worst blogger ever.

sorry, the vacation won.

Picture Me

I am running around like a maniac today because it is my last day of work before a very extended vacation. I will be in Australia and New Zealand until December, and decided that I would wait until today to finish up the next three weeks worth of work, apply to 4 jobs, pack and get my life in order.

As a result, my to-do list is taunting me, so I am ignoring it altogether by blogging.

There is laundry to be done, bills to be paid, and a giant list of camping equipment that I have to haul across the globe.

My sister is a little bit of an outdoors enthusiast, so we will be spending our time in New Zealand on a Great Walk.

Do we have reservations? No.

Plane tickets? Who needs those?

A plan of attack? Outlook not good.

However, I have no doubt it will be the best part of my trip.

Minus the animals. I have no idea what kinds of THINGS lurk in the wilderness of NZ. I have never seen Lord of the Rings, and can’t seem to imagine the vegetation, let alone wrap my head around what may sneak up on us in the middle of the night.

Oh and the pictures. I cannot wait to take pictures with the camera that I don’t have. However, after losing all of my pics from 6 months in Europe to a stolen computer fiasco, I need some new adventure pics to rub in the faces of all my has-been classmates.

I’m busting out of this joint. Australia debt here I come.

And maybe when I get back I will have the courage to quit my job!

So I can never pay off my credit cards. That are funding a trip to Australia. Go me.

Did you hear that?

That was my life crashing in around me.

Vlasic pickles suck. They have a Double Dare slime tint to them, and aren’t even crunchy. Klaussen is where it’s at.

Hope & a Handgun

I am hoping for your sake that you are happy. I am not sure I would be in your situation, but then again, I am not you. I know you didn’t get to choose, and you made a commitment, but please know that sometimes you get to consider what you need to be happy. Would you be there now if you had known then?

If you took making him happy, because it makes you happy out of the equation, is there anything that he does that makes you happy? And if you could choose to live without all of those qualities, would you choose the ones that he displays the most?

Is he everything that you wanted him to be? As you move to stand on your own, and he gets bigger and stronger and more hateful by the day, will your stance make him move? Will he wince in pain, or cause you hurt? Are you strong enough to let him go?

Can you tell me if you need me? Can I let you go if you don’t? I will be here as you blossom, but remain tethered to him. Does it feel like life, or does it feel like letdown? Are you in there, alive and well? Or are you pushing things aside, day by day, hoping they will go away?

Please, close your eyes, and think of the life you would have. You would be you, living your own stories instead of his. Running, your way. Loving, your way. Caring for others, aloud and in the open. Will you cry with me when it doesn’t work out?

Can you leave the pain and the hate? Does it look like that to you?

Or does it just look like marriage?

Triple Trouble

It looks like trouble comes in threes; and Mandy, the Roomie and I were willing to stir it up in batches on Friday night.

There were professional surfers, people in the porn industry and a LONG walk home that starred both Snickers and stalkers.

We started out slow. “We’ll just go for a drink, something easy,” Mandy said.

So we ended up at Cass St. Bar and had to down our pitcher in order to avoid Mandy’s ex-boyfriend. We figured he was destined to enter the bar any minute now, because as his friends had already started to flood in.

So we fled. Gulped down beers and practically ran to the next bar.

Where we met surfers. Professional ones- that looked 16. But nonetheless they were interested in my roommate, so we drank their beers and entertained their conversation.

Only to be interrupted by a guy in the “adult-film industry.” Yikes. I’m pretty sure he was shorter than me.

So we fled again, this time to Thrusters.

We were followed by the surfers, and the Roomie did a little making out on the dance floor with Surferman Rob, only to end up going home with him.

So Mandy and I befriended a random bald guy, ate pizza and garlic knots and walked the 45 minutes back to my house.

I have a question.

It goes something like this.

I want to date someone that is a smidge more exciting than me. Someone who will take the plunge, the leap or the fall.

Someone who will jump when you least expect it.

I want to date someone that makes me a little more normal, a little less all over the place, and a lot more inspired.

But if I want to date someone more exciting than me, doesn’t everyone?

No one wants to date boring, uninteresting and standard, but doesn’t someone end up being that by default?

So if everyone is out there looking for someone a smidge more exciting than themselves, than what will the most interesting people do? They will have no one to be their fire, their excitement.

Or do the most interesting people, in fact, look for someone to tame them. They have all the excitement they need and in pursuit of balance, they choose mellow, less ferocious?

I had tame, mellow, sensible and rational. Not a speck of crazy in Him. I was bored, unfulfilled. So when I meet new people who are a little less than thrilling, I automatically wonder… Am I choosing the same thing all over again?

I am

100% intolerant of people’s INTOLERANCE.

Proud of it, too.