Wrapping it up

Everyone blogs for a different reason; as a reader, it is my opinion that most blogs are products of a simple indulgence - look what I am doing, look what I have done. There's a term out there for it: Micro Fame. A way to selfishly share their lives without having to reciprocate and listen to others. The selfishness can easily be offset by reading other blogs, so essentially you get a bunch of people relating to others without interaction -- unless you comment each other, of course. I'm still amused by the "look what I'm doing every five minutes" style of blogging, even though I don't agree with bombarding people with so much useless information; I'm not really interested in knowing that you stubbed your toe 5 seconds ago and that your last fart smelled like bacon. It's interesting, though, that blogs have provided us the ability to know each other's intimate thoughts, yet still keep us at a safe distance, disconnected. It used to take effort -- a phone call or personal visit -- to find out how and what a friend was doing. Now, we place our emotions and experiences on a 24 Hour Buffet -- I've put it all out there... please take what you like, when you'd like.
I don't have a problem with this new system. In fact, it makes me all the more appreciative of the "old" ways; a phone call from a friend can make my day. And in cases of my dear friend Danielle, it is sometimes the only way to keep up with her trials and tribulations in another hemisphere. And her blog is something to admire, because it is also a great resource of how to survive when suddenly moving to Brazil in addition to her intelligent editorials and daily events.
Sometimes my own blogging was sporadic. I've always tried to keep the the right priorities: This is a blog about life, not a life about a blog. Quality over quantity.

Ultimately it comes down to this: This is a blog about my journey through grief and transition. Anyone that has lost a parent, or both, understands what an adventure it can be. The fact is that my journey will never end... it simply becomes a bit easier; I know how the path is paved, but sharp turns inevitably pop up whenever I think I know where I'm going.

Six years ago, I spent a week at the United States Naval Academy, in preparation to attend that prestigious institution. The competition was fierce, but I made it to the summer program, a good indication that I was on track to gain my admission. I wrote to my father, the Army man, every evening and detailed my experiences. He was so very proud that I had made it there. On the last day, we were subjected to yelling, questioning, and intense physical exertion -- your average boot camp stuff -- but most of us were spoiled 17 year old kids, so this was extreme. I just remember doing push ups as they mopped up the sweat and tears off the floor in front of me. Then, suddenly, we were sent outside to the main courtyard, greeted by the Navy band and the Dean. We were soaked in sweat, and now rain, yet we were overcome with so much pride... we freaking survived. I remember cheering, hugging strangers, and feeling euphoric. At the time, I considered it the proudest, most challenging time of my life.

A month later, I pressed my ear to my father's chest as his heart beat its final time. I planned the funeral and gave my eulogy to a standing room only crowd. I buried my parents together, after having held onto my mother's ashes for 12 years. The next few months became the most difficult challenge of my life.

I received the congressional nomination required for admission to the academy, but it no longer made sense to go. My only support was gone. Later, I got accepted to all the UC's that I applied to, but I found myself unable to go. New challenges -- a house, a business, a crash course in adult life -- all prevented me from going off to school.

I try not to use becoming an orphan at 17 as a scapegoat. But I cannot deny the catastrophic change it has caused in my personal development. There was a reason that I excelled at many jobs I once held, but never stuck with: It just wasn't where I was supposed to be. There was a reason I couldn't make house payments: I wasn't supposed to be a homeowner! (yet.) I just felt like I was living someone else's life. Even after being criticized by people I considered friends at the time, being told that my chances were gone, that I should find a trade and stick with it, etc etc... I made it. On the flipside, there are the friendships that have endured through all of this, that never doubted me. Those friendships make the naysayers hardly even memorable.

Five years later, I am here. I'm sitting in the UC Davis library, doing what I've only dreamed of: Putting off studying to write a blog post. Haha.

Every day I have my "I can't believe I'm here!" moments, and my friends always tease me for being the one that repeatedly asks, "Don't you just LOVE it here?" Finally, I am directing my own life. I am no longer having to react to circumstances beyond my control. I have choices, something I missed for a very long time. Best of all, I have the love of my life by my side.

The transition is over, and there is no longer any uncertainty.
I am retiring this blog.

But I'm still around, and I'll still receive comments. So if for any reason you want an update, let me know.

And if you're in town, we'll share a Cafecito con Leche.

Overdue Update on Things

Okay. I've calmed down. EZ Lube appealed the court's decision simply to buy more time. They are not interested in actually going back to court, rather they know that the deadline before the judgement gets entered is only a week away, so the appeal pushes that deadline back another month. I'll be waiting for my check, jerks. So that was pleasant news. Also, the local news station is doing an in depth report on this whole incident. I filmed an interview before moving, and they're finally airing it now since this is sweeps week for the networks. All I can say is... they filmed that DAYS before I moved -- the craziest, most stressful time ever! I'm sure I looked pretty haggard during the interview. Oh well... I don't live there anymore anyway! So you local folks... 11pm on channel 6 tonight.

The EZ Lube stuff sent me for a loop last night, and on top of that, my brain was fried from studying for my 2nd Art History midterm THIS MORNING which consisted of testing me on the names, dates, locations and descriptions of 40 or so pieces of Greek art. Glad that's over. That concludes the midterms for this quarter, and soon enough, this quarter will be over. Time flies on the quarter system.

I'm also proud to announce that Mark left today to attend his graduation ceremony. I really wanted to go, but I had that tedious midterm. Also, my not attending saves us hotel costs and having to get a pet sitter... and it affords his family an extra ticket so that no one gets left out. It's an exciting event for his family, because even though he's too humble to admit pride in his great accomplishment, he's the first one to graduate college! It's a great reflection of his parents' ability to provide him the opportunity to get his degree, as well as his own commitment to higher education. What is also remarkable is that he completed the the 180 units required for a bachelor's degree in about 2.5 years... that takes four years for the rest of us! He keeps brushing it off like it's no big deal, so hopefully he'll see the great amount of pride that his family has tomorrow when they hand him that diploma. And it has a been a good year for his family; just a few months ago his sister completed Junior College, so maybe there will be another Bachelor's Degree in the family in the next few years.

In the meantime, I am just chugging along with school stuff, selling the house stuff, and UNPACKING. The kitchen is done. The living room is sorta done... there are only a few of Mark's boxes left in there to be dealt with. The bedroom is a disaster, and the office is an obstacle course. There will be major organizing occurring this weekend! Thankfully, Mark made a "don't fit/don't wear/donate" pile of clothes, so he managed to decrease the piles of clothing that he owns. Now, instead of being able to clothe a small country, he can merely clothe a small village. For a year.

...and this biking as my only form of transportation thing is starting to pay off. I don't think I've lost any weight in pounds, but my endurance is getting a lot better and I don't feel like I am going to die before getting to my destination anymore. There are also certain areas that make me sneeze as I go by, and I have learned to turn my head when sneezing to avoid getting hit by my own mighty mucous mist.

And in recent news, Sunday marked the 2nd anniversary of the day I flew to Utah to see Mark for the first time. We've deemed that day the "official" start of the relationship, even though we considered ourselves together before actually, you know, getting together. I'll spare you the graphic details. He treated me to a steak dinner, 18 white roses, and a really nice conversation over dinner. During the day, we took a little road trip with the dogs through a neighboring town and up into the mountains. It was just a really nice break from reality. I'll get those photos posted when he gets back from Utah, since he took my camera with him.

So now I've got errands to run, including figuring out how to buy a 30 lb bag of dog food and getting it home without a car. Balance it on the handlebars? Should be interesting!

Ah, and here's a photo of Mark and I at the last home football game. Enjoy!

What's Wrong?

Mark left yesterday morning.

Someone needs to write a manual for me, entitled, How to survive a long distance relationship without wanting to stay in bed all day clutching a shirt that your love accidentally left behind that still retains their smell.

I know that i'll get through this, again, and that Mark will be back soon.
This knowledge does nothing for me. I'm really bummed out.

I spend a month falling even more in love with him, and then he has to go. So now I have to package away these feelings for another month or so; I have to get out of my in love state of mind and just grit my teeth and get through the time that he's not here.

I haven't talked to him since he left... a few text messages here and there, but no actual conversation on the phone. I just can't do it. Every time I think about him, my eyes well up with these pesky tears and I feel this obnoxious wrenching in my heart and in less than 30 seconds, I end up looking like a tomato. It's a terrible mess.

But in all seriousness, I'm tired. It's hard to ride this roller coaster of extreme emotions. I don't want to be sad anymore. I just want him to be here.... or anywhere with me. I don't like spending all my energy on myself; I don't like making dinner just for me or shopping for groceries that are just going to be consumed by me... or sleeping in a bed that only contains me. I can do it, but I just don't like it. ESPECIALLY because I'm lucky enough to have found someone that I'd like to do these things with for the rest of my life. I'm very fortunate... but why does it have to feel so terrible?

keep busy keep busy

I think I'll go on a Mother/Son hike with Diego tomorrow. I could definitely use the exercise.

As for now... I've got a shirt to sniff.

He's gone again.

Mark left today. I'm not sure how I feel about it.... yet. I keep feeling like he's going to walk in any minute now and snuggle me, among other pleasant things, to sleep. But he's not. Another countdown begins; Thanksgiving becomes the next thing to look forward to.
Saying goodbye at the airport was different this time... there were no tears, just a tiredness in my heart. The airport goodbyes are such habit now that it becomes exhausting to think about the loneliness that will ensue. It was so matter-of-fact today, something that we had no control over so it wasn't worth making a fuss about. I don't believe that is any reflection of how we feel about each other; rather it simply shows how we feel about this long distance thing.

Two months ago I wrote that I was going to lose weight. I haven't. At ALL. I've got a ton of excuses, some of them actually legitimate, but mostly just nonsense. This gung-ho attitude followed by disappointment is my worst enemy... but this time around I felt disappointment from Mark, and it changed things a bit. Not just disappointment about the weight, but just a general disappointment in me. I'm not that sad about it, because he has all the right in the world to feel that way - It just changes things a bit. It forces me to think outside of myself in relation to my attitude and my appearance. I really need to make a change, a long term, slowly-but-surely change. Days seem to pass so slowly yet the months fly by. I don't understand where the time goes; why, in my quietest moments, it moves so slowly... yet when I blink my eyes it seems to have made up for that sluggishness by passing me by completely.

I'm not really sure how I feel right now. I have a fairly busy day tomorrow so all I really need to do is go to bed and get up at a decent hour.

My dogs are always affected whenever Mark leaves. They immediately notice the sudden availability of that side of the bed.

It's kinda nice to never have to sleep alone.

A September to Remember

I've been unemployed this entire month. I don't like talking crap about people when they sign my paychecks, so I haven't really divulged that my ex-boss was a total nut job. Seriously. The type of person that makes you kinda cock your head to one side and wonder what planet she may have come from that employs such illogical thinking. I mostly felt that my job was to serve as a buffer between her and the patients at her dental office; a mediator and a translator and mostly the one who would salvage relationships and keep patients from fleeing to another office, as justified as they were in wanting to leave.

Then after a while I found myself becoming more of a patient advocate, mostly fighting with her on their behalf and subtly pointing out her irrational ways of thinking. This started happening when I noticed how she was ripping people off unintentionally; she wasn't trying to screw them, she just seriously forgot that she made deals with them, then tried to collect the usual amount for the services provided - and be rude and send them to collections for not paying the new amount. She added unauthorized charges all the time - looking at a patient ledger was like solving a puzzle that was missing half the pieces. She seriously forgot things ALL THE TIME. Hell, she'd make me promises and forget them on a continual basis. It might have to do with that fact that she never ate anything except hershey's kisses and I rarely saw her drinking anything other than alcohol. I can't really summarize how nuts she was, all I can say is that it was a little frightening that a woman in her 50's, running a business, could be so dumb and nuts. I honestly went beyond the call of duty for this woman, namely when she subjected me to seeing her in the form of a tomato faced alien... I can't even slice tomatoes anymore without thinking about it.

We amicably parted ways; she threw away my time card because she thought I didn't need it, I told her it was unacceptable to destroy my records as they are my property, she felt threatened and told me that I was holding her hostage in her office and promptly pointed out the location of the door... but all without really firing me. She made it my choice, because she is not one to ever be held accountable for her actions, ever. What a relief to be out of there. All in all, I'm happier, even though my money situation is a bit scary - for now.

But about a week later, Mark came into town and everything was all better. The timing was pretty great - I mean, now would be the time to be unemployed. He's here to kick my ass if I am slacking on the job hunt and he's here to lift my spirits when I start feeling down.

And it has gotten ugly, probably worse than ever before. Something happens when I get incredibly depressed, and it's something that I can remember happening since I was about 6 years old. I just don't want to live. And I sit here now and type this and I KNOW it's ridiculous because I've seen the firsthand effects of suicide and how terrible it is. It's just an awful awful thing... yet I go to this place once in a while and none of that even registers. And it's not some tormented, bloody, "oh look at me I want to die! life sucks!" kind of thing; it's a very peaceful, "I don't like this game and I'd like for it to be over" way of thinking that just surrounds me. It's overwhelming and deafening. It's my darkest secret.
I'm writing about it because it's something that I need to deal with by figuring out exactly what sets off this behavior; what it is that knocks over that first domino. It's a bit scary, but I need to be open and honest with myself and others about this.

I've been unemployed on mandatory vacation for 17 days. Things are looking up on the job hunt so far and I'm a bit excited about the prospective jobs that I might have. I'm shooting high because I have nothing to lose, however if I am not employed by month end, I will get a job that is easy to obtain and easy to drop when a better one comes around.

I love that Mark is here, even if it is only for a few more days. What would normally be a ridiculously stressful time has become a very wonderful opportunity to spend more time with the person I love the most. I think I may have needed this break from things. It has set me back a bit financially, but it has benefited me emotionally tenfold. And I'm completely satisfied with my relationship with Mark; I'm just so very confident about us, our future, our everything. It's funny how I keep loving this person more and more every day.

We also did something completely insane that has brought us even closer, much to the surprise of everyone that knows about it. Ask at your own risk.

This post has been a bit up and down, but that's exactly how this month has been. I'm happy to say that all in all, things are going to be just fine. I am looking forward to what lies ahead.

This optimism has nothing to do with the ice cream I am about to eat. I promise.

How Can I Tell You?

How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
but I can't think of right words to say
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you, but my words
just blow away, just blow away
It always ends up to one thing, honey
and I can't think of right words to say
Wherever I am girl, I'm always walking with you
I'm always walking with you, but I look and you're not there
Whoever I'm with, I'm always, always talking to you
I'm always talking to you, and I'm sad that
you can't hear, sad that you can't hear
It always ends up to one thing, honey,
when I look and you're not there
I need to know you, need to feel my arms around you
feel my arms around you, like a sea around a shore
and -- each night and day I pray, in hope
that I might find you, in hope that I might
find you, because heart's can do no more
It always ends up to one thing honey, still I kneel upon the floor
How can I tell you that I love you, I love you
but I can't think of right words to say
I long to tell you that I'm always thinking of you
I'm always thinking of you....
It always ends up to one thing honey
and I can't think of right words to say

The Weekend

The wedding was amazing.

I looked fantastic.

Mark looked even better.

And, of course, we didn't take any pictures.
Actually, we snapped a few on Mark's phone, but after several requests, he has yet to send them to me. The wedding photographer took a bunch as well (because we're so good looking) so I am waiting to get a hold of those.

The best part of the evening was watching Mark interact with people that I've known and respected for while; they had heard so much about him in the last few months and were all excited to meet him, and he managed to impress every last one. Which really isn't some great feat... because he's just fantastic anyway. He didn't have to try to win anyone over, he was just his wonderful self.
It's just nice to know that he can fend for himself and that I didn't have to worry about him at all. Now that I think about it, he kinda upstaged me! ::gasp::

Another highlight of the evening was meeting the groom's two sons and their girlfriends. We were seated at the same table and had a ridiculously good time. There was no awkwardness and we all just got along as if we'd been friends for years. Again, Mark was fantastic. And I had too much wine. I knew this because my Caesar salad was hilarious and I kept clanging my silverware against everything in an attempt to have control over my motor functions.

And of course, it being a wedding.....
I couldn't even walk the next day.

not because I had a debilitating sexual encounter, but because I wore high shoes and danced all night and I woke up with painful and swollen feet.

We slept in until 11 the next day, went to lunch and a movie with Holly and MM.. and then just went home and were lazy for the remainder of the evening. It was really nice.

He left early early Monday a.m... and I'm proud to say that I only sobbed for 5 miles after dropping him off at the airport.

Best weekend ever. :D

update: I found pictures!!

What I Least Expected

I don't blog because I don't feel like anything new is going on. I don't feel that I have any witty stories or experiences worth sharing... yet when I do have the urge to just sit and write, I get this feeling that too many things have happened since the last post and there is just no way to provide an update that could include everything.
Makes no sense to me.

Also I am trying to cut the habit of only writing when something is wrong. I've figured out that I don't like talking about the bad stuff, so I write instead. But when things are great or nice, I'm quick to talk about it and leave it off the blog.
I'm sure this isn't uncommon.

So this is a mix of both. Normally I'd be sitting here talking about the past, how I miss my father and how his death affects me to this day, the little things that constantly remind me of him and prod at my heart in an unpleasant manner and the other intricacies of grief that sneak up on me on a daily basis.
Thursday, July 12th, was the 5th anniversary of my father's death.
There is something odd about 5's and their multiples. Something... like if you were to write out the number of years since a person's death, it would look like this:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15

Why? I'm not sure. I always thought it was something specific to me; my mother died when I was 5 so when I turned 10, the 5 years that she had been gone equalled half of my life and it scared me a bit... and when I turned 15, the ratio of time she had been in my life had been reduced to a third... so 5 has always been this alarming number to me.

But this 5 year anniversary was different. Instead of having it cause me to reflect on the past, it opened my eyes to the future. A certainty that I would normally consider arrogant had appeared before my eyes.

The days leading up to the 12th threw me for a loop. I couldn't find my car in parking lots (my big red truck had become so elusive), I wanted to just stay in bed, and a skin condition that popped up a year ago around this time mysteriously surfaced again -- Almost to the day it did last year.

The 11th was uneventful, a quiet dinner alone followed by the squink squink sound of a windex bottle as I wiped windows and mirrors clean... the occasional glance at myself in the mirror, the reflection of a slight smirk as I realized that once again, I was trying to postpone any sad feelings by distracting myself with the celebratory feelings of finally removing that rust stain on the bathroom sink.

I'm no stranger to feeling alone, and although that feeling has substantially decreased over the past year, it is around this time of year that it reaches it's peak. I surrendered to this feeling yet again, and armed with my cup of tea, I went to bed. I laid there for about an hour until the phone rang. It was Mark. It was 2am. He was at my door.

When I felt most alone, he was there. It was like a dream.... but I should have known better. He's Mark, he's amazing, and although I don't expect him to do these things, I am fully aware that he is capable of making me incredibly happy. The kind of happy that makes your eyes well up when you think about it, the kind of happy that you wish you could cut into pieces and give to your friends because it feels like so much happy shouldn't all go to one person.

The kind of happy that makes you certain of your future.

Missing him...

I want to spend the day with you today. I want to make us some lunch, I want us to just go somewhere nice and do absolutely nothing all day; I want to forget all the things that need to be done, forget the deadlines and the responsibilities. I just want you here, I want to be there, I just want to be with you.

Today is solely dedicated to fighting the urge to drive to Utah to visit Mark. I don't care that I don't have a cell phone, that my truck has been acting funny lately, and that I have super important things to do in the next couple of days. No, I want to just up and leave and drive 10 hours to spend a day with him. And when I really want to do something, I make it happen. I'm persistent and persuasive, which are great traits when they are directed at someone else.
So here I am on this lovely Saturday morning figuring out my plan, telling myself I need to be more responsible and stay, but I really do deserve a break, but not when I am broke and have things to do, that I shouldn't be so rash in my decisions, but spontaneity is a good thing... And I MISS HIM!

Diego has my car keys now. He has been instructed not to let me have them back unless we need to go somewhere locally.

I love my long distance relationship, I really do. I love that we have no choice but to learn the important things about each other; that this is real, based on far more than fleeting physical attributes. We've got this solid relationship that can withstand the 600 miles between us.
I love that feeling of seeing him after being apart for entire weeks at a time. Weeks that would normally just zoom on by now feel like forever. . It's almost been 3 weeks now... and I'm struggling. A lot.

Like last night when I was thirsty and I was too afraid to go to the kitchen in the dark because there's a big scary window by the sink and Diego kept telling me, "No you go first" and then I'd walk a few steps and he wouldn't even go with me like he promised...
That's when I realized just how much I miss My Handsome.


But I have to wait. I don't want to wait. ::stomp stomp stomp:::

I've thrown my little fit and I've realized that I haven't eaten today. So, My Dear Handsome, I will make us both some lunch and eat it in your honor. Only because I love you. These are the sacrifices I am willing to make.

I'll clean the house and do what needs to be done. I'll save my money. I'll take care of all my responsibilities! I'll be so good and responsible! Look at me!

I'LL TOTALLY DESERVE A ROAD TRIP NEXT WEEKEND!

A Tale of Two Pancakes

I made perfect pancakes this morning. Golden brown, not burnt, plate sized and perfectly round, these were pancakes to be remembered. So I ate them.
Arranged neatly next to my eggs, accompanied by my pulpilicious orange juice, I couldn't help but admire this perfection of a Breakfast Trifecta.

Now this may not sound like some major achievement, but it is. I've been burning ruining making pancakes since I was 7 years old. No one ever supervised me... I just followed the directions on the box. In the beginning I thought it perfectly normal to eat my pancakes to the sound of the smoke detector.
Since then, my pancakes have been nearly perfect. Misshapen yet delicious, stacked from largest to smallest - what was lacking? It's simple.

Love.

These pancakes were the first pancakes I have made since I've been in love. They were worthy of the cover of Pancakes Weekly magazine. Coincidence? You decide. I think it's fairly obvious.