She Goes Running For The Shelter

Have you ever swam out to the deepest end of the pool and started to tread water?

And then you decide to see how long you can do it. And so you tread and you tread and you tread until your legs and your arms feel so tired that you just don't think you're going to have the energy it will take to stop the treading and begin swimming back to the shallow end?

That's kinda how I feel right now.

Some Day Drive A Body Down To The Ground

I learned something about a month or so ago that I thought I was fine with. I thought I'd come to terms with it and that I'd moved on and that it had no impact on my general well being and happiness.

I really don't think I have...

This thing...the thing that I learned? It ripped through me like a dull blade. It ripped into my chest and started tearing up the heart that had, until then, been fine. Not broken. Not even cracked. Just a bit uncomfy.

I think I've realized it's all broken up now. Ripped to pieces.

I've decided, in my brain, that I've never been loved. That I just thought I was. Believed that I was. And he thought he was loving me. But I think he was fooling himself. And in turn fooling me. And it was all one big nice and warm faux love affair.

And that was my one chance.

And it turned out to be faux.

And each time I have to hear that voice. And each time that voice doesn't say things. Things that need to be said to me so I can move on....there goes another piece of it. Exploding in my chest. Ensuring it will never be whole again.

To top it off? I'm becoming way too comfortable just sitting in my apartment. No going out. Not taking any chances. Just pretending to be fine and whole and unbroken as I tell myself how happy I am.

I am happy. I am. I know it doesn't sound that way. But I am. I'm happy not living a lie. It just makes me sad to know that the lie was lived at all. That I believed in it. That I let my guard down and opened myself up to it. That I allowed myself to love and pretend to be loved.

I hope that never happens again...

Don't Know If I'll Be Back Again

I've made a decision! I know, right. Riveting. What an opener! You're on the edge of your seats to find out what this grand decision could be. I know. I'm kind of a big deal.

Or not.

Either way, a decision has been made. And here it is:

Itchy must die!

Yup. I'm done with her. I mean, she's fun and all. We'd had some laughs. But, as part of my getting back to me and liking me and knowing who this me person is again I think I need to let her go. Which, really, is dumb for I am Itchy and Itchy is me. But, not really. She's a shield. I no longer need a shield.

So, I'm gonna stop this here blog and start me up a new blog. But, in my paranoid need to never have me and Itchy joined in reality, I'm not linking to the new blog here. For a few reasons. 1. It doesn't exist yet, but it will. 2. Um...I might as well say "Hey look I'm Itchy!" if I do that and I've avoided that for this long. For I ROCK at undercover shenanigans. And 3. A treasure hunt for you guys to find me would be awesome! Wha? You don't want a treasure hunt to find me? You want me to just tell you? Fine, lazy asses. Leave me a comment or email me and I'll give you the knowledge that you seek.

So, that's that. I gotta leave the Itchy behind. Not that I didn't have a helluva lot of fun with her. No. It's been quite the opposite. She's helped me in soooo many ways. She's like my very own snuffalufagus. She's cuddley. She's fun. She's seen only by me.

But, I'm more comfortable with me now. I'm not totally comfy yet, but I gotta break myself in. I'm like a new pair of jeans. I fit really good through the hips and thighs but I create just a hint of muffin top. And I'm fine with that.

Kiss You All Starry Eyed

This morning I was getting ready to feed the dogs when I heard this noise. So, I stopped what I was doing and I listened. And I heard it again. Sounded a bit like...well it sounded a whole lot like Predator to be quite honest. But I was as of yet unable to pinpoint the Predator. Since they are able to blend into any environment, this came as no surprise. I mean...I don't have any night vision goggles or anything of the sort!

But then I heard it again....

That noise. That Predator noise. It was coming out of my Beagle! She was sitting there, drooling, shaking, whining, and making the Predator sound. I didn't know if I should continue to get the food ready or prepare for some battle.

So, I stood for a minute. Listening. Watching. Making sure that she wasn't going to have a Predator explode out of her chest cavity like an Alien. Or the Thing. Or hell...even like a Space Herpe! I mean, I had to be at work on time. The last thing I need to worry about is cleaning a space herpe up out of my kitchen.

So, I'm sitting there thinking admittedly ridiculous thoughts and watching my Beagle shiver and shake and make the sounds of a space creature over the same bowl of food she's eaten since the beginning of our relationship and it made me realize that I need to get more excited over my food. I have variety! I can eat when I choose! And I take it for granted and I don't even make any sounds while watching my food be prepared for me. Dogs got it all figured out...

Get Jobs In Offices And Wake Up For The Morning Commute

A few weeks ago I was watching the Best Week Ever and they were talking about some Paris Hilton movie called The Hottie and The Nottie. And, as they tend to do on BWE, they were making huge fun of it. But, it was all just so over the top and the plot sounded so fucking ridiculous that I really, honestly, believed they were just making it up.

A bit of backstory: since I've moved out on my own I've fallen behind on my Entertainment Weekly reading and I'm a few weeks behind. I anticipate I'll get all caught up soon. Due to some awesome. But, anyway....yeah. Few weeks behind on the EW...

This morning, I'm reading a bit of some Entertainment Weekly and I see the review for The Hottie and The Nottie! It's a real movie!!!!!!!!! Some people sat down and wrote this. Then some other people sat down and looked at it. Then they took it to some other people and together as a group they all said "YES! This is a movie that needs to be made. AND, and....it shall star Paris Hilton!"

I am now convinced that I am far too smart to ever make a movie.

Roll Me In Designer Sheets

The date is quickly approaching that the next major step in my major life event can occur. And each morning that I wake up I feel a little bit more sad. And a little more free. All at the same time. It's such a weird feeling to be happy and sad all wrapped up together like those gross Hugs that Hershey's makes. It's exactly like that. Happy chocolate wrapped up in a gross white chocolate sad.

As I sit around and I let my mind wander and ponder and other sorts of onder things I've realized something. I do miss having someone there to hug me when I need one. I miss having someone there that has inside jokes with me. I miss being able to just casually touch someone as I pass by them in the hall. Or while brushing our teeth. Or whenever. I miss knowing that someone loved me. Someone cared about me. I had that. And it's gone. And I miss all of that...

But...I don't miss him. And I'm not really sure if I have missed him at all. And that's odd to me. We were in love. For a long time. Shouldn't I miss him a little? Am I all cold and dead inside? Did I ever really love him? Did I really ever care? Or is this just my mind telling me this is the right thing and to just move on already. I don't know. I just find it odd that I know that I miss those other things, the comfort things, but not the person who was giving them to me.

I Don't Want To Be Your Friend

So, how much of a nerd does it make me that I watched Dance Wars tonight just so I could find out next season's Dancing With The Stars line up?

And would my nerditude be added to if you knew that I actually said "YES!" out loud and with true glee when they announced Steve Guttenberg's involvement in this lineup? For I did. Oh yes. I did...

In addition to being worried about the appearance of wrinkles around my eyes, I am now worried that my boobs are going to magically just begin to sag over night. I'll wake up one morning and blamo! boobies will be hanging low. So, I've become that person that wears a bra all the time. I don't take it off when I get home from work. I always make sure I have one on when I walk the dogs. I'm....crazy. That's really the only explanation here.

And...um....well. That may be it. I'm boring as shit. You need to know this.

Except...well. No. I'm not boring. I'm crazy as hell. I have upcoming events that I am soooo super stoked about but I am refraining from talking about them here. Why? Because I'm such a Flickr head that I know I'll be posting photos and stories of these events at Flickr and if I also talk about it here I can be easily tracked. OH NO! I can't have that. Worlds would collide. Independent George would be killed. We can't have that. So, just know that while I am boring in general, I have some serious bursts of awesome about to be sprung upon my person. My person is pleased.