Medicated Me

Wow.  That's really all I can say.  Life has changed quite a bit in the last month or so since I've really written in here.  I finally caved and called to see the "Behavioral Medicine" services offered by my school.  For being devoted to helping people, they really throw you through some loops to get to where you want to go.  I had to go through an inital appointment where I get asked a million and two questions by who I'm pretty sure is some grad student who seemed more concerned about performing her job correctly than anything else.  Then she set me up with an appointment for a medical doctor as well as a psych-ologist/therapist/iatrist, or whatever.  

Well, the doctors appointment went all right.  I took almost the entire hour to give my history of troubles, diagnoses, and medications.  I finished with enough time for the doctor to clarify a couple things I mentioned and write me a prescription.  Yes, prescription.  I caved.  For years I've held out on any sort of medicating "solution."  I hated being on them before.  Yes, they helped.  Yes, I handled things better.  But was I really myself?  No.  I was Medicated Me.

Yet here we are, roughly four years from then and I have allowed myself to be back to popping pills [though safely now].  It was great that I was treated as an adult, in a non-judgemental situation, and to top it off, by a very soft spoken man.  Back when I had my last psychiatrist, he treated me like I was mute and retarded.  Now, I don't like used those words in that way but that is how I felt.  I did not feel mentally disabled.  I felt retarded.  Handicapped.  Helpless.  He did not value my opinion in my own life and dictated when and how much medication I would be taking.  I'd like to stab the professors that allowed him to graduate into his field of business.

Moving on.  I left the appointment feeling relieved.  Nervous about my medication, yes, but I finally took a step to asking for help, something that has literally taken me years to vocalize.

Now don't you be thinking this will all be positive, happy-happy-joy-joy.

There was still one more appointment I had to make.


The therapist.


I'd just like to start by saying it was one of my biggest pet peeves to arrive for an appointment at a specified time and then have to wait for the other person.  Don't make me adapt my schedule to you and then leave me in the waiting room-you will not be dealing with my pleasant side!


So the lady finally comes out of her office to get me and lead me down the hallway.  Hold on though, there's not one person, there's two.  The older lady introduces herself as Blah Blah and the younger girl as Blahh, a graduate student.  No one told me there would be a grad student sitting in on my first therapy session in years.  Now I'm angry.


I struggle to focus as I realize the lady has been talking this whole time.  She wants me to retell the ENTIRE story I just told two days ago to my medical doctor.  Great.  I proceed, attempting to go through it as fast as possible seeing as I had just practiced it.  I didn't even feel like I was talking about me.  I was just talking about the synopsis of some fucked up book.  I felt like Mus musculus, the little white mice used in experiments all the time.  I was just a prop for some grad student to get her degree and end up just like that d-bag I dealt with years before.  


I danced in and out of listening to what the therapist was saying but zeroed in when she asked, "How come you never thought about committing suicide?"  Umm, what?


My heart began racing.  Don't tell them.  Don't tell them.  They're required to report it.  She can break your trust, and she will!

I quickly mumbled over the story of Kurt and how from him I realized the effect it has on your family.  Very true.  I just neglected to mention when I learned that in comparison to the rest of my own mistakes.  


That hour could not go by fast enough.  I was rescheduled another appointment for the week after and whisked out of there, furious that I had to sit there and get stared at.  I didn't want to be a method for learning.  I was there to get my own help and feeling like the puppy in the window was not the way to "cure" me of anything.


I fought and fought over the next couple days what to do and I finally caved and called to cancel my appointment.  The lady on the phone offered to help reschedule it and I told her I had to find out my work schedule before knowing when I came in.  I hung up and felt a wave of relief.  I was too angry to talk to anyone there.  It wasn't fair what the threw me in to and I wasn't about to go through another hour of Mus musculus.

Untitled, Unfinished

The thing about depressions, well, at least for me, is that it makes you think or remember things in different ways. Like, my first therapist, she had those thin, pursed lips.  And after that whole thing left a bad taste in my mouth, everytime I see pursed lips again, I think of her and have this automatic dislike for the new pursed-lip person I have met. 

My anxiety has been getting really bad in the last couple weeks.  In hindsight bias, I can say that the summer before I moved out here, I spiraled down from multiple heartbreaks and then was working on building myself up with the inspiration of Martin.  But when he died in November, it all came crashing down.  Then meeting Jake, well, it was the false sense of security happiness.  Deep down, I'm sure I was still a mess, but being with him made me unrealistically happy.  Most of my friends had told me at one point or another they had never seen me laugh or smile as much as when I was with him.  So to say that he shattered my heart again, well in reality, I guess he just peeled off the bandaid that was barely holding all the pieces back together.  So again, it was an immediate drop back to where I was.  I missed Martin worse and hated where I was even more.

Eventually I worked on picking myself back up.  About a ten months after Martin's death, I was so depressed that I swear I did not even smile for a week.  So I tried again, to think about how Reuben felt and how Martin would want me to feel.  I thought about him saying "Don't be sad, Troubles"  and tried to, rather than break down at the thought of his voice, to instead to kind of go with it and live for him, as I had told myself so long ago I would for Kurt.  And I started to.  The anniversary of his death I felt happier than I had in months, which confused me why I would.  For so long I fought back and forth to just get completely annhilated on the day, or well, to not.  Knowing Martin's feelings towards alchohol and drug use, I knew that it would be blatant disrespect to him and tried [and even succeeded!] to fight off the weaker of the two choices.

That lasted about a week.  And then she was diagnosed with terminal cancer.  And my world came crashing down.  Since then, I have cried at least five days a week.  Sometimes it will be just a tear or two, and other days I'll sob for hours.  But the tears I held back for so many years have just been flying out more than I would ever think imaginable.  Since this summer, and more specifically, since the new job, I have felt my anxiety skyrocket through the roof.

Every time I think "this is the worst it's been" I have a slight recovery, crash again, and then think the same thing about the current low.  So I have been now I have been working towards specifying my feelings more so that I understand me.  What seems at face value a simple task has become quite daunting.

I again feel alone.  And that no one cares.  But these are just my typical emotions.  Now, I have the overwhelming anxiety that has been most noticeable with the crying.  I cried at work this week and last week.  I cried during my exam today.  I have never experienced such an inability to hold back tears!  It is so frustrating that I have become so weak, I am incapable of hiding it.   For at least ten years, I have practiced being able to hide most of my emotions [aside from fleeting happiness or anger] and at this point can pride myself in the ability to appear so calm and collected while chaos reigns inside.  This however, has also prevented me from getting help or continuing help because of the habitual ongoing of seeming so well put together, even during something like a therapy session where the psychologist wants your raw emotions.

...[tbcont]

Need to Sleep More, Think Less

I think the scariest part about being with Alexander is that I'm actually starting to want to fall in love with him.

It's like I'm addicted to getting my heart broken.

Oopsies.

You remember that little note I wrote about Al and said how he knows things without me needing to tell him? Well I guess he forgot because he is in the doghouse right now.

I spent all day today crying and all night last night crying and all I wanted was a hug from Al. I didn't need him to listen to my woes, I just wanted his arms around me but of course when I'm having a bad night, he also decides to blow me off.

Yeah. Oops.

It's just one of those weekends where if one things going wrong...they're all gonna go wrong. Lucky me.

Where'd The Condom Go?

Take a peek at those spiky ones!

Well after such a groundbreaking 24 hours, you couldn't expect the next one to be so pleasant, could you? Anytime you think that everything in life is just goin' swell, BAM! Karma comes after you for something evil you did and throws another curveball at you.

So last night we had some people over to drink away the dwindling hours of summer. As people began filing out, I texted Al and he meandered over. Since Al hadn't taken any sort of nap after returning home from camping [I took a two and a half hour coma] the poor guy was snoring on the couch by the time I said goodbye to the last person and locked the door.

I attempted to help pull my "little" darling up so he could go sleep in a bed but the deadweight of a college football player was no match for my inebriated muscles. Eventually I convinced him to move upstairs and we lay in bed cuddling for awhile. Well, despite his claim that he is "less horny than most guys," Al's hands start wandering and next thing you know, clothes are being flung onto the floor.

[Don't worry, I'll spare you the details] Things get heated up and we decide tonight's "the night." We talked about taking the next big step on a couple occasions and I finally decided I was okay with it not because I just wanted to or we waited long enough, but because we talked about it and I felt like we're on the same level with what we want and how we want the relationship to be.

Well, he slips on the condom and things are going well for a couple minutes and just as he changes positions I hear possibly one of the worst things a woman could think of during intercourse: "Umm, the condom fell off."

WHAT? My mind was racing and all I could think of was children, pregnancies, and abortions. I don't know what could kill a mood worse than thinking of children [and not trying for one] He makes a quick attempt to find the condom and can't even find it.

Now I'm even more frightened. I'm imagining triplets coming out of my vagina. No thanks.

Al asks me if I want him to find the condom or if I want to do it myself. I leap out of bed and head to the bathroom and tell him he better search around the bed and find the condom or his life is at risk. Turning on the light, I immediately find the condom and am flooded with a bit of relief that I wouldn't be making a humiliating visit to the doctor the next day.

And that was it. So much for the next big step. Al claimed he knew when it fell off and there was nothing I needed to worry about but as in inexperienced condom-putter-onner, I'm a little confused why it fell off so quickly. He seemed to make light of the situation maybe because he doesn't understand how scary pregnancy scares are.

People say a lot of things about your "first time" some say it sucks, or it hurts, or it is awesome. I was prepared for it to possibly suck. Digging out a condom was NOT what I was prepared for. It scares me to think that I could have made the same mistake my friends made in highschool, what I swore I would never do.

One things for sure, Round 2 may not be for awhile. Or at leas 'til I know I'm not baring quadruplets.

Roughing It

Since this was the last week of summer for me, my boss was an angel and gave me a couple days off work. We went camping on Thursday which was fun but not nearly as romantic as it sounded. First of all, cuddling actually became a form of survival. The temperature dropped much lower than expected. Of course, Alexander pointed out that you generate more body heat when naked and then asked me if I wanted him to take off his shirt or if I wanted to do it myself. [I did it.] For those who are not in the know with basic survival methods, it absolutely got warmer. However, our sleeping bags somehow had incompatible zippers [which contributed to the whole freezing problem] so anytime Alexander shifted, part of my body would be exposed and a small layer of ice began to cover my skin.

Needless to say, any "romantic" thoughts were quickly extinguished by Mother Nature. I think we slept a total of twenty minutes. The ground was like chopped up cement. After years of damage from full-contact sports, we both share a list of aches and pains that all seemed to flare up that night.

The trip was not an entire disaster although it takes a hindsight view to figure that out. The drive up was delayed a couple hours by Alexander's tardiness, then it took longer to get up there anyway because we couldn't find the correct campsite. We ended up doing a lot of nagging at each other to the point that I didn't even want to sleep by him that night. Once we settled at our site I went wandering with Aurora to do some thinking. The other girls camping with us were off doing their own thing so I finally shouted for Al to come up since I felt bad he was sitting there doing most likely nothing.

Well he came and up and sat on the rock and there was just more nit-picking. My problem is that normally, when someone annoys me is I just give 'em a piece of my mind without a second thought. With Al, I become quiet so I avoid regrets. As everything is running through my head, Al realizes I'm upset and asks me what I'm thinking. The problem is, I rarely tell him what's on my mind, which adds to his frustration. Knowing that now I'm making the situation worse, I finally tell him that I'm not mad, I'm just bothered by all the nit-picking we've been having.

Without skipping a bit, Al jumps off the rock and stands a couple feet behind and tells me to come here. I slowly slide off the rock and walk up to him as he opens his arms to hug me. As soon as I feel his arms embrace me, I feel my eyes start to water. I'm not sure why I get like that since I could hug him for two hours and never grow tired of it.

We get to talking again and Al tells me that I'm pretty. Now, I'm not about to give you some long, winded sob story, but I'm just not used to being treated well or complimented. He asks me if I believe him and I tell him kind of and after a pause, he tells me that every time he tells me that I'm pretty, he wants it to feel like the first time I've heard him say it.

Later that night, after several failed attempts to cook bratwursts over the fire, and a couple beers later, the girls start getting themselves worked up over bears. They finally go hide in the car, too afraid to even sleep in their tent for the night. Hours later, as we find ourselves tossing and turning in an attempt to get comfortable, I realize Al is wide awake. We start talking, being as groggy as I was it took me a couple seconds longer to figure the mumbling noises was him asking me a question.

"What do you want?"

I'm not sure how long it really took, but it felt like a long twenty minutes before I answered. It wasn't that I didn't know what to say, it was that I didn't want to say it. Then I finally told him, "I think what I want is what I'm scared of having."

"Which is?"

"Something good," I told him. There, I said it. It was out. This wasn't the first time I told someone this.

"Do you think I'm something good?" My head, resting on his chest, nodded a timid yes. "I care too much about you to hurt you. You know that?"

Despite the fact I thought I was whispering all along, I felt my voice get even smaller as I told him, "I've heard that before."

"How many of them lasted as long as I have?"

"A couple," I responded. Sadly, the two longest relationships I have been in I was told "I love you too much to hurt you" and "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise." The second one is a five second video clip that I play in my head all the time. And then you cheated on me? How could that not hurt me? You said you loved me!

Al went on to tell me how much he cares about me. As I sit here, retelling the story, it is so easy for me to see how incredible he is. But amidst the conversation, all I felt was fear.

"Do you think I am going to hurt you?"

"Yes," I told him hesitantly.

We talked for a bit more, and then I nodded off into a restless sleep. The conversation from there on is much more blury which is too bad because it was a fairly important one for our relationship.

So despite the nit-picking, arguing, and almost-frostbitten bum, I'd call the overall trip a success. I don't know much but I do know we're taking a step in the right direction and with every baby step forward, I'm one step closer to learn how to trust, feel, and maybe even love again.

Alexander's Eight

If ever there was a time for me to write something "mushy" this is it. So if you hate all the sappy love stuff [as do I]...skip this. All of it.

Alexander may be the best thing that has ever happened to me. Now, even as I write that, I consider it a large exaggeration. I can list off things in my life or things that were once in my life that have done far greater things than Alexander has done for me. However, I know that Alexander has the potential to change my life much more than what he has done thus far.

To begin, I must actually rewind. My childhood was full of a lot of sadness. Now, by no means am I saying I had it the worst. I grew up in rich suburbia with Mom, Dad, Sibling, and Fido [and several other pets]. I did, however, have a lot of obstacles thrown at me. Maybe if I look at it religiously, I had a lot of tests God put me through. You know, that whole idea that "if He put you to it, He will bring you through it" or "God will only give you what you can handle." Well I spent a lot of time telling myself that I was special, that's why I was always getting hurt, because God knew that I could handle it and other people couldn't. I felt special. For awhile. And then I just figured God was dead. So you get the picture that there's been a lot of heartache, sorrow, and general sadness? Good. Lets proceed to the present.

Alexander is incredible. When we started on this whole dating thing, I didn't even have to tell him I wasn't ready for things [physically or emotionally]. He never pushed too far. I mean, his timing for slowly getting closer and closer as a relationship has been impeccable. On the few occasions he would speak with my old roommate or a close friend [and they then pass on the information to me], he has even said how he didn't think I was ready or he didn't want to push too close because it would push me away. We've never had to have a "talk" of some sort to clarify things, the only reason we have talked is I suppose in a general sense, to find out more.

Now, you may judge me for the next part and think, "Valentine, these things should be a give" but as I spend more time with him, I get nervous about being close and falling really hard for him. I wasn't looking for a relationship and NEVER though I would date him of all people, but as I think about it more often, I see how great of a person he is, especially for me.

1. Alexander won't even touch drugs. Some of you may think that it is easy to find people like this, but at our age and our location, I don't think I could list more than five people who have NEVER done drugs, and definitely no more than ten who aren't using right now. Before you pass judgement, know my friends are either in college or have careers-very few are the stereotypical lazy hippie smoking pot all day on their mom's couch because I dislike lazy/unmotivated people and do not surround myself with the likes.

2. Alexander is not aggressive. Now that I think of it, in more than one way. Although he will fight someone, and has a good chance at winning against almost anyone, he doesn't unless he absolutely deems it necessary. More importantly though, is as I mentioned before, he never pushes things too far. Anytime we took another step to doing something more intimate, he would ask if I was okay, or if I was sure I wanted to do whatever. He does a lot more thinking with the big head than the little head. This is a brand new concept for me since my only other "intimate" relationship was one not of choice.

3. He's the monogamous type. He doesn't hook up. I think he told me that's he's kissed two girls that weren't his girlfriend.

4. Alexander's humor. He is by no means a stand up comedian. If put on stage he would most likely fail before the curtains finished opening. But he can keep a sense of humor in the midst of any sort of foreplay...as long as there's no jokes about anal sex. Which is okay, because I think I threw up a bit in my mouth just thinking about it. People take sex and similar physical contact too seriously.** Look at the human body. It's a joke. Look at a naked man and then look at a male cheetah or dolphin or elk [bull?] nature beholds so many beautiful creatures... the human penis is not one of them. Anyway, all I'm saying is that he is able to joke about practically anything which has been the antidote to my once very closed off, not-joking self.

5. He listens. Now before all you married females tell me that it's a lie, he's just good at pretending to listen just wait. It is rare that he lets me finish even a five minute story without an interruption. Sometimes, it's not the first time I tell him something. But he really does listen.

6. He talks. A lot. I've had boyfriends [aka my last one] that will not talk. It's that terrible conversation where you finish telling him about your day and you ask about his and all he says is, "Nothin'," or something to that extent. Over and over again. Every day. I love the fact that Alexander will call me and be excited to tell me a completely unimportant, useless story. And despite the fact that I tell Alexander at least once a week that he talks too much and I wish I had some duct tape, I would never trade it for the opposite.

7. Compliments. This one's a bit newer. Maybe only the last month or so. My God, does that boy [man?] dish out compliments. I don't think I've escaped his presence once in the last week without him telling me I'm pretty. Twenty times. He doesn't tell me I'm hot or sexy nearly as much as he sends me texts such as this: "Every time I think that I've seen the prettiest you ever, I see you again and you completely blow me away."

8. He's a family guy. He has a great, welcoming family who have all been overwhelmingly kind to me [again, something new to me]. His mother sends me occasional texts, gave me an Easter present, and even invited me to come visit her with or without Alexander. Despite the fact that Alexander's annoyingly close to his brother [whose moving here soon and will probably get more attention than me] I understand the importance of having a close family and for the most part I like seeing that.

So there it is. eight solid reasons I like Alexander. No one person can suit your needs and absolutely nobody is perfect. I do my best to look at his traits in a positive way because when you start getting picky is when your relationship starts to fail. I know, or I think I know, deep down Al is a great guy. I mean, God forbid I say the whole "he may be The One" line but for the time being, he is the one for me.

I firmly believe that you should only be with someone who pushes you to be a better person. I have seen Al's change over the months much easier than I have seen a change in myself but I do know that I am slowly changing. It scares me more than the darkest waters or wildest tornadoes to be in a long-term, serious relationship. Figuratively, my heart has been so broken, blended, and smashed, I have lost the capacity to care about all save a handful of things. I haven't felt happy since mid November of '08, and even that only lasted a couple days. But I know that if I still have the capacity to love, eventually, someday, maybe even hopefully, it will be Alexander.

**I'm not saying having sex with someone isn't a serious decision. I am not condoning the random hookup, one-night-stand-type sex. I actually have a lot of issues with things like that because careless intercourse, among other things, is deteriorating the health of the nation.

YAY!

Denver is considering repealing the ugly pit bull ban that has killed over 2000 innocent dogs since 2005.

If anyone finds my page, please help by taking this poll!!!

http://cbs4denver.com/poll

My pit bull was more well-behaved than any Golden Retriever, Poodle, Boxer and even my own beloved lab, she was my best friend and saved my life on four occasions!

Punish the deed, not the breed!

It Could Be Worse

Pictured: Spider bite. Yuck!

It could be worse.

I have really bad dreams. Last night I had another session of "Murdering Dreams" as I tend to call them. The worst part about it is that it won't just happen once, but they'll repeat over and over again until a different dream starts and then it repeats over and over again.

So I watched my mother get murdered several dozen times last night. Then [luckily?] it switched to the next dream. This one was an oldie - some guy, not sure who he's supposed to be in real life but he was known to me in the dream, and he was hiking up this trail when a hooded person comes from behind. They get in this struggle where he actually ends up stabbing himself with a pair of scissors twice before the hooded figure takes out his own scissors and "helps" him. It always happens that way and I'm not sure why. [Anyone a dream interpreter?]

After that dream faded away, a woman whose face I never saw was dragged into a closet in her house by the same hooded figure.

So while my dreams were far from pleasant, I woke up grateful that my mother was not murdered last night.

This is why I believe bad things in the world need to happen. You forget what's really going for you if you don't have a bad day [or night] every once in awhile.

Frustration Pt. II

Lawyers.

This one isn't quite what you're thinking. I'm referring to my lawyer boyfriend, Alexander. Now, he's not quite a lawyer, but he sure has the argumentative part of it down pat. GAHH it is sooo annoying that we can be having a nice conversation and he'll just challenge something I said to the point that he is basically calling me a liar. I hate being called a liar. If I am telling some funny, dramatic story, on occasion I'll drag the truth a bit (who doesn't?) and if Alexander pinpoints some false statement, he'll just nag and nag and nag at it. Now, I'll admit and fix my story if I did exaggerate but the thing is, Alex ends up killing any interest of mine to actually finish it.

The same sort of thing occurs when I begin a story. If it's more than a minute long, he ends up cutting me off to tell some story of his. If I was the stereotpical female where I just talked and talked and talked 'til my head fell off, then I don't think that would be to terrible that he cuts some of my stories short but the fact of the matter is that I am a very reserved (not shy) person and it is rare when I turn into a chatterbox. Majority of the time, I won't say anything at all, especially if I am hurt, bothered, etc. I have spent a very long time containing all my emotions so that they are very well bottled inside. So it may not come as a big surprise to anyone that my strongest emotion is usually anger. My inability to express my emotions vocally is part of the reason I decided to kickstart this bad boy again. I've been through the whole "coping mechanisms" and although I think some of that stuff is a load of caca, I do know that personally, writing always helps me relax even the tiniest bit.

So there you go. Birthdays=lame Lawyers=lamer.

Don't get me wrong, I love hanging out with Alexander and am glad he is in my life, but every once in awhile I could do without the attitude. I don't even think he's aware of it most the time. We were cuddling on my bed when he had to start another one of those "no, you're wrong" arguments and I rolled away from him to show how bothered I really was by his stupid arguing and he said "okay, well I gotta run anyways" and gets up, then asks me to get up and hug him. Ha. Then he looks all butt-hurt because I won't hug him. No, get out of my house. Then he wants me to call him before I go to sleep. Well Sweetie, if you didn't have to argue with me all the time, you could have slept at my house.

Thank god everyone only gets one birthday a year. I wish Alex could only argue with me one day of the year.

Frustration.

My 2 Frustrations right now are birthdays and lawyers.

Lets start with birthdays.

I currently live across the country from where I grew up/spent my childhood. For the most part, I've done my best to cut off all ties from back there for reasons I'll delve into at a later date. However, I do have a handful of good friends (and family) that I stay in contact with fairly often. Rob is one of them. Rob and I go back to senior year of high school. After a rough and tumble beginning (it was one of those, boy likes girl, girl likes other boy, boy 1 never gets the picture, always tries to date girl, girl is in love with boy 2, etc) we have for the most part moved on from the whole crush thing and have a great friendship. I will be the first to admit that he makes a much bigger effort to stay in touch, he texts me throughout the day and calls me each night. Does that alarm any of you females out there? This is not my boyfriend (he comes into the picture soon). One of my other good friends has gone so far as to call him my "stalker." How sweet.

Anyway, as you'll notice, the later I write the more scatterbrained it becomes. Rob's birthday was recently. Like I said, he and I live very far apart. I work three jobs as well as take training courses. Oh yeah, and I have a dog obsession so I am in the middle of training my pup as well as fostering other dogs. It is hard enough for me to remember everything I have to do for monday, tuesday, etc. let alone to remember what the date is. So, I'm sure it's easy to predict by now, I more or less missed his birthday. I sent him a text late in the evening because he was out drinking with friends, but I might as well have not texted him at all for how upset he was.

Now, I am not saying that I should not take any blame for this, but may I remind you, he is not five, six, ten, or turning any significant age such as 18 or 21. He also knows that not only do I not like birthdays, but I can almost say I hate them. The idea that just because you were born on X day means the whole world should revolve around you every year seems absurd to me. I think birthday parties are great for young kids, but once you get into the teens your birthday doesn't matter as much. Sure, go out with some friends, get drunk, go on a trip, whatever tickles your fancy, but it doesn't need to be shouted out to the whole world.

So back to the point, Rob flipped out at me. Played the whole guilt trip, that his ex-girlfriend was the first to call him, he was hoping to wake up in the morning to some early morning voicemail left by me, the whole sha-bang (sp?). I became frustrated quickly because he completely side-swiped my actual "happy birthday" that I sent and really just flipped. Keep in mind please, that in all the years I have known Rob, I don't think I have even heard him raise his voice, so when he tweaks out, it takes everyone by surprise.

I guess my annoyance is the fact that it is such a selfish thing to be bothered by. I know what day his birthday is. But I never really pay attention to what day it is. And that's my bad. But he is still stuck waiting and wishing that I'll somehow change my mind and come running back home and want to be with him, so he holds these high expectations of me, that just aren't me.

Ughh.

The Search Begins

So this is blog 2 of today. I'm in search for the perfect blog to begin. I'm not search what my search criteria is, but the searching has surely begun. Just to make things simpler, I'm pasting my blog from the other website in here...

So it's been a couple years since I've done any online writing. I'm not sure how it will go. Blogging seems like the "cool" thing to do write now which is funny cause when I was in middle/high school, all the online blogging was discouraged, and look now! All my "mentors" are spilling their guts on here.

Anyhoo, I've decided that I need to try some new stuff right. Actually, this whole summer has been a "try new things" experiment and it's been getting crazier and crazier (in a good way, mostly). I personally prefer writing in a journal, but my fingers type 1000x faster than my carpal tunnel-like hand can write and going back to the whole crazy summer thing, I just don't have the time, nor do I make the time to attempt to get all my thoughts on paper.

Wish me luck,

V