We can sit on the carpet. We can sit on the table. We can sit on the moon.

I've been sick this week, which is no fun at all. Today, though, I'm finally starting to feel better. I can't help but feel like I've traded the coughing, the sore throat, the mucky lungs, and the runny nose for a fuzzy mind (because cold meds make my train of thought all wonky) but I suppose it's worth it for the time being.

I have a very busy weekend coming up (my days off are Sunday and Monday), so that's all for now. Here, have some music:

Turning the table

After my quasi-recent breakup, I compiled a list of things (some tangible, some emotional) that I wanted to take with me from the whole experience.

One of those things was my newfound love of listening to old records. God damn, did I love that record player Ex had.

So, after many failed ebay attempts to get something that 1) was inexpensive; 2) that fit my aesthetic tastes; and 3) was at least a quality record player, I found one. Today, on my day off, I drove down to Fayetteville and picked the baby up.

I got to the shop that had her listed, and chatted with one of the owners there. He refurbishes jukeboxes and all that, and gave my record player the green light for everyday use. He also informed me that I was "quite the looker", and mentioned that he had a stack of records in the office that he had yet to put out in the store. He said I ought to go through them (this stack was piled, waist high, on the floor), and told me to go ahead and grab anything I wanted. I tried to be polite, but he insisted, saying that I was such a sweet girl, and I had already driven so far to pick up the record player, so it was the least that he could do.

I obliged, and managed to walk away with a decent stack of music, as well as a lovely late 50s RCA New Orthophonic 6-HF-5 record player.

She sounds great, and looks even better, and I can't wait to add to my collection of dated, crackly, nostalgia-inducing music. Speaking of adding to the collection, I think Ex is stopping by tomorrow to drop off a record that he's decided I ought to have. It was his grandmothers, but it was also my favorite (oh, Cole Porter, how I fucking love you). It's a sweet gesture, and I'm thrilled to have more Cole Porter in my life.

However, I'm even more thrilled to have something to cross off the list of "things I need in order to continue moving forward like a badass". So, you know, there's that. 

Sweet summer rain

This week, I have been up and down, thrilled and heartbroken, excited and depressed, back and forth and back and forth (and I swear if you tell me I've been feeling this way because it's that time of the month, I'll slit your fucking throat... in a nice, totally non-hormonal way).  

Going through so many extremes is really quite exhausting. However, my constant... my anchor... has been the rain. Thank god for the rain. I love it. It brings a quiet white noise to the background (and, at work, it falls on the tarps we have and tries so hard to mimic the sound of rain on a tin roof). It brings cool wind, and hides that invasive douche bag of a sun. And standing outside, face raised toward the clouds and feeling that rain somehow manages to cut through the craziness. Lately, life has been about finding my calm. Rain helps so very much with that.

Despite feeling like an emotional bungee cord, my weekend has actually been quite lovely. I went to a party on Friday that was only a half-mile away from my house. I got to meet the neighbors (and their rooster, Abraham, which was hysterical). I managed to fall off of a motorbike, though that isn't saying much because I'm really good at falling in general (and don't worry, we weren't on the street or anything. I was coerced into sitting on it for a picture that may or may not surface one day, and then things happened, and I ended up on the ground laughing my ass off. I walked away with nothing more than a little scrape on my elbow). I also got to sit on an amazing front porch in the wee hours of the morning, which is one of my favorite things lately. I met an adorable pitbull pup that I wanted to snuggle all fucking night. And the people there were all pretty stellar. It was fun.

Last night I had a date type thing. There was fun, entertaining, intelligent company, some stellar scotch (which I was skeptical about at first.... After only really being familiar with Speysides, it was interesting to try out some good, aged Islays), and a beautiful view from a balcony in Atlantic Station. As much fun as I had, however, I'm still a bit unsure as to how comfortable I am with "dating". I feel like I've broken through a lot of personal barriers lately (which is a good thing, absolutely), but I still fear putting myself in a situation that has the potential to cause me as much turmoil as my last romantic endeavor. I think, for now, I'm going to try to take things fairly slow, and give myself a bit more time before falling into anything that even resembles a relationship.

With all the changes going on in my life, I figured I should go ahead and add my own, fun change to the mix. So I dyed my hair.

When I'm forced into change (especially the kind of change I don't agree with, or think is rash or silly, or that has the potential to be emotionally devastating) I find that choosing something about me (and yes, it's usually my hair) and then changing it leaves me with the sense that I have at least some semblance of control over my life. I know it's an illusion, but that awareness doesn't lessen the positivity I get from it. Plus, red is smokin' hot.

And, with all of that, I'm going to go to bed. I wasn't feeling great today, and I'm wondering if it isn't just some weird combination of cramps and sleep deprivation. Regardless, sleep will solve all my problems. Or, rather, that's what I'm currently telling myself.

Here's the new hair, by the way. Red is always so much fun.

It's so damn long. And yes, I grew it myself. 

 

Have a bonus cat, too. That's Jizanthapus, being a dick, undoubtedly. 

Goodnight, lovies.

Clearly everything can be justified as long as you quote Whitman.

Something happened tonight that really took me by surprise.

I found myself chatting with an old friend (as in, a friend I've known for several years... not a friend that is old.... I like to think he'd appreciate the clarification). The fact that we were talking wasn't what took me by surprise, however. It was the conversation, itself.

I've felt SO MUCH, at the positive and negative ends of the spectrum, as of late. A relationship ended, which hurt like a son of a bitch. I learned a fuckton about who I am, which was enlightening and exciting and new. I had my trust betrayed, which was painful both because, well, trust was betrayed, but also because I should have seen that shit coming. I was shown that there is so much more in the world (in terms of people I can enjoy and learn from and connect with) than I initially thought, which is even still an exhilarating feeling, despite not really enjoying the root of that lesson.

After feeling so much, and so quickly and out of my control, I was left exhausted. My emotions have been really empty or really negative. My motivation for most things has waned quite a bit. My enthusiasm for interpersonal connection (whether platonic or romantic or whatever) has been lacking. That last one says a lot, too, because I thrive on listening to people and learning about people and figuring out what makes them tick, and where their motivations lie, and how they work, and finding the differences in their train of thought compared to mine.

So tonight I was chatting with this old friend of mine. Our conversation strayed into my recent developments. After a few minutes, I realized something. None of the bullshit, or hurt, or betrayal I've felt in the past few days has anything to do with me. It wasn't caused by my shortcomings. It's quite the opposite, in fact. I may be far too aware of my faults, and the negative traits of my personality, and I'm insecure about a ton aspects of myself. Regardless of all of that, there's nothing I could have done differently, or better, to prevent what led to the crap I'm dealing with right now.

Something else that I realized during this conversation is that I am really, truly loved. Maybe not always in the "holy shit let's get married and live together forever and have babies" kind of love. But who am I to be such a shit when it comes to how other people love me? The fact that I am desirable, and that I am loved by so many people in so many ways makes me incredibly lucky.

And the fact that my current emotional point of contention took his share of that love away shouldn't cause such a dent in my well-being.

I am so glad that my friend decided to reach out tonight (even if it was originally to discuss River Song's place in the Doctor Who universe). I am really thankful that I have people (that's right, it's plural, even) in my life that can show me that I'm loved so easily.

I can only hope that my friends know that they're all just as loved.

And I just keep coming back to my calm.

Goodnight, lovies. 

I'm probably drunk. But I know what I'm talking about. Probably.

A completely selfish, wildly boring update....

I'm 26 (and a half). I feel like I'm so far from being a bona fide adult. I still have so much to learn, and express, and experience. I've never been married, or had children, or found the strength to follow through with school to the point of getting my PhD in psychology and helping people via my favorite talent.

I shy away from commitment, usually. I do that because it's so much easier to not feel accountable to other people. I do it because it makes my shortcomings feel like they're anticipated (meaning they're much less of a letdown), so I don't feel as guilty about them when they happen (whether they're due to me being late, or because I don't like answering my phone, or because I often get distracted and don't know how to explain to people how that happens).

The majority of my experience has shown me that being committed to something (be it my relationship with my mother, with various friends, or with occasional lovers) causes hurt. Committing to another person in any way often ends up leaving nothing but pain and hardship and a hole mimicking their shape when they leave, in addition to this static that I feel in my head right now.

Something I've discovered recently, however, is that the static is nothing more than growing pains. I will always be me. I will always have myself to love, and commit to, and take into consideration. The growing pains hurt like a fucking banshee, but when all is said and done, and time has passed, I will be so much better because of these people and the hurt that has been caused through knowing them. I will be a more rounded, aware, comfortable person because of the feelings I have endured and the growth I have been forced into, with thanks to all these situations.

I think that fear is something that holds people back so terribly much (myself included). Fear of the unknown, fear of being hurt or abandoned, fear of fucking something up and not being able to fix it, fear of being unable to handle that mental static that comes with the hurt....

But that fear shouldn't serve as a completely negative thing in a person's life. That fear can be channeled into something so much better and productive and positive. That fear can become motivation. Whether it motivates you to be a better person to yourself, or to pursue something you were too afraid to before, or just find the kindness in you and express that to the people around you. That fear spins itself into the most beautiful gold, and can offer so much when it comes to how you experience life. It's a beautiful fear, full of risk and anxiety and lessons to be learned and hope and self-discovery.

So why do we spend so much time pretending that something so wonderfully difficult, so incredibly challenging in every way that we need at the time, doesn't exist?

I think that the hardest lesson to learn is acceptance. Acceptance in regards to who you are, who you want to be, the fact that you have no control over how anyone outside of you behaves or thinks.... Acceptance that you are who you are, and all you can do is be good to people, and try to be trusting, and (above all) be faithful to yourself. Because when it comes down to it, you're the only person you have known and will know for your entire life.

Be good to one another, lovies. And always look for the opportunity to be happy, despite (or even because of) the inevitable static.

<3 p="">-L

Learning experiences aren't always fun.

Over the past few weeks, I managed to meet a man, fall madly in love with him, and have my heart broken. Talk about a mini-drama.

I'm not one to date, simply because it's messy and complicated and more often than not at least one person in the relationship ends up feeling the way I'm feeling now. But, for the first time in my life, I allowed myself to fall head-first into a relationship. And I got hurt. And I'm glad that I did it.

This experience has allowed me to learn so much about who I am and what I want. I've managed to see myself through the eyes of other people, and I really like the person I'm growing into (and they like that person, too, which is a great feeling). I felt attractive and desired and loved, and what's so much more is that I felt completely worthy of those things (which is a somewhat new level of acceptance for me).

I've discovered that no one can make me happy. But people can add to my happiness in abundance. The trick is to have that happiness in the first place.

I've learned that I don't have to be scared of who I am at the core of my being. I have always worried that, deep down, I was this tangle of anxiety and depression and insecurity. But I managed, in a moment of introspection, to find that core of me and it's just... calm. Peaceful, even. It's accepting and still. And knowing that gives me so much comfort.

Yes, I am hurting. Yes, I feel a bit betrayed. I feel naive. I feel silly for putting so much hope into something so quickly. But I'm also really glad that I experienced this flash in the pan love. I feel like I overcame my fears and relationship-cynicism, and have found something in me that I never even knew was there.

And now I'm going to do something I should have done more of as a child, and listen to my darling, brilliant stepmother (who sent me the following email):

"I'm sorry about the breakup. People do stupid stuff in relationships all the time, like dating someone when they are still attached to someone else. At least it came out fairly early on, not that that's much consolation. But I'm hoping that you won't let this situation rule your weekend. Really, why should it? What will moping get you? Have a great time with your friends at your party tonight and then get your ass over here for dinner on Sunday. We are your family. We love you. And there will be salmon."

Show me the way to go home....

I totally had a not so little drink about a few minutes, as well as an hour ago, and it's gone straight to my head.

I've spent the past three days moving. I went from my shithole of a duplex (where I was living alone, if you don't count my giant dog) to a glorious house that's about 6 miles away.

I'm so cliche that this is it. I officially fucking hate moving.

First of all, how do houses (or apartments, or whatever) manage to get so full without your knowing? I feel like my apartment spent the four years I was there finding random shit, and pulling it into closets, nooks, crannies, and cupboards. Once I started actually inspecting the contents of the ENTIRE APARTMENT much closer than usual, I realized that there was just no other explanation.

I imagine it went something like this:
I leave for work, or some other random, out-of-the-apartment activity.

Living Room: "HAHAHA!!! Now she's gone! I can do whatever I want!!! Where is that stack of 15 Vanity Fair magazines her parents saved for her? They'll look great hidden behind the coats in the front closet."

Bedroom: "SAVE SOME FOR ME! I have a closet too, you know. And I can only tangle so many hangers on the floor of it until I need to add some other dynamic to the whole scene."

Kitchen: "You guys think you're cool? I managed to bust the bulb in my fridge, and shove the bag of bell peppers to the far back, bottom shelf! Not only that, but I've been encouraging the fridge to make horrible, barky sounds in the middle of the night, just to add insult to injury!"

Living Room: "Dude, come on. I have an entire SOFA here to shove shit under."

Bedroom: "Yeah?! Well, she keeps all her clothes here! I have t-shirts that she hasn't even SEEN for over TWO YEARS!"

Bathroom: "I managed to roll a couple Q-tips off of the sink."

Living Room, Kitchen, and Bedroom: "Oh, SHUT UP Bathroom! You're such a pill! Go spread some toothpaste on the mirror, you loser."

After four years of that shit, it's no wonder that I had so much miscellaneous crap in all corners of the place.

I'm so over moving.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

There are currently three furbabies residing in my small, one bedroom duplex. Lucy is, of course, bored and mildly annoyed by the fact that we now have two kittens. I'm thrilled, though. They're adorable.

I promised my sister, Mara, that I would get her a kitten for her birthday. I know, that's kind of a dick move to promise something like that without first talking with the parental units. But c'est la vie. Plus, I like to think that if Mara were the older sibling, she'd get me a kitten for my birthday. Right? My logic was basically, "If I don't ask my parents if I can get my sister a kitten, they can't say no! Brilliant!"

Upon meeting the potential new kitten, I realized that the only thing better than one kitten is two kittens. So I scooped them up and brought them home. I'm currently calling them Louis-Cat and Jizanthapus. The names are from a bit done by Louis C.K. about a kid he knows, and it's very funny and all, but it's also really fun to say "Jizanthapus".

Seeing as Mara is going to be in NYC for a while, I'm thinking I'll bring the kittens over sometime after she gets back, so she can pick one. I hope it works out. And if it doesn't, that's okay, too. Jizanthapus and Louie-Cat can just stay with me, and continue harassing Lucy. 

Jizanthapus is asleep on Lucy, and LouieCat is on the giraffe blanket. 

In other news, I'll be moving soon. I'm very excited about it, actually. Ida, T-Rev, Izzy and I are all getting a house together. It's going to be lovely to have people around. Lucy is excited, too, I'm sure. And Izzy keeps telling people that she's getting two kitties and a puppy (Louie-Cat, Jizanthapus, and Lucy) at the new house.

To be quite honest, though, I'm probably most excited to have a washer and dryer. And a dishwasher. And more square footage than I know what to do with. And my best friend like 1 door over. And cheaper rent. 

Yeah, I'm pretty much excited by all of it. 

Ta-ta!

Upcoming blogs from Slagathor include:

-Packing My Apartment is Like Packing Up a TARDIS

-My Ankle is Killing Me, so Why Don't U-Haul It

and

-Which Smoke Detector at the New House is Dying

It's like you're always stuck in 2nd gear; when it hasn't been your day, your week, your month, or even your year...

I've never felt more grateful for the people that have stuck around in my life.
Thank you, lovies.
<3 p="">-LLM

Sonofabitch.....

The past week has been really, really shitty. And the only thing that makes it worse is that every shitty thing that's happened to me has been preventable.

My tag is expired (happy birthday to me, right?). But the couple hundred dollars I planned on spending to renew my tag was desperately needed by a friend of mine, so he could make his car payment before the damn thing was repossessed. So I helped out, knowing full and well what I was setting myself up for. He's going to pay me back (and then some, hopefully) this Friday. But in the meantime I (of COURSE) got a ticket for my expired tag. Now, said friend has also offered to pay this ticket for me, because he knew that my loaning him that money meant I had to deal with another few weeks of expired registration.

.... Christ, I should start budgeting more.

Then, a couple days ago, a headlight burnt out. My folks noticed it Sunday, and mentioned it to me. They used the phrase "ticketable offense", which, in hindsight, seems like some sort of bad luck, cop omen.

I spent Monday running errands but didn't get a chance to get a new bulb. On my way home from doing laundry Monday night, a douchebag cop pulls me over, less than a mile from my house. He and I have a bit of an argument... ("I JUST got a ticket for my expired tag, and I'm less than a mile from my house. You seriously want to write me a ticket over ONE burnt out headlight? SERIOUSLY?!") but the fucker did what cops these days do, and wrote a chickenshit ticket.

What really, REALLY irritates me about that is that there are a ton of people that will drive around with their brights on when a headlight is out, to avoid getting a ticket. And guess what is more dangerous than someone driving with only their running lights and one headlight? Hm, probably a car WITH ITS HIGH BEAMS ON WHEN OTHERS ARE TRYING TO USE THE FUCKING ROAD. C'est la vie... assholes.

Then, this morning, I came out to my car only to find that someone had jimmied the door open last night. Why, you ask, would someone do such a thing? Well, they decided to steal my vacuum. Yup. My Dyson was in the back seat after I let someone borrow it. I left it in the car overnight, and it was just gone. Thing is, I LOVE (or LOVED, I guess) my vacuum. I saved up several years ago to buy that thing. It was a $500 vacuum, but I got it for $350 through a deal at my dad's office (where he is no longer working, so I can't just do that to replace it). And as cliche as it may be for me, a woman, to admit... I LOVE vacuuming! It makes such a huge difference to get rid of all the schmutz on the carpet. And having a Great Dane and a spastic cattle dog mix means there's often plenty of schmutz to go around.

I hope when the theives clean out the canister, they choke to death on the dog hair and dust. Fucking bastards.

All I can say is that I will be so glad when this shit is behind me. It seems my self-inflicted bad luck usually lasts a week or so, and then I spend the next week drinking heavily  pouting  recuperating, and then everything is back to normal. Thank god I have such wonderful people in my life, too. I would be even more of a mess if it wasn't for the seemingly magical abilities my friends have, when it comes to calming me down and fixing everything for me.

And let this be a lesson to you all. Don't take your vacuum for granted.

<3 p="">-L