Tuesday, December 21, 2010

My own worst enemy

There are two very different people that come together to make up Sam.
Notice I said "come together" not "combine"
This distinction is very very important.

One of those people is logical, practical, giving, low key and laid back.
That girl loves wearing jeans and size four skater shoes.
She will spend hours in a bookstore just running her hands up and down the shelves.
That girl enjoys cooking elaborate meals.
She loves decorating her living space, especially if there loud music playing.
That girl worries and frets about how her siblings are growing up
She buys them clothes for their bodies and books for their souls
That girl has a five year plan that involved getting a well paying job and finishing school in order to be able to apply for a job that will take her all over the world. That girl has completed year one of said plan. She has been diligent. She even managed to visit three states and Mexico (twice!) while undergoing a grueling year of training. She went to a combat school and learned to fight with some really tough ass people. She's happy in her relationship and loves her dog and her books. She loves naps and sleeping in. She's a little nervous about going to school but also can't wait. Her hair is blonde and growing out long, her body looks pretty good most of the time, her personality is bubbly and excited and she is happy. Content almost.


The other girl that makes up Sam is wild, spontaneous, irresponsible, selfish and fun.
This girl loves stomping around in boots and climbing trees... or rocks.
She believes that history and new places should be climbed on, even if the sign forbids it.
This girl wants to know everyone's darkest secret and what makes them tick.
She's fearless.
This girl will do/has done almost anything for an adrenaline rush.
She wants to travel not just to see the world, but to stay and live among different cultures.
This girl doesn't care about family. She made it out alive on her own, they will too.
She swims in the ocean at night and only goes repelling when the moon is shining.
This girl loves meeting strangers and leaving them before she tires of them.
This girl is reason I move constantly. She wants to dye her hair dark again and be mysterious. Why I can't ever feel complete and content. She's a wild ride and when I let her take control stories are made. She has her motorcycle license and drives her car like she's in a high speed chase at all times. This girl believes shots make everyone better friends and don't have calories. She can field strip a 1911 .45 in 24 seconds. This girl believes there is more to life then 40 work hour weeks and nights watching movies on the couch. She just needs the funding to back her dreams.

But the other half of me knows and understands that if I want to make it in the years to come with out repeating Hawaii then I need money, which means I need a job. Which means I need school, which is why I spent the last year training at this job so I can pay for school.

Almost a year ago the two halves of my personality made a pact. Follow the five year plan, let the logical side of me be in control. Really it was only fair, seeing as the wild side of me had been basically running the show since... well most of my life. The wild side was still mostly in control while I was working at the keg and going through eight bloody months of the hiring process for my current job. But in October of last year I started my new job and the wild side of me willingly walked into a cage and gave away the key. For the last year I've let logic and good sense rule me while the other part of me has been locked away. I suspect logic has been slipping the other part of me vicodin because it's been a really peaceful year. Mostly. There have been nights like tonight where the other half of me wakes up and rattles her cage, yelling and hollering with all she has. The Boy has learned to recognize those nights. Usually cause the house is completely moved around. Or because I've disappeared with a friend looking for an adventure that is close to home and come home muddy and bruised. There's been two occasions when she's escaped her cage and I've come home with a piercing or a tattoo.

I love both parts of me. They make me, well, me. I love being logical and laid back. I love being spontaneous and a trouble maker. Maybe one day I can get them to live in harmony together. In the meantime they are like two sisters too close in age. Pushing and shoving for control and attention but occasionally working together smoothly.





My friends always joked that I was born with nine lives. Thanks to my reckless and daring self it can be said I've gone through a few of those already. I want to live a life worth writing about. But I only have a few more lives left. So logic gets a to try her hand and see if can't be more successful then living spontaneously.



Now, off to see 127 hours. Hopefully watching a movie about a daredevil that ends up having to saw his arm off will shut the wild side of me up. Or at least temporarily scare her into silence.

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