New Beginnings

A lot has happened in the past few months.

The most notable being The Move.
Moving to San Diego that is.
Which hasn't technically happened yet.

But I quit my job a few weeks ago.
Fix got a job in San Diego, I've got interviews and last Wednesday, we signed a lease agreement. In San Diego.
In Normal Heights to be more specific. 10-15 minutes from the beach. Cute little shops and deli's and bakeries all around.

It'll be home. Mine and Fix's home.

It's tiny. I've nicknamed it "our closet by the sea". One little room, a small bathroom, a tiny kitchen... Just imagine every variation of the word small and you've got a pretty good description of our home.
I'm delighted.

I'll be attempting to be better about writing. and picture taking.
and working out. and eating better. and more adventures. and more books. always more books.




Here's to new beginnings.

Short But Sweet

Well hey there.

Sorry it's been a while.

Life and busy and all that... it gets in the way of writing.

But now that my computer is back in the realm of the living and I'm not just relaying on my smart phone for internet needs, well, in theory my blogging will pick up again. In theory.

In the meantime... I've been dreaming of this....

Vacation and Motorcycles? A girl can dream

A Drink of Water

My life isn't all wild adventures and bad ideas.

There are frequent domestic and quiet moments that punctuate my life.

Tonight is one of those moments.

Home from work, a quick workout and cooking, those were my exciting plans for the evening.

Woke a groggy Jess up from her nap and dragged her upstairs to keep my company while I did my Insanity workout (yep, started that nonsense again). She played cheerleader while the dogs wrestled on the bed, occasionally jumping onto the floor to investigate what I was doing and use their wet noses to startle me every time I went into downward dog.

Since I'm trying to be healthier, I've started cooking at home. I haven't cooked with any regularity since I moved in with Ryan for the second time. I used to cook, a lot. First for my family (it was one of my chores), then with a boyfriend who was an amazing cook and I played the part of sou chef pretty well. But I fell out of the habit, mostly because I loathe grocery shopping. But for the sake of saving money and wanting to be in better shape, I found a cookbook, forced myself to enter a grocery store, and have been cooking for about two weeks now.

So after my workout I trudged downstairs and began cooking for the next day. Jess pulled up to the breakfast counter and surprised me by turning on Romero and Juliet. For the next few hours, I chopped and sauteed and burned my fingers while Jess alternated between lovingly watching Leo saunter through Shakespearean prose and debating/discussing other literature that we both love. The evening was calm and soothing and oh so domestic. And I enjoyed it.

I don't have a very peaceful soul. I'm not very good at contentment. Fix and I talked about it the other night, the way we both are unable to accept that this is it, this is all life has to offer us. That work takes up the majority of our day, our week, our lives and we use TV shows and movies and friends to fill the spaces in between. It's a level that we connect on, this yearning, this wanderlust, the need for adrenaline and adventure and madness.

Maybe we've just read too many books about extraordinary people.

So I don't do peaceful very often. But tonight? Tonight was a cool drink of domestic contentment. Sometimes I'm so busy moving, I forget that I'm parched. I'm lucky to have people in my life that remind me that sometimes, slowing down can be a good thing.

Sometimes

Life, or Something Like It

The last few months it feel like the theme has been "catch up" or maybe "procrastination".

Paying bills, just barely.
Getting errands done, the last possible day.
Making big decisions, on the fly.

Oh wait, that one is pretty normal for me.

I keep telling myself that I will be more organized.
That I will I make a five year plan and stick with it.
Or stick close to it.
Or at least walk in the general direction of it.

Part of the problem is that Fix is just as restless and adventurous as I could desire. Actually, that's not a problem at all. Well, it's kinda a problem for my bank account. And my obligations. And the whole being responsible thing. But relationship-wise? Not a problem at all. A bonus even.


But maybe procrastination and catching up and being broke but owning awesome toys and crazy memories is what being in your twenties is all about. It's like being a teenager, but with a paycheck to fund your adventures.

Or maybe I'm just really irresponsible.

Yet not that irresponsible. Because my bills are still paid. And the errands are still accomplished. And the decisions... are mostly ignored.

*Shrugs* I'm not complaining. Life has been fun the last few months. There have been roadtrips, danger, laughing, excitement, stupidity, late night talks, new friends, old friends showing up again... and possibilities. New possibilities that I never imagined and a few that maybe I'm just starting to find the courage to embrace.

Changes

Fix spent the night.

I'm still trying to decide how I feel about the whole situation.
The him sleeping over part, not the him situation.
Although that is still being mulled over as well.

This was the first time we've hung out that wasn't full of adventure and mischief. The first low key thing we've really done together. I mean, there was still amazing clothes ripping sex. And lots of laughing and teasing. But other than grabbing a bite to eat... we stayed at my place. And just hung out. We didn't even turn on a movie. In fact, at one point around 3am we both grabbed our books, turned up some Miles Davis and read. Who does that? I don't think Matt and I even did that. We both read like crazy, but we would read on our own time. Or I would read while he played video games. But just sitting together and reading... together?

The thing is, it was kinda nice. He's about 100 pages ahead of me in the same book, so occasionally he would lean over and see where I was at. Or tickle me. Or just brush his thumbs over my shoulder. It was all very... intimate. And comfortable. And easy. I'm crazy about this guy.
Twitterpated.

But the last few days I've been thinking about all the "buts" I'm not sure if it's because they are a big deal, potentially deal breakers. Or if I'm just trying to find a reason to run.

Fix is dangerous.
To my future and my heart.
And I'm wondering if I'm getting to old to keep jumping off cliffs.
And a small part of me is wondering if he would jump with me if I asked.
And a small part of me is afraid he would

Star Crossed

Breakfast wasn’t her first choice for a first date, but it was the only option if they wanted to meet sooner rather than later. And after a week of texting late into the night and early into the morning, neither was really willing to wait for later.
So sooner, and breakfast, it was.

For a first date it was going remarkably smooth. There were a few hiccups, such as when she stole his straw without thinking about it (she always drank with two straws), or when he got self-conscious as he explained the minor, occasional short term memory loss he suffered after an ugly motorcycle accident two years ago. However the blips were short lived, since he choose to tease her about the implications of needing two straws , and she accused him of faking the injury so that he doesn’t have to remember things like names and birthdates. The level of easy and familiarity was of two people who had known each other years, but the chemistry and sparks were testament of the newness. The conversation flowed from one subject to the next.

“Books?” “Reading Heinlein right now” “Love him, hate the incest”

“Music?” “Metal, blues, alternative…” “I’m not as familiar with metal, but I know a blues band you will love..”

“TV?” “Sons of Anarchy!” “Oh I love it too, as long as one accepts that it’s highly dramatized”

She laughs and tries to bait him “Are you offended by the violence? Because you wear a cut or something?” A pause “Actually I do”

She choked on her water, her poker face fleeing at the mention of a motorcycle gang.

“Breathe Hun. We’re not 1%ers, we’re not violent. It’s not like that at all…”

He continues to explain who and what his MC stands for and she listens while frantically realizing how just how bad this new development was. She couldn't.. cannot… this would never… HE’S IN A MC?!?

“Hey? Are you ok, you went pale”

She stared blankly at him as various scenarios flashed through her head

Her, in a sundress and holding his hand while leaning up against him casually at a club barbecue. Making small talk with his club president and a Hell’s Angel sergeant of arms.

The little sister looking at him wide eyed over dinner as he told stories of cross country rides and canyons and trees that belonged in middle earth.

Her arms, wrapped around his waist and covering his cut on the back of his bike and desperately hoping the officer that just pulled them over won’t ask for her ID or involve her.

“Sam!” Her reverie abruptly disappeared from her eyes. She raked her eyes over him. She took in his laughing eyes, wry grin, the casual way he relaxed in his chair, the tattoos that peeked out from under his clothes and begged to be traced with her fingers...

Her chair clattered to the floor as she stood.
“I’m sorry. I never liked the Romero and Juliet story.” And she fled.