I know it’s been quite a while, but I really needed to take the break & sort out the direction I wanted to take everything.  I hope everyone will enjoy it once I get this ride started!

Life has been a tad crazy, as I mentioned in my last post.  What with moving & other adventures, I’ve been a little overwhelmed to the point of distraction.  My posting has suffered, & I’m attempting to catch up.

Shortly after pulling off the big U-Haul move thanks to the help of my mom & brother, it was the day before Halloween.  I’ve usually done a lot more for this holiday, it’s one of my favorites with all the costumes & pumpkin carving.  But again, a lot on my plate meant nary a jack o’lantern or decoration in sight.  That was OK though, because I had big Halloween plans, the Doctor Who convention with my mom.

So that Friday I would work an early shift, check out the later stuff for that day at the convention & then spend the night at my parents so that my mom & I could spend a full day at the event.  It was a plan, one I was excited about.

I got all my stuff packed for that night, groggily got ready for work since I’m not used to being up so early, & made my way into work.  It’s a little lazier in the morning so I enjoyed getting a few of the things done that can slip through the cracks when I’m there running around like a mad woman.

But then I started to feel sick, & then I started to feel pain, & then I could barely stand up because the pain was so intense.  I thought at first that I was having bad cramps & just feeling nauseated, but the pain intensified to quickly & too much.  It was crazy.  I was taking care of a customer when my vision started going dark & I felt shaky, I finished with my customer (hello, dedication) & immediately pushed through the door to the back hallway where I spotted a footstool & blacked out for a second as I sank down to sit on it.

My manager spotted me & called an ambulance, I was all sweaty & pretty obviously in what was some of the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life.

The EMTs got there, freaked at how low my blood pressure was (I usually have low blood pressure, but this was dangerously low), got me on a stretcher & wheeled me out of there as quick as they could.  I barely knew what was happening, but I knew I felt incredibly weak & was still hurting (on top of that, I was somewhat embarrassed at being wheeled out on that stretcher in front of so many people, but it was an afterthought).  Ambulance rides are not nearly as fun or exciting as they make them out to be on TV…or maybe they are when you aren’t the one who’s all messed up, I wouldn’t know.

They got my blood pressure under control during the ride over, EMTs are awesome.  They do a great job, & then they drop you off at the ER & you wait around FOREVER.  First I just hung out on the stretcher until they found me a bed, & then I waited around in between tests waiting for answers.  I was in the ER for around 6 hours or more.  I know that’s pretty average, but that sucks.  At least G was there with me pretty much the whole time, I think he was more frustrated with the waiting than I was at the time (they gave me a shot of something INCREDIBLE that just melted me into the bed & made the pain disappear, I hope that if you are ever in the ER with terrible pain they give you that shot).

Lots of blood work & a CT scan later, a doctor finally came in to talk to me.  He asked if the pain came on suddenly & some other questions about my symptom.  Then he said there was some fluid on my CT scan & with the sudden pain & everything I definitely had a ruptured ovarian cyst (oh yeah, no big deal…WHAT?) & the blood work showed a minor infection.

Wanna know how to treat a rupture ovarian cyst?  Oh, you don’t really, you just give narcotic-like painkillers to try & keep that under control.  So they gave me an antibiotic & some Tramadol & sent me home with G.

Don’t even get me started on the gate guards at my parents community telling us they couldn’t let us in since G didn’t have his license on him (Come on, people, he had to hurry to his very sick & very beautiful girlfriend in the hospital, have some heart, no? Awesome).  THEY MADE ME GET OUT & DRIVE.  Yeah, somewhat hunched over & now in pain because the lovely stuff was wearing off me had to get out of the car & switch places to drive two blocks to my parents house.  They fought with us & even threatened to call the police because G didn’t have his license when he tried to stop them from making me drive.  Tried to show them my discharge papers & everything.  I do not like the gate guards, that junk is just unacceptable.  I walked into my parents house & just broke down in tears.  You would too.

I was feeling a lot better on Halloween, managed to get out & see lots of cool things at the convention.  But I was having a bad reaction to the Tramadol, that stuff is bad news in my system apparently.  I felt sea sick all weekend & it just got worse Sunday & Monday, I had to call out of work & stop taking it because even though I wasn’t in pain I couldn’t drive from the motion sickness it caused.  Plus, I thought I was going to scratch all my skin off it made me so itchy.

After taking it easy I’m back to 100%, though.  I was pretty overwhelmed by all the love that came my way from people here & out of town.  Lots of prayers & good thoughts were coming my way & I know they played a significant part in me getting better (even after the Tramadol setback).

It really was an action-packed weekend, & I’m very glad it didn’t turn out to be worse.  Thanks to everyone that contributed to all those prayers & positivity, I can’t tell you how much it meant to me.

I’m pretty familiar with the routine of moving (I even call it “routine,” see?).  My mother was Air Force, which meant lots of moves even within cities or across streets.  And then I went to college out of state, so I went back & forth with my stuff on many occasions.  The worst part is always the unpacking.  Packing is great, you get rid of so much junk you’re not sure why you held onto & you know where everything goes (in boxes!).  The moving part can be a little difficult, with heavy lifting & figuring out how to load trucks.  And more often than not, if you’re moving yourself without the help of professional movers, there are too many opinions on how to get everything moved depending on how many volunteers you’ve lined up.  But overall it’s not bad, it can even be pretty fun.  And I don’t know about you, but moving day usually ends with pizza ’round here & a day that ends in pizza is never a bad thing.  The unpacking though…it just takes forever.

I try to use the momentum from the actual move to just keep going & get everything put away but at some point a wall is hit.  Figuring out where everything goes in a new place can be so tricky, I usually have a general idea & then attempt organizing & refining that idea as I go.  I lose steam at some point, sit back & look around a little hopelessly, hoping it will all just magically find the perfect places on their own.

Perhaps it’s a perfectionist thing, I want to make sure everything is exactly where I want it so I don’t have more to do later…

Whatever it is I’ll be working on it right into my “vacation” next week.  My place of business is remodeling all next week which gives me the chance to take a week off.  I thought about taking a spontaneous trip somewhere, but it’s not really in the budget right now what with the new rent & moving costs.  It will give me a chance to rest up, taking a much needed break, & power through the unpacking & organizing.

Plus, Disney is right next door so we might sneak in & pretend like we’re out of town on vacation…

Next time on the blog!: Ambulance rides, they’re not as fun as they sound!

I’ve had so many friends over the years, yet I’d say there were only a handful that I truly let in.  I’d say most of those are from college, my friends that are still family to me because we’ve seen each other through so much.  The ones that know where I’ve been to get where I am, that have withstood tests of distance and time.

I’ve had friends that I discovered weren’t really friends at all, that didn’t really care all that much and let the relationship die as soon as I made a decision they didn’t like.  Friends that I thought were deeper, so I put up with things that really bothered me because in the big picture they didn’t matter, but then I slowly felt them turn their backs…leaving me to feel as if I’d been traded in for someone else.  It’s a terrible feeling, the feeling of being left out.  And I have abandonment issues, so just imagine how devastating that can be.

I miss my best friends.  The ones I had a family with.  I don’t have that feeling here in this city, where I’ve been left to my own devices.  G is my best friend, the closest person to me here, which is fantastic but a girl needs to branch out from her significant other.

I feel like in defense I’ve turned into a very solitary person.  I go out and I have people I love and share things with, but no one I’ve really created deep connections with.  I’m on guard, I want to have fun without getting too close.  I want to be in a community without giving too much of myself away, because if and when they all leave I don’t want to feel that hurt again.

And in some ways, I don’t want to feel like I’m replacing the relationships that are now long-distance.  I know that they would never be replaced, but that my heart would be expanding to accommodate the new loves, it’s just one of those things when your head and heart have trouble getting on the same page.

Somehow I managed to create better friendships blogging than next door, more long-distance.  I wouldn’t give that up for anything.  Connecting to people through writing saves me in a way.  I can put these things out there and know that someone else gets it, that someone else knows what I mean and someone else at least thinks they do.  And I can read what they’re putting out there and share something that perhaps their words state more succinctly than mine could.

All of that, plus the phone calls and keeping up with loved ones on Facebook, and the time I get to be with G…and I still feel lonely in this place.

I’m working on it, trying to put myself out there more, but I know I’m wearing armor.

I bought our tickets months ago, spent a bunch of money for spots in the pit because I needed to get as close to Travis Barker as possible & because my best guy friend had already gotten his for the pit & we were all going together.  I was so excited building up to it, then my friend had to drop out due to work obligations where he went to train in Atlanta & that made me sad but I was still going so not too sad…

G & I left from my house and pointed the car at Tampa, where the show was…we gave ourselves enough time to get there for All American Rejects & Fall Out Boy, but we figured we’d manage to miss out on Asher Roth with no disappointments.  And then there were a couple of huge accidents on the highway & traffic was so bad we weren’t sure we’d make it at all.

I think I was near tears, not because of how much money I’d spent on non-refundable tickets but because I would be so sorely disappointed to not get to see Blink.  I never got to go to any of their shows back in the day (not for lack of wanting to) and when they got back together I freaked out about getting to see them now…needless to say missing this show might have killed me.

But G pulled through & we were walking away from the ticket-takers as Blink took the stage.  We ran to the pit & there they were, twenty feet away.  The show was awesome, I screamed, I jumped, I laughed.  Everyone was a sweaty mess by the end, outdoors at the Ford Amphitheater on a not-quite-fall night is hot, humid, & sticky.  But no one minded, the energy & excitement completely drowned out any cares about it.

I had so much fun, I’m finally writing about it but I still can’t really explain without you having been there.  It was my favorite kind of show, where the band is having a good time, there for the fans & no one is taking themselves seriously.

As for the other bands, I hope to catch them next time around even though I did look forward to the whole spectacle when I bought the tickets, things did not go as planned.  As long as I got to see Blink-182 I was happy though…

But also, within the same week, make it my personal mission to hunt down a good deal on these uh-mazing heels:

Obviously, I didn’t get them to wear together, that would just be a tad over the edge.  But I am so excited about both things, they are each perfect to me.

I used to struggle with the juxtaposition that I am, being all at once girly and lovely but a tomboy in so many ways.  I felt (and still feel) more comfortable around guys and talking to them even though I loved playing with makeup and clothes.  I tried acting like those girls sometimes, not volunteering to help with “man work” or attempting to be flirty and charming.  I was uncomfortable with myself still and trying to be that kind of girl did little to get me accepted and just came off unnatural and awkward.

It took me a while to blend.  I don’t mean blending in with those around me, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to do that and I don’t even want to.  I mean blend these parts of me together, accept them and love them because, damn, I’m awesome this way.  It’s not even just the above characteristics, there’s all sorts of other quirks and contrasts in me.  I don’t know exactly what influences caused me to be so eclectic, to be such a juxtaposition, and it will always give me something to ponder and chuckle at when I make purchases like these two, but I like it.  Which has made me open to all sorts of people that are just as different as me, not just guys, who I can relate to (the cool kids that nobody knows about).

My mother always told me not to let anyone put me in a box, especially myself.  I like that I haven’t even made that a possibility…

So whenever I start to wonder about it, I also embrace it.  Celebrate my mutual love for tattoos and lace, for classic literature and crazy platform heels, for rock and roll and knitting.

What’s something juxtaposed in you?

After that my doctor put me on some serious antibiotics that totally wiped my system and the short version of the story is that I’ve been really healthy…until now.

The other day at work one of my bosses and I cleared out a bunch of shelves and kicked up a lot of dust reorganizing.  When I woke up the next day I was all stuffy and my throat felt just the tiniest of scratches.  I chalked it up to allergies because of all that dust, took a decongestant, spent my day feeling a little less than 100%, and went home to take advantage of the neti pot my awesome friend Adam gave me.  When I woke up shortly after I had just fallen asleep I was frustrated and continued to become more so when I couldn’t get back to sleep and couldn’t breathe through my nose.  So I used the neti pot again around seven in the morning after tossing and turning all night (the first time I used it I could barely get a flow I was so stuffed up) and then managed to get a couple more hours of sleep.

When I went to work that day I felt even worse and continued to feel spacier and spacier, I hit up Target before going in and stocked up on Mucinex, lots of superfood juice, and lotion infused tissues (and Purell).  I left work a little early because all of these things weren’t helping and went straight to a walk-in clinic just to get checked out and make sure I wasn’t crossing the line into sinus infection territory.

I was pretty much the only person at the clinic at that time of day so I got in and got seen pretty quickly.  When I explained my symptoms to the doctor she started the usual, checking my heartbeat, breathing, etc.  When she checked my lungs she said they were clear (a huge relief, considering how many upper-respiratory infections and bouts of bronchitis I faced back when I was getting sick every other week).  I wasn’t expecting anything other than at the worst a sinus infection because all I was feeling was in that general area.  Only then she felt my throat…

Doctor: “Does that hurt?”

Me: (surprised) “Oh, um, yeah…on the right side.”

Doctor: “You still have your tonsils?  Open your mouth and say ‘Ah’”

Me: (uncomfortably and still surprised) “Yes, oh, aaahhh…”

Doctor: “Ooh…yeah, you have strep for sure”

Me: (blank stare) “Uhh…”

She proceeded to ask if G had had a scratchy throat and sinus problems too, which I then realized, “Oh, yeah, he was feeling that way a day or two before me…”  To which her response, “He’s got it too then, tell him he needs to get on an antibiotic, does he have insurance?”

The thing that complicates this is that G is in Dallas, very far away from me.  So, not only can we not take immediate action for his health but he’s not here where I want him when I have strep (Or, if you want to picture me saying that with the attitude I’ve had since starting to get sick, “Heee’s not heeerre, where I waaannt hiiimm…waaah” and then picture me pouting).  From what little I’ve been able to talk to him since, he doesn’t feel all that sick right now and seems very unconcerned so I’m a little bitter that not only do I feel so much worse but it’s all his fault because I’m totally placing the blame on him for me getting sick.

This bout with an illness is very different from not only the last time I was sick but the last time I had strep (which was right before I graduated college and I spent a whole bunch of time completely knocked out on the couch in my apartment when I wasn’t painfully coughing and pouring spoonfuls of the most amazing cough syrup on the planet).  Those times both my mind and my body were pretty much in the same place, feeling worn out and not wanting to do much of anything.  But this time, right now, my brain is feeling very much alive and active and wanting to do things that my body wants nothing to do with.  My minds all, “Hey!  Free time!  Let’s paint!  Let’s take a walk!  Let’s clean the house!  Can we do something productive, pleasepleaseplease?”  But my body’s all, “SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!  We CAN’T do any of those things because I cannot move from this spot, standing up alone is too much work.  Nope, NOT MOVING!”

So I’m busy annoying people on Facebook and Twitter, bugging G to find time to call me (he’s with the band, working out there on some stuff for the album), and wishing one of these medications I’m taking was the kind that knocked me out so I could get some sleep…

Somebody come entertain me, please?

I’ve always been so obsessed with moving forward, having a tendency to start feeling stuck if things didn’t change on a regular basis.  I needed to move on, find something different, get away.  I would feel like I needed to move somewhere else as soon as possible, or frustrated that G and I would have to wait longer to get married.  I hated waiting, I wanted things to happen right away.  I brought my work home with me and it exhausted me, stressed me out more than it needed to (especially considering I don’t want to turn it into a career), and sap my social and creative energies.

And then, slowly enough that I’m not sure what the turning point was, I just became content.  I didn’t even stay still, I actually started moving even more.

I could almost say I fell even more in love with G, or all over again.  Somewhere along the line we hit a groove and found a deep level of trust and comfort with one another.  I can say with more conviction than ever that he’s my best friend, that I don’t have more fun with anyone else (not to say that I absolutely don’t have any fun with anyone else, just usually not quite on par with G).  I look at other relationships around me, ones that are very close around me, and I just can’t imagine if G or I treated each other the way some people do their significant others.  I see men treat the women they are with in such disrespectful ways (or vice versa) and feel so grateful and relieved that he would never talk that way to me.  And then I see how we keep finding more and more common interests, goals, and ideas (and then when we do disagree it leads to such great conversation that it’s impossible to get upset about it).  It’s a feeling of security and happiness I’ve never had before, it’s fantastic.

Somehow, work became a positive time for me again and stopped taking so much out of me.  I stopped letting it, stopped taking whatever frustrations home with me and dwelling on them.  I realized that I go there, I do an excellent job and should leave it at that.  It’s not a life goal to move up that much there so I had to stop treating it like it was.  I started being really happy when I’m there, knowing that the only thing I could control is myself and no one else.  I realized that when I said what I needed to say it was cathartic, that as long as I put those words out there I had done my part and after that it wasn’t my problem anymore.  I feel lighter when I walk through the doors.

I’ve had more energy to start working on a modeling portfolio, to plan out some paintings, read books, write things down, and start organizing and cleaning the two rooms in the house that are mine (I should qualify as a disaster area things had gotten so out of control).  All lovely side effects to my inner revival.  I realized recently that so much of this has blossomed out of my comfort with myself.  I found the contentment within me and it radiated out into the other areas in my life.  I found that even if certain things (i.e. living situations, jobs, checking account balances) were not ideal at this point in time, I could still be satisfied as long as I wasn’t just sitting there doing nothing about it.  I know that I’m doing things that will move me in the direction I want to go, so it’s OK if it takes awhile because I know who I am and I’m really happy with that.  I’ve always been happy with who I am, but I don’t know if I’ve ever been so comfortable with it (that makes sense in my head, if it doesn’t translate onto paper…or, um, blog).

I feel peaceful, I suppose…and it seems I’ve stumbled onto the fact that peace begets peace.  Happiness is being yourself, loving yourself and sharing love with those around you.

Yikes, maybe I’m a grown-up now!

G: She has those acrylics nails with the white tips…

Me: I was thinking about getting those, that stuff I put on mine last time messed them up and they don’t look very good…those would look nicer…

G: Really?

Me: Yeah…

G: I love those.

Me: Really?

G: It’s the Puerto Rican in me, babe, I love those things.

I had used this “super fast-drying” nail polish stuff that just destroyed my nails, so I’d been considering getting them done with acrylics so they would look nicer and I wouldn’t feel so gross when I looked down at my hands.  After this conversation it was a done deal, especially when G was even so happy with the idea that he offered to pay for them…

As he and his best friend headed off to Tampa, I drove away to run a couple errands on my way home.  One of those errands fell through, so I figured I’d go ahead and see about getting my nails done, stopping in one of the many places scattered along my way home.  I thought to myself that it would  be pretty much the same wherever I went.

Wrong.

Now, I’m not blaming the little lady that did my nails, mostly because she barely spoke English.  I didn’t understand what she was saying and had never really had this done before so I had no idea what to ask for.  From what I could tell she kept trying to offer me other services, like acrylics on my toes as well (what?!), and all I could say was “no” and that I didn’t want them long.  It made me want to cry a little, because I really hate being in those kind of situations.  I think all of this plus the fact that it was such a new thing for me and having these nails takes some getting used to made it a near-traumatizing experience.  I don’t even know what else to say about it.

I left with nails longer than I wanted, in a much squarer shape than I ever thought possible, and wishing I knew handle these kinds of situations on my own better.  It was upsetting.

I think I can file the extreme edges down a bit, though, and I know I could definitely get used to having them.  I really don’t want “getting acrylics” to go down as a severely traumatic experience so I’m trying not to make a huge deal out of it and laugh a little.  If nothing else, it’s something to learn from.

Learning, that is, that you need to take someone with you (or at least seek advice from them) before attempting new beauty procedures…

So I’ve decided it’s time for a renovation.  Time to live my life and not let it live me.

I’ve been letting my job wear me out to the point that anything else is just too daunting and I’d rather sleep in or go back to bed than do it.  So I’ve rearranged my schedule, with the intention of making it more manageable and consistent.  Instead of two random days off a week, I’ll have two in a row, just like everyone else that gets those things they call “weekends.”

I’m enlisting help to truly get this site focused towards its original purpose, I can’t wait to see what we do with it and where we take it.

It’s strange, but I think one of the biggest things that helped me regain a feeling or craving for creativity and motivation came from a short trip I took to see my grandparents.  I was there about a week, and there was really nothing to do.  I’ve spoken on here before about my grandmother’s illness, because of it we are fairly confined to the house while we are there.  So I spent most of my time on the porch or in the old familiar bedrooms reading.  I finished off a whole stack of books, reading more than I have in a long time.  Rediscovering my passion for reading awakened my other passions, I believe.

I came home and started making plans, swapping my time as a model for my photographer friends so we’d both have things to put in portfolios.  Kept reading, started doodling things and jotting things down in my journals again, started reading my friends blogs that I’ve only been casually keeping up with more carefully, and noticing inspirational details around me.

Anyone creative, that has possibly gone through a hibernation period like I feel I’m waking up from, probably understands me.  It starts with an itch and before you know it you get antsy and eager to do something with your fingers, with your limbs, your face, your mind, your voice.

If I don’t do something, I’ll probably go crazy.  What I know is that I can’t be sad for what I don’t have, be it house, job, zygote…because I’m not preparing for it or living in a way that invites those things to come to me.  You can’t mourn for something you haven’t made a possibility.

I love my life.  I have the things that mean something.  My family is beautiful, my parents supportive and loving (and when they nag or pester it’s well-intentioned), my brother sweet and caring (if not absent-minded).  My boyfriend is my partner in crime and makes sure I know I’m pretty and smart and awesome.  My friends are funny and understanding.  All around me are inspiring people who care about me and who I wouldn’t want to do without.  All the other stuff?  Sure, take it, I have enough inspiration to rebuild…

So I suppose that’s what I’m doing now, I fell asleep and the other stuff fell away for awhile.  It’s time to build it back up, take the inspiration and run.