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.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

To Be Understood

Don't you love when you stumble upon something that you connect with? This website constantly posts things like this that describes me or my feelings so... well perfectly. One day I will meet the fabulous person who posts these and we will run away together and have grand adventures.

One day...

Tuesday, December 14, 2010

The Gods Clearly Hate Me

In case I was confused, this morning is a perfect reminder as to why I'm soooo not having children.

Sunday night I got off work at 10pm. Got home, loaded up the dog and met Jess over at the dog park. Jess has a German Shepard (Raine) and a Papillon (London). The dog park is technically closed after 10pm, but it's completely fenced in and just happens to be the size of a running track. So we kind of ignore the rules. So we run and chat and walk and run again. Bodhi, Raine and London follow us, or run ahead of us or ignore us completely and just pee on everything. Which they should, it's a dog park. It's really adorable to watch London run with us on her little legs. She can keep up, but only if she doesn't lose focus.

I'm slightly scared that she will run too hard for her little body and have a heart attack. But she seemed to handle 3 miles just fine. Better then me actually. It's distressing to see a five pound dog at me with pity while I huff and puff.

So last night we run. We finish about midnight, Bodhi and I find our way home. I have a been having a hard sleeping lately, so I've been taking sleeping pills. Not a huge deal, except for the fact that while i'm sleeping I am out. Completely. The zombies could rise and I would just roll over and pull the blankets over my head.

The Boy gets home about 7am. He takes the dog out for another walk. Cursing the whole time about living in apartments and three flights of stairs. Or so I assume. As I said, I was out, like a light.

At 9am Bodhi started to cry. Have you heard a dog whimper and whine? It's really pathetic sounding. I was in such a deep sleep that I heard it in my dreams first. When I finally woke up I stumbled out of the room, peered around, saw that the dog had food and water, peered at the dog and stumbled back into the room.

"Matt! Did you walk the dog when you got home?!"
"mumble mumble"
"mumble mumble yes"

I turned to the dog.

"He says he walked you. I have a fuzzy memory of running at a dog park with you.
So you are clearly well fed, exercised and have had plenty of time to poop. GO TO BED."

I fell into the bed.

Possibly moments later we hear a crash.
My first and only thought was oh no the book cases. We're in the middle of moving, so all my books have been packed away but the empty bookcases are still in the living room, looking forlorn. So I figured the crash was one of those falling over. I thought about getting up again, but really, if it had already fallen over what good would I be doing by putting it back up? It would just fall over again. And any mess it created could clearly wait.
Thank Hera the boy dragged himself out of bed to investigate. I heard a moment of yelling, a moment of whining and then the boy falling back into bed.

Two hours later my alarm went off. I stumbled out of bed. I opened my bedroom door.

Bodhi had been crying because he was sick. Like, food poisoning sick. You know the kind that makes you so sick that all the poison comes out both ends. Bodhi finally gave up on making it out doors and proceeded to vomit and poop all over the living room.

As I was gagging I tried to look for Bodhi. There was so much shit (literally) that I was afraid I would find a dying dog who I would have to hold and cry because I didn't believe him and some how this was all my fault. Luckily I found him cowering under the table, sure that he was in trouble for making a mess.

I felt so awful. Oh my god I'm a terrible person. So I hugged him, petted him, made sure he wasn't still sick (he wasn't) and then realized that I had exactly five minutes to get ready if I was going to make it work on time. So I run in the bedroom, tell the boy the bad news and dash out the door.

The Boy wakes up seven hours later to go to work. Stumbles out of bed. Opens the bedroom door.

He does a quick clean up then dashes out the door to work.

Cut to midnight last night. I walk in the door to find a pathetic looking dog. Although most of the poop and vomit were gone the smell and the stains remained. Lingered. Preeminent. Bodhi didn't like the smell anymore then we do. There was only one option. I donned my gas mask and took to scrubbing.

Oh My God.

The carpet is ruined. I'm still grossed out hours later. The stench is a living things, stalking me from room to room. I'm hiding in the bedroom and scared to go out and face the living room. Bodhi just cowers under the table.

And all this happened because The Boy and I decided to sleep through Bodhi's warning. Clearly we will be terrible parents.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

Well Hello There December. When Did You Get Here?

Holy stressful month batman.

I am sooo grateful November is over.
Also a little confused at how it is already over.
I mean seriously, where did it go? I only remember living like two weeks of it.

Tyson got married.
Dinner/drink dates with fabulous friends. Multiple Nights
Thanksgiving was in there somewhere.
Work. Lots of work.
And the rest was filled with house hunting.

Yep that sums up November.

Oh and to clarify. We are hunting houses to RENT. Not own.
Don't be silly. Buying a house is waaayyy to much commitment for me.

This week we kind of stumbled on the most perfect house. It's love.
We met the owners, did a walk through and as of 30 minutes ago, submitted renters applications. Now we wait. I hate waiting. Hate. Loathe. But for this pretty house? Well I guess I work on my patience. Ah, the funny things we do for love.

God, I know you don't owe me favors. But if you could make this happen...