Are You The Gatekeeper?

Just Breathe

2012-02-13T20:06:00.000-06:00

One of the things I know well about myself is that I am a total whiny cry-baby when I am sick.

And I am sick. A-fucking-gain. What the hell, immune system? Actually, a coworker today asked if I'd legitimately gotten rid of this nonsense from a month or so ago. Maybe I didn't. I just know I don't like it. Not even a little bit.

When I'm sick, I can take care of myself. I will drag my sniffly self to the store to get more tissues (dear lord, the ones with lotion are saving my poor little nose right now...ouch), I'll force liquid medicine down my throat if I have to, I'll stay home from work and sleep on the couch and get fluids in my system and all that stuff. I know when I have a fever and when it is breaking/how to break it.

But bloody hell, it's been a rough day. Being sick makes me want to cry at EVERYTHING. I remembered that as I choked back tears walking out of a meeting today, when the only thing that bugged me was that I didn't get an answer I wanted right then. Stupid shit, I know this.

At this point I just want someone to let me curl up next to them and have them play with my hair even though my head kind of hurts and rub my back and bring me soup and not really care if I fall asleep leaning on them and not mock me if I snore because I would since I can't breathe through my nose.

Guess who's too goddamned stubborn to call anyone to have them do that? This girl.

I just want a hug. And to be able to breathe through my nose. But mostly a hug.

Now Step Up, Step Up. Let's Do This

2012-02-09T21:07:00.000-06:00

Last night I ran four miles. This in and of itself isn't anything special.

I ran on a treadmill. I HATE treadmills. I always have. During training for my last half, I did spend quite a bit of time on one because it was August in St Louis, and that's just abysmal humidity to run in. When you break into a sweat walking to your car because it's so muggy outside, you know running in that heat is going to be horrendous. So I did the indoor running thing. About two-thirds of the way through training, 4-5 weeks before the race, my left calf decided to rebel HARD after every step on the treadmill. It was as though my calf was flexing but not ever releasing. Guys, that HURTS. Every step that hurts. I swore off treadmills for the rest of my training.

This time around instead of being hot, well, it's February so it's cold (obviously). Also not desirable running weather. Not to mention all the New Year's resolutioners who are still sticking around (which, yes, good for them) but seriously, it's super crowded in the gym every day, which is annoying. Nonetheless, I went knowing that there was a distinct chance my leg could act up again. Luckily, it didn't.

Maybe I should count it as a good thing that there were so many people there, too. I find myself pushing that much harder if there are people around. I'm not going to let them see me stop.

And I didn't. Last year my first four mile run was totally weak. There were stopping points and times I thought I was for sure going to die. This time? Nope. Four full miles, non-stop, at an elevated incline. There is something about that kind of sweat, that kind of physical exertion that's invigorating. When I thought I might need to pause? This song came on.

It's always a war. A war of wills between two sides of myself. Between the desire to stop and the knowledge that it's going to feel fucking fantastic if I keep going. It always feels fucking fantastic when I can get through something like that. Every time.

Last night's run did something else too. It reminded me that this thing I'm doing here is a lifestyle change, not just some passing hobby, that this is something I have always loved to do. It made me realize just how much I've fallen in the past few months.

After the plague hit around New Year's, I swore that I'd get back into the swing of things hard core. I didn't. Sure, I worked out on a regular basis, but I ran a grand total of four miles in the entire month. One run in January. Pathetic. I spent more time skipping my workouts for things like hockey games and drinks with friends and my own sheer laziness. Yes, sometimes it's a good thing to give into those things, but not now. Not with my race 66 days away. I plan on cutting ten minutes off my whole time, and that's going to require a refocus, a rededication of myself to this training.

Going back in my mind over what happened in January, I've also come to realize that my own diet habits are, well, shitty right now. I know how to cook, I am good at it, and yet I still find excuses to not do so. I know for a fact I'm not getting enough protein in my diet, and my vegetable intake leaves something to be desired. The thing about running on a treadmill is that it will tell you a ballpark number of how many calories you've burned. Four miles, 550 calories. Sunday I start the progression of increasing my mileage. That means the calories I'll be burning will increase, I'll logically be hungrier, and then the choice falls to me to make sure the fuel I ingest is good for me, rather than drowning myself in an oversized bag of Pretzel M&Ms.

Last night motivated me in so many ways.

I'm fixing the way I eat. Starting yesterday. Making a point to eat SOMETHING for breakfast, incorporating more lean proteins into dinners. Cooking instead of going out, and then taking lunch to work. Choosing snacks like Wheat Thins or yogurt with granola. Eating more fruits and vegetables. I am going to be better this time around because I know just how good I FEEL, not to mention how good I can look, when I eat better.

Last night also reminded me just how much more I have to give, just how much more I could push to improve myself. I'm clearly way ahead of where I started last time, and I know just how much I improved over the course of those twelve weeks, so I have high hopes. I started tonight with increasing weights on three of my lifts. I can barely walk, can hardly lift my arms up to even shoulder level. I hurt all over so badly, and yet this pain is ADDICTING.

Sixty-six days until the half marathon. One hundred twenty days until the Ragnar. Half marathons in October and November.

Let's do this.

We Gon' Party Like It's Ya Birthday

2012-02-08T07:01:00.000-06:00

I love these girls

Ali!

J-Dizzle

Bright Copper Kettles and Warm Woolen Mittens

2012-02-07T17:17:00.001-06:00

Part One

So here's what's fun. I went back to the first time I posted something like this and realized that the list I've been compiling in my head today is nearly identical to the one I wrote three and a half years ago.

Some things don't ever change. However, I'm sure I can expand on some of them. This time I'm skipping the rhyming part.

More of my favorite things:

Pedicures and flip flops
Pretzel M&Ms
Seamless harmonies woven into increasingly brilliant pieces of music
Email chains with some of the best friends I've got
My favorite koozie and the amazing friend who gave it to me
Rolling the windows down, turning the music up, and driving far too fast
Skyping with some of my favorite people
Songs that make me dance every time I hear them
The Charlie Brown Christmas tree I was given this past year
The anticipation that comes from knowing my next half marathon is just over two months away
#11in11
Having a coworker walk in this morning and immediately hand me a bottle of the new Bud Light Platinum just because he "knew I'd like to try it."
David Beckham
Smooth legs sliding into cool sheets
My friend Alison's three year old
Bright colors
Shorts and t-shirts on a run in January
Being able to tell the days are getting longer
When the curls actually stay in my hair
Hot tubs
My sisters
That unexpected hug from a friend that lets you really know they care

These are a few of my favorite things.

I Walk Alone

2012-02-05T13:52:00.001-06:00

"Hello? Hi, yes, I'd like to place an order to upgrade my Deluxe Emotional Walls package I got from you guys about 8 years ago. ..... Yes, I know I upgraded just under two years ago. ..... What's that? No, no. Nothing in particular happened, just call it a....feeling. A gut instinct, if you will, that I'm going to need it. ..... Yes, I'm aware they're already built up pretty well. ..... Please don't lecture me about "needing to let someone else in." I've been trying that. ..... Yes I have! For MONTHS now! Can I just order please?

"Ok, I'm going to need to increase the height of the walls. Some of these arrows are making their way in, and they fucking STING when they actually pierce something. I know I've currently got bazookas at every 90 degrees, but I'll need to increase that to every fifteen. ..... Yes, I said fifteen. ..... What? ..... Yes, I'm perfectly aware of what I'm doing. How are you possibly a salesman for your company? Are you TRYING to get me to not get these products? ANYWAY, I'm also going to need to increase my guard posts. I'll need at least 20 guys at the tops of these walls ready to launch grenades out when necessary and at all times of the day, ESPECIALLY if I've been drinking. Oh, also, could you please convince these guys that when I do venture out of my walls, they need to NOT threaten to throw the grenades INSIDE the walls? ..... Yes, that happened recently.

"As for the inside, I'm going to need a definite upgrade on the Containing Weaknesses package. Over the past couple weeks, insecurity and self-consciousness both got out MULTIPLE times. ..... How far out? Oh man, out to where someone SAW them. Brushing them off as "being girly" only works so many times.

"While I'm at it, could I get the largest size you have of That-Fucking-Stings Away? You know, just in case.

"No, no I think that's it for now. I hope. ..... Hmm? ..... Yes, I hope I can utilize your Tear Down Assistance soon, too.

"I really, really do. ..... No, that's all. Thank you for your help."

*sigh*

Pieces of Me

2012-02-02T09:03:00.001-06:00

Yesterday I did something I never in a million years thought I'd do.

I put the link to this blog on facebook.

Judging by some of your reactions, this was entirely out of the blue. Yeah, sorry about that. But way to make me feel better about the decision! /snark

The thing is, I haven't opened it up to EVERYONE. I'm not ready for that just yet. Thank god facebook has privacy filters. Lots of them.

Why did I decide to do this? Um. I'm not quite sure. Something about writing yesterday's post made me think, Why not? Why shouldn't I share this? If people care enough to read it, shouldn't I give them the opportunity?

That's where my doubt is coming in. Through the last two and a half years, I have poured bits and pieces, and at times incredibly large chunks, of my soul into the things I write. However, without exception, every single word I have written here has been precisely and exactly what I felt at that time. Some things have changed since I wrote them, some haven't.

There may come a day when I'm ready to openly broadcast my debauchery and profanity and supreme taste for le booze (lay boo-zay....it's French) to certain people. Maybe one day I'll be able to boldly state "Look at how much this situation hurt me" and know that even if those people read it, they'll finally know ME.

This is me. All of me. Every single bit.

Ooohhhh Sometimes....I Get A Good Feeling

2012-02-01T17:12:00.003-06:00

The past couple weeks have been something of a ~~stupidly long and sometimes exhausting and pretty much~~ ridiculous emotional roller coaster for me. Things seemed to hit the apex this weekend, and good lord I hope things calm down.

Let's just go through my emotions in order from Friday night to today, shall we?

Content

Self-conscious

Worried that I'd put myself out there too far, that I was going to end up hurt

Sad

Hungover (Maybe not technically a feeling per se, but I sure as hell felt it)

Amused

Happy

Amorous (This is what dancing does to me)

Really, really fucking pissed (See: Monday's post)

Even more furious than that

Resigned

Exhausted

Hungover again (it was one of those weekends)

Irritated

Bemused

Irritated again

Annoyed

Sick to my stomach worried

Determined

Terrified

Motivated

Nervous

Stressed

Proud

That's a long ass fucking list, and I can guarantee that I missed some in there. Those were the highlights. And the lowlights. Those were the ones that damn near made me lose my shit on a couple coworkers for various reasons, the ones that worried my friend M to the point where she stayed on Twitter with me for nearly four straight hours. They were what made it impossible to sleep, what made me cry, what made me frustrated with myself for my own damn (impossible to stop) reactions.

I know I've written about it before, but I have a lot of emotions at all times. I am an over-analyzer, and that tends to make those bad emotions worse, due to things like my worst-case scenario brain and second-guessing myself and wondering whether they changed their mind (really, really hoping not on that last one).

Emotions can bring me to my knees, wracked in sobs.

They can bring me to the point where I am shaking with anger, clenching my fists and my jaw to prevent myself from lashing out at someone who doesn't (well, sometimes they do) deserve it.

They can make me strut down a hall with the confidence that not a damn thing in this world could touch my happiness at that point.

Today that's the type of emotion I felt. That pride (and the heels I am wearing) have me walking tall.

Today I finally got through a huge presentation that went out to nearly fifty of our team's collaborators. I organized it. I got this pulled together. I worked my ass off on getting a PowerPoint formatted, I made sure every 'I' was dotted and 'T' was crossed. I collaborated with members of my team to get this put together, and made difficult decisions and got this thing to go off without a hitch. Today I stood in front of that group that included my boss's boss's boss, and I felt fucking proud of myself. I am by far the youngest person on my team, and today? Today I made my name known.

Today is also the one year anniversary of the launching of Aerys (which was at the time called G9 Sports). I have poured my soul and my tears and my passion and my frustrations and many a sleepless night into building a site I could be proud of. I have worked really hard to hone my writing skills, to find and create content that wasn't just a carbon copy of every other Blues site out there. I have learned more about the sport of hockey in the last year than I could ever have imagined. I have made more friends than I can count, built working relationships and personal relationships, and I have found a niche. I nearly had a nervous breakdown with just how much I had taken on at one point, and I learned that sometimes, you have to really know your limits. Mine came when the prospect of running a fourth site just was too much.

Not that long ago at all, I felt a bit lost. Having friends in St Louis had all but ceased to exist, my job was neither fulfilling nor challenging which kept me far from motivated to want to stay, and I felt as though I was floating in a constant state of limbo.

And then it all changed.

Right now I am proud of the life I have built. I am proud of the trials I've overcome, the challenges I've faced, the funks and depressions and miserable times I have clawed and fought and climbed my way out of. I'm proud to be in a job where my opinion is valued, where I am considered an integral part of the team, where I can let my innate skill-set take me further into my CAREER. I am proud of the hobbies I've undertaken, of the things I've been able to experience and accomplish through my writing, of the races I've been able to complete, of the level of physical fitness I've been able to achieve. I am proud to have built solid friendships with one of the most amazing groups of people I know, of just how close we've all gotten over the last little while, and of the potential of more to come.

The best really is yet to come.

This is a good feeling.

It's All About the He-Said, She-Said Bullshit

2012-01-31T08:54:00.000-06:00

If you've been paying attention, you will have noticed that there are quite a few of the "Shit [so-and-so] says" youtube videos around. When memes like this get started, I tend to find them boring and/or too ridiculous to pay attention to.

This one, though, has been cracking me up. Here are two that made me roll. Hysterical.

That last one? It's funny because it's true.

Angry Chair

2012-01-30T12:36:00.000-06:00

There are things in life that are upsetting, things that just make you sad.

And then there are those things that really fucking piss you off.

Yeah, still kind of really pissed off.

It's funny, I suppose, the things that you're able to shake off and the shit that sticks around (like peanut butter on your brain), keeping you all irritated and honestly kind of furious far longer than it probably should.

Vague post is vague.

Cappier motherfucking caps.

You're My Inspiration

2012-01-27T16:19:00.000-06:00

I am actually sore today. Really sore. Tomorrow's going to be worse, with Sunday topping out the sore charts.

Seventy-nine days until my next half marathon.

One hundred thirty three days until the Ragnar.

Bring it on.

I Can Feel It Coming In The Air Tonight

2012-01-26T13:04:00.001-06:00

Hangover reference aside, this is not a good thing.

You know that feeling you get when you just KNOW one of those obnoxious, depressive funks is heading your way? Yeah, that's me today. I am not ok with this.

Sure, it's nice(?) to have the heads up, but good god this is annoying. There is NO REASON for a funk. None. I mean, shit, things have been going well in nearly all aspects of life.

Work's busy and a bit stressful, but not to where I can't handle it (yet). I'm signing another lease on my apartment which means no moving this year either. I found some things out Saturday morning that have made me beyond happy to the point where I can't really think about it without grinning like a goddamned imbecile.

So what the fuck is wrong with me? I have so much to do at work, yet my motivation has completely disappeared. I am actually sleeping more through the night, yet I'm always tired. I have plans with fantastic friends for multiple upcoming weekends (beer pong at Ali's (HB's), running with JD, out dancing for our girl Domma's birthday), and while I'm excited for all these things, right here, right now, I'm down.

Tiny things are swirling through my brain at rapid pace, inconsequential thoughts are taking me over and are growing into big things, things that are threatening to be REALLY BIG THINGS.

They will not be really big things. I can't let them. I guess the anxious feeling that precedes these funks is a flag waving in the distance yelling at me to snap out of it, do something to distract myself, LIFT MORE, hell, drink more Jameson.

I feel like I'm on a downward escalator, but just realized it was downward and am trying to climb back up to the top before I get to the bottom.

Goddammit, that KID is on the ESCALATOR AGAIN!!!

Chicago Is So Two Years Ago

2012-01-25T23:25:00.000-06:00

I miss this city

Wild Thing

2012-01-24T23:02:00.000-06:00

You know how sometimes I get some really wild hairs (hares?) about me and commit to doing something that's just wildly insane? Every once in a while, those commitments end up falling through. Remember the 100 Push-Up challenge? That one got derailed when my finger got all surgerized and I got shishkabobed with that goddamn pin (which is still in a glass vial on top of my entertainment center, where it will remain).

This time, though, I think I've gone above and beyond anything I've committed to before.

Have you ever heard of a Ragnar race? I have agreed to run in Chicago's.

Nutshelled: eleven other people and I run a relay race (three legs apiece) over nearly 200 miles, spanning from Madison, Wisconsin to Chicago. My piece will be sixteen miles.

I have until June 8 to make myself be physically capable of running sixteen miles over the course of two full days and overnight.

I'M BRILLIANT.

I also have this crazy idea that I'm just going to up and quit drinking after the weekend of St Pat's. That'll give me a full month of no booze before my marathon, which can have nothing but good effects. Now, we'll see how that choice pans out as I see what the work stress situation is, but I have high hopes.

Hell, last time I quit drinking (for about two months after my Los Angeles trip about a year and a half ago), I lost two inches off my waist in a month. Things could get interesting.

Tomorrow is a day I would normally do Turbokick, but I'm feeling like since I've got these two monstrous races headed for me very soon, I should start running again instead. I've got six miles on the agenda for Saturday after I lift.

My muscles are never going to forgive me for this.

Up in the Gym Just Working On My Fitness

2012-01-23T12:49:00.003-06:00

The other day, Josey posted about her postpartum determination to finish the Couch to 5K program. She asked me in her post about how I chose my lifting/workout routine that helped strengthen my knees before my half marathon.

I told her that I'd get a post up if I got my shit together that day. Clearly, I did not do so. Fail on my part.

But since I've been meaning to post about the whole fitness thing anyway, I figured now was as good a time as any. Thanks, Jos, for the motivation.

I haven't actually written anything about running in a couple months, and back then I was incredibly gung-ho about the race series I had just signed up for. Let's recap. I ran the 10 mile race on Christmas Eve. I kind of died for a couple weeks with the sickness nonsense. I got back into the gym two weeks ago. Running has all but disappeared from my workout plan. I skipped the 20k race (spent the entire day on my couch), and this past Saturday I was supposed to run a half marathon. Yeah, I lifted early in the morning then went to the Lake and got pretty damn schnuckered instead. I make good life choices. I have been back to lifting though, and lately I've been lifting REALLY HARD, just because that's my way of stress release, of mentally working through things that clog up my brain. I've been sore for the last two weeks, because every day I lift, I push harder and harder.

As the Frostbite Series draws to a close (a 15k on Feb 4 that I still haven't decided if I'm doing, since I don't know if I could physically handle 9.3 miles in less than 2 weeks), I am realizing just how close the next half marathon is (April 15, for those keeping track).

Back when I signed up for the first one, and again this time, I am putting lifting at the top of my priority list for making it through. I absolutely attribute my ability to finish that race to the strength training I've been doing. That aspect of training started as just a fun class to take, but ended up being the key to my success. I recognize that one, I'm not an expert, and two, not everyone has the options available to them that I do, but I feel like there are definitely some items I could contribute.

The particular lifts that have helped me more than just about anything have been the squats and lunges that I do. Josey, this could be something you could do even while you're holding little Miss Stella, since holding her could be considered adding weight to your lifts, even if it is only 10lbs or so. I've found that squats, either weighted (small handweights or a bebe in both hands) or just utilizing one's body weight, have been helpful when it comes to hamstring and quad strength, and lunges, both stationary and moving, help the glutes and calves.

With squats, it is important to make sure that at the low end of the exercise your knees don't shift further forward than the ends of your toes. As we're told regularly, it's like hovering over a public toilet at the bottom of it. Thighs end up at a slight angle above the knee, or just parallel to the ground, making sure to not go lower than that, with your butt pushed back. I prefer to use a wider stance with my toes turned just slightly outward, keeping my body weight centered, but that's something everyone can adjust based on their comfort level. At the low end of a squat, weight should be in the heels. If it is, a person should be able to wiggle their toes when they're at the bottom of the squat. I've found that it's incredibly useful to change tempos during squats so as to take the momentum out of the lift. That disrupts muscle memory and forces the parts of the muscle not normally used to adjust and grow.

It helps me to lift to music, as I can use it as a way to count the timing of my squats. Down for two counts, up for two counts. Down for three counts, up quickly on one. Down for four, up for four. Down for one, hold for one, up for two. If you're feeling a little adventurous, stay in a low squat and only come half way up for three counts, resetting to a standing position on the fourth. It's all about comfort level, though. A person's body will tell them when they physically cannot do something anymore, and surprisingly enough, that cutoff is actually further past what one's mind will tell them they can't do.

When it comes to lunges, moving lunges are simple enough. Start at one end of the room, take a large step forward, and lunge down to where your front leg is parallel with the ground. Push up with the front leg and step forward with the back. Repeat all the way across the room, and back if feeling adventurous. The purpose of a lunge is to work the front leg, not the back, and it's important to keep the heel of the back leg off the ground. Standing lunges can be done with the same mindset as squats, weighted or unweighted, and utilizing the same tempo adjustments.

Though both of these sound absolutely basic, and some of you are probably going "duh, Ann, we're not fucking stupid," it's amazing what kind of an impact they can have. They can be the difference between finishing a half marathon versus having to quit half way through training because of joint issues.

The one final thing that had a huge (and surprising) impact to my running was my core strengthening. Every single class that I take at the gym has an ab portion to it, and building that core strength not only has built my muscles so I stand up straighter (remember the strutting post? Yeah, this had a lot to do with it), but it also helped build my endurance throughout my training. It is very easy to google or Youtube ab workouts, and even just three sets of 12 full situps after a running workout will help more than doing nothing.

It's important to remember that running is not based on just leg strength. It's an exercise that requires muscles all over your body. The stronger all those muscles are, the easier running will be. Along with that is one's own comfort level. I push myself incredibly hard in certain workouts because I like being sore after, feeling like I've actually done something. A lot of that pushing is a mental battle however, and the change of a person's mindset is a lot different than changing a physical habit.

Wanting to change something is not always the same as committing to changing that thing and then following through with it.

I love running and working out. I love the feeling that I get from that adrenaline rush. I love the sense of accomplishment that comes from being able to look back at something and go "look how much I've improved." I've especially come to love that the most basic moves have had the most visible impact on how I look and feel and what I've become physically capable of doing. I'm by no means a fitness guru, but I've become pretty damn comfortable with what I know, what I can contribute.

I love helping people reach their goals, too. I've promised my mom that when she gets to the point in her own Couch to 5k journey of actually running the race that I'll travel up to her and run it as well. I want to be able to do this for everyone, but I think it would be just as much help to offer that support. I'm willing to do that. If you're new around here and want a helping hand, let me know. I'll help anyone in any way I can. That I promise.

I'm Ok--Trust Me

2012-01-19T15:15:00.000-06:00

Every single time I have sat down and tried to write this post, I get stuck. Every. Single. Time.

Even now, I'm not entirely certain how I want to phrase things. It's a topic that's been in my head for a while, yet somehow the words just are not coming out. I can blame insomnia for this too, right? Maybe.

Recently I have gone out on a couple dates with a guy I met through mutual friends. We've had fun every time, and it's been nice to actually go on dates. I realized a while ago that I missed dating. That initial "getting to know you" experience is one I haven't had in quite some time, and I almost forgot what a rush it can be. There's just one problem.

I don't trust him. Not even a little bit.

There are some very specific reasons for why this is that I won't get into, maybe won't ever get into, but suffice it to say, he has a lot of ground to make up before I change my position.

He knows where I stand, and because of this, I am very much in control of the situation. Being the ~~minor~~ control freak I am, I enjoy that aspect.

So why do I keep seeing him? That, my friends, is today's (and the last few weeks') million dollar question.

I feel just a little bit....ok, a lotta bit, that I am setting myself up to be let down again. Maybe let down isn't the right way of putting it. I think it's probably better to say that I'm putting myself in a position that could potentially hurt, one way or another. I have no doubt whatsoever that ~~when~~ if that happens that I will just beat myself up for FUCKING KNOWING BETTER. Hell, there are friends who tell me flat out that I know better. Yet there's still doubt.

What if he is actually genuine this time around? What if the things he's saying he actually means?

I honestly have no idea if I will ever NOT have some sort of doubt when it comes to him.

So then I have to ask myself. Why do I keep going? Why do I keep saying yes to going out on these dates, to still seeing him? Am I just being the super-bitch and going out because I like the attention, because I know he's going to spoil me? Or is it because there is a bit of me that actually likes him? Do I still go because I want to believe that he's genuine? Is it that I am just really that fucking lonely that the one-on-one time with someone outside my apartment is assuaging a craving that I've had for over a year and a half now?

Does it make me a horrible person that some of the time I'm with him, I'm thinking about someone else?

I am second-guessing myself over this. I HATE second-guessing myself. Over the years I have learned to trust my gut instinct (since it's usually right) and to stand behind every decision I make, even if it causes pain and heartache at the time. My decisions are MINE and clearly I made them for a reason.

With this situation, even my gut instinct is confused.

Trust is such a huge thing for me, something I have such massive issues with, that this should be a no-brainer. No trust = no dating. So why can't I just walk away?

I have no clue what's stopping me.

This is driving me crazy. Well, crazier than normal.

Take Me Out to the Ballgame

2012-01-17T22:25:00.000-06:00

Ok, so I try to not put much of my sports stuffs on here, since I have a different platform for such things, but this past weekend was just beyond amazing that I can't not tell you about it.

The Cardinals site in the same network I have my Blues site with was given press creds for the Cardinals Winter Warm-Up over the weekend. Out of the three writers for the site, two live in the Quad Cities, the other lives in Arkansas. So I got to go.

I might have squealed when I found out.

It was a lot of work but was quite legitimately one of the coolest experiences I've had, so I feel the need to share. Well, that and linking all my posts here will give me a simple way to get back to them.

Before I get to that, I had to share my favorite Twitter conversation from today. The crush Kevin mentions is mildly detailed here.

Anyway, here's a list of all my posts for the weekend. I loved getting to meet players and feel like a legitimate reporter. Pretty fucking spectacular weekend.

Posts:

Chris Carpenter and Rafael Furcal
John Mozeliak
Lance Lynn, Matt Carpenter, Tyler Greene
Adam Wainwright
Matt Adams, Brandon Dickson, JC Romero
Jason Motte and Shelby Miller
Jon Jay and Daniel Descalso
Mitchell Boggs and Jaime Garcia
Matt Holliday and Lance Berkman
Allen Craig and Kyle McClellan
Mike Matheny
Kyle Lohse and Carlos Beltran
David Freese and Skip Schumaker
The Cool Down post

I'm still walking on air after this. I love that I had the opportunity to do this and be around my favorite team. So awesome. So, so awesome.

Guess Who's Back? Back Again.

2012-01-13T12:16:00.000-06:00

I'm going to toss this out there really quickly.

Fuck insomnia.

It's back, and it's angry, and it's wearing me out.

Last night I went to bed around midnight. This isn't so uncommon anymore, and I get along just fine on six hours of sleep. But there weren't six hours of sleep.

There were the dreams through the beginning of the evening that weren't restful at all. There were the couple of realizations that, "oh look, I'm not asleep." Then there was the waking up at 430. And 530. WIDE awake. Looked at facebook and my google reader wide awake. I tried sleeping again just to have more of the same types of dreams. Vivid. Stressful. Paralyzing.

I don't know why I am waking up. This week I've been back in the gym finally, after that stupid virus cold shit from hell kept me on the couch for the better part of two weeks, and I am sore. When I wake up, though, I don't FEEL sore. I am, you know, relaxed, as a sleeping person is wont to do. I don't think it's the muscle thing.

It's all a ridiculous chain of events that then just makes day-to-day things seem that much more unmanageable, that much easier to set me off. I don't like being tired. I am cranky when I'm tired.

I feel like I'm always cranky anymore. My coworkers are starting to notice.

Thursday night I tried going to bed early. I was curled up under my blankets before 10pm, which is FAR earlier than normal. I laid there for nearly an hour before falling asleep, then woke up around 1245. I hate that my body hates sleep.

I can't figure out if it's stress from my rapidly expanding to do list or if it's a shift back into the physically active lifestyle I was used to (two weeks is enough time to break good habits) or if it's the other non-work related stuff that's been plaguing my mind recently.

That mind-plaguing stuff is even more difficult to deal with lately. Things that ordinarily wouldn't bother me, or would at least have me going "meh, whatever," are sending me into downward spirals that threaten to eat me alive.

It's worse when I'm drinking.

I know, I know, easy fix. Stop drinking.

The dream thing just makes it worse. How can you tell your subconscious to just leave you the hell alone? There are people in my dreams who have no business being there. There are instances and situations that make me nearly sick to my stomach, which wakes me up, and then it's round two of trying to fall asleep while hoping that I'm left in peace.

Most frustrating of all, I just feel tired. All the time. I'll have to force myself to change and go to the gym, because if I lay down, that's it. I'm down for the count. At this point, I'm ready to curl up under a blanket and sleep until Tuesday. This is not a viable option for me.

Ugh. Insomnia really for real fucking blows.

Sometimes you feel like a nut

2012-01-12T12:44:00.000-06:00

Let me tell you a story.

Today I got hungry (shocking, I know). I decided that I was going to go ahead and eat lunch since, you know, that's kind of what you do. I'm working on cleansing my whole self from the holidays binge, so I've been eating more healthy foods.

Guys, this lunch was a pretty kick-ass salad. Fresh baby spinach, chopped walnuts, craisins, feta cheese, light raspberry vinaigrette. Delicious.

I ate that salad with a vigor. A VIGOR I tell you.

It's gone now. Guess who was still hungry? Yep. Me.

So what did I do? SOUR CREAM AND CHEDDAR RUFFLES!

They're healthy, right? Sour cream and cheddar? Dairy. Chips! They're potatoes. VEGETABLE.

Healthy food in a bag.

Om nom nom nom.

Walk This Way

2012-01-10T12:44:00.000-06:00

I have a confession to make.

I strut.

Put me in heels, I strut. If I'm in a shirt that makes me feel a bit prettier, I strut. Hell, if I'm pissed off I strut.

An ex-boyfriend of mine used to call it my "Super Bitch Walk."

Somehow when I'm wearing red it's even worse (better?). Something about wearing red makes me feel a bit powerful. I'm not so much talking about the Cardinals stuff I wear on a ridiculously regular basis, but wearing a low-cut, lacy, form-fitted red top last night was a boost.

Today I am feeling pretty. And I'm strutting. In tennis shoes.

I clearly don't have an issue with low self esteem.

I don't even feel bad.

I'm So Sick

2012-01-01T22:03:00.000-06:00

Seriously. New Year's stole my voice. Legitimately gone. I try to talk and half my words come out in whispers. It's annoying. That plus the coughing and hacking and grossness of being sick, well, let's just say I'm not so fun to be around right now.

That said, I suppose this is the obligatory "Oh holy shit, it's a new year, and I'll be writing the incorrect one for the next month!" post. 2011 will live on in the most inconvenient places for a while: checks, lab notebooks....well, those might be it. Regardless.

I've seen quite a few posts from other people about what they plan to see in the coming year, what the last year brought them, and there has been much talk about babies and food and health issues etc.

Looking back on my 2011, it has not been about these things. This year wasn't super stand-out in any way, though it wasn't a bad year. There were quite obviously ups and downs, as well as a supreme refocusing on fitness and hockey. New and fantastic friends have been made, certain old friends have fallen by the wayside. There's been lots of laughter and quite a bit of sweat and tears. I'd say it's definitely been worth it.

It's funny, looking to the next year, there's not anything huge I have planned. I've got small things here and there, and I'll definitely to continue to move past certain things, but nothing life-altering that I can tell. Makes me curious to what the future holds.

Which is, of course, why I suppose I find it a bit ironic that I spent a little while switching over to the Facebook timeline thing, which allowed me time to go back through some of my most formative years. As much as certain times in the past were fun then, you couldn't pay me to go back to them. Cliche though it is, I find I definitely prefer just living in the moment. You never can quite tell where one decision will lead you.

I may not be making a bit of sense, which is logical with the drug-addled haze I've put myself in (go Tylenol, go), but be that as it may, I hope all of you have a fantastic year.

Here's to 2012.

Misery Business

2011-12-30T23:33:00.000-06:00

Sometimes things hurt. A lot.

Today it was random strangers telling me I needed to go to eHarmony or match.com to find a husband.

A week ago it was losing a friend.

Dammit.

Sick and Tired of Being Sick and Tired

2011-12-28T21:38:00.000-06:00

This post brought to you by a bottle of wine and a bottle of Delirium Tremens. And here.....we.....go.

-Season seven of House is the best season of the entire series. Period. It has made me cry multiple times. The second to last episode, well, there was sobbing through the entire last half. So good. So, so good.

-I got a cold. It's first time I've been even slightly sick since January. A teensy cold knocked me on my ass. Hard. I am not a fan of this. I have been out of workouts for four days and am finding this entirely unacceptable. Back to lifting tomorrow. End of story.

-Having a week off work is certainly letting me give in to my desires to sleep in and drink. Not in that order.

-I like Skype.

-Friday a friend of mine is getting married. I am thrilled that she is happy. Truly. It is just going to be a long day, though. Six hours of driving (there and back) is totally worth it.

-Also coming up is New Year's. Despite the drama that was so overabundant last year, and even though I was a huge part of the drama (big ups to HB for physically restraining me from punching a dude), I'm willing to risk it again. I like being dressed up and fancy with friends. And Glycerine will be there, so you know, awesome.

-It's. Never. Lupus.

How to Hate

2011-12-27T01:08:00.000-06:00

When someone tells you to fuck off.....

Wait....

When someone tells you to fuck off REPEATEDLY, it does not mean try harder.

It CERTAINLY does not mean act like nothing has ever happened.

Motherfucking asshole.

Christmas Time Is Here

2011-12-25T13:13:00.000-06:00

It is Christmas.

I'm drinking whiskey with my parents.

There is an Irish Carbomb cake in the fridge (Guiness cake, Jameson ganache filling, Bailey's frosting).

A couple of siblings will be here with their significant others very soon. We have plans to have the booziest of boozey Christmases this evening.

Typical Christmas? No.

Awesome Christmas? Hell yes.

I hope every single one of you have a fantastic day!! And that's not just the Jameson talking.

Serenity

2011-12-20T04:00:00.184-06:00

The other night I was having a conversation with a friend of mine, and our discussion turned to the questions that James Lipton asks actors on Inside the Actor's Studio. One of the questions asks what a person's turn-ons are. The question was posed to me with the specifications of being emotional, creative, or spiritual turn-ons. I'm sure none of you are surprised that I considered all aspects.

When considering the question in terms of physicality, it's simple. A slight hand on the back, or pushing my hair away to kiss my neck or whisper something to me, or even an incredibly aggressive kiss. The kind that have a bit of fire behind it.

Thinking about the intangible alternatives, it's not so simple.

Emotionally the thing that gets to me most is probably music. This same friend posed the question to me asking what, in the movie of my life, would be playing during the credits. My initial and overly cliche response was Green Day's "Good Riddance." The song reminds me of leaving high school, of taking the next step into something unknown and different, and the feeling of being READY to move on. That's what I'd want, to be ready when it's finally time to leave this place. After being told that my response was quite possibly the most cliche response ever (admittedly, it totally is), I started thinking. A better option would be the Beatles' "Golden Slumbers." It just....is.

Sleep, pretty darling, do not cry, and I will sing you a lullaby.

Sometimes music strikes an emotional chord with me that's capable of bringing me to tears. Sometimes it pushes me to act on things I'd been thinking about, or to say something I needed to. In certain cases, it gets to me at such a deeper level that I can feel it resonating through my entire being. The score from The Holiday is a perfect example of that.

For both creatively and spiritually, my answer is the same. Nature.

As my mom and I were driving through the darkened highways of Illinois on our way to North Carolina for Thanksgiving, we were discussing spirituality. We were both raised within the same religion, yet neither of us ever seemed to find the type of peace there that so many find in a church. Without provocation from her of any kind as I was growing up, we both find that sort of peace, that inner tranquility, in nature. Interestingly enough, it appears this argument was nature winning over nurture.

I can sit next to an ocean for hours, just listening. The day after Thanksgiving instead of giving in to the mass consumerism that has so blatantly taken over this season, my mom and I spent our morning watching the sun come up over the eastern coast. It was freezing cold, yet we sat there with our shoes off, toes in the sand, just....watching. Silent. It felt almost indulgent.

Well, until the dolphins started jumping out of the water. It was quite possibly the most peaceful I've felt in ages. The size of the ocean reminds me that there are things out there so much larger than me. The innate, thriving power of the water, the simplicity of seeing nothing on the horizon, it's such a juxtaposition of the two that I can't help but sit in awe. It's also the faith that can be found in something so steady. Some people have faith in God, I have faith in the constancy of the ocean. Every day, high tide, low tide. Every day the waves will rush over the sand, or crash over them as the case may be. No matter which ocean you're next to, standing in the sand, just within reach of the water, knowing for sure that if a wave rolls over your feet that the sand will be pulled out from underneath them, that type of solidity is comforting. I have never once felt that kind of peace, that kind of joy within any sort of religious edifice.

That look was on my face the whole time I was next to the ocean. It is my happy place. The sister, well, she loves cameras.

Interestingly enough, the ocean also makes me act a bit like a little kid. Jumping over waves, kicking water, breathing in the briney air and just enjoying being in the presence of such greatness. Ask anyone who's ever actually been at the ocean with me.

It's not even just the ocean. When I went to the Grand Canyon, it was all I could do to keep it together. That place, quite possibly the most awe-inspiring place I have ever been, was created over millions of years by one river, meandering along without any agenda, without any intention of creating the magnanimous result it was bound to achieve. It is just incredible.

Over the summer, our family reunion was held in Colorado, high in the Rocky Mountains. We spent days just taking in the scenery, marveling at what was seemingly untouched by any outside forces.

The views from this place, I honestly can't even fully put it into words. I felt so small, so tiny compared to this great wide world we're lucky to be a part of. It was the same feeling I get at the ocean. That peace.

One day while we were there we hiked up a mountain, past a couple massive waterfalls, all the way up to a lake at the top of the mountain. The waterfalls, roaring and emphatic in their reminder of the greatness and power surrounding me. That lake, crystal and still, enough so that I could see the iridescence of the rainbow trout swimming below me. It was as though all the sound was sucked from the place, even with my many young cousins running around. The mountain peaks towered around me, covered in patches of snow that never fully melt. It was untarnished and brought out in me an almost reverent type feeling, the kind people seem to find in the presence of religious relics.

Even sitting here in my apartment, I can remember so clearly that cold, crisp breeze pouring off the water that it's nearly giving me chills.

I'm remembering the intense thunderstorm we experienced one night in camp. I don't know if it was the closeness of the clouds or the mountaintops, but that thunder was the loudest I've ever heard and felt. Whether we were just that close to it or whether the thunder was reverberating off the mountain, I'm not sure. It shook my entire body to the very center of me, made me feel like my ribs were about to shatter.

It's times like that, like this I suppose, when I am calm, that I'm motivated, or turned on if you will, creatively. To write, to create. It's when I wished the most that I could sit down in front of a piano again. I'm not a visual artist, by any means, but I feel like I can put things down in words and paint a mental picture far better than any sort of paint brush or pencil or charcoal could ever afford me. I'd even take painting someone else's vision through piano keys and my long fingers and sheet music that happens to be faded and frayed because I played it so much when I was younger.

To think about all of this, they are all connected. The sounds that accompany the thunder, the waterfalls, the bustling rivers high in the mountains running over the pebbles worn smooth, the rush of the ocean, they're all nature's music. Creativity, spirituality, emotion, all combined. Nature and music combined. I suppose my answer to James Lipton's question wasn't all that difficult after all.

The Three Aaaaaaaaamigos

2011-12-19T10:18:00.000-06:00

Did you know that it is possible to drive from Nashville, TN to St Louis, MO in less than four and a half hours?

It is when you're mildly hungover and exhausted and really just want to go home and sleep.

I won't bore you with details about the actual game, but suffice it to say, I love me some goalie goodness and I hate shootouts.

This trip to Nashville (yes, just for a hockey game) has been in the works for months. Now that it's over? I feel a bit of a sense of emptiness, like we need to find something else to look forward to.

There were nearly fifteen of us sitting in various parts of the arena. Beforehand we got to spend time at the Flying Saucer and drink delicious and very strong brews (Delirium Tremens, how YOU doin?). We were able to cheer for our team, get to know Preds fans (who for the most part are actually pretty awesome), and then we took over a bar. We bonded with people over a mutual abhorrence of Detroit, and I showed a couple guys that it IS possible for a woman to shoot whiskey with no chaser, thankyouverymuch. I got to take a drunken walk through downtown Nashville and eat one of the most delicious pitas ever.

My favorite part though? Being able to road trip with these two.

We've come to call ourselves the Three Amigos, and if Texas hadn't sucked, we would have been wearing sombreros at the game. Instead we took to holding up a massive Blues flag in the arena. These ladies are two of my marathon training partners in crime, and I'm pretty sure the world shook from the awesome when we finally all got together. We drove for hours listening to Swedish techno, we stopped in Metropolis and took pictures with a giant Superman statue, we laughed til we could hardly see straight, we made ghetto mimosas (Andre and Sunny Delight), and we took Nashville by storm.

However, the person that decided working the day after what we've been calling #EpicDec was a good idea? They suck. This shit blows.

I Wanna Yell It From the Rooftops Down

2011-12-13T13:06:00.005-06:00

Yesterday I was perusing through Facebook, as I tend to do, and came across a few statuses from people I went to high school with. They were all lamenting the loss of their friend Nick. It wasn't until one of them tagged Nick that I realized that he and I had graduated together.

We're 27 years old. He died from cancer.

It felt like someone had sucker punched me in the stomach. He and I weren't ever close, by any means. We hadn't spoken since high school, and even back then were just casual acquaintances who had the occasional class together. However, there's something about learning of someone YOUR AGE dying from something that's supposed to be so foreign that makes you look at your own mortality fairly closely.

It's odd, the difference between the death of someone by cancer versus when it happens by suicide. It's death, no matter how you look at it, and it brings that absolute mourning that accompanies knowing you'll never be able to speak to someone again, even if that possibility was highly unlikely. Both situations will cause tears on someone's part, both incurs sympathies from outsiders and bystanders.

Both remind me how much I have to be grateful for.

When Kelly died it was an honest to god slap in the face. It was a wake up call that forced me to realize that even though sometimes things get rough and sometimes tears are shed, those things are so much better than not experiencing them at all. That living this life is far greater than inflicting that kind of pain and suffering on someone else.

Like the character Madelyn said in The Departed: "Death is hard. Life is much easier."

When it's a forceful taking of life through something like cancer, when it's someone who should have had years to live, it's difficult. I went back through posts about Nick, back through some of his pictures, and every single one of them spoke to how upbeat he kept, even while battling a tumor he had named "Tyrone." He would post pictures of getting his radiation and chemotherapy treatments, of what his hair looked like when it started to fall out, and in each one he was smiling.

I admire that. I admire his ability to look what he was facing head on and seemingly say, "Ok, you bitch, let's do this thing." So many are ill-equipped emotionally to do the same.

It feels unfair that a life was cut short so young. It is unfair that another life, who seemed to have all the potential in the world, wasn't regarded as good enough to carry on having.

Life is finite, of that I am well aware, and though I know that there will be days that things are so difficult I can't see past my own little world of despair, there won't ever be a time that I am not grateful to still be here.

I promised myself last March that I would do everything I could to live this life, MY life to the fullest, and I think I have been. Taking the chance to write about hockey even knowing there was the distinct possibility that I might fail spectacularly. Putting my mind to and finishing that marathon that's been on my bucket list for ages. Not worrying so much about what my sleep schedule looks like if I'm afforded an opportunity to genuinely get to know someone, regardless of whether it's in person or not. Working through my own issues with the past and finally letting go of people from those times who did nothing but hold me back. Allowing myself to be open about what I think and feel, even if it makes someone mad or makes things weird. Refusing to settle for less than I deserve. Agreeing to go on a date with someone 15 years my senior, even if it did turn out fairly awkward, because I didn't have a reason to say no. Finding the joy in things like watching the sun rise over the ocean with my mom and a pod of dolphins as my only company or just how much I enjoy silly scientific things or driving for three hours just to have dinner with my best friend or the smell and feel of a brand new book.

In the first Harry Potter book, Dumbledore said, "To the well organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

This adventure now though? Pretty spectacular.

Short skirt and a looooooong jacket

2011-12-11T13:27:00.000-06:00

Every once in a while friends will send me links to articles that they know I'd be interested in. This week I got this particular article from Jezebel, which is hit or miss with legitimate stuff to read, honestly. The title? "Short Skirts Magically Turn Women Into Bitches."

Ok, so I get that Jezebel is widely known for it's ultra-feministic attitude, having articles ranging from weekly tabloid titles/content to shoes and fashion to evil birth control manufacturers to just why dating is so impossible these days. And that's just from their main page TODAY.

Some of their stuff I absolutely get a kick out of. Some of it is drivel. The article I was sent? Kind of in the middle.

This particular article discusses the female reaction towards another female who might be dressed provocatively, citing heavily from this study that was performed in Toronto and rates women's reactions on a bitchy scale. Let's for just a minute ignore that a "bitchy" scale is highly subjective and absolutely should not have under any circumstance found its way into a peer edited and reviewed scientific journal, I don't care how stimulating the findings were. I have not read all of this study (yet), but I've gotten the main gist of it.

The study is basically stating that women tend to compete with one another (that I won't argue with), but that those rates of competition are statistically more significant when one woman is dressed in a provocative or slutty manner. They say that a woman who is dressed conservatively will receive next to no reaction, negative or otherwise, yet one who is in a short skirt or a low cut top, for example, will tend to generate "bitchy" comments from their female peers. It goes on to imply that even the males in the surrounding areas will react more to the scantily clad female.

In the Jezebel article, they state that while the outward appearance of one woman may seemingly be the cause of the competition and bitchiness, the root cause of such behaviour is directly related to a preconceived notion about men. Specifically:

"[B]ut the researchers completely miss the root cause of this intra-female competitiveness: the widespread belief that men lack sexual self-control. Several times in the discussion section of the study, the investigators cite research or repeat their own hypotheses that "women are threatened by, disapprove of, and punish women who appear and/or act promiscuous." But that "threat" only exists because of the nearly-universal acceptance of the idea that men are hardwired for infidelity and will inevitably cheat on their mates if given a chance."

That is absolutely where I call bullshit. It's this kind of "blame the man" mentality that makes me read any and all articles from this site with a wary eye. Feminist or not, blaming men for all problems is not the way to equality. Being a feminist is about finding and keeping equality, not pushing responsibility off on someone else.

The author continues saying:

"It's not news that women are socialized to be competitive with each other. It's not news that, as my students remind me, sisterhood is easier in winter. And it will continue to be the same old news until we name the real root of the problem: our collective refusal to believe that men are capable of being strong, responsible, reliable adults."

Statements like these are what drive me crazy. The real root of the problem lies not in how men are perceived, it lies in the fact that women are bitchy with each other because they're not confident enough in themselves to understand that another strong woman is not a threat.

There are situations where clothing can definitely bring out the bitchy side of women, absolutely. I am well aware that at times I've been guilty of making snap judgments based off what someone is wearing. The thing is, I understand it from the other side too. I understand being so unbelievably proud of your figure that you just can't wait to show it off because it makes you FEEL good. I do think that some outfits are crazy and inappropriate, but that's more based off of weather and the situation at hand. If you want to dress in a super mini skirt with a low cut tank top because it's 103 degrees outside? Have at it. I wouldn't blame you. If you wear a super mini skirt with a low cut tank top yet it's below freezing? Then I wonder about you and your skin's nerve endings.

The thing is, strong, confident women can get this negative and bitchy reaction from others even when they ARE covered up. They can walk through a room and still turn every head. My friend HB is a perfect example of this. She lights up a room the instant she walks in, can turn heads and drop jaws, and is honestly one of the sweetest, most genuinely caring people I know. She walks like she's sure of herself (because she is) and has this air of confidence about her that is honestly quite refreshing to be around. She's a strong, independent woman, and even when she's covered from neck to ankle, I have seen the looks she can sometimes get from other women. That scathing, how are you having a conversation with HIM, type look.

I have found that it doesn't even matter what you look like, if you carry yourself in a confident manner, some women will dislike you.

Women compete. HUMANS compete. I understand this. I thrive on competition, even when it's internal and I'm pushing myself to be better than I was previously. The type of competition I see from other women, however, gets really old sometimes.

My parents raised me to be independent, to be able to take care of myself and not rely on anyone else. My own confidence is very much a product of my mother's influence as she herself has always been one to walk into a room with her head tall and give all of zero fucks about what someone else is thinking (or saying) about her. We have both over the course of our lives had instances of other women disliking us without even knowing us, making snap judgments because of our attitudes. It's generally those women who I've found to be lacking in self-confidence, to be jealous of either the attention or the ability to carry on a conversation with just about anyone I come across.

These women tend to be the ones to get pissy if they're not the center of attention, those who TRY to bring the focus back to themselves in a conversation, those who will resort to extreme measures (crying in a bar, for instance) just so that they're getting the looks and not someone else. I have an acquaintance who is precisely this way, who I've heard (or heard about) on more than one occasion make statements regarding a woman who gets attention, stating that they're just trying too hard. This particular woman changes the instant a man is in the vicinity.

It is frustrating to watch this type of action, as it indicates that she thinks her self-worth is brought on through how much someone else is paying attention.

That's where the crux of all of this lies. Women need to realize that they're fantastic in their own rights, regardless of whether they're getting attention from someone else. They need to believe that it doesn't matter what someone else thinks about them, that if they're happy, that's all that matters. Some of my best friends are the most self-assured women I know. It's like that because they're not intimidated by my own confidence. When we're together, we can run a room.

That whole confidence thing? Pretty fucking sweet. I wish more women knew about it.

One step closer to the edge

2011-12-09T16:19:00.000-06:00

This morning I woke up late. Not just one of those late wake-ups where you look at your clock and realize that you'll be a little more rushed in the morning, but the type where you look at your clock and instantly dive out of bed because you should have walked out your door 45 minutes before that and still need to shower.

You know that edge of the fight or flight decision where your heart is racing and you're jumpy and you are clenching either your fists or your jaw? That's been me. All day.

I'm sure that third cup of coffee didn't help.

Today's anxiety levels have left me exhausted, yet somehow I'm still feeling like I could snap at any moment. None of it is directed at anything in particular (again), and that has set me even more on edge.

It's like little bits (or even big bits) from different aspects of my life are coming out to needle at me incessantly, causing me to feel the need to either actually, legitimately hit something or be fucked three ways to Sunday. I feel tense and rigid, and I can't get my shoulders to stop being magnetically attracted to my ear lobes. I keep blinking back tears and am torn between opening that bottle of wine that's hanging out in my fridge versus just going to bed now and saving myself the trouble of the potential hangover.

And then to add to that anxiety there's the rage. There's the rage from feeling ignored and underappreciated and underestimated and overwhelmed. The irritation and frustration borne from putting forth quite a bit of effort, sometimes forced effort, and yet having it still never be enough. There's the anger that comes from seeing someone act poorly towards my friends, which isn't always logical, but dammit, don't fuck with my friends.

You know that scene in Sleeping Beauty where Flora and Merriweather are fighting over the color of Aurora's dress, and they both hit it at precisely the same time, making it look all sorts of funky colored and mottled? That whole scene (BLUE! PINK! BLUE! PINK! BLAMMMO, ALL THE COLORS EVER!!!!), that's my mood today. Only it's anxiety to rage and back. About an hour and a half ago, I got hit with both, and then I left work because I couldn't be there anymore.

Now that I'm home I can't be here anymore.

Raise Your Glass If You Are Wrong In All The Right Ways

2011-12-08T11:56:00.000-06:00

It's a thought vomit day again.

Josey had her baby girl in the wee hours of the morning today. I'm so freaking excited for her I can't even see straight. Also, let it be known, I have been right HER ENTIRE PREGNANCY about what she was having. Booyah.

I have received multiple texts (including one from the Cubs fan ex-boyfriend....weird) about Pujols leaving the Cards. Whatever. Cardinals fan before him, Cardinals fan after. * Kanye shrug*

I'm already sick of scraping my windshield every morning.

My fantasy hockey team is absolutely KILLING it right now. I only have one Blue on my team (Vladimir Sobotka), and he's been tearing it up. I'm still not sure why whoever had him before dropped him, but yeah, lucky me. Relatedly, I think my next Blues jersey acquisition will be a Sobotka jersey. Fantasy hockey team solidarity and all that.

My hair is way super long right now. I keep noticing this.

I get to run 8+ miles on Saturday. That could be....interesting. And cold. Yikes.

The further into my new role at work I get, the more I remember how much some kind of sick part of me really enjoys editing things by hand with a huge red pen. My inner grammar/content nerd is all sorts of out and about.

The amount I wash my hands on a daily basis + winter = dry hands = more lotion = Ann should buy stock in Bath and Body works. Also, I love Midnight Pomegranate.

I am so excited about Nic's Christmas present. I'm taking her to see American Idiot in March. Woo! That plus going to see Beauty and the Beast at the Fox in a couple weeks means that I'm going to be a theater-going fool, and I'm pretty thrilled about that.

My coworker and I hung lights in our office. I like them. They give me something sparkly and shiny to look at on a daily basis.

If you decide you want to be a jerk to one of my friends, prepare for me to defend them. Every single time. I am not scared of being a bitch to you.

It is cereal for lunch day.

Oh Christmas Tree

2011-12-05T12:18:00.000-06:00

I'm not sure where this sudden surge of motivation to write came from, but you can bet your asses I'm going to go with it. It's nice to finally feel motivated to write again when that motivation was so very absent for far too long.

Yesterday I finally set up my Christmas tree. The past couple years it's seemed like I've had to nearly force myself to do so, but it never fails, once I start, I'm reminded that I DO actually like this holiday. Not quite as much as Thanksgiving, mind you, but I still dig it. As I went through the entire process, it kind of felt like the whole tree told a story.

The tree itself, along with a set of silver ornaments, blue lights, and a very glittery silver star, take me back to a time right after I graduated college, fresh into my new "real live adult" phase of life. My senior year of college my roommates and I hadn't put up a tree. I think that might be because we all pretty well hated each other at that point, so feigning friendship to put up a tree seemed silly. That and none of us had the money for it. When I moved to St Louis, I decided that I was actually going to put forth an effort. I was on such a strict budget back then that the thought of what a tree plus ornaments plus lights would cost was so out of my range that I nearly cried thinking about it. But the depression had hit particularly hard that fall and my concession to myself was to actually get the tree and trimmings and just let myself enjoy it. I put that tree up the day after Thanksgiving, and it brightened my mood if even just a little bit.

Still having this tree makes me feel a bit more adult-like. In the last four years, I've only broken ONE of those original ornaments. The tree kind of reminds me of the hope I felt those years ago, the optimism that things would actually get better, that I WAS going to be able to do this whole adult thing on my own. Every year since then, with the exception of one particularly low year the first time I lived alone, things have gotten better. From what I can tell, that trend has ever intention of continuing.

One of the first ornaments I got that didn't go with the "theme" of my tree came from my former coworker Scary Spice. She had nicknamed me Antoine within the first week of us working together. One day we went to Taco Bell for lunch, and they had clearly just decorated. There was a very tiny tree on which had been placed little ornaments with an employee's name on each of them. Though you might think that it would be festive, it mostly just made us laugh since each name had been printed out from a Word doc, cut out, and scotch taped onto the ornaments. Not only did that crack us up, but we also saw an ornament with the employee name "Antwan" on it. A couple days later she walked into work and handed me my present. An ornament on which she'd puff-painted the word "Antwan." I still laugh when I look at that one.

There's the homemade ornament that my now 15-year-old cousin made for me when she was just 8. It reminds me of a simpler time, a time when ignorance really was bliss, before life and reality bitchslapped cynicism into me.

There is the Christmasy palm tree I got in Hawaii when I went out to visit back in 2006 that reminds me of bee stings and volcanoes and sea turtles and Pacific Ocean water that was actually warm enough to get into.

I put up an ornament I got from my ex-boyfriend's grandmother. I know it seems odd to still have it, but she was a remarkable woman who I adored, and that ornament serves as a reminder that just because one person is a total asshole doesn't mean their family necessarily is.

I've got my replica of the Hilton Head Island lighthouse that reminds me of just a short time ago and just how much that trip melted stress away, how much I love being near an ocean even if I can't go in.

There are the multiple sets of various Cardinals ornaments that give my tree more color.

And then there's the absolutely gorgeous glass baseball ornament I got in a secret Santa gift last year that will never fail to remind me of the Teacher and how much I miss her and how much she still sucks by giving me a grape Smirnoff Ice in that same present.

Each ornament has a memory associated with it, and as I decorated my tree, it dawned on me that I'm really looking forward to getting more, creating more memories, gaining more stories to tell. It makes me hopeful and optimistic.

Well, and it's just really fun to look at.

Ready to Run

2011-12-03T11:13:00.001-06:00

Ok, so I have significantly calmed myself down since my minor freak out at what I'd just done to myself with the signing up for another half marathon. For those of you counting at home, that makes four that I'll be running in the year 2012. Neat.

When something overwhelms me or freaks me out (meow-t), I go into crazy control-freak mode and make a plan. Sometimes that plan is smart, sometimes it is not.

Here is my kind-of-smart-but-at-least-I-have-a-plan-plan. It is set through February, for the few weeks after my 15k, and then all of a sudden it'll be March and April, and OH MY GOD ANOTHER RACE. I'm editing kind of as I go with those two months, as I know I'll be mostly building my own training schedule for what fits with my schedule and my goals.

That goal? Get fast. Get really fast. Well, maybe not really fast, but faster than I was in October, definitely faster than I will be in January.

Now, you might have glanced at that calendar and thought to yourself, "What the hell is the 550 rep challenge?" Well, my friends, it's this. Yes, I do recognize how crazy this looks. Yes, I am aware that the chick in the video is creepy looking. No, it is not my goal to be that ripped. Yes, I will probably skip these every once in a while.

I know you might think I'm crazy, but I promise, the good stuff about running is totally awesome. Feeling better, looking better, the crazy rush of endorphins that hits right around a mile and a half, the time to just let my mind be clear, the high metabolism (even if it does make me hungry all the time), the stress release, the camaraderie. I love it and am SO very grateful that my knee has been just fine for the last year and a half.

It's going to be a wicked yet amazing couple of months.

Edit: See, it's not just me.

It's Been a Bad Day

2011-12-01T16:30:00.051-06:00

This week has been absolutely stupid when it comes to highs and lows. It seems like days where things happen that would normally make me irritated I'm in a good mood, and days that things are going along just fine I'm annoyed.

Today I am annoyed. Last night I was annoyed.

Monday when I walked out my door to find a flat tire on my car? Not annoyed. Frozen after walking to the store to get fix-a-flat, yes, but not annoyed.

It is difficult to fully place where all of this bad mood is stemming from, but I know part of it.

Last night I got to go to dinner with my roommate from my freshman year of college. She's a fantastic friend, and even though we absolutely suck at keeping in contact, we'll always pick up right where we left off any time we see each other. She's engaged to her boyfriend of nearly nine years, and I found out last night that they're getting married the Sunday of Memorial Day weekend 2012.

I am absolutely thrilled for them, truly. This wedding's been a long time coming, and the two of them have made it through some ridiculous shit to get to this point. I guess I'm just at a place where, goddammit, I am sick to death of going to weddings alone. It makes me resentful, but it's a frustrating type of resentment since there's not an actual object to direct my loathing towards.

My lovely friend Katie quoted the other day from some TV show or another (not sure what it was), "Trust me, anger always feels better when it has a target."

I want a motherfucking target.

I don't want to have this inexplicable rage and frustration bubbling just below the surface that causes the little things to actually bug me. It helps when I can go run or lift or something, but honestly, I can only do so much of that, and given how sore I am today after yesterday's workout, I probably won't be able to push as hard tonight as I otherwise would have.

What I also don't want is to inadvertently take it out on other people. It's not fair to anyone else who might cross my path, so I end up shortening conversations or taking longer to respond than normal. If I just keep to myself, no one gets the brunt of my bad mood but me, right? That's logical.

I know that the restless and interrupted sleep I got last night isn't helping things. There are few things more frustrating than waking up for no reason at 345am and then end up unable to fall back to sleep for the next hour, as you lie there and count down to how much more sleep you COULD be getting if only you fell asleep rightthisverysecond. The traffic on the way to work this morning also didn't help.

At this point, I know that trying to force myself into a good mood isn't going to work, that I need to just acknowledge that it's just not a happy day, roll with it, and move on, but christ, this shit is getting old. Less than 24 hours, and it's really fucking old.

Fuck.

/end bitchy rant

The Ocean

2011-11-30T11:25:00.000-06:00

What Have We Done?

2011-11-29T20:49:00.000-06:00

More specifically I. What have I done?

Let me tell you.

I signed up for five races within the next 10 weeks. A 12K, a 10 Mile, a 20K, a half marathon, and a 15K.

I haven't run consistently SINCE the half marathon.

I am fucking stupid sometimes.

Emotional Girl

2011-11-21T23:58:00.000-06:00

I've struggled with whether or not to write about this, and then two things happened. First, my lovely and wonderful and amazing friend Erratic posted this. She put herself way out there, and I am beyond proud of her for that. Second, I read this (long, but worth it).

A few things went through my head when I was reading that. I thought about the fact that every once in a while, I do this type of thing TO MYSELF. Sometimes it's in jest, but sometimes there are moments when I legitimately question my reaction because it feels so out of the realm of "normal" that I feel out of control.

The other thing, the thing that somehow has been brought up more lately than in quite some time is that relationship that I don't talk much about. The one with high school/college asshole ex-boyfriend who pulled all of that gaslighting shit, encouraged me to feel like I deserved it, and then took it to the next level, to an emotionally and mentally abusive relationship.

It took me a long time to be able to even call it that. Why? Because I was not the girl who was going to end up in an abusive relationship. That happened to other girls, not to me. It was incredibly difficult to finally admit what it actually had been.

Though, when you've gotten to a point where every decision you make, every single decision, is entirely focused on either making someone else happy or staying out of a fight (or sometimes both), it's not good.

When he intentionally makes you cry because he thinks that's "the only way you'll understand [his] point of view," it's not good.

When he accuses you of cheating (then actually cheats himself), gets mad at you because of his dreams, hates when you disagree with him, it's not good.

When he treats you like property, like something he's owed, like everything that you do is his choice and not yours....clothes, music, friends, it's not good.

But I was always the one who was too sensitive, too difficult to deal with. "If you would just learn to take a joke, we wouldn't get in these fights."

It took me two years to get to a point where I couldn't take it anymore, where I finally stopped believing him when he told me that "no one would love me the way [he] did, and if [I] ever broke up with [him], [I]'d be alone forever."

It then took another four years to believe I was worth more than the nothing he'd convinced me I was worth. Training for that first marathon certainly helped.

The way I see myself now, the way I am able to carry myself and MEAN IT is a knowledge that I find absolutely priceless. No one will take that away from me ever again.

However, there are, and I'm sure will always be, residues left from that relationship. My reactions to even the simplest of phrases are sometimes so over the top, even to those innocuous things that aren't meant to hurt, that I have to catch myself before I say something I don't mean. There is no one in my life now who would purposefully say anything to me the way he did. I have made absolutely sure of that.

I know I'm more closed off and jaded than I would be having not had these experiences. I am aware that it takes a while for me to trust people.

Writing these things down, opening myself up to an incredibly public forum, is both a way of purging them as well as being a self-defense mechanism.

If everyone has this type of knowledge, no one can use it to exploit my weaknesses and use it to their advantage.

It's been a long road, and rocky though it may have been, I know I'm stronger now because of it. I'm more self-assured (A friend of mine once called me the most self-assured person he'd ever met. It was quite the compliment), I'm more aware of what I will and will not put up with, and I am not afraid to be straight forward about those things.

A new and remarkably amazing friend told me she found me "textured," that I have a lot of layers. I'm still flattered at that.

The experiences we have shape who we become. The bad ones make us stronger, sometimes leave us with open wounds and scars. The good ones build us up and give us hope.

My friend Spiff posted a fabulous piece the other day, and while her intent was not the same as mine is today, a few of her lines stood out to me. The one that pertains mostly to all of this is:

"I don't regret the decisions that have led me to this point in my life."

Neither do I, my dear friend. Neither do I.

Cheers To The Freakin' Weekend

2011-11-11T19:18:00.001-06:00

This week kicked my ass so hard that today all I could bring myself to do was leave work early (which I did due to being there 3 hours late last night), eat a chicken queso burrito, and take a nap. I am still exhausted, yet so very glad it's the weekend.

Part of the reason the week was so busy was due to me taking Monday off as an extension of my birthday festivities. Oh lord, the birthday festivities. Let me show you.

Friday night Blues game with HB.

Saturday night out with the girls.

I love these three!!

Sunday up to Chicago for Canucks/Blackhawks.

Then Monday at the Museum of Science and Industry, along with a VERY long drive home.

If that wasn't enough, Tuesday night there was Blackhawks at Blues in St Louis.

So I guess it makes sense that I'm tired.

Worth it.

Reply

2011-11-01T23:55:00.000-05:00

Letters.

Dear ex-boyfriend,
Please stop "liking" my pictures, especially ones of those wherein I'm scantily clad. You had your chance. GTFO.

Dear accidental drunken makeout,
Your winky faces at the end of every single chat message you send me makes you look like you have a twitch. Also, it is beginning to make me rage. Stop it.

Dear lady at the gym,
Just because you feel comfortable without wearing a bra doesn't mean the rest of us feel comfortable with you not wearing a bra. Do us a favor and put one on. Relatedly, you look cold. Try a jacket too.

Dear foot,
You are not stress fractured. You are not stress fractured. You are not stress fractured.

It's Been One Week

2011-11-01T00:08:00.001-05:00

One week since my race. Things of note:

I ran today for the first time. Hell, it was my first workout in a week. Mentally, I've been going crazy. Physically, well, I'm feeling ok. Except for what feels like the slightest of stress fractures. Not ok.
All that healthy eating and stuff I'd been doing while training? Went away in the last week. It was like my brain just went "fuck it," and I did whatever I damn well pleased. Today we're back to nutritious meals and lots of water.
My liver has been getting quite the workout. Cardinals World Series games six and seven (oh, there will be a separate post on this) and Halloween festivities made for some ridiculous drunken nights.

The drunken nights won't stop this weekend. Friday night the Canucks are in town to play the Blues, Saturday is the birthday extravaganza, Sunday I'm going to Chicago for the Canucks/Hawks game. Here we go.

It's going to be an interesting week.

Girl Look At That Body.....I Work Out

2011-10-23T19:50:00.000-05:00

The marathon was today. I finished almost right at two hours. I was aiming for under two hours, and I missed it by two minutes, but for it being my first half marathon, I'm pretty ok with it.

My mom and baby sister came into town for the weekend, which was awesome, and on Saturday we got to go out to Forest Park and take my own personal Body Issue pictures. You know, sans nudity.

Per Josey's request, here are some of my favorites of the day.

These are my cocky shoes, apparently. I'm very proud of all of this. The race, the figure, everything.

Feeling good about all this.

I Think I'm Paranoid

2011-10-19T19:52:00.000-05:00

No. I know I'm paranoid.

Guys, my race is SUNDAY.....and I am fuh-REAK-ing the fuck out. I made the mistake yesterday of printing out and studying the entire race route. Mental note: Don't do this ever again.

I'm so beyond intimidated. My last super long run was nearly three weeks ago, when I ran 12.4 miles. I was supposed to do another long between then and the race, but I didn't. I've just done lots of 6 mile runs. I'm only hoping that will be enough.

Logically I am aware that I have done everything I possibly could to make it easy enough to finish this race. I know that I'll finish it. I also realize that this entire block is all in my head, that I'm going to be just fine, but this is kind of huge for me. This has been on my bucket list for YEARS, and now I'm four days away.

Four days is practically nothing.

Dream Weaver

2011-10-14T21:54:00.001-05:00

I hate my subconscious.

I've had bouts with insomnia that tend to be stress-induced. My sleeplessness involves not only being unable to fall asleep, but also being unable to STAY asleep. I'll wake up multiple times throughout the night. The only time I'll really be sleeping well is about an hour before my alarm goes off. It's frustrating.

My insomnia has been fairly well vanquished since I started training for the marathon. Physically wearing oneself out on a daily basis makes sleep a relatively easy thing to do. It's odd. For some reason, just lifting wasn't getting rid of the insomnia, but adding running into that mix totally did.

Sleeping has finally been EASY again. Until recently.

Almost every single day for the last three weeks, my alarm has gone off right in the middle of a dream. These dreams are wildly vivid, to the point where I feel like I haven't been sleeping at all. What happens in my dreams might as well be real life with how exhausted I am after them.

The frustrating part of these dreams is how much they bring people from my past back into the forefront of my brain, people that I've absolutely, unequivocally kept in my past for very important reasons. I wake up feeling as though I've been sitting there having a conversation with these people, and then the things they've said in my dreams remain with me for the rest of the day.

This is not even a little bit of a good thing. Subconscious thoughts are supposed to stay locked in the subconscious. Doubts and fears and residual feelings are supposed to stay away, down where I've put them so I don't have to think about them, but here my dreams are, bringing everything back and setting most of my days off on an incredibly bad note.

I recognize that dreams are not reality, yet no one really knows what they mean. There are books upon books deciphering what different topics in dreams mean. Death means change, being chased means avoiding a situation, etc. I tend to think it's all bullshit though. No one can really know what a dream means.

What I do know is that my dreams are making me dread even going to sleep. I have intentionally kept myself awake later than necessary for the last week so that the amount of potential sleep is minimal. Minimal sleep time equals minimal dream time equals less mental distress, right?

Well, that's the logic in my brain anyway. It may not make any sense at all to anyone else, but it's someone sensible to me. I can't put myself in those dreams. No, controlling a dream is impossible, but I've gotten to a point where being tired at work and mainlining coffee is a better option than being stuck inside my own mind once I wake up.

My brain needs to just go ahead and shut up.

Body to Body

2011-10-12T00:42:00.000-05:00

Earlier this week I wrote a post for Aerys about the ESPN the Magazine Body Issue. Guys, I was so BEYOND amazed at these photos. These athletes are absolutely incredible to me.

The dedication they've all had to put forth in order to get to this point is more than most people will put towards much of anything in their entire lives. Countless hours spent in a gym, on a field, watching films, all of it led to them being the best in their sport.

I see these images and the only thing I really have to compare it to is the image I see in the mirror every day. I've said before that I'm incredibly proud of where I've gotten (Josey, I will get pictures eventually, I swear).

At this point in my training, hell, in my life, I am probably the most confident that I've ever been. I feel good, I feel like I LOOK good, and honestly, looking at some of these athletes, as cocky as it may sound, strip me down, position my hands just right, and I would fit RIGHT the fuck in. Well, I mean, besides the ridiculous abs that are so evident on most of the male athletes. And, of course, the stretch marks I've found on my hips and inner thighs thanks to the amount of muscle I've acquired recently (what? Nobody's perfect).

I mean, hell, I've even half way tossed around the idea of doing just that. At some point I won't be able to keep myself in this shape. I know that. How awesome would it be to be able to pull out pictures and KNOW just how I've been able to push myself, even if that time in my life had passed?

The tricky part would be finding the photographer. "Hey, would you be willing to take some pictures of me? Oh by the way, I'm going to be totally nude. Aaaaand, GO!" My inner exhibitionist has never been more intrigued.

Either way, like I said in my Aerys piece, these athletes inspire me. They make me want to run harder, lift more, work to be better than I am. For me. For the girl I used to be, the one who had next to zero self esteem and thought that no one would ever think she was beautiful. I wish I could reach into the past, hug her, and tell her it is going to be better, that she's going to feel better.

Right now she feels pretty fucking fantastic.

It's a Love-Hate Heartbreak

2011-10-09T13:34:00.002-05:00

It's another Thought Vomit day.

-Oreos make a really great hangover breakfast. There is not much sadder, however, than finishing off all the milk in the apartment when there is still a row of Oreos left.

-I have two new favorite blogs. One is Hyperbole and a Half. I'm pretty sure I have snorted at some rather inopportune times due to reading some of her posts. She's hilarious and has an incredible knack for story-telling. Apparently she's got a book coming out soon, and I'm so not even kidding when I tell you that I will be buying it. The other is Reasoning With Vampires. You guys know how I feel about Twilight. This blog breaks it down chapter by chapter. I would be lying if I said it didn't make the grammar freak part of my brain almost giddy with happiness. Well, and there are things like this:

-I've gotten to the point in my training where I'm just fucking TIRED. I am supposed to run 10 miles today. I don't really want to. Definitely considering skipping today and running a whole lot tomorrow. I race two weeks from today, and I am physically capable of finishing this race. Taking today off probably won't hurt me.

-Regarding my post the other day: Brooks was unaware that I no longer spoke to That Friend. I get that. She thought she was doing something to make me happy by telling him he could come to her wedding. He told her that the two of us no longer spoke and that he wouldn't go if it would make me uncomfortable. It is my sister's ~~fake~~ wedding, so it should be her choice to invite whomever she damn well pleases. I do not want to see him. I don't even know why the two of them are talking, however, it's her choice. I'm not entirely sure that he would go in general, but given what I know about him, if there's a green light, I wouldn't put it past him to show up. Ugh.

-Last night I met up with some friends of mine who were doing a Metro Link pub crawl. Being that last night was the Blue's home opener, I was decked out in my jersey and everything. At our final location, I met a guy who told me he played for the Predators (the team the Blues faced last night) except he was out with an injury. Towards the end of the evening, it became increasingly clear that he figured the two of us would be going home together. He seemed almost surprised when I told him no, and then reminded me that he was a professional hockey player. Like that would fucking change my mind. That mentality thoroughly bugs me. Just because you get to play your favorite game and make a shitton of money doing it does NOT mean I am obligated in any way to go ahead and fawn all over you. Period. He seemed to be one of those guys who wasn't used to being told no. Once I (repeatedly) told him no, he said, "Your loss. I can find anyone else." Well then, carry on, good ~~sir~~ douchebag.

I'm editing this post to add probably the crux of my anti-Twilight rage:

Forget To Remember

2011-10-07T15:42:00.000-05:00

I just found out that my sister Brooks went ahead and invited That Friend to her faux wedding ceremony that she'll be having in Arizona.

Shit motherfucker fuck shit.

Rocky Mountain High

2011-10-05T12:12:00.001-05:00

Stadium number 11, from back in July. (I'm in the pink)

Touch

2011-10-04T22:11:00.000-05:00

The other day I was reading through a forum I belong to, and a question was asked about touches. Specifically about how people felt to be touched. Reading through the responses, it ASTOUNDED me how many people were so unbelievably anti-touch. "Don't touch me, stay out of my bubble, I will shank a bitch" type anti-touch.

Whuuuuu?!

Maybe my reaction has something to do with the fact that I come from a very affectionate family. It is not outside the realm of possibility for us to curl up on couches together, heads on shoulders, snuggled up and whatnot. Hugs are a necessity at hellos and goodbyes. Back scratches and shoulder rubs run pretty rampant.

I'm the same way with the majority of my friends. I've had countdowns to epic hugs with multiple people, will say hello to friends with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, etc.

So let's refresh our memories really quickly.

I live alone.

Yeah, that's about all you need to know to understand that I have gotten to the point where I am CRAVING physical, human contact.

I spend my days at work. Despite the fact that I see my coworkers more than anyone else on the face of this planet, I don't walk into work and hug them all. There are apparently these things called "social boundaries" that I would be crossing if I did so.

In the evenings I go to the gym. Again, I see these people all the time, and we make idle chit chat and see each other sweat, and there are the knowing looks when some bitch is too close behind me, and FOR CHRIST'S SAKE OLD WOMAN PUT ON A GODDAMN BRA, YOU ARE DISTRACTING EVERYONE.

But the gym is not the place for hugs. Especially not sweaty, gross hugs with people you barely know.

So that leaves the time I spend with friends.

Hmmm. Um, well.....about that.

Given that my days are filled with work and my evenings are filled with working out and writing (sometimes) and not staying up too terribly late (sometimes), I see my friends AT MOST once a week.

This is not e-fucking-nough. It just isn't. I got a hug on Saturday at the Blues preseason game, and I didn't even want to let go. I mean, hell, it was from a dude I talk to on Twitter frequently, who came out to finally meet everyone, and even then, I didn't want to let go.

Physical contact is such a necessity in my life, and I can absolutely feel withdraw-like symptoms if it gets to be too long since I've been touched. I don't even mean touched in the dirty-yet-fun way, I literally mean something as simple as a hand on my shoulder, a hug, SOMETHING to relay human emotion from them to me.

If the lack of touches occurs around the same time as the weather gets rough? Prime combination for random moments of Ann bursting into tears for no apparent reason. That shit brings me DOWN.

I guess I just need to hire someone to come over and hug me whenever I want. I wonder if stuff like that is tax deductible.

Written In The Stars

2011-10-02T21:44:00.000-05:00

Monthly check-in on the running thing:

Physical changes: Another inch dropped off that spare tire part of my waist. That's down 2.5 in the last two months. This miiiiiight explain why I keep getting asked if I'm losing weight (I'm not....this month I was up 5 pounds). Slimming like crazy though.

Running accomplishments: Dudes, I ran TWELVE MILES today. At a sub-9min/mile pace. I am going to finish this race in under two hours, I've decided. Yep. Three weeks til race day which means three weeks for me to pray that my legs stop being sore. It's been achy in the apartment today.

Basically things are going better than I could even have hoped. Today was a big mental road block for me to get over, and though I wasn't as pleased at the end of it as I had intended, it was still a good run.

The bad thing though? Today I've been craving sweets like I can't even express. I had every intention to make pumpkin bread today, except then I realized I hadn't gotten pumpkin. So I figured I'd just make lemon poppy seed bread instead. Nope, not enough flour.

My disappointment is palpable right now.

Either way, my metabolism is still off the charts, and I am apparently in great need of more simple carbs in my life. The problem with not keeping much junk food in the apartment is that when the cravings like this set in, there's nothing to assuage them.

First world problem, I know.

I really don't have much to add. I'm sore and want sweets. That about sums it up.

So You Wanna Be A Rock Superstar: A Toast To RockStar

2011-09-29T05:00:00.174-05:00

To my dearest Peanut,

I feel like we need to clear something up before we really get going. You will have noticed by now that every single person calls you RockStar. This has been the case since your conception. However, every once in a while I get a wild hair about me and decide that I'm just going to branch from the norm. Your nickname is undoubtedly one of these occasions. When your mom was just a few months pregnant with you, she and your daddy came to visit St Louis, and I got to spend the afternoon with just your mom. It was awesome. She had this adorable little baby bump, which I thought was fantastic, and I kept poking it. Your mom is the only person in the world that I would actually do that to. At any rate, right around then you were about the size of a peanut. I mean, yes, you were one of those creepy three-nut peanut shells, but it counts. You will always be my little Peanut, even when you inevitably, given your parents' heights, outgrow me.

So. Let's get down to business.

Kid, I wonder sometimes if you fully realize just how much you are wanted, how much you are LOVED. There are so many people, literally spanning the globe, who have been pulling for you, completely stoked at your upcoming appearance, and when you finally get here, man, the internet might explode with excitement. I'm not even slightly exaggerating.

I have loved you from the instant I found out that you were going to be showing up to be the child of two of the greatest people I've ever met. Your daddy may not know this, but I totally knew before he did. Your mom sent me an email, showing me how she was telling him, and I immediately burst into tears of joy. Then I picked up the phone, called your mom, and there were more tears. I have never in my entire life been so excited for two people to have the chance to be parents. Ever. From that moment, I have had such a sure feeling that you are going to be a girl. Call it a premonition, gut feeling, friendly instinct, what-have-you, but I saw that scrabble board and instantly said "girl." Now, be aware that if you come out with an outie instead of an innie, I will immediately come back and change this post. Ha, I'm kidding. Maybe.

Because your parents think that torturing other people is fun, we won't find out what you are until you are born. All of this leads to one thing. The onesie you are getting from me is not pink, no matter how much I really wanted to send it to you. I can't imagine your daddy letting his son wearing a pink onesie, so for this one time, I resisted. However, there is one thing I couldn't resist.

This will hopefully be big enough to fit you when baseball rolls around again, and you can cheer on the Cardinals with your daddy.

One of the things your mom has always said about me is that I'm the female version of your daddy. Then I met your daddy, and, well, your mom was totally right. Since you live in Colorado, and I know your daddy well, you will be a Cardinals fan. That's really all there is to it. You can bet your sweet, powdered booty that you will always have a direct line to Cardinals info through me. I would say through your daddy, but I email him every day with facts and trivia, so sometimes he gets his stuff from me. It'll work. I promise.

See? That's your daddy and me. That tattoo on his shoulder was also the image on the front of the shirt I was wearing that very day. Your daddy creeps me out sometimes with how similar we are. But your mom loves him, and I suppose that's a big part of why your mom and I get along so well. I already know just how much he loves you. You are so blessed to have him as a daddy.

What I really wanted to do today, though, was tell you about your mom. You see, many of the people posting these letters and toasts today know your mom through an entirely different avenue than I do. With the exception of your grandma, who gave birth to your momma obviously, all of these lovely ladies posting today met your mom as they were all working to have their own little RockStars. For some it's still an on-going battle, for others, the chilluns made appearances. Your mom is becoming very well known throughout this online community, and you are what's made her story now a success story.

Your mom and I do not have this in common. A couple years ago we both started reading a wonderful blog written by Auntie Junket, and once we figured out that we were saying pretty much the same things in the comments, we simultaneously stalked the crap out of the other's blog. It was "Josey 101" for a couple hours in my office that day. On a very fateful day soon after, we exchanged email addresses, and thus began one of the longest stretches of blowing off work to talk to someone I've ever had. She and I spoke Every. Single. Day. Without fail. We had long distance beer summits every Sunday, chatted every day at work, sent COUNTLESS emails back and forth, and finally, just over a year ago now, I finally got to hug your mom in person at the Los Angeles International Airport. She will tell you her first sight of me was this crazy chick in red, jumping up and down. I was in a Cardinals jacket. By now, this shouldn't surprise you.

Peanut, that weekend with your mom in LA is still filled with some of the best memories of my life. I'm going to show you a couple pictures, and you will probably notice that every single one of them include alcoholic beverages in our hands. I need you to understand that the two of us were at an event called the Blogger Beer Summit. Beer. No, you cannot have any until you are 21.

940am

Rockies/Dodgers game

Our very fancy night. We matched.

Towards the middle of our evening.

Kid, I want you to know just how much your momma means to me. She is one of the most amazing people I've met. She's kind-hearted and open-minded and sympathetic to others and honestly a caring person. She has been there for me through some of the darkest times I've had in recent memory, unflinching in her support, unwavering in her friendship. Over the course of our friendship, we've seen each other through the highest of highs (you) and the lowest of lows. We sat in the back of a van driving through Santa Monica and held each other's hands as we went through individual mini-break downs over various things. When we were both faced with the prospect of losing friends, she never even hesitated to stand right by my side, regardless of the circumstances. We have been through moments that have guaranteed that we'll always be friends, and I couldn't see it any other way.

You were actually in your momma's belly in this picture. You just can't see you.

I know just how much she has wanted you, how hard she has worked for you, just how many sacrifices she and your daddy made for you to be a possibility. There is no one more deserving to be your mommy, and there is no one on the face of this planet who will ever love you more than she does.

I love you already, little Peanut. I cannot wait for the day that I finally get to meet you in person, and not through your mom's stomach.

Love and hugs,

Ann

They Say Your Head Can Be A Prison

2011-09-26T19:45:00.000-05:00

The other day Josey wrote a little bit in a post she called Thought Vomit Thursday. She got it from a couple other bloggers who I don't read, but hey, a good idea is a good idea, so I'm giving it a shot.

Only, in my case, because lately I have zero blogging follow-through, it's going to be a Thought Vomit Today. Yep. Cheating, I know. I'm over it.

Thoughts:

~I really need to vacuum my apartment. Everything else is clean but the carpet. It probably didn't help to have five other girls over on Friday for a fantasy hockey draft. And, for the record, my team is AWESOME.

~In the last three days, I've run 18 miles. Ten miles of it was all yesterday. Today I ran four miles in under 35 minutes. I believe that requires a HELL YES. And possibly a holy shit. Less than four weeks til the race now! Woo.

~I finally got the seventh season of The Office. I went on an Office-watching marathon yesterday and sat there and BAWLED in Michael Scott's last episode. And two episodes before that. And the episode before that. Oh, this show.

~As is oh so usual, I have a crush on a boy who doesn't live in St Louis. I honestly think I am incapable of finding someone who interests me, you know, HERE. Bloody fucking hell, I'm ridiculous. But he's cute and makes me laugh, and I find myself wanting to talk to him all the time (which I kind of already do, and I'm very ok with that).

~Today is Erratic's birthday!! I'm so proud of her and all she's accomplished in the past year, and am more than stoked for her in her new gig. I think she needs to prepare herself for a potential visit from me over the course of hockey season since I do need to get up to see the Blues play the Blue Jackets.

~I pretty much love that with the windows open, I can snuggle down all cozy into my blankets and curl up to sleep. Love it. Until I have to get out of bed. Then it sucks. I'm also not at all a fan of this waking up in the middle of the night business that I've had going on AGAIN. Insomnia can suck it.

~My mom is a sucker. They got a new kitten that they named Smokey. Let's keep in mind that the reason the last kitten was named Bandit was because I named her Bandit, thinking that the name Smokey was silly. Well now they have Smokey and the Bandit, and I'll be damned if that fucking kitten isn't just adorable as shit. If I can get back to HomeTown, you can bet your sweet asses I'll be snuggling the hell out of him because kittens don't make me sneeze.

~Yesterday I ate half of a large pizza in one sitting. I was hungry two hours later. My metabolism is stupid high right now.

~Not too long ago, I got word that I was moving into a position at work that I've wanted for years now. I'm so unbelievably pumped and finally have motivation towards my job again. It's nice to have that since for so long it felt like there really was nothing for me there. Seems that the future got quite a bit brighter with that one announcement.

~Last weekend I went to Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It was awesome! So very nice to sit on or next to a beach for four days, drinking Jameson like it was my job, and being able to actually feel the stress melting away. Granted, last week was all sorts of messed up when it came to my schedule, but it was very worth it.

~And over the weekend, my friend S from Boston was here. She brought me a poster of Tim Thomas, who is the Bruins goalie. I would go into how much I love this man, but I have a hockey site for that, so I'll just let it go. This poster will be framed along side my Blues team poster from last year. Baseball living room, hockey bedroom. Sounds about right.

~It's shower time.

Brothers And Sisters

2011-09-21T16:16:00.004-05:00

My siblings. All of them. For now.

Til the sweat drops down my....

2011-09-04T20:42:00.001-05:00

Everywhere.

That's what happens when you run 7 miles. SEVEN. MILES.

Guys, that's the furthest consecutive distance I've run since 2005.

MY EXCITEMENT, LET ME SHOW YOU IT!!

So. My race is seven weeks from today. Today I ran seven miles. That's just so very poetic....or something.

But let me tell you how good that felt. I mean, there were bits that about made my legs fall off (stupid massive hills around my apartment), and then there were the mile splits that are two minutes per mile faster than what I've been training for. Progress!

As the first of September passed, I took measurements like I did back in August. While there was very little change overall, there were a couple of note. First, I lost six pounds. This is totally unexpected given that the last couple times I've done this running thing, I've gained weight. I'm even eating like crazy (oh man, the eating), but still, losing weight. I'm not overly concerned about it, as my pants still fit, but hey, it's cool to note.

This is dinner (brinner). See?! I am eating. A lot.

The other cool one? I lost an inch and a half off of that spare tire area of my waist. An inch and a half! In 31 days. I'm just....wow. Awesome!

This marathon training is making me just....happy. It's an ego boost to get comments on the way I'm looking (and the lingering glances to my legs that make me walk a little taller, and perhaps strut just a little bit, even when I'm in flip flops that do nothing for my legs). It has given me more energy. I FEEL all around better. It has been amazing to have a goal and work towards something and actually SEE the results on a daily basis.

Seven weeks from today. I'm so pumped.

If any of you are interested, over at Aerys today an interview I did with another writer who's training for a half went up. Check it out!

Still Running

2011-08-29T21:05:00.000-05:00

I feel as though I've been remiss in sharing a tiny detail of my day-to-day life. Granted, those who I know read this are friends of mine on facebook or follow me on Twitter, but nonetheless, I have this spectacular forum for writing that I don't take advantage of enough as it is, and some things just need to be documented.

Hello, my name is Ann, and while that was an incredibly long sentence, it was grammatically correct.

In other news, I'm officially signed up for a half marathon.

The race is in less than 8 weeks.

Holy shit.

Guys, let me tell you just how freaked out/excited/apprehensive/nervous/stoked/terrified for this damn race I am. Because, well, I am. Six years ago I trained for a full marathon ~~because I am an idiot~~ instead of a half. My reasoning at the time was based on the fact that Chicago, at the time, only offered a full marathon. Why on earth would I do something logical like train for a half that was closer to home when there was the BIG WIDE WORLD of full marathon training and a huge city like Chicago to convince me otherwise?

Because I am an idiot.

Half way through my training, my knee blew. Cartilage under my right knee-cap. Absolutely jacked up. Surgery wouldn't help, the doctor said, and the only thing that would was to strengthen my quads.

Let's be real with each other for a quick second. That summer was the last summer I went back to HomeTown. I was working two jobs, one as a favor to my aunt, and I spent the rest of my time running. I was putting in 30-40 miles a week, on top of at least 75 hours of work with minimal sleep. I gained 30 pounds of sheer muscle, muscles that never recuperated the way they should have. I never slept nor ate enough, and I did no strength or cross training besides running. I got half way through training, to where I could run for 12 miles straight at a ridiculous clip, and then one day BLAMMO, no more.

I was devastated.

A few years back I tried to train for the St Louis half. It did not work. I only got a few miles into training.

This time is different. It all came out of some insane talk with newly found friends on the interwebs. Call me crazy, but agreeing to a half marathon this fall (with the two out of three of them running in their respective cities, the other one running here), and another in April in St Louis (that they'll fly in for), with people who don't even live in this state, let alone this time zone, seemed so normal that here I am, less than 8 weeks to running a huge race, and I'm more excited than I can tell you.

We have spreadsheets and emails that are sent back and forth, and I have stuck to this training program better than I have any year since that first.

I am training at a 10min/mile pace. Having been lifting and cross-training multiple times a week for over a year now, adding running was no big deal. And you know what? My knee has only twinged a few times during this whole thing. My long runs (every Sunday) have been almost easy. I'm starting to really feel like this is going to happen, and it's going to be good and awesome.

And then for April? I train for time. I will finish that half marathon in under two hours. That is my goal.

Here, then, is where I can document the things that might get lost in an email or a google doc.

The running part of my training started earlier this month, right after I got back from my sister's wedding. The friend of mine who's running this fall in Virginia, miscounted the weeks which resulted in me starting on week two of this schedule. Knowing just how my body changed that first time, I was curious to see what could happen now, when I started this whole ordeal in shape. I already have a feeling my butt will get bigger and my boobs will get smaller, because that is always what happens when I run consistently.

Nevertheless, I took measurements. They are as follows (top down):

Neck: 13 (this has gone up since I started lifting)

Bust: 35.5 (bye bye boobs)

Waist:29

Where I wear my jeans (kind of the spare tire spot): 35.5

Hips: 41

Thighs: 22.5

Calves: 14.5

I took these measurements on August 1, when I weighed in at 148lbs. I will be measuring again Thursday, which will be after half an hour of Butts and Guts, an hour of Body Pump, and a four mile run. I'm expecting my weight to be just lower than that, as I've been pretty consistently 144 since then, but who knows what will happen with the measurements.

A coworker today mentioned that I looked like I was all skin and bones, to which I reassured her that there was tons of muscle under my clothing. At this point, I feel thin, but I feel like I'm in the best shape of my life, INCLUDING the first time I trained for a marathon when I was pretty fucking ripped.

But then, as cocky as it sounds, right now? I am pretty fucking ripped. And I am damn proud of that. I have been busting my ass for over a year now, and I have seen results that have made me incredibly proud of all that I've already accomplished.

Sunday I will run seven miles, which will be the longest run I've attempted since the summer of 2005. I am petrified and elated at the same time.

Seven weeks, six days from now, I'll be doing something that I've wanted to do for years. Finally.

This feels good.

One Is The Loneliest Number

2011-08-14T22:17:00.000-05:00

So Pumpkin got married last week.

My mom has some pictures up on her blog, if you want to see.

Because she is a member of the church, she was married in the temple. In order to attend one of these temple ceremonies, you must be a member in good standing. The rest of us? Well, the rest of us got to drive for 19+ hours (one-way) to sit outside a building and not see her get married. Awesome, huh?

Regardless, she was beautiful and happy and never stopped smiling, and I couldn't be more thrilled for her.

I knew going into that weekend that inevitably there would be questions from someone, whether family or not, about whether I was seeing anyone/when I was settling down etc. It's inevitable to hear those questions as the oldest child with now three siblings married and all the rest in serious relationships (a few of whom live with their significant other).

The thing about this fun fact, about all the emotions that I lived through when my sister told us she was getting married, is that it all comes back to one fact.

I'm lonely.

Not all the time and not debilitatingly so, but sometimes it just really isn't fun to just need a hug and have virtually no one to go to. With a grand total of zero prospects at this point, an end to this doesn't seem anywhere in sight. I knew it was going to be a struggle to keep my composure if I wasn't bracing myself. I know that is a somewhat selfish way to have gone into such an amazing event for my sister, and maybe that's wrong, but that's the way I felt.

There was one question from an old friend of my parents', which apparently prompted him to think I was a man-hater. Brief sidenote. Just because I am single and have not found someone worth spending the time on does NOT mean that I am a man-hater. I am picky. I don't think this is a bad thing.

Anyway, the statement I wasn't really expecting was from my step-sister R. It was unexpected because she's never commented about my relationship status. Well, not to me anyway. Standing there with her and my niece and nephew, she said to me, "Ann, soon you're going to be outnumbered!"

"I'm already outnumbered," was my reply. It doesn't matter to me whether my siblings are married, in the ratio of single to taken, I am one against the rest.

I recognize that it was not her intent to be inconsiderate, but it makes me wonder if she didn't think that being at my sister's wedding reception, surrounded by all sorts of people I've known for the last decade and a half with their spouses and children, if it wouldn't already have been nauseatingly clear to me that yes in fact I am single and alone. It shouldn't have bothered me, but it did kind of hurt my feelings.

During the ride home, I spent some time trying to figure out why it bothered me so much. It isn't a secret that I'm alone. It is frustrating to have to defend that choice and even then have it questioned, but it is what it is. My life's path is not the same as anyone else's, so why should I expect them to fully understand?

What's been making this rough is the seeming inability of far too many people to recognize that just because I haven't "settled down" doesn't mean it's because I'm anti-relationship, a stance I'm fairly certain my dad thinks I hold even though I've expressly told him otherwise. I have already, in my young life, spent far too much time in relationships that weren't worth it, so why would I continue to waste my time in such a manner? It doesn't make any sense.

And the thing is, I DO want that type of relationship with someone, but if it's not right, I won't do it. I won't change who I am for it either. I don't want to get married just for the sake of saying that I'm married, and worrying that it's never going to happen is something I've never found to be worth my time.

I know that I can be completely closed off and shut down with a lot of people, and I'm aware that this will not encourage the relationship-having. I'm working on this, though, even though every fiber of my being screams against it. To be perfectly honest, the thought of another broken heart is paralyzing. It took long enough to get over the last one.

So here I sit, at a bit of a standstill, with a little sting left from last week. Not too long ago I read something I wrote a few years back, and somehow it still applies.

I am a girl who knows that while none of them are worth it, they each make me feel just a little bit like maybe it's me.

Unfortunately, that's still the case.

Stupid Girl

2011-07-25T17:11:00.000-05:00

All day I have had this unshakable feeling of ~~dread~~ apprehension. I've felt like there is something heading my direction that is going to shake me to my core, like if I let my guard down for one second I'll be blindsided by something monumental.

I have no clue what's causing this, but I feel exhausted due to how on edge I have been all day. It's illogical.

The Rapture isn't this week, right?

I'm So Excited!!

2011-07-21T16:51:00.002-05:00

For my friend Josey.

That is all.

The Way You Are

2011-07-19T22:45:00.000-05:00

Maybe it's just me, but there are certain songs that elicit such a strong reaction out of me, I can't even stop the bright red flush that comes across my chest.

Tonight's reaction was anger. This is silly, being that the anger is supposed to be gone. I feel like it's gone. No anger, no hurt, no more. Then I hear one song and BAM. It all comes rushing back.

It's such incredible bullshit.

As an FYI for anyone out there not sure, don't tell someone you "care" about that you do, then act the complete opposite. DEFINITELY don't use a song as part of your explanation. Leads to an abandoned type feeling, as well as ruins the song forever and ever and ever.

These lonely days are the fucking worst. I really wish they would stop hitting me so frequently lately.

Circles

2011-07-07T11:44:00.000-05:00

Mental note: Check BOTH inner thighs for bite marks BEFORE choosing to wear shorts to a more than four-hour long baseball game.

It's Been a Long Time Coming

2011-07-01T14:50:00.000-05:00

Way back in the day, and by way back I mean like a year ago, I took a couple posts to answer some survey questions. This is what happens when you have a blog network.

Guys, I don't even know who reads this anymore, besides Josey and my mom (HI GUYS!).

Either way, I got this award from Josey today.

You know what she wants me to do? She wants me to make three rules. Any three rules.

THE OPTIONS HERE ARE RIDICULOUS.

I mean, do I go all serious with my rules? For instance, do I say that no governing body will make laws over moral issues? Or do I take the goofier route and decide that all adults should be allowed nap time?

I don't even know.

But first let me get out of the way that I won't be tagging people. See: Not sure who still reads this. You want to make up your own rules? Do it. Put it on your blog. Tell them I told you to. Or leave your rules in the comments. Whatevs.

Ok, rules.

1. Queso burritos and BACON-wrapped hot dogs will never, ever make anyone fat. Wait, let me rephrase that. Calories are forthwith IMAGINARY, except for whatever is required to, you know, keep your body running. You want to eat that entire cheesecake? You go to town, buddy. You think that chocolate fountains should replace water fountains? Have at it. How many health problems do you think would be solved if the obesity rate declined drastically? A lot. Type II diabetes, high cholesterol, etc. For the most part, they'd be goners. I think I like that.

See what I did there? Goofy, with a hint of serious.

2. Everyone shall have good hair days every day. You know how frustrated you can get when your hair just WON'T DO WHAT YOU WANT? (Any of my male readers, you are banned from commenting on this section) Well, imagine what good hair days every day would do. We'd be in better moods because we'd feel better about ourselves. High pony tails as a last resort when nothing else works will be a thing of the past.

3. All people will understand sarcasm. I am making this rule because, well, not enough people understand sarcasm. That can also be read as "not enough people understand me." Because I am sarcastic, and people who don't get that make my head hurt.

There. Three rules as your overlord. I hope you enjoyed your stay. Please watch your step as you exit.

People Are Strange

2011-06-29T13:31:00.000-05:00

They are. That's not so much my point, but whatever.

Two weird things for today.

One, That Friend's kid is four today. Looking back at the last four years, SO MUCH has changed. Most of it for the better.

Two, I have spoken to That Friend's ex (and hold her in an infinitely higher regard than I do him) more than I've spoken to him in the last year. I'm still pretty thrilled with myself for not breaking down and responding the one time he's tried to contact me since my final Fuck You. Looks like he got the hint. Finally.

In unrelated news, I really love miniature Reese's peanut butter cups.

Bad Religion

2011-06-26T10:51:00.001-05:00

This morning I am sitting here sipping on some pretty damn delicious coffee (if I do say so myself), and catching up on some of my favorite blogs that don't involve hockey (because let me tell you, after this weekend's NHL Draft, there were A LOT of hockey posts up). I've been following this woman from the time I found out that she was friends with my friends.

I don't frequently talk about religion here. It's how I've always been, how I will probably always continue to be. That isn't to say I don't touch on it from time to time (a couple posts come to mind that you'll just have to go find on your own), but 98% of the time, I keep quiet. However, this morning, I was struck by the similarities in the opinions I have compared to Brooke's. Our reasons for getting where we are when it comes to religion are very different, but we still seem to have ended up at the same point.

She says, "I do not believe the connection between going to church and being a good person is really all that strong. The correlation is tenuous at best."

As I read that, I said out loud, "You're fucking right it isn't." Thanks, Brooke, you have me talking to myself now.

Hi, my name is Ann. I'm a science geek. You know this. Before that, I was a math geek (I still kind of am). One of the adages I've been taught over and over again in all my math classes that is so simple yet so effective at crushing a few too many "popular opinions" is this: Correlation DOES NOT imply causation. Simple.

I've been in an incredibly self-reflective mood lately, yet surprisingly enough, this topic isn't one that I wonder about anymore. I know what I feel, what I believe in, and much to the dismay of much of my family, it isn't at all within the bounds of the religion in which I was raised.

Fascinating what happens when people grow up and start thinking for themselves, isn't it?

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good

2011-06-25T20:37:00.000-05:00

My little sister is getting married in a few weeks.

This is the second time I've been able to/had to use that sentence THIS YEAR (oh, by the way, Brooks got married in February. I might not have mentioned that with all the Aerys craziness that was starting around then).

I've mentioned Pumpkin a few times before, about just how different we are. We are seventeen months apart, and for all intents and purposes, were raised absolutely identically. In the case of nature versus nurture, with us, nature ABSOLUTELY wins.

Our differences were abundantly clear to me this morning as I talked to her about her plans for the day. I had every intention of hanging out in my apartment, cleaning a little, maybe reading a book. She, on the other hand, had plans with her soon-to-be husband to check out a house. She told me about plans for her reception, what her next few years would look like, what she imagined raising a family with her fiance would be like.

All decidedly things that I do not have plans for.

I am outrageously happy for my sister. My sister, who doesn't want to raise a family in Utah, but will stay there because she "knows God has a plan for them, and if they can do some good with the people there, if there are things they can do to help, she'll be ok living there." This is my sister. She's the one who will always do what SHE feels is right, guided by her faith, and will be entirely unwavering in that. She is selfless and compassionate and has so many good qualities that too many people lack anymore.

Anyone who knows her is blessed to have her in their life.

Her fiance is so obviously smitten with her, and he seems to make her so blissfully happy. Really, what more could you ask for your little sister? There isn't anything. I promise.

I'm Coming Home

2011-06-23T08:43:00.000-05:00

This couple. They've made me cry now TWICE. Two for two. Holy shit.

Yes, I've put this video just about everywhere, and I don't even care. It's beautiful.

How Stupid Could I Be?

2011-06-20T16:34:00.001-05:00

This dance is so beautiful I'm sitting here in tears after watching it. Nope, I'm not kidding. Judge away.

Daddy's Hands

2011-06-19T12:51:00.000-05:00

All morning this morning, and a good chunk of last night, I've been compiling stories written by all the many different Aerys writers about their dads (which can be found here, here, and here).

If you hadn't realized by now (holy shit, how blind could you be?), I'm JUST A LITTLE BIT obsessed with sports. This is not my dad's doing. Reading and compiling all these posts has made me a little sad that he and I don't share that bond. Instead, I share that with my uncles, my grandfather, and my step-dad.

I don't talk about my dad much, I know. He and I have a very interesting relationship. There have been quite a few times that it's been a strained relationship, and anymore, we don't have all that much in common. But there are things about my personality that remind me that I am his daughter, the one who takes after his side of the family the most (to the point of being mistaken for my aunt last time I visited his side of the family).

How do I know I'm my dad's daughter? Simple things. When I'm sitting in bed, I'm intertwining my toes. Pinky toe of one foot in between my big and second toes of my other foot (his mom does this too). If I want a snack, it's peanut butter on bread with a glass of milk (something I remember him doing more than once when I was little). I can get so sucked into a book that I don't even realize time has passed. I tend to get so wrapped up in it that this life is the fantasy, the book is reality. I use obnoxiously big words when I don't even need to (a trend that seems to magnify when I'm drinking, which is not a trait I got from my dad as he's never tasted a drop of alcohol in his life). I can pick up languages pretty quickly (though I tend to lose them even faster).

He may not understand my love of the things I enjoy, and sometimes he doesn't get why I make the choices I do, but he's always loved me. I know that I'm lucky to have that.

He doesn't know about this blog, as I don't broadcast that I have it to family members, but even so, it needs to be out there that I love my dad. Through all our differences, and our wacky similarities, I do.

To my dad. Happy Father's Day. I love you.

Let's stick together

2011-05-26T16:46:00.001-05:00

I was reminded today how much I love this woman.

Jos, you're fantastic, and I can't wait to meet your little peanut! SEE you in a couple weeks.

Can't get you out of my head

2011-05-25T23:43:00.001-05:00

"Come over," she texted, not quite sure what to expect. She couldn't say no. The words that came so easily to her when she was writing, but never could quite articulate in person, sat bubbling below the surface, begging to be set free. She knew in agreeing to come face-to-face with him again that things would change. Somehow, for better or worse, they would.

Would that risk be worth it?

She got ready for bed as though nothing were different. It was already different. One am on a Tuesday, knowing work and her alarm would be calling far too soon. And then he was there. Involuntarily, her breath caught.

Get it together, she thought to herself. It had been a year. One of the most up-and-down years to date, and too many of those downs revolved around him. Too many tears spilled, too many conversations with her best friends, too many times swearing she'd never think of him again, just that once that she was pulled back under his spell. That once was too many.

Awkwardly, she showed him her decoration scheme, gushing about things hanging on her walls. She couldn't even look him in the eye. There he was, standing in her living room and she was talking about a baseball team? There is no way this is real. What am I getting myself into?

Without even discussing it, they both walked back to her room, where she sat on the bed and looked at him. She couldn't quite place the look on his face. Apprehension? Nervousness? Surprise? She couldn't imagine he was any less taken aback than she was at her agreeing to see him again. Too much had transpired. Too much anger and hurt.

They laid there without speaking for a time, her curled up in those arms she had fallen in love with. It was far too easy, felt far too comfortable.

"I don't understand you," she said, finally breaking the silence. She rolled over and looked at him. He knew what she meant. She wondered if he'd actually respond.

"Well, I'm kind of surprised I'm here, to be honest." He meant it. He looked at her, pierced her with that gaze again, the one that always took just a little bit of her breath away. She'd always loved his eyes.

"You disappeared on me.....twice," she said to him, "And I am still angry with you for that. It makes me angry that I'm still angry about it."

"Why does it make you so angry?"

"Because it was a year ago! A whole different lifetime. One whole year spent rebuilding and enforcing every single defense I have around my heart, and here you show up and break through like it wasn't there to begin with. And you're not even trying. Why, after a year, do you still get to me?"

He didn't just get TO her, he GOT her. He'd always gotten her.

"Was distance the only reason?" she asked. He wouldn't need clarification.

He paused. "Distance and timing. The timing wasn't right, and timing is a huge thing for me."

The timing had never fucking been right for her, it seemed.

She was frustrated with how vulnerable he was seeing her, but she knew this conversation, the one that had been promised yet had never happened, the one she ~~desperately wanted~~ needed to have, this was more likely than not the only chance she would get.

"There are so many people who would punch me in the face right now if they knew you were here," she said calmly, as though discussions on physical violence weren't any less commonplace than the sun in the day-time sky. "They saw me through the last year. I don't think you realize just how hard this was on me."

"Yes, I do," he said quietly. She shook her head, trying to make sure she had heard him correctly. "I do know how hard it was on you." But there was no way. She had very specifically not mentioned anything to anyone who would say anything to him. She kept her facebook profile, the one she could never bring herself to remove him from, eerily clear of anything that gave any indication she was less than happy. She had pretended like he didn't exist, and her anger and hurt had unfortunately been taken out on those least deserving such behaviour. "I do know, because I kind of took facebook stalking to the next level. I was always keeping an eye on you."

It was inexplicable, the feeling she had then. He cared enough to follow her facebook (my lord, that sounds so ridiculous), but not enough to call and check up on her. And a thought crept into her head. Once, in a moment of weakness, she had linked her stupid fucking Twitter account to her facebook. And more than once, during the worst of those depressing months, she had linked her stupid fucking blog to her stupid fucking Twitter.

If he had seen, if he had known, he wouldn't NEED to call and find out how she was doing. He would have known enough. She didn't know for sure, but she wondered. She didn't want to know the answer.

Stupid fucking social media.

She laid there, silent for a moment.

"Don't ever disappear on me again. The first time was bad enough. The second time? The second time was awful. Because I had made that decision. Even though it crushed me to do it..." her voice caught, and she waited for the tears, those stupid inevitable tears, to slowly recede, "...even though it broke my heart to just be your friend, I was going to do it. Because it hurt more not having you in my life. I don't know what it is about you, but that's how it is."

Neither of them spoke for a long time. The minutes were racing past, and she knew that the next day (that day) would be miserable at work.

"Why did you want to come over?" she asked. He didn't quite have a response. He stayed silent for a moment, then asked, "Did you see my facebook update recently?"

"No," she said bluntly, "I hid you. After you disappeared the second time, I was hell-bent on never having to see you again. I couldn't remove you, and I'm still not sure why I couldn't, but I could hide you. I haven't seen anything you've put up for ages."

He looked surprised, as though that idea had never occurred to him. And then he told her of an experience he'd had not too long prior. It was life-changing for him.

"I decided after that to never take anything in life for granted. I didn't think I'd be able to ever have this discussion with you, knowing you were so angry at me, but I thought I might try. You have every right to be as angry with me as you are, and more. I just haven't known what to do. Then your letter came in November, and I hadn't ever had anyone feel like that about me, and I just didn't know."

She sat there, not quite sure what to make of it. He either wasn't making sense, or she was too tired to understand.

She turned and looked at him, "But we should have talked about this a year ago. And we never did. We should have talked about this in November, and instead, you let me suffer in your silence for two weeks. I have never once felt any ounce of closure on any of this."

"I couldn't handle that closure," he mumbled. She froze.

"Excuse me?" she whispered.

"If I had had that conversation with you, if there had been that closure, I felt like that would have meant there would never be a chance for us in the future, and I didn't want that."

And there they were. Those tears, white-hot, leaving streaks down her cheeks. She couldn't even make a sound. The one thing she would have killed to have heard a year prior, now finally making its way into her life.

If you were to ask her now how the rest of that conversation went, she couldn't tell you.

She still doesn't know what to think, doesn't know how she feels. A part of her has always loved him, probably always will, but would that be enough to overcome everything they've been through? She communicates with him still, feeling a mixture of happiness and annoyance every time he shows up: happiness at hearing from him, annoyance that she's happy. She shouldn't even be speaking to him.

To be unbelievably cliche, she just can't quit him.

Anymore she doesn't know if she wants to.

She hates it when he doesn't respond to her. She hates herself for wishing he would.

She hates that she can't sleep, that the only way to begin processing has been to write, and writer's block has made that impossible.

She hates that she gets so frustrated the only thing she can think of to do is to add more weight to those bars and work herself into oblivion, past the point of exhaustion.

She wishes it were different. Somehow, just different from this. She doesn't think it ever will be.

How Bizarre

2011-05-24T13:43:00.002-05:00

I have a post. With words. It gets to wait. Behold.

Eight Days a Week

2011-05-21T11:43:00.000-05:00

I have just had the most amazing/trying/exhausting/liberating/confusing/hopeful/whirlwind two weeks.

Let me show you some of the highlights.

The Luxor. Aka, home.

Free drinks at the Chateau at Paris.

Water show at the Bellagio.

This should explain it all.

Cocky sidenote. I have been in the gym like a maniac for the last little while (working out solidly for the last year, lifting a lot for the past seven months), and I am damn proud of how far I've come when it comes to working out. That is really the only reason for this picture being put up, so I can be all gloaty-gloat face and then be able to look back in a few years and say, "I look good. I look real good. HEY EVERYONE, COME SEE HOW GOOD I LOOK!" Anyway, this was taken at the pool in the Luxor.

Celebrating Glycerine's birthday.

Comped bottle of champagne at our VIP table.

The Cat House.

Club XS. The most expensive club ever built in Vegas, and my personal favorite from the entire weekend.

Invite to a private party at Tao.

View from the top of the Venetian.

Going home.

Vegas was amazing and incredible and everything I wished it would be and more. We are already discussing going back again next year. Preferably when Super Cross is there, because Super Cross tends to bring in delicious Australians and absolutely beautiful Canadians. I had so much fun spending time with these three fantastic women, and couldn't have asked for a better group of people with whom to take Vegas by storm. Though exhaustion hit pretty hard, this trip was PRECISELY what I needed in order to get back to neutral and start to remember where my priorities are and where they should be.

And because one trip wasn't enough, two days later I did this:

Wrigley Field. Major League Stadium number ten.

This trip to Chicago was so brief, so ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. Up that morning, driving to the city, watching ~~the absolute blowout of the Cubs by~~ my beloved Cardinals, then straight back home since I had things to do in STL the next day. It was fantastic to see DG, as she's been gallivanting across multiple countries over the past little while, and it was just a beautiful day at the ballpark. The traffic on the way home sucked, but I rocked my ass off in the car, and sang for the whole six hours it took, and left the windows down and cleared my head and really took stock of the things that I need to stop doing, and those I need to start.

My coworkers, upon seeing me the next day at happy hour, made the comment multiple times about how relaxed I looked. Looks like I totally needed that week off.

This week was emotionally exhausting, as I faced some things head on that I didn't expect to ever get to deal with. Heart-to-heart conversations with two people who have had HUGE impacts on my life the past few years, one being incredibly emotional, the other much more light-hearted and casual, yet somehow instead of shrinking back into a state where I hide from everything and everyone, I've felt almost like I've been relieved of a burden.

The lighter of the two conversations was amazing in that it let me know that even through everything this person and I have been through, we will probably always be friends. It was incredibly comforting.

The other conversation, while not light-hearted and at times incredibly tear-filled, was one I've been waiting to have for over a year now. It was a long time coming, but I needed that so badly. There's not really a way to describe it all fully, and I won't try. Suffice it to say, there were things said I desperately needed to hear, there were things said I would have KILLED to hear a year ago, there were things said that showed me that my gut instinct with a particular person has been spot on for ages, there were things said that made me laugh and brought back some incredible memories, and there was one thing said that caught me so off-guard my only reaction was to sit there and cry. And yet somehow, after it all, I feel better.

It's always a good thing to find ways to get rid of some of the anger you're holding on to.

I am exhausted after these last two weeks. What with the lack of sleep, the emotional ups and downs, and the traveling, I'm ready to just take a nap that lasts for two weeks. But I won't. My cousin gets his Eagle Scout today, there's hockey on tonight, and the Rapture has given me something to mock so wholeheartedly that it's amazing.

Today? Today is a good day.

This is how it's gonna end

2011-04-16T13:48:00.001-05:00

There is no easier way to explain what happened next with That Friend than to just post it word for word.

Him:
Seriously whats the issue. I asked for an Ehug after only four months, and the next three messages were you asking me why. I realize we don't talk much, but are we done being friends?

Me:
The last time we spoke was SIX months ago (at Bear's wedding). Six. And that was hardly a conversation. Before that, we hadn't kept in communication for nearly a year. That's almost a year and a half of silence. How is that being friends at all? Yeah, I know I'm to blame too, but still. We haven't really acted like friends in a long time.

You know, I've thought about this a lot, and maybe I'm hypersensitive to it, but it certainly brings back knee-jerk reactions when you show up again out of nowhere, because of the number of times you have (whether sober or drunk) ended our friendship for one reason or another. It brings back the "I can't have you in my life right now so I'm deleting you out of my phone and my life" or the "If I can't be with you, we can't be friends" or the other number of things that made me either feel horribly guilty or completely abandoned. And every single time, I have been there when you've come back. Every time you've chosen to delete my number (or lost your phone or whatever), it cut a little more, and honestly, I am tired of it. I don't want to be in a situation where I'm going to hear (again) how you're disappointed we didn't end up together, after I thought the issue was dead. I don't want to be your presumed backup plan when another relationship falls through.

I do not want to get into arguments where every single point I make is completely ignored because it's not what you want to hear. I do not want to be made to feel guilty if I'm just your friend and you're with someone but that's, as you have said to me a couple of times, "cheating on both of us." I do not really want to try to communicate with someone who refuses to believe that I am VERY MUCH not the same person I was ten years ago. And I do not want you to have to deal with your family who has made it incredibly clear, to the point of physical nausea on my part, that they want absolutely nothing to do with me.

I have worked really hard over the last little while to remove all sources of drama from my life, and I feel like our silences almost ease my conscious because I don't have to worry about being made to feel guilty, whether intentional on your part or not, at nearly every turn. So I suppose that means yes, we are done being friends. But we kind of have been for a long time. I don't think much is changing.

Him:
Wow ok sorry to hear that. You were an important person in my life and I'm sorry that's how you feel. You were a tough act to follow and I'm sorry. I guess I'll leave you alone then.

Him (two days later):
What you said did upset me. Not giving excuses but like I said before the radio worked both ways. You've been an important part of my life for a long time, and I do wish we talked more. The lateness is due in part to some disabilities I have now thanks to the army. Like I said I do apologize and hope youll forgive me.

Me (most eloquent 'fuck you' I've ever written):
I'm not sure if you didn't read more than the first paragraph of the last message I sent you or just ignored the rest of it completely. The amount that we've spoken recently is such a tiny part of why I can't do this anymore, and it annoys me that it seems to be the only thing you picked up out of the many words I sent to you a few days ago.

The last five years of our friendship has been mostly emotional drama for me, and I just can't do it anymore. Did you ever consider that there was a reason that I wasn't calling?

The last time we spoke consistently, a year and a half ago, you, whether intentionally or not, put me through some of the worst emotional torment I've had to deal with in years. Guilt and anguish, inner turmoil, lack of sleep. I never want that again. Ever. Yet it seems like every single time we try being friends again, somehow it ends with me in tears. Either because you've decided you can't be my friend anymore, or because you wanted more than that, or because your family decided that I'm all of a sudden the spawn of Satan.

You have ended this friendship multiple times, and I've put up with it. You've lost my number more times than I can count (do you even have it now), which makes me feel like you telling me that I'm important to you is just lip service. How can someone be important to you if you don't actively seek out ways to keep in touch with them? And telling me that it's "just how you are" is a bullshit excuse and you know it. My number's been the same for five years, and if someone's important, you make sure you can get in touch with them.

I have been patient and forgiving for years upon years, and it seems like somehow, every single time, my emotions pay for it. It seems like I'm your friend when it's convenient for you, when you don't have to worry about feeling like you're cheating on whoever you're with. Everything is on your terms, and I am sick of being just a friend of convenience.

Too many things in my life right now are bringing me down and stressing me out, and I cannot consciously make the decision to walk back into a friendship that will inevitably turn into just another thing to mess with my emotions.

I promised myself a long time ago that I would always make choices that were best for me, and being in this friendship has stopped being good for me. It stopped being good for me a long time ago. So I'm done.

Hate me if you want, but this is what's best for me.

Him:
Yeah guess I was hoping you were just pissed that I didn't call much and about how we parted 18 months ago. Well that's too bad. Look me up if the mood ever strikes.

Way to STILL not take any responsibility for your own actions you self-centered, self-important, narcissistic fuck face.

And THERE is that sense of relief I've been waiting for.

Fuck you

2011-04-07T11:46:00.000-05:00

Just about every day, I email back and forth with Glycerine and the Sociologist. I'm in STL, Glycerine is in College Town, and the Sociologist is all the way over in South Korea. Email is how we keep in touch. Today I heard from someone I never wanted to hear from again. Instead of writing this again, you now get to see my reaction to these two in this email.

Action:

Guess who I heard from today?

No, not Ram. Ram doesn’t require threadjacking anymore.

THAT FRIEND.

All his message said (his fb message, b/c he’s incapable of keeping a phone slash phone numbers), was “Can I have an ehug?” Then said “see above.” I’m assuming he had something copied and pasted, but it wasn’t there. So I said “See what?”

Edited to add: I got a response that basically said “see the title.” Um, no you motherfucker, you may not have a hug after showing up randomly after six months of being invisible. So I said, “care to elaborate?” Waiting on a response. Venting until then.

This is SO TYPICAL. It’s been about six months since we’ve spoken, my guess is he just found out he doesn’t get primary custody of his daughter, and he wants sympathy. Ready for a fun story though? I’ve probably already told you both, but I feel it’s something that you need to be reminded of.

Back in January, when I was in Chicago, I got a text message from his ex informing me that she had sent the kid to visit That Friend and his fam, and they DIDN’T SEND HER BACK. That’s a felony kidnapping charge b/c it’s across state lines. The Ex didn’t call the authorities so as not to cause an INCREDIBLY traumatic situation for The Daughter, and I can’t blame her for that. I DO, however, think it is bullshit that That Friend thought that would help his case any! He and his family have absolutely NO solid ground to show that The Ex is an unfit mother, and he just went ahead and dug himself deeper into a “you’re not getting The Daughter” hole.

I’m just so annoyed. I have kept him out of my life (hidden from my fb news feed and everything) ON PURPOSE. He is not supposed to come waltzing back in. I want NOTHING to do with him (and definitely not his family) anymore. He has been an emotional drain on me for a decade, A FUCKING DECADE, and I finally got to a point where I don’t have him in my life, and then he does what he fucking ALWAYS does and shows up, expecting to pick up right where we left off.

Um. Fuck. That.

I am not going to jump right back into that emotional drain. No. I won’t do it. He has used every single “second” chance I have given him and absolutely squandered it. I am not about to be friends with someone who doesn’t understand what it takes to be a good friend, who only thinks about himself, who has such an elitist attitude, who NEVER THINKS ANYTHING IS HIS FAULT, whose family (aka, my second family for almost all of the last decade) turned on me the INSTANT I disagreed with them. No.

So fuck you, That Friend, if you think that just because the disappearing for months on end and still picking up where we left off thing has worked before that it will work again. I am finished. Done. I will not stick around just for the same thing to happen within the next year (because inevitably it will). I will not be friends with someone who will try to make me feel guilty for “being too busy for them,” for choosing to not be with him, FOR FUCKING LIVING MY OWN GODDAMN LIFE. I do not ever want to hear again “why didn’t we make it?” I do not ever want to be told that he can’t be my friend if he’s with someone, because it “feels like cheating on both of you.” (Honest to god he said that to me once).

No. Done. Finished. He can go fuck himself.

Aaaaand, scene.

Crazy

2011-03-22T13:13:00.000-05:00

Boozefest statistics:

3 days

820 miles driven.

10 hours of sleep.

138 postable pictures.

1 game of flippy pong won.

3 states driven through.

2 timezones.

4 people thrown into the pool.

6 kegs and multiple fifths finished.

1 cock challenge witnessed.

1 broken finger.

1 octopus presented as a gift.

62 icings.

2 sharpie mustaches.

72 degrees during the day.

237 wings consumed.

1 Hooters waitress appearance at the house.

Countless memories.

1 fucking phenomenal weekend.

Let's get this party started

2011-03-17T19:46:00.000-05:00

I know I suck at this. Guys, I've been fucking SWAMPED lately. There's just so much awesomeness going on, and I know I keep promising to update this on the regular, but, well, I suck at keeping that promise. So there's that.

Tomorrow morning I will be getting up at an ungodly early hour in order to start driving up to Indiana by way of Chicago for Boozefest VI. If you recall from last year, I left for Boozefest V directly after Kelly's visitation. Not exactly the way that you would want to start off what is to be a fantastic weekend of food, fun, friends, and booze. This year's a little different.

I'm coming off a RIDICULOUSLY busy yet as of today, pretty fulfilling week at work (my Western blots today were, as a coworker called them, "publishable," which is a very good thing). The weather today is just beyond amazing. I have started finalizing plans for a pretty big trip coming up in a couple months. The hockey site is going better than planned. I've gotten in really, REALLY well with a lot of Blues bloggers in St Louis, and have gotten involved with a phenomenal group of people who follow my site, even if they are really hilariously awful about commenting on my actual site. They'll comment on Twitter, sure, but not the site. Even one of the actual Blues has read it. Life is awesome.

Now, I could sit here and regale you with stories of Boozefests past. I could tell you about the movie montages that one of my friends puts together every year that has coined the phrase,""THIS. IS. BOOZEFEST!!!" I could tell you about how I am packing extra batteries for my camera and multiple hangover "cures" because of how insane these events tend to get. But I won't. Instead, I'll just show you the video montage that was bits and pieces of last year's Boozefest.

And yes, that was curling on the hardwood floors. Go look at my facebook profile picture. Same thing.

I am SO STOKED.

Everybody dies, but not everybody lives

2011-03-08T12:11:00.000-06:00

It's been one full year.

My goodness, how things have changed.

The past couple of days have been incredibly emotional for me, for various reasons. Some very good emotions, some very not good emotions. Some tears, lots of laughter, stress, worry, happiness, everything.

Part of it has been hockey related. Most of it hasn't been.

There's so much that feels the same about last year. Gearing up to go to Boozefest. Coming out of Mardi Gras sans hangover. Cursing, yet again, the Girl Scouts for their Thin Mint serving sizes. Counting down to the start of baseball season.

But so much is different. Different apartment, no relationship, different financial concerns, different summer plans, friendships that have shifted or dissolved, different workout regiments.

Yet throughout all of it, I remember, I have to remember, that this? These emotions, these feelings, the angst, the joy, everything in between, is all worth it.

It is worth it to be alive.

And I am going to take advantage of that. I am going to throw myself into daily activities with reckless abandon. I am going to grab Boozefest by the proverbial balls and make this an event of a lifetime. I am going to get myself into the gym because it makes me feel good. I am not going to worry about the mundane or pointless.

I am going to live.

For Kelly.

For me.

I live my own life

2011-02-15T22:38:00.001-06:00

So guys, when I told you that the new hockey site was going to keep me busy, I had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into. Ho. Lee. Shit. But now that four of you have told me that I need to update here, well, here we go.

Ok, so just for clarification, I AM still reading your stuff. All of you. Well, the ones of you who comment who I know actually read this. I am usually reading them all as I'm laying in bed way too late at night from the google reader app on my phone, so commenting is nonexistent, and for that I apologize. I am working on getting my Blues writing onto a better schedule, and I finally broke down and got interwebs in the apartment again, so I should be able to get back into the swing of having a personal blog too soon.

Updates. What can I tell you?

I pretty well have hated my job the past couple days, which is sad, because last week I was busy, but very ok with what I'm doing. Which is good, since I'm signing another year long lease here in STL. Not going to be free until end of April 2012. Fuck, that seems like a long ways away.

I'm already ramping up for my yearly migrations around the country for baseball and other debaucherous events. This year, though, I'm adding hockey into that (shocking, I know). So far I've already been to hockey games at the United Center in Chicago and the American Airlines Center in Dallas, both for Hawks games, and been to a few more Blues games. My weekends are starting to fill up coming up, and guys, this year's going to be just as good as, if not better than, last year.

There are plans in place for a shit-show weekend to Vegas in May with Glycerine, a trip to NYC in June with a friend from high school (which will include seeing Citi Field), Colorado in July for a family reunion (and a trip to Coors Field), Philly to see DG once she moves (and Citizens Bank Park), and at least another two trips to Chicago within the next couple months. Not to mention, Mardi Gras (only 19 days away!!), Boozefest, the sister and her fam coming to visit, other visitors from out of town, as many more baseball stadiums as I can get to, Cardinals Opening Day, and so many other things that are completely slipping my mind.

I've already kicked things off with a girls' weekend in Chicago a little while ago (which was BEYOND AWESOME...and I really miss DG), as well as a trip to Dallas to visit Munkee (who I miss terribly, and she needs to remember that Charles was never in charge), and am eagerly counting down to my trip to Kansas City this weekend with HB to see the Teacher (and will also get to see Royal and Red and maybe some other folks if they're willing to come out), and then a visitor from Chicago and Monday off for the Blues/Hawks game.

On those days where I wonder if I did this right, if I shouldn't have gone ahead and done the marriage and babies thing, it's lists like this that remind me that this life, MY LIFE, is pretty fucking phenomenal.

So all of this, plus writing about hockey every single day, well, I'm busy. But I'm trying. I have plans for showing you the awesome and ridiculous and amazing out of town weekends I've already had. And I'll be able to add KC to it by the time I get around to it, I'm sure. There's also a post brewing that needs to be written. It's needed to be written for a while. And I will do it. Soon.

I've missed you guys. I promise to try to do better.

I'm Blue as I can be

2011-02-01T08:13:00.008-06:00

It's here, it's here!!! It's launch day for my new site. Go look, go play, comment!

http://www.youremyboysblues.com

And if you're looking for another team's site, there are lots of them. Go here and search for them.

Michelle, My Belle

2011-01-31T10:02:00.001-06:00

Yeah, she hates that song. And I don't care.

It's my baby sister's birthday. She's TWENTY. Ho. Lee. Shit. That's just insane. I actually remember the day she came home from the hospital. She was very red and had a red bow glued to her head.

But now she's an adult, and my goodness, guys, I love that woman. She's just so so so incredible. She's more than my sister, she's my friend, and I MISS her. A lot.

So, here are pictures of us. We may or may not look alike.

Coffee

2011-01-25T17:41:00.000-06:00

I don't know where all of you work. But I would assume that in your place of employment, there is a place where you can gather with your colleagues and divvy out the coffee. Do you have where you work the guy who doesn't really know the coffee station etiquette? I do. I hate that guy.

Coffee station etiquette, similar to water cooler etiquette, is of the utmost importance to me. Being polite at the coffee station says to me, "Hey, I appreciate your work here, and I value your need to get juiced up on caffeine before you attempt anything that requires more brain power than that of a slug." Ignoring the implied rules of the coffee station just...bugs me. So, in case your workplace is afflicted with the same type person, I give you my coffee station rules of etiquette. Feel free to print and post.

1. First come, first served. If you walk up to the coffee station and there are people standing there with empty mugs, chances are they are waiting on the good stuff, just like you. Unless they tell you to "go ahead," THEIR mug gets filled first. Not yours, you Cutsies-McCutterson. Get to the back of the line.

2. If your coffee station has the capabilities of drawing hot water, do not draw this hot water while the coffee is brewing. This throws off the coffee brewing cycle and then throws off the ratio of the pot of coffee. I will get to the importance of the ratio here in a second. Just know that I am VERY SERIOUS about my ratios. Stop fucking with the coffee's.

3. Once you get your coffee, move to the side. Get your creamer/sugar/artificial sweetener/crack off to the side so that others in line behind you can get themselves some juice. It's just polite.

4. Back to the coffee ratio. Let me explain how it works at my job really quickly. We have a fairly big industrial type brewer. I mean, if you have a couple hundred scientists all in one building, all used to the late nights of college and grad school and post doc work and thesis writing, etc, chances are you are surrounded by a massive group of people who have all become fairly dependent on caffeine. Chances are better a good portion of them have the chemical structure of caffeine on a mug somewhere (yes, I have coworkers like this). Either way, with this particular brewer, the way the coffee brews, it is much stronger at the beginning of the brew cycle than it is at the end. These differences in concentration all mix together during the process to make a perfect blend of the right strength of coffee that won't make us grow hair on our chests, but also won't make us think we're drinking brown water. Like I said, ratios are important to me. They're everywhere. There are proper ratios for damn near everything. For example:

peanut butter to jelly
filling to oreo (the doublestuff ratio is perfect)
nitrogen to oxygen in the atmosphere
espresso to steamed milk to vanilla flavoring
thickness of eyeliner to protuberance of eyeballs
height to weight
distance from home to first to distance from home to the pitcher's mound

Important shit. Because of this, walking up as the coffee is brewing, moving the coffee pot, and placing your mug under the stream of the currently brewing coffee is FUCKING RUDE. It indicates a supreme disdain for your fellow coffee drinkers, and shows that you don't care AT ALL about the perfection of the coffee everyone else gets to drink after your greedy ass. Knock it the fuck off.

There really is a guy who does all of these at work. And I'm not sure if it's just the coffee thing that gets me or perhaps it's that he just perpetuates the "All scientists are nerds" myth. High-water pants, comb-over, thick glasses, bushy mustache, and always wears short-sleeved button-down shirts. I'm a scientist!! And I don't look nerdy!!!! Motherfucker's ruining it.

Either way, I like coffee, and I don't like people fucking with my coffee. End of fucking story.

The News

2011-01-21T12:41:00.001-06:00

Guys, I have news. Pretty big news, that I'm really excited about.

If you follow my twitter, you already know. If you don't, well.

Starting February 1, a new site is launching called G9 Sports. It is a site promoting sports blogs, for all teams, all sports, all written by women.

I get to write for them.

I'm going to be starting a blog that is all-encompassing when it comes to STL sports, but will probably focus on mostly the Blues (yes, even with loving their rival as well), and every once in a while dip into the Cardinals (who you know I love), and even the Rams. I am REALLY excited for this opportunity to take a step out of my own little personal bubble I live in here, and expand my horizons when it comes to actually writing about sports I love and not boring all of you in the process.

When I have the link (it's not set up just yet), I will for sure post it here in case you want to read my ramblings on hockey. If you don't want to read it, I won't be hurt. Not even slightly. In fact, I'll even still do my best to post on here at least regularly. No worries. Either way, if you have a favorite team, as soon as the site launches, definitely go check out the blogger for your team. Everyone was picked by the founder, Julie, who's pretty awesome from the small bit I've gotten to work with her.

Now, I know I've been all absent this week, but that's because I became very close friends with my couch after a monster virus got through my immune system. Apparently three-day benders in Chicago will do that to you. So, I will put up some pictures from my Chicago trip (which was AMAZING) soon.

Until then, I'll be over here trying to not cough up my remaining lung.

I saw the sign

2011-01-14T14:42:00.002-06:00

Well, friends, I had planned on posting a big, long, serious, probably super depressing (for me at least), but then the universe decided to throw a kink in things. Literally And I'm amused by it, so I'm talking about it.

Many of you have heard, and probably discussed, the recent (yet not really new) topic of zodiac signs shifting and all that jazz. Here is an article that kind of explains it.

My facebook and twitter both blew up with people either claiming how their "new" sign fit them so much more, or conversely, hell-bent on keeping their old one. Because I think the whole topic of astrology is just for funsies, I decided to be difficult and stay the hell put.

See?

Yeah, my name's really Ann, not Bradshaw. Whatever, I'm bored with my pseudonym.

Moving on. There are actually reasons I'm staying put. First of all, Nic, who actually pays attention to astrology, has told me that this isn't a new concept, and most Western astrologers ignore it. Then there was this article.

Not to mention the fact that me as a Libra? Well, it doesn't make any goddamn sense.

This page right here, well, within the first couple key words you should be able to realize why, even if you don't know me in real life. That one word, "INDECISIVE." Um, excuse me, I've never had trouble making a decision in my life. And once I make that decision? I stick the fuck to it. If you read down further, it mentions that Libras like to have the brilliant ideas, but don't always like to put the work forward to get the reward (sorry to all my Libras out there). That is so not how I roll. They say Libras are artistic. I'm a fucking scientist. The best art I come up with is a stick figure. Or that lovely job up there with blocking my last name in Microsoft Paint. Thanks, Mr Square and fill button.

Now, if you look at the same site's definition of Scorpio, there might as well be my picture right next to it. For serious.

Here's where I think astrology is fun. Because, as explained to me by Nic, not only is your sun sign important (my Scorpio, her Aries, etc), but so is your rising sign. I couldn't tell you what a rising sign is because I don't remember, but she explained it like this. Sun signs are how you are, how you truly are deep down. Rising signs tend to indicate how other people see you.

My rising sign is Aquarius, which coincidentally is the same sign as my baby sister who happens to be the most similar to me out of my family. Again, from the same site, the description of the Aquarius sign.

If you go ahead and scroll down to the section that is titled "What It's Like to Date an Aquarius Woman," well, it might as well be titled "What It's Like to Date Ann."

So I've been amused with this whole thing, I'm sticking to my Scorpio guns, and that's all there is to it.

And, just as an added fun bonus for you guys, if you haven't ever heard of the DJ Girl Talk, that is sad for you, so you should go to this site, download his newest album, and find yourself dancing in your chair for the next hour and eleven minutes. I am on my third round of listening to it just today.

That is all. And now I am leaving work so I can go to Chicago to see DG and Company. So. Fucking. Excited.

Have a great weekend, everyone!!!

When you're the best of friends

2011-01-11T12:32:00.001-06:00

Yeah, I titled this with a Disney song, so what?

Over my holiday break, I was fortunate enough to be able to see a couple friends of mine. Both of these encounters included lunch at a place close to my apartment that has over 200 beers. They both included laughs and many beers consumed and french fries (oh man, the french fries). There were long conversations and stories told and so many smiles my face was damn near numb by the end of them.

The main difference? One was a visit from my friend Royal, who I've been friends with since my sophomore year of college. The other was from my girl Erratic, who I'd never actually met before.

It's funny to me that when I was younger, the ONLY way to make a friend was to meet them, have a conversation, and find things in common. That's what happened with Royal (who, by the way, is awesome and fantastic and really a tremendous friend, and stalks this blog like you wouldn't BELIEVE...hi, yes, I see your IP address from work AND home...love you girly). There also may or may not have been COUNTLESS encounters of the drunken kind (and she will confirm that it's rather incredible I didn't get a distributing to minors charge in school). There have been, since college, visits and baseball games and long conversations on the phone reminiscing about the trouble we tended to get ourselves into. That, back then, was how friendships were "supposed" to be made.

And then there became this wonderful interwebs. I'll admit, back in college I used to blog on a site called xanga (shoutout to the old school xanga kids....also, no, my site isn't there anymore. If you're interested, I'll post something from way back then. I was insane). The slight difference between that and this is that on there, I didn't use pseudonyms, and everyone who read my stuff, I knew. Granted, yes, now most people who read this know me in real life, and the pseudonyms are mostly for my friends' benefits rather than my own. Five years ago, I'd never have been able to imagine a time when writing online, posting the random thoughts that pop into my head on a weekly basis, would provide me an opportunity to communicate with, and meet, some of the most AWESOME people ever, even if things didn't turn out anywhere close to how I imagined they would. This right here? This is why I went to LA. This is how I got the best friend I call Josey (well, technically, everyone else calls her that, but hey, details). This is how I met Erratic.

And guys? SHE'S EVEN COOLER IN REAL LIFE THAN SHE IS ON HER BLOG.

Seriously, that "normal amount of awkward [she] brings to any situation" made me feel so comfortable! You know, because I've got my own level of awkward, aka insanity. I felt like I had known her for YEARS. And we had a great time! Even after some stupid lady pretty well dropped her scarf on my head. Also, she told me that once she ate a 1000 year old duck egg, which is both disgusting and solidifies her in the "Cool" category. I really feel fortunate that I was able to spend those THREE HOURS with her.

I really am blessed to have the friends I do, whether I made them in the "traditional" way, or whether they came through means I never thought possible.

To you friends, whether I know you read this or not, from the very bottom of my heart, THANK YOU for being amazing and for being my friend. For knowing me, who I am, and accepting every single facet of me, even the bad ones, even the ones that get on your nerves. Thank you for listening to me and offering kind words or a shoulder to cry on or a shot of Jameson if my day's been particularly bad.

To the rest of you, lurkers and commenters I know and anonymous folk I don't and IP addresses I think I'm starting to figure out, thank you for reading. Really. It's kind of nice to know that even though I know I'm crazy, there just may be someone else reading and relating the to the things I blabber on about.

That's a pretty fantastic feeling.

Dirty bit

2011-01-06T12:24:00.002-06:00

Tidbits for today.

-I have discovered a ridiculous love of Buffalo Wild Wings' Mango Habañero sauce. Seriously. The leftovers for lunch today are just as good as they were with the beers last night. Though now I want a beer.

-Even though this might be old news, it still infuriates me that some dickwad was paid a shitton of money to falsify data and create the worldwide panic involving the theory that MMR vaccinations caused autism. Fuck that guy. Seriously. When a good chunk of the world's scientific community is all "that can't be right," shouldn't people pay attention? No, because idiots like Jenny McCarthy are going on and on about the "studies" and "data" and is she a fucking scientist? No, she's not. Why people listened to her over their DOCTORS is beyond me. Maybe it's just my scientific brain, but falsifying data is NOT O-FUCKING-KAY. It's just not. And to think that there are hundreds of kids who are going to be so unfortunately affected as they grow up, so much more susceptible to all sorts of horrific viruses, it just makes me nauseous. Fuck that guy. (British Medical Journal's article about it here).

-Today I am running Western blots, and my gels look REALLY pretty. This makes me happy because last time? They looked like shit.

-I am surprisingly vulgar today. More than normal.

-This story made me cry today.

-Over the break, I spent time with a guy I knew in high school who I hadn't seen SINCE high school. It was hilarious and awesome.

-Also awesome was getting to sit down and catch up with Hurdle. It also made me realize how much I MISS his friendship. But now he lives in Alaska. Silly.

-The girls and I did a Secret Santa this past year. My friend the Teacher got me the most AMAZING picture slash stats card of Stan Musial, which made her the present-giver-winner. Then she fucking iced me, which made her a jerk. Outcome for the night? Draw. Grape Smirnoff Ice is gross.

-I still love pretzel M&Ms.

-New Year's this year was actually so enjoyable, minus a brief bout of ridiculousness that I was unfortunately involved in, that I'm really looking forward to next year's. Mental note: stay away from the shots. It worked well this year.

-I am still sore from my workout on Tuesday. Tonight's gonna be rough with the lifting bit. Also, my six pack is back in full force, and I am damn proud of it.

-Yesterday I accidentally splashed liquid nitrogen on my face. It did not feel good. Then I threw it on the floor, which looked so awesome, I didn't care anymore.

-I'm slowly starting to figure out the specific visitors to this site. I see you! Say hi, don't just lurk around! Let's chat!!

-I'm out of things to say.

The End.

It doesn't matter if you're black or white

2011-01-04T13:41:00.001-06:00

A few posts ago, I mentioned that I had gone on a date. Now, I didn't mention anything past that because time and experience have taught me that jumping the gun when gushing about someone (not that I've done that before, nuh-uh nope, not me), tends to get you shot. In the face. Or the heart. Or both. Whatever. But now that it's finished, I see no harm in regaling you all with a fun little story.

Let's go back to the beginning. Over Thanksgiving, my friend the Teacher came home. That Saturday, we decided to get a group to head out to one of our favorite bars. We know the owner, so we have a good time when we go. I spent some time chatting with him at the bar, and through him met a friend of his, who I'll call the Cop (I didn't know he was a cop then, but now you do because I needed a name and didn't want to wait til later to name him). Moving on. The Cop seemed nice enough. He was really flirtatious and seemed VERY interested. Being me, what did I do? Antagonized the hell out of him. For funsies. It's how I roll. But (and this still doesn't make sense to me), like most guys do, the antagonizing appeared to make him more interested. To the point where he suggested we go out to dinner sometime. Instead of my usual tactic of saying no and making them work for it, I said yes. Why the hell not? It had been an interesting week for me emotionally (I'll get to that in a post sometime in the future), so sure. I'll take a chance. So he hands me his phone, has me put my number in, and immediately calls my phone so I can have his.

Sidenote: The prevalence of cell phones has destroyed a woman's ability to give out a fake number. I think many guys have figured this out.

The numbers then being exchanged, he asked which day for me worked best. As in actually started to make a plan. Weird. Wednesday was the decided upon day. We spent the rest of the evening hanging out and chatting, and I utilized the opportunity to give him as much shit as possible. Because it's what I do.

Thinking that I wouldn't hear from him again, I was blown away when he called. CALLED. The next day. No texting. At all. He wanted to tell me he'd had a great time and make sure that I was still up for Wednesday, that it wasn't a drunken agreement. Sure, I told him, why not? So then, on Tuesday, he CALLED AGAIN to discuss plans for the next day. I still can't get over the calling thing.

Then he called Wednesday to finalize those plans!! I don't know where this dude came from.

Well, our date that Wednesday was fun.

(Minor side story: As I was walking out the door for this date, I looked down and realized that I was wearing a Blues T-shirt and tennis shoes....to a first date. Yes, I'm that girl. And yes, I did go back in and change.)

Carrying on. It wasn't that super awkward first-interview-with-drinks type feeling a lot of first dates have. I found out a little more about him, like the fact that he was a cop (in North St Louis, which, according to the FBI or whoever it was who did that study, is the most dangerous place in the US), that he was an only child, and that he was 23.

Ouch. No, three years is not much, and to his credit, he seemed to be a mature 23, but it threw me knowing that he was barely older than my sister Brooks.

The other things that were listed in the "cons" column....he has the opposite drinking taste as I do, which means we could never split anything. He only partly knows sports. And then he asked me who the Cardinals' number six was. Go back to Day 28. Stan....Stan the freaking MAN is number six. The most famous Cardinal EVER. I think I looked at him in shock then proceeded to rant for a good seven minutes about Stan's career and stats and All-Star appearances and military career and everything. And he sat there and stared at me. Because it's normal for a girl to be able to tell you that Stan had the same number of hits on the road as he did at home, which gives him one of the most beautiful statistics in all of baseball, right? Right.

So he asks if he can see me again, sure why not, hug goodbye, and see ya. I didn't think we'd had a lot in common, and might have possibly found myself spacing out during one of his stories (not that this was obvious foreshadowing or anything), but he surprised me and called again the next day asking if he could see me again (also, notice I've always said call...the guy calls...weird). We made plans for the following Friday, but since our schedules are opposite there wasn't much chance for talking between the two dates.

The second date was uneventful in that it was a very typical dinner and ice skating type thing. Well, except for my dragon story from a couple posts ago. That was with him. Oh, and the fact that he asked about the Cardinals again they day they signed Lance Berkman, and I literally went off for ten minutes about baseball and the trades and the NL Central. I had to stop myself. I was a woman possessed. To the point that the waiter asked me a question about the team because he'd heard me. The Cop goes, "Well, I have no idea what you just said, but I'm more than happy listening to you." Awesome, I guess.

Well, all of this seems like normal getting to know you type stuff, I know. And that's what I thought. I didn't feel ANY spark, which, if you know me, is very important. But I figured, hey, it's nice to get to know someone, and this whole dating thing I guess can be fun.

So, the second weekend in December, I had plans to go out with a couple friends. We went to the hockey game, and as we were headed downtown, I gave the Cop a call and told him he should come out and meet us, which he did. We were at a place on the Landing called Big Daddy's, which has a huge dance floor. Now, if you know me, you know how I feel about dance floors. If you're not sure, let me tell you. Being on a dance floor is just about as much of a stress release for me as running is. I can just let the music wash over me, and move how I want, and not think about anything. I tend to dance by myself. Every once in a while, I will go dance with friends, but I usually am all by me onesie. The Cop? He's a puller. He's one of those guys who will try to pull you into them, trying to be all seductive and such. I'm the type person who gets irritated if someone tries to physically MAKE me go somewhere I don't want to go. Unless it's due to aggressive type foreplay or something, then I'm ok with it. But this time? I was annoyed. Well, as I'm standing off to the side, just observing, this other guy comes up and kind of starts dancing with me. Ok, that's cool. Let's dance for a bit (ba da do do, just dance...it'll be ok). Well, the Cop pulls my arm, pulls me away, and says to me, "Don't dance with that guy." Um, jealous much? This does not sit well with me, so I ask him why. He says "Just.....don't." He at this point really needs to explain himself because I'm ready to walk away because I'm getting really irritated.

Now, I have to pause here because the thing he said to me next caught me so off-guard, that I am STILL shaking my head about it.

I ask him to explain one more time, and he says to me, "...Because I have a problem with black people."

When I told the Sociologist this story, as we walked around Forest Park, she stopped dead in her tracks. Seriously? Who SAYS that?! I asked him to explain himself, and he told me that he'd rather wait until he was more sober. Wow.

Maybe I'm mistaken, but at this point, it was late 2010, not 1955. Granted, in 1955, we wouldn't have been in the same club as anyone of a different race, but whatever, YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN!

Well, this type of statement sets off red flags in my head as loud as the sirens at the top of the Agrocrag. I'm done at this point. Just done. What other type of closed-minded, bigoted things does he think? Should I have said to him, "Well, I have a problem with you since you're my height, and clearly will be afflicted with Napoleon syndrome, making you an asshole"? No. No I shouldn't have. I sure as shit thought it though.

Instead of spoiling the evening for my other two friends (who were CLEARLY into each other at this point), I removed myself from the dance floor, and went to sit towards the front of the club. He followed, and I know he felt my stand-offishness. Which is why it shocked me when we had the following conversation.

Him: You know what worries me the most about spending time with you?

Me: What's that?

Him: That you're going to want to move to Chicago, and I'm going to hold you back.

Guys, I burst out laughing. Like not just snickering, but an all-out loud, gut-busting laugh. Because, you know, I'm sensitive to other people's feelings.

I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I guaran-fucking-tee that you will have absolutely zero effect whatsoever on where I choose to move. None. Ever."

Too much? Nah.

So then I'm still chuckling to myself, knowing he's thinking that he's making me fall for him, blah blah blah, when he's already dug his own grave and in my eyes, at this point, will never get any further with me. I was kind of staring off into a corner, smiling a bit, and he asked me what I was thinking, to just tell him and not just sit there. I asked if he really wanted to know the god's honest truth. He did.

I then said to him, "Well, if you want to know the truth, then I don't see this going anywhere. You are dealing with someone who, when it comes to relationships, is pretty emotionally dead inside, and you will never get closer than arm's length (and I held my arm out, and pointed to my hand for emphasis), so you are wasting your time."

Nic thinks I need to name my uber-bitch alter ego, much like Beyonce's stage-name is Sasha Fierce.

Instead of, you know, getting it, he goes, "Well why do we have to put expectations on this? Why can't we just hang out and see where it goes? I mean, we have fun together right?"

Someone please explain to me how I wasn't clear with the "you are wasting your time" bit. Please. Because I thought I was pretty damn clear. So instead of going around and around, I just shook my head and chuckled to myself, and as soon as my other friends were in view, we got out of there. As I'm sitting down in my car to leave (I was sober, don't worry), he leans in, kisses me, and my response was to push him away, tell him "You're done" and shut the door.

Again. Sensitive to other people's feelings.

I haven't heard from him since. Guess he got the hint.

"I have a problem with black people." Who SAYS that?

Baby I'm back

2011-01-03T13:38:00.000-06:00

Well, friends, I have a lot to catch you up on.

Whether you noticed or not, I recently took a bit of a hiatus. I was away from work, away from a computer, and way far away from wanting to have anything to do with the bliggity blog. Blame the 30 Days. It did me in.

I'm trying to decide the best way to go about this catching you up thing, because there are stories. Oh, the stories!! There are the ones (or one in particular), that makes me laugh so much I know exactly how I'm going to write it. Then there's the one that I'm not even sure I'll write about in general, being that it includes something I learned all of three hours ago, and I have hardly begun processing it.

Be that as it may, I wanted you all to know I'm alive and I'm still kicking, even after my two week bender (good lord I need some detox time). I'm ready to purge my physical being of impurities by not even touching alcohol until my girls' night in Chicago in two weeks. I'm ready to purge my mental being of all the things that have built up and are threatening to burst out on random people, one crazy dose of word vomit after another.

So, all this is to say I'm being a tease. I'll post the first story (the funny story) tomorrow, and then we'll see how motivated I can stay.

I hope you all had a PHENOMENAL New Year's. It's good to be home.

Does that make me crazy?

2010-12-16T14:00:00.001-06:00

I am of the opinion that every single person on this planet is their own specific brand of crazy. Anyone who claims they're not? Well, they're lying. Or delusional. One or the other.

There are those defining moments in a person's life where they either figure out they're insane, or they realize that someone else has figured out they're absolutely batshit crazy.

I have known I was crazy for a while. I mean, really, who else finds it impossible to eat Pull'n'Peel Twizzlers without tying them in knots with their tongue? Yes, this turned itself into a fancy party trick, but really, it slows down the eating process. I also find it impossible to NOT snap after a high five. Though for that, I blame Scrubs. Thanks, the Todd.

Recently other people have been immersed in my crazy, unsuspecting victims though they were.

Example:

I went on a date last weekend (*gasp* A date? Yes, a date. These are the only details you people get for now. Suck it. I love you). We went ice skating, and as we were sitting around the fire, waiting for the awesome Zamboni (I love Zambonis) to do its job, I casually mentioned that every time I breathe out and can see my breath, it makes me feel like a dragon.

Because that's normal, right?

He sat there and stared at me, and then his eyes looked as though they were going to pop out of his head as I muttered, "Roar."

He gawked, I shrugged. Better he find out now, right? Right.

Does that make me crazy?

Possibly.

Day 30

2010-12-10T08:32:00.009-06:00

Holy crap, it's finally the last one!! Yesss.

A picture I find beautiful.

'26, '31, '34, '42, '44, '46, '64, '67, '82, '06......'11?

And now my letter.

Dear me,

You are entirely one bad-ass chick. Keep up the good work.

Love, me

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What is this? See here for an explanation.

Feeling so fly

2010-12-09T14:21:00.000-06:00

Yeah, second post today. Because this KILLED me. I'm still laughing. And laughing is good.

Day 29

2010-12-09T04:48:00.002-06:00

Today is a picture of my favorite person from history.

This is Marie Curie. She was, in all aspects of the word, awesome. She was a female scientist at the end of the 19th century, discovered radioactivity, earned not one, but TWO nobel prizes (in different fields no less...the only woman to have done so), and discovered two different elements. Seriously, bad ass chick. And because she worked with radioactive stuff, she ended up dying of cancer. She gave her life to her work, and was a HUGE trailblazer for women in the sciences, which I'm pretty damn grateful for. She's so cool. Go learn about her.

And something I hope to change about myself.

My eyeballs. One of these days I will get laser eye surgery (yes, Josey, PRK), and then I won't have to wear glasses or contacts. And that will be awesome.

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What is this? See here for an explanation.

Day 28

2010-12-08T05:39:00.033-06:00

I know, I know, it's supposed to be wordless Wednesday again, but dammit, I'm really bored with this now, and I will be finishing this week. That's all there is to it. Then I'll shut up for a while and maybe people might actually want to read this again.

A picture that made my day.

Let's be real. This picture makes EVERY day better. For those of you who don't know, that man on the left is Stan Musial, who is the most famous, most incredible Cardinal of all time. Sitting to his right, one Mr Albert Pujols. Two of the greatest Cardinals ever. They call Stan "The Man." They call Albert "El Hombre." They are without a doubt absolutely amazing, both of them. I am privileged to be able to see Albert play as often as I do, and I fully believe many people in St Louis take for granted that he plays here 81 times a year. I just wish I could have seen Stan play as well.

Stan is why Six is a Serious Number. (As an added bonus, if you go watch that video, the guy in glasses? Yeah, he was my roommate for a while).

If I were to get pregnant, I'd go ahead and be really confused. Then stop mocking the whole immaculate conception thing. Then call Josey. Yep. That's what I'd do.

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Day 27

2010-12-07T06:32:00.010-06:00

Something I am looking forward to.

This is a picture of us from last Christmas, when we took a road trip out to Arizona, and I learned that 17 hours is my limit of straight driving. Never. Again. Regardless, all three of them will be in HomeTown for Christmas again this year, and I am SUPER stoked for it!! It will be a crazy couple of days, but the absolutely phenomenal kind of crazy.

Now, the best thing I've got going for me right now. Um. Well. Things are pretty great right now, minus some stuff that I will not let take me down. So I'll go with job security. Yeah, job security.

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Day 26

2010-12-06T03:24:00.008-06:00

My favorite subject in school:

Yes, I'm a nerd, through and through.

Now whether I've ever thought about giving up on this life.

No. This is all we have.

And I REFUSE to put anyone through this.

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Day 25

2010-12-03T05:21:00.012-06:00

A picture that inspires me.

All we are saying is give peace a chance.

The reason I think I'm still alive today.

Well, clearly there's a reason, but I have no idea what it might be. I could just be lucky, there could be something I haven't yet finished, or I just have one tired guardian angel.

I don't know why I'm still here, but I sure as hell am glad about it.

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Day 24

2010-12-02T02:05:00.053-06:00

A picture of what I want to be when I grow up.

Happy. This kind of happy.

Now, this one I'm going to go ahead and ask your forgiveness for this one ahead of time. I have been trying as hard as I possibly can to not write about Ram. There's been a lot going on, and I have wanted to avoid it. That and I pretty well overloaded this site with blathering about him over the last few months. It is my blog, yes, but I do like to take into consideration the fact that you lovely people actually read it, and I can't imagine it's super fun to read all the nonsense I spew here about it.

Having said that, this prompt, creating a playlist for someone, really could not have come at a better time for me. I realized, thinking about this one, that I have subconsciously been making a playlist in my head since I met him.

Here goes.

Tik Tok - Ke$ha: I know this seems ridiculous, and I can't help it. One of the clearest memories I have of you is Mardi Gras. You were the first person on the dance floor, and after we all joined you, this song came on. I'd never heard it, but you knew every word. Somehow, this has stuck with me. I can't hear this without remembering just how happy you were, how happy WE were that day. And we'd only just met.

Ice Ice Baby - Vanilla Ice: This one also reminds me of Mardi Gras. It was one song in a line of oh so many that I knew. During this song, you looked right at me, with an absolutely perplexed look on your face, and said, "Really? Where have you BEEN?" I melted at that point.

The Way You Make Me Feel - Michael Jackson: On your first trip to visit me, we made a stop at Best Buy, looking for a copy of 101 Dalmations. We were walking by the new CD releases and you literally turned 180 degrees in your tracks. You picked up the "This is It" album, and kept walking without hesitation. As we drove around that day and the next, listening to this CD on random, this song came on quite a few times. I sat there and just kind of marveled. We'd known each other for just a short time, but I could already feel myself falling for you. You made me feel amazing that trip.

Bedrock - Young Money: I laugh every time I hear this song. While we were in the car together, this song came on. You turned it up and told me all about the grand plans you had with your friends to do a parody video of it. I don't think you ever made the video, but I'll always remember your reaction to this.

Again - Alice in Chains: Then you ran away. You ended things and broke me. You had weeks to think about it. And I was fucking angry, because I was caught off guard...completely blindsided. "Hey, you had time to think it out, yeah. Hey, your weak will won't help her heal her heart. Hey, I'll bet it really eats you up, huh?" You claimed it ate you up. You were a coward, a heartless, spineless coward, and you know it.

For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic - Paramore: "Well if you give up, you get what you deserve.....You were finished long before we had even seen the start. Why don't you stand up, be a man about it? Fight with your bare hands about it now..."

Running Away - Hoobastank: "I don't want you to feel sorry for me, you never gave us a chance to be...I just wanted you to tell me the truth, you know I'd do that for you." I asked you the hard questions. You never answered them. I still don't know the answers to them. Most specifically, why. Just....why.

Heart of a Lion - Kid Cudi: This chorus helped more than most things did. "You can't regret it if you were trying." I tried. I gave everything I could. I can't regret it.

Pursuit of Happiness - Kid Cudi: Honestly, this was all I could listen to those few weeks right after you ended things. You had shone, but clearly you weren't gold. And I did whatever I could to remind myself of that. When we finally started speaking to one another again, I happened to recommend this song to you. You could not, and still cannot, get enough of it. I don't think you'll ever realize what this song means to me when it comes to you.

Streetlights - Kanye West: "See I know my destination, I'm just not there." I worked on being happy again. I did everything I could think of. And it finally started to work. Finally.

Undo It - Carrie Underwood: "You had my heart now I want it back." And I've got it back, for the most part.

Then everything with the wedding happened. I'm just not even going to go into it. However, strangely enough, the timing was such that Kid Cudi was again by my side.

Ghost - Kid Cudi: "See things do come around and make sense eventually, things do come around but some things still trouble me....the people I've met and the places I've been are all what made me the man I so proudly am, but I want to know one thing? When did I become a ghost?" Is it really that easy to pretend I don't exist?

Blind - Ke$ha: Because you are.

From here on out, this playlist can only get longer. So very many songs remind me of you, and I find myself being unable to stop relating them to you, and part of me is actually unwilling to stop. Day after day, though, I get better. I know things will never be the same, and at this point, I'm not even sure we can be friends. Maybe one day. Then again, maybe it's better this way.

Create a playlist at MixPod.com

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Sugar pie honey bunch, you know that I love you

2010-12-01T05:03:00.002-06:00

Day 22 and Day 23

2010-11-30T06:56:00.049-06:00

These two also seem to go together really well, and honestly, I just want all of these to be done. Much love to you all, but I have worn myself out with this.

Ok. Pictures.

Day 22: a picture that I associate a good memory with.

This is from Mardi Gras. I looked back recently and realized I didn't say a lot about it due to the timing, and the fact that it was pretty well entirely overshadowed by meeting Ram and all the girly nonsense that followed. But suffice it to say, this past year's Mardi Gras will go down in the history of my life as one of the GREATEST DAYS EVER. Even when I was freezing my proverbial balls off, I was happy. Beyond happy. It was amazing.

Day 23: a picture of something I want to do someday.

Yay skydiving! One of these days I'll go. Perhaps in May with DG and her boyfriend. Gotta start saving my pennies now.

So the writing prompts for this is something I wish I hadn't done in my life and something I wish I had.

I wish I hadn't relied on credit cards my last year of college. One, because, well, now I get to keep paying off that lovely debt. And two because it got me into a very bad habit of relying on them when things got rough. Oh well, you live and you learn, right?

Something I wish I had done. I wish I had given guacamole a chance much sooner in life. We could have had so many more good times together! But, now I get to make up for lost time.

Guac head for LIFE!

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Day 21

2010-11-29T04:00:00.030-06:00

A picture of somebody I find attractive.

He's so much more attractive now that he's sober. I was pretty well drooling through Due Date. And his eyes? They're that very same brown that attracted me so much to Hurdle (oh man, remember him? From like three years ago?).

Anyway, today's prompt is ridiculous to me. My best friend is in a car accident and the two of us got into a fight an hour before. What do I do?

I drop everything that I'm doing and go to the motherfucking hospital.

Seriously? Who on earth would not drop every single thing that they have going on, swallow what pride they have, and go see their friend? I don't care WHAT they had done to make me so angry, or why we were fighting. Nothing on this planet could possibly keep me from their side at that moment. My three best friends are all within driving distance, and if it came down to it, I would be calling into work and shotgunning coffee or five hour energies, if that's what it took to get me to them.

You know, now that I think about it, if ANY of my friends were hurt, there is not much that could keep me from them, regardless of what may or may not have happened between us immediately prior. Period.

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Day 20

2010-11-26T11:43:00.055-06:00

A picture of something I ate today. I'm going with just consumption instead.

With calcium. Pulp free. Pulp is gross.

Now, my views on drugs and alcohol.

Drugs first. They both terrify and fascinate me. My scientist brain just goes crazy wondering HOW these different compounds and chemicals can make the human body react the way it does. But they terrify me because I've seen and heard about the horrible effects they have on a body, on relationships, jobs, etc. The summer before my senior year of college I did the whole weed thing. And in moderation, I don't see a problem with it. I see it as something that can be given the same legality as something like alcohol. No operating vehicles under the influence, and of course more restrictions would be necessary due to second-hand contact highs, but for the most part it seems harmless. Growing up, the anti-drug arguments claimed that weed was a gateway drug. I have never in my life witnessed, or been inclined to try anything more than just weed afterwards. I think that argument is bullshit, to be perfectly honest. Granted, weed is just like anything else. If it's not kept in moderation, it can have horrible effects. I've seen relationships and schooling suffer because people thought weed was more important. But I've seen the same effects from alcohol. When it comes to other drugs, I've only ever tried ecstasy...once...and I immediately threw it up. It hardly got into my system and I felt AWFUL the next day. I never had any inclination after that to try anything else. All the other ones? They terrify me. The stories of the accidental overdoses or flashbacks, the chemical dependency on them, everything. I don't like them. I think it's a good thing to keep them illegal because of the absolutely disastrous consequences that could show up. But if someone chooses to use them? Not my place to judge otherwise. To each his own.

As far as alcohol is concerned, I pretty much feel ambivalent towards it. I've cut WAY back, for my own reasons. But it's a legal substance, so have at it. People can make their own choices. I don't see a point in getting so belligerent that you don't remember the night before. This isn't to say I haven't been there, but anymore, it's not my motivation, by any means. I will say, though, that the states banning this Four Loko stuff? Seems silly. Are they going to go ahead and ban Red Bull from being mixed with any alcohol? Same thing. Banning it makes it more desirable, especially to the younger crowd. I would have been one of them in college, I'm pretty sure of it.

In a nutshell, everything in moderation.

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Day 18 and Day 19

2010-11-25T09:51:00.107-06:00

I'm combining these two because the writing prompts are very much intertwined for me.

Day 18's picture is a picture of my town.

Pretty, huh?

Day 19 is a picture that makes me laugh. Day 5 was the same thing, but really, what harm is it in laughing twice for something?

So I know this doesn't look like a very funny picture, but the story behind it is fabulous. This is a tent at Mardi Gras. Instead of having just port-a-potties, they had this tent with troughs in it for a whole bunch of guys to not have to worry about lines. Convenient, no? Well, this tent's wall started to fall down around midday, giving all of us on the street this lovely view. We started chanting our friend's name, the one on the far right, with the white hoodie and black vest, and as we were chanting, we heard him yell, "Guys, shut up, I can't go!!"

Aaaaand, now I'm laughing out loud remembering that. Hopefully this isn't one of those "had to be there" moments, because I think it's damn funny.

Day 18's prompt is my views on gay marriage. Day 19 asks what I think of religion or politics. I briefly commented on the gay marriage thing on Day 07. The reason that this is such a huge deal for me is because of what this topic represents. It was the first major thing that I faced in college that REALLY made me question my opinions. It made me ask WHY I felt the way that I did. Were my opinions at that time really something I felt? Or were they a product of the environment that I was raised in?

I was an RA in college. I had a resident who I adored, and about a month and a half into her freshman year, she came out to me. If you had asked me prior to that, I would have vehemently told you that homosexuality was wrong, that it was their choice, that it couldn't possibly be something natural. And then, after my conversation with her, it kind of hit me. Why on earth would a person willingly choose to live a life that was bound to be full of persecution and hate? It didn't make sense. And the more I spoke to her, and throughout college, many other friends who eventually came out, the more I realized that couldn't be the case. I believe, without the shadow of a doubt, that every single person was made the way they are, and strangely enough, this had a huge effect on how I viewed religion. Not just the one I was raised in, but all organized religions. How could a god, an all-knowing, all-powerful, loving god, create these people in a certain way, and then tell them that they were an abomination in his sight? It doesn't add up to me. This inconsistency made me question everything else that I had been taught, and I was forced to think, to really think, about what I believed.

It's come down to this. The more I learn about organized religion, the more I see people using their religion as an excuse to spread hate and fear throughout this world, the more I despise it. The amount of prejudice and judgement that comes at the hands of the "faithful" makes me literally sick to my stomach. I have not been an active member of any organized religion for quite some time, and I don't see that changing ever again. Maybe I'm jaded, but spirituality is such a personal thing, how can anyone else have any say whatsoever about it? I would rather live my life as a good person, having a relationship with whatever spiritual being I come to find to be right for me, and do what I feel is right, rather than living my life full of guilt and fear of some father-figure deity who will punish me if I go against "his" word. Men wrote those words. Men translated, and mis-translated those words. And I do not think what was written as guidance for people two thousand years ago could entirely apply today. Some of it, yes, applies. But not all of it. At one point it used to be a sin, punishable by death, for eating meat on Fridays. How on earth is that relevant now?

These changes in my views on religion had a drastic impact on how I viewed politics. My opinions flipped almost 180degrees over the course of my sophomore year of college. I would consider myself liberal, but not a bleeding-heart, by any means. I tend to agree with Democratic stances far more than Republican, which I'm sure just bugs the hell out of my grandparents. I tend, however, to stay out of politics. It just isn't my cup of tea.

However, my biggest pet peeve with politics? It's the attempt to govern moral issues. Gay marriage most definitely falls into this. Just because some people think it's wrong doesn't mean everyone does. I don't think it's right that people can press their beliefs on a whole group through law. Gay marriage should be LEGAL. Legal and welcomed. In Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Professor McGonagall says, "Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think there was a little more love in the world." Dumbledore would, and so would I, regardless of who that person loves.

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Day 17

2010-11-24T09:12:00.001-06:00

A picture of something that has changed my life.

BACON. It deserves to be fully capitalized.

And a book I've read that changed my views on something.

Ready for me to cheat?

I've already written about this.

Eat, Pray, Love

Cheaty cheat face right here!! Don't care. It's supposed to be Wordless Wednesday anyway!!

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You can tell by lookin in my eyes right now, that nothing really comes as a surprise right now

2010-11-23T01:32:00.082-06:00

My friend Bear got married this weekend. I have never in my life felt more emotionally drained after a wedding. Never ever.

I mentioned my apprehension here. If you haven't already read that one, good god, it's so long I wouldn't recommend it. Just hit the first few paragraphs.

I guess it's important to fess up that through a very long string of events that I haven't wanted to write about, Ram was set to be my date to this wedding.

Real quick, let's get out of the way that two of my concerns were unnecessary. The ex-boyfriend and the ex-best friend were not in attendance. I am still pretty relieved at that.

Starting Saturday morning, I found out that Ram wasn't going to be able to make it. That's honestly all I want to say about that. I've spent a long time thinking about it, and don't need to write about it too. We'll just call this hit number one.

Then, upon my arrival, the first people I walked into were That Friend's family. His mom looked at me, then looked right through me. I do not exist to her anymore. And you know what? It hurt. It hurt a lot. WAY more than I expected it to. Something else it did, though, was make me angry. To the point where trying to text DG was an experiment to see just how well I could hang onto my phone as I was sitting there shaking like a heroin addict who's a few hours past his needed hit. I almost dropped my phone no fewer than five times. And I stood there, against the wall, feeling more alone than I have in quite some time. It was miserable. Hit number two.

The wedding itself was lovely and all that jazz, as was the reception hall. Sitting there all by me onesie? Not so fun.

During the reception, I was able to talk to That Friend's dad. He and I have always been close, and he's always been much more laid back and calm about things than his wife. To be able to talk to him buoyed my spirits just a little bit, until I found out that they're ALL still mad at me. For what? Not for just saying no to That Friend, even though that's a part of it, but more for the fact that I even spoke to his ex-wife. Because I needed to clear the air with her for my OWN mental well-being, I'm the villain. He said, "We still love you, but there is a lot we need to get over." Let me be the first to say it, because hopefully I'm not the only one thinking it. WHAT THE FUCK DO THEY NEED TO GET OVER?! IT'S NOT THEIR MOTHERFUCKING LIFE. I stood there and gripped my beer bottle so tightly I thought it might shatter in my hands. Then he walked away, and I sat down and cried. Hit number three.

Talking to That Friend was interesting. He's being medically retired from the military due to some issues he's had, and kept quiet, for a while now. No mid-tour leave from Afghanistan, he's just back. We caught up a bit, and were able to actually have a conversation without me wanting to rip his throat out. He was back and forth from my table through the entire reception. I went up to say goodbye as I was leaving, and it was then that somehow his family was brought up. I made a comment about his mother and sister, and somewhat explained what had happened (from my perspective), he said, "Well, I think they were just disappointed we didn't end up together. Not going to lie, I'm still kind of disappointed myself." Well bloody fucking hell. Here I am, walking out the door, and he says the thing I really hoped to never hear him say. I just kind of looked at him and shrugged. What else was I supposed to say? There was no way I was going to get into the reasons why I am standing by my no. He stood there and looked at me kind of expectantly, and all I could do was put my hand on his chest, tell him to take it easy that night, and walk away. I couldn't even look back.

I don't know if I'll ever speak to him again.

So I sit here, writing this mostly incoherent rant, and it's all I can do to keep from crying....again. Three straight days, three straight breakdowns, that partially include all of this, somewhat include work, and yet another hit today hearing something about one of my sisters. In the course of Mondays over the last little bit, this one pretty well tops the "worst dressed" list.