book or just watch the snow fall… it’s calming.
• We get the best of all four seasons here.  In the spring everything turns vibrant and green with the rain.  In the summer we have the beach and the glorious sunshine.  When it’s autumn the leaves take two weeks to turn and the streets are lined with the most magnificent colors Mother Nature has in her bag of tricks.  And in the winter?  Everything is covered by a blanket of white while the Earth is sleeping.
• Del’s Lemonade.
• The Washington County Fair.
• The Providence Place Mall.
• Ninigret Park.

I think mostly I just love the feeling of home, the good and the bad.  I learned everything I know here, I’ve had 97% of my life experiences here.  This the a place where I became me.

What’s something you love about where you live?

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The sun is disappearing over the horizon that is 2009.

I’m so deep, I know.

Four days until the start of the new year.  I feel rather reluctant to leave 2009 behind, so I suppose it’s a good thing that time doesn’t consult me before moving ahead.  I’m sure that if it did I’d still be 6 years old, living in The Gray House, spending my days climbing giant mounds of dirt and hanging out at The Old Oak Tree.

But alas, each day is ending and bringing me closer to 2010.

It’s scary, not knowing what is coming.  I like plans.  I like when things are set in stone, and when there are no surprises.  My skin is cold with anxiety just thinking about it.

At the same time, I know that in approximately three months my best friend is coming home.  We will no longer have to live via telephone wires and internet waves.  We’ll have this whole new life, and I’m excited for it.

But at the same time?  I’m sad.  I’m always sad when things are over.  Even things that weren’t so good to begin with, like old relationships or crummy vacations.  I hate when things end because I don’t know what is coming.

It is for this reason why I hate to finish reading an incredible book.  I know that when I pick it up again, it won’t feel the same.  Will I ever be able to recapture that feeling?  The one where I loved what I found between the pages?  Or right now, nearing the end of the holiday season…  will I ever feel as surrounded by family and tradition as I did this year (when this year I didn’t feel it as much as I have in the past)?  I feel like this every year.  I’m looking forward to the new things to come, and yet I’m sad to leave behind the things I’ve experienced.

Let’s be honest, we all know my memory is crap sometimes.

The new year is coming, and it’s bringing changes with it.  Big, bright, shining changes.  I’m ready for them, but it’s a bittersweet kind of anticipation that I’m feeling.  Kind of like watching the sun go down: you know it happens every night and that the sun comes up every morning, but there’s an ache in your heart as you watch something so beautiful disappear.

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I’m sending out Christmas cards this year, and I’m pretty darn excited about it!  I was totally going to MAKE Christmas cards this year, but I’m at a loss as to how to do such a thing in a short period of time (read: by Friday – which is when I’m sending out cards).  I am plagued by such questions as How thick can an envelope be for just a regular stamp? and Where on Earth would I get envelopes that take one stamp for construction paper cards? and the like.  Also Who even does that anymore besides first graders?.  You know?  I’ll do it next year when I’ve had more time to prepare.  Probably next year.  Maybe next year.  I’m up in the air about it (( at least I didn’t say “we’ll see” )).

So I’ve been sitting here trying to write a blog that doesn’t sound like I’m writing in in novel form.

I AM OUT OF PRACTICE, PEOPLE!

I’ve come to realize in the last few weeks that I love writing a lot more than I thought I did.  I mean, I knew I loved writing.  I’ve loved writing creatively since I was in the 9th grade.  But recently I’ve developed a desire to do it all. the. time.

When NaNo was first over, I was all like I am never doing this again! and Walter was all like Yes you are. and I was like I know! but I totally thought I’d at least give myself some time before I started working on another project.

Nothing like 50k words in 30 days, mind you.

But last night while I was laying in bed trying to get some shuteye my brain was working up a storm.  One of those furious-ideas-shooting-off-like-thunder-and-lightning-in-the-cloud-that-is-my-brain storms.  I keep a wee notebook by my bed for such occasions so that I can get them out and they don’t float around up in there trying to keep me awake, so I wrote them down (( I also wrote ‘fixed width columns’.  Whatever the Hell that means  o.0 )).  I’ve been thinking about trying my hand at short stories and this writing project Badass Geek asked me if I was interested in helping out with.

I look at all these fantastic pep talk emails from the people over at NaNoWriMo and I think “I can do this!”  I’ve never wanted to BE anything, as I said in my things you probably could have gone the rest of your life without ever knowing about me blog.  I haven’t ever seriously wanted to do anything with my life.  I’ve wanted to just ‘get by’ and do as little as possible since I was in the second grade.  I remember Mrs. Hammond telling me I was the laziest child she had ever met in her years of teaching, and that I was so smart and it made her sad.  And now?  It is like the gods of What Do You Want To Be When You Grow Up? have finally smiled upon me.  MRS. HAMMOND WOULD BE SO PROUD.

I wonder if she remembers me.

Maybe what I’ll do today is design a new header for my blog.  Maybe.

Do you know what you want to be when you grow up?
How old were you when you realized what you wanted to do with your life?
Should I buy the Twilight series or just ask for it for Christmas?

…

Gwen Bell’s Best of 2009 Challenge:
December 2 Restaurant moment. Share the best restaurant experience you had this year. Who was there? What made it amazing? What taste stands out in your mind?

This one is a tie:

1.  Breakfast in NYC with Lauren, Pham, and Katie.  It wasn’t the food, because the food sucked so bad.  It was definitely the company.  I ♥ them.  I already knew Lauren (we drove there together DUH), so it was fantastic and fun to meet Miss Dot Com and Mr. Pants.

2.  Breakfast at Bagels ‘N More with Walter.  It felt so normal, so good.  I wish every day could feel like that.

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Hello there, Life.  We’ve met before, but I haven’t seen you in a while.

Do you remember my face?

No?

It’s kind of fuzzy?

Let me refresh your memory a bit…

Just in case you didn’t know yet, I reached 50′000 words last night and I am officially a NaNoWriMo winner!

I’m kind of sad about it being over, but I know I can always do it again next year.  You know I’m a fiend for the torture of beating myself up because the story is crap and not writing enough words every day, and not having enough time to blog or talk to friends and family or my husband (I HAVE A HUSBAND!!!!  At least I think I still do…), and conveniently forgetting to do things like vacuum or shower or put the dishes away…

It was an amazing experience.

Now I have this 93 page story of suck that I can rewrite as many times as I want.  I have it.  All those thousands of words belong to me.  I don’t even have to do anything about it if I don’t want to.  I can delete it if I want.  I can put it away and never look at it again if that is what I so choose.  But whatever I do, I’ll know forever that I did it.  And I’m so proud of me.

I’ve also got this awesome badge of awesomeness to let everyone know I won this year.

I’ll try to keep the NaNo talk down for the next few days as I try to regain some semblance of normalcy in my day to day life.  I need to get back into the swing of things.  Friday will be my last day as an employed person, so I’m sure I’ll talk about unemployment a lot.

Have you guys noticed that once I get hooked on something, I talk about it constantly?

Welcome back to reality, self.  It’s been an amazing roller coaster of a ride, but I think I’m ready to get back to regular.  I’m glad you’re all still here (I’m assuming you are, so you better be!) and didn’t ditch me during my month of the crazies.  I’ll be back to blogging on the regular in the days to come.

What have all y’all been up to these past 30 days?
Has anything noteworthy happened in my semi-absence?
Will you hate me if I forgot how to blog?

***

Final word count:  50′080.  WIN!

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Do you ever just feel empty?  Like there’s nothing left inside you to write?

When I sat down to write this blog I felt like I had nothing left to say, like I’d said everything and no matter what I share with you I’ll just be repeating myself.  It doesn’t feel good, feeling empty of words.  It feels really… uncomfortable.

I don’t feel like my life is empty.  I feel full in that respect.  I’ve got my love, my family, my friends, plenty of things to be happy about, and I am happy.  I just don’t understand why I feel like I have nothing to say.  It’s bothering me.  There’s nothing weighing on my mind.  I feel extremely light, like nothing is wrong apart from that I have nothing to say, except for the fact that I have nothing to say.  That in itself feels wrong.

Does any of this make any sense?

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…that I often fail before I even really begin?

I will admit that sometimes I doom myself to failure.  We all do (or so I tell myself so I don’t feel as bad about it).  But there are other times when I fail before I’ve even begun something, when all I really want to do is succeed.

I get discouraged rather easily, so it’s hard to get back up on the horse once I’ve fallen off.  Even if I only had one foot in the stirrup at the time.

I get in these moods where it’s impossible to cheer me up.  If something upsets me I can go from 60 to 0 in a second flat and no matter who you are or what you try and do for me it will. not. lift. my. mood.  The majority of my day is then ruled by the anger or the sadness or the disappointment.  There isn’t even anything I can do.

I used to try to cheer myself up.  I used to try and fix my mood once it went downhill, but I felt like a fake when I did.  I felt like what’s the point? and… well… like my emotions were cheap if I could trade them off so easily.

I’m not an easy person to get along with all the time.  I’m the most stubborn person I know.  Fact is, I react poorly to a lot of thoughts going on in my head because I don’t know how else to handle them.  To some people I’m sure it appears immature or irrational, and I probably come off as emotionally unstable more often than not, but to me it’s always justified.  My feelings are always just that: my feelings.  I deal with them the only way I know how.

It takes a lot to turn my mood around.  Hell, I’ve lived with myself for 26 years now and I still can’t do it.

So why is it that I still disappoint myself?

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I’ve been having some serious underwear issues recently.

Remember back (like 4 months ago) when I was complaining that my pants hated me and my underwear laughed at me?  Well, if they were laughing then they’re rolling on the floor now.

I went out and bought new underwear and new pants a size up to accommodate my growing derriere.

I know it’s because I sit on my butt all day.  I know it’s because I eat and eat and eat and eat and eat.

(And eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat and eat.)

And I don’t exercise.  Ever.  So I only have myself to blame.  But now I’m angry at myself.

When I was in high school (and even right out of high school) I used to pretend I hated my body.  To fit in, you know?  I don’t know who I was trying to fit in with, though, so don’t ask.  I loved my body!  But now?  Now I actually hate my body.  I would rather be pretending.

If food didn’t taste so damn good, I’d be a lot thinner.  I only eat because food is yummy.  I don’t eat because I’m hungry!  I’m always full!  And I’m always eating!  If there is food around, unless it’s gross, I’m going to eat it no matter what my current starvation status is.

If there was a meter on my body to show you what stages of hunger I’m in, the arrow would be default set to ‘full’.

I know I’m not huge.  I’m not even overweight.  But that doesn’t mean I don’t (or can’t) have body issues of my own.  I can’t stand how I look in form fitting clothes, let alone naked.  I’m constantly concerned about whether or not people can tell I’m sucking it in, or whether or not I’m sucking it in enough.

I won’t change my eating habits, and I don’t exercise, and I’m just ranting.

I’m cranky.

I’ve just realized that I look more disgusted than cranky in this picture but whatever.  I’m disgusted at my crankiness.

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(I’m participating in this week’s Sunday Scribblings writing prompt.)

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.  I want to be married.

Sure I want the dress and the day and the presents, but more than that I want the being married part: the ‘for better or for worse’ part.  The part that comes after the show: the comfortable silences, making the bed that belongs to the two of us, the arguments about money, the overcooked experimental dinners, the whining-screaming-beautiful children.

I’ve dated guys that would never give me what I needed, dated them for long periods of time even though I knew that it wasn’t going to go anywhere in the long run.  I’d let my love for them get the better of me, and when the harsh reality of it hit me that every effort was mine it would all fall apart.

Let’s face it, people.  Love is never enough when two people don’t value the same things.  Don’t listen when anyone tells you that you can live on love.  You can’t.  Separately, ALL of my relationships have taught me that.  No matter how hard you try, how deeply you love, or how much you give… if you’re both not giving it your best shot, if you don’t want the same things in life… it just isn’t going to work out.

It’s taken me a few years to realize that I’ve found my other half, my equal. Now I think about it all the time: being married.  At least, eh, every other day.  People keep telling me it’s my biological clock ticking, but I know it’s because I simply found the right guy.

Let’s back up for a second.

I wasn’t the little girl that played “house” with her dollies, instead I cut all my older sister’s Barbies hair off (she had a LOT of Barbies!) and ripped their arms and legs from their bodies.  You can totally ask her and she’ll tell you I’m not lying.

Sarah?  Any thoughts you’d like to share with the class?

Moving on…

Getting married never sounded like fun to me.  That is to say it never occurred to me.  I never thought about getting married someday, but I never thought about not doing it, either.  I just never thought about it.

Somewhere along the line there, between 11th grade and my 20th birthday, I realized that I did want to get married.  I wanted to belong to someone.  I wanted to be someone’s wife.

These days I know who I want to marry.  I’m lucky.  I’ve come to understand that being married isn’t just an event, that it’s a way of life.  It’s a full time job that not everyone can handle.  People get divorced all the time because they think marriage is just this thing you do and then life goes back to normal, but it’s not and it doesn’t.

Louise said the other day that I should have been born in the 1950’s.  She and Deb were talking at work about how we shouldn’t let our jobs be our lives, and I overheard so I had to voice my opinion.  You see, I want to be a housewife, a homemaker, a wife and mother.  I want my day to begin with making breakfast and end with making sure everyone is safely and soundly asleep in their beds.  I want to do laundry and spend my afternoons in the kitchen making dinner.  That job will be my life for a long time (at least the first 18 years).

For better or for worse I want the works.  What’s your take on marriage?  Do you want the traditional I’m so fond of or something else?

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Someday when I am grown up and I have my own house I am going to buy a refrigerator sized freezer, and in it I will keep a titanic supply of Rocky Road ice cream and Nutty Buddies.  And they will all be for me.

I could really go for a Nutty Buddy right now.  Ice cream for breakfast is my favorite.

(After chocolate milk, of course.  And cereal.)

Why hasn’t there been a new Superman movie out yet?  I thought Brandon Routh signed a three movie deal.  I want more Superman movies.

I woke up today in a quiet, introspective kind of mood.  I feel like I want to keep to myself, have little contact with other people, and spend all my time thinking about the things that make me feel good.  I look forward to going to work, but only to sit in MY cubicle, MY space, with MY things, and be quiet and content with my thoughts.

I miss Walter. That’s the thought that’s dominating my day brain today, taking up most of the space in my conscious (and probably subconscious) mind.

I’m not allowed to be friends with someone anymore that’s been my friend for 11 years.  I understand why, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.  Not that that friend would ever read my blog, but I want him to know that even though we’re not allowed to interact I will always be here for him if he needs anything.  His family is always going to be my family.  We may not talk for 20 years, but if 20 years from now he needs anything, I hope he knows he can call on me and I’ll do whatever is in my power to be there for him.  I understand, but I don’t like it.

I started drawing something two weekends ago, and I haven’t touched it since.  I’m lost as to what to do with it anymore.  I wanted it to be a full page drawing.  Maybe I’ll work on it some more next weekend.  Maybe.

The weekend was pretty OK.  My birthday wasn’t the best ever but that’s alright.  They can’t ALL be fabulous all the time, right?  I spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday being lazy.  Did 4 loads of laundry, watched Castle and Lie To Me, and went to the movies alone.  Talked to Walter twice on Saturday.  Went to dinner at 7 Moons (finally) with Erik and Mike, and I brought home a ton of leftovers.

Speaking of which, I hope I don’t forget to bring the leftovers to work with me today.  I have Mike’s in the fridge, and he’ll need that.

Mike and I have been talking about going to 7 Moons for two years now.  o.0  Hooray for finally going!

364 days until my birthday.

Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past is a crappy movie.  Don’t see it in theaters.  I wouldn’t even suggest you see it when it comes out on DVD, it really was that lame.  It’s probably the worst movie I’ve seen since I saw Good Luck Chuck, which was a bad movie.

Christina and I are going to the mall next weekend.  I need to do some heavy duty book shopping.  I’ll probably start reading the Harry Potter books next week and I’m sure I’ll breeze right through them.

Once I get my TV fixed I think I’m going to sign up for Netflix.  Maybe.  It’s a thought.

I miss Walter. I think I’m going to spend some money and go see him again for three days before he leaves for Iraq in June.  They’re sending him home for 4 or 5 days before he ships out.  If I thought 8 days was not enough last month then 3 days is definitely not going to be enough this time, but I think of it this way: I’ll take what I can get to hold me over until he comes home.  I’m still thinking about it though.  Leaving last time was really hard.

I’m giving my NKOTB tickets to CooCoo.  I can’t go anymore.  My little brother’s graduation is the same night, and while I love my New Kids On The Block (wicked hard) I really can’t miss Robert’s graduation.  Family comes first.  In 13 days he’ll be 18 years old.  A month from today he’s going to be graduating high school.  And this fall he’s going to start going to college.  He may be like 5′10” or something ridiculous like that, but he’ll always be my baby brother.

I don’t feel hungry at all.  Is that a bad thing?  I haven’t eaten in 14 hours, shouldn’t I be even a little bit hungry by now?  I’m going to eat when I get to work whether I’m hungry or not, because that’s what I do.  I eat to pass the time.  And to fend off boredom.

Today is definitely going to be a Write In My Journal day.

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It’s Monday morning and I’m back home from my vacation in Mississippi (I actually got home Friday afternoon).  I had the most amazing time with Walter and his family and it was the greatest vacation in the history of Ever.  I’m happy to be home in RI again, sleeping in my bed with Stuffy, sitting at my computer, with my nephew coming into my room every five minutes to ‘deliver my mail’ or ‘give me breakfast’.  I’m also sad because I had to leave some people that I love, but I have all these wonderful new memories of happy times to carry around with me.  And now I have to get things back to normal.

Except normal doesn’t feel… normal anymore.  I’ve got to make a new normal for myself and that takes time.  You know how it goes when things change, you have to adapt your idea of normal to suit the changes.  And things have changed.  The most exciting change is that Walter and I are a couple now.  I refuse to call him my ‘boyfriend’.  I feel that word should be reserved for grade school and the elderly.  Besides, he’s more than just my boyfriend, the same way that he’s always been more than just my best friend.  Anyway, that’s all I’m going to say about that for now.  Another change is that in about a month he’s going to be practically unreachable.  That one is going to be hard because I’m used to being able to call or text him whenever I need to.  I’ll admit that while the idea of writing letters to him while he’s away is romantically appealing, it’s also nerve wracking knowing that he’ll be in a far away land with no phone and no computer for instant communication.  *le sigh* I think I’ve taken that for granted in the last few years, that I could get a hold of him whenever I wanted to.

Normal.  Let’s see… things are the same at home as they were when I left, but I feel disconnected because I was gone for almost two weeks.  It will feel good to be back at work in a few hours.  I miss my coworkers and my cubicle.  I miss the actual act of going in to work in the afternoons.  It felt nice to get away, but I’m relieved to go back, too.  That’s a good thing, I think.  Mike will be out for a little over a week *groan*, getting home the day before his birthday, so some things (like work) won’t actually be normal-normal until he gets back.  You know, so he can leave again after our birthdays and be gone until August.  *eye roll*

Anyways, I missed blogging.  Blogging is definitely normal to me.

Photoblog coming tomorrow with pictures from my vacation.

PS  -  My birthday is in 13 days!!!

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