the end.

I suppose it’s time I share the reason behind my blogging absence.

For the past couple of months my relationship had been rocky at best. In early October I  spontaneously flew out to LA for a weekend to try to mend and strengthen things, which seemed to work for a few weeks, only to weaken again in November. Then I went out again for Thanksgiving and while there was some arguing, I felt things were solid and ultimately good. I had fun and thought we shared some intimate moments that brought us far closer than any other point in our past, and closer than I think I’d felt to anyone before.

Then, a few days after I returned home, during a Facebook IM chat, he dumped me. We’d been bickering about Christmas plans. It was important to me that during his 10 days in the midwest, he find the time to meet my family and see my hometown and just generally see my world in the way I’d seen his. But his mom said no. So we argued about this and at some point he just … dumped me. I’ve tried to talk to him, find compromises, make it known that I believe we can work through this, but he won’t take my calls or respond to my messages.

I found out recently that he’d cheated on the woman he was with before me while they were together long distance and this has made me very suspicious that he may have done the same to me. Just a week after dumping me — 2 weeks after I’d been out there — he told me he had a date. That just seems so soon to me that it’s hard to believe there wasn’t someone else all along.

But in all honesty, as angry as I am about all of this, and about the way he did it, the way he won’t speak to me, the secrets he kept, the way he treated me throughout our relationship… despite all of that, I really, really want to see him when he gets back. I guess I just know that he’s never been this mean to my face, so maybe we could actually have a constructive and respectful conversation.

not a rock

I don’t want to say too much because it’s too fresh. Instead, I’m sharing this story.

A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, he picked up a large empty jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks about 2″ in diameter each.

“Pay attention to the things in life that are critical to your happiness and well-being. Take time to get medical check-ups, play with your children, go for a run, write your partner a letter. There will always be time to go to work, clean the house, or fix the disposal. Take care of the rocks first. Set your priorities. The rest is just pebbles and sand.”

letter #2

The second letter isn’t earth shattering. This friend was a junior while I was a freshman and we wrote notes back and forth almost daily. He did have a crush on me (he asked me to Homecoming 8x! Awww), but we were only friends.

Cool. Your party will probably rock!

Are you allowed to have it for sure?

Too bad about your math class. Is Spanish hard?

Oh, if I go to the party (will it be a Saturday?) what friends of mine do you want to come? I really don’t need to bring friends to have a good time, but just tell me who if you want any in particular.

Who does * like?

Thanks for the CD. And no, I didn’t already have it.

Well, see ya. WBS.

P.S. Do you know why * didn’t come to my party? Just asking.

Not sure which party this was, but I’m sure I had it and I’m sure it was fun. And of course I wanted him to bring any and all of his friends, since he was friends with all the hot upperclassmen. Haha.

letter #1

The first letter was actually written shortly after I went off to college, so it’s not indicative of my life at 13. But it’s a sweet snippet of a collection of letters I received back then, and somehow it made its way into the “ex files” box.

My everything…

God, Lindsay, that’s exactly what you are. I have no idea what I would do without you, it hurts to even think about it. Here I sit, tears rolling down my face and “Nothing Else Matters” playing in the background. I miss you so much. What I wouldn’t give for just one kiss right now, one chance to hold you in my arms, tell you just how much you mean to me. You’re my world. Everything I need to achieve true happiness in my life lies within you… you are the one, Lindsay. “Never opened myself this way, Life is ours we live it our way.” Someday… somehow, there is going to be a ring on that finger of yours and a TBK standing at your side… forever.

I apologize for the lack of notebook paper and the poor quality of this letter. It was not a very well thought out operation. I was just sitting here looking at one of your many pictures that occupies my room and going through some of the things you have written me. I put on Metallica and then started to weep. Yes, that’s right, your “big strong” boyfriend sitting in the middle of his room, sobbing uncontrollably. I love you so f*cking much, Lindsay, “And I plan to show you if it takes me the rest of my life.”

We are going to have such an awesome time this summer, baby. I know this because we will be together. It matters not what we do or where we go this summer, or for the rest of our lives. I know that things will be alright just as long as we’re together (even if we do end up taking some wrong turns along the way).

Well, it is far past my bedtime. I just had to share a few of these thoughts and emotions that are swirling around in my head.

Yours forever and ever, TBK

* TBK are the initials of a pet name I had for him, and yes, he signed the letter/referred to himself as that
** quoted portions are excerpts from songs

what to blog, what to blog

So while a LOT has been going on in my personal life lately, almost none of it is blog-appropriate. And I’ve been racking my brain to come up with alterna-topics but nothing has seemed particularly interesting.

And then earlier today, it hit me.

Back when I was blogging on Myspace, I briefly mentioned something with the promise that I’d follow up in more detail. I even received numerous comments and private messages imploring me to say more. But for a variety of reasons — time constraints back then, not knowing how to give the topic proper attention — I never wrote anything more.

So here it is.

After I was laid off, I went back to Illinois to visit family and just escape for a bit. While I was out there, I nabbed a box of nostalgia to bring back with me, partly to entertain myself while I wasn’t employed, and partly to remember better times. The box was labeled “ex files” and contained hundreds and hundreds of notes and trinkets from relationships throughout my junior high and high school days. Most were love letters, gifts, or souvenirs from dances and day trips with boyfriends, while a few were from friends and school acquaintances.

Over the next week or two, I read through every origami-folded letter, and it was so unbelievably gratifying. There were notes from people I wasn’t close with then, and haven’t even thought of since, and yet these strangers had such kind, wonderful  things to say about and to me. And the way we talked then! Several made mention  of the impression I’d made on their lives, how much I meant to them, how much faith they had in my future, etc. Wow. At age 14 I had such enormous love and support coming from the most unlikely places! Reading through it all was truly touching.

I think in the next few blog postings, I’m going to share some of the letters. I won’t include names, and because I plan to randomly reach in and draw one, some won’t be so earth-shattering. But it should be entertaining, if only to me. So… get ready for a peek into my past.

baby steps

Well, I still haven’t found home, but I have developed a plan that will help temporarily.

An old college friend, with whom I’d had a rough falling out, re-appeared in my life recently. We’ve made amends and it turns out he’s got a new Media Consulting business in Atlanta and has been looking for someone immersed in web culture to help him out. Well, hellooo?! I’m going to be collaborating with him on a few contracts, which should bring in some steady income. Phew! And on top of making money, it’s really fun. I was shocked by all the legit, creative marketing ideas I had. And I got to help write a proposal! So exciting!

So, anyway… the plan…

I’m hoping to find a roommate who can move in by October 1st. Technically, with this freelance work, I don’t have to have a roommate, but this way I can use the extra income to help pay off my credit card and start saving for a new vehicle. I’m going to do a 6-month lease this time around, which will end in March.

Sometime in January I’m going to officially put my townhouse on the market, with a goal of selling it by March. (Well, okay, I’ll get actual advice on this.) This timing is especially ideal because March is when my tax abatement expires and property taxes will begin to accumulate, so I’ll avoid that.

I still have no plan for where I’ll go after March ‘09. LA? Chicagoland? Somewhere new? I don’t know. But at least this plan gives me 6 months to think it through. I feel good about this. Calmer, anyway. Hopefully things will seem clearer in 6 months than they do now.

there’s no place that’s home

Well I suppose by now it’s apparent to most that I’m doing the long distance thing. Nick’s back at grad school at USC and we’re doing our best to continue things despite his insanely hectic schedule. It’s taking its toll on me, but he assures me this is an unusually rough semester and so I have hope that things will improve significantly after the holidays.

In the meantime, I’m tackling some extremely difficult decisions.

My roommate moved out in mid-August and I still have not figured out what I’m going to do. I’m roommate-hunting, yes, but I’m also considering other options. Right now I could go anywhere or do anything. I could sell my house and move to Egypt if I really wanted to. But I have nothing pulling me in any one direction. I always thought having so many options would be exhilarating, but right now it just feels daunting.

After 9 years in Des Moines, this city is home to me. I love it. It’s accessible, friendly, growing. And yet, I don’t have very close friendships with anyone here. In that regard, Oswego/Yorkville/Chicagoland is still home and I miss my friends there terribly. But do I really want to go back there? I don’t know. It certainly wouldn’t be the same. People have moved on and moved away. And it may mean giving up my relationship, too. Moving to LA has also been an option. In addition to my boyfriend, one of my best friends (Luke), my uncle, and a few other friends are living there. However, because of the cost to relocate so far away, it’d have to be a fairly long term move, and that’s a lot of pressure to put on a new relationship. I’m willing to make a go of it, but he’s not quite ready.

So, what? Where do I go from here? Where is home? Why isn’t there a place that just feels right?

I feel like I don’t belong anywhere. I need direction. Soon.

it tastes like rootbeer

I realize I haven’t posted any updates here in quite some time, but things in my life have just been so dramatic and rocky over the past few weeks that this blog hasn’t been a priority. And quite honestly, it still isn’t. So I’m just going to fill some space with something strange.

For breakfast today I had a cup of strawberry banana yogurt that had a distinct rootbeer-y taste. I thought it odd but chalked it up to extreme lack of sleep. Strawberry banana rootbeer yogurt. Whatever. Okay.

Fast forward. At lunch, I dove into a plate of orange chicken and fried rice only to discover that it too tasted like rootbeer. Um, what? I don’t have even have rootbeer in the house. I very rarely do. I probably haven’t had a sip of rootbeer in months.

Later this evening I started packing a lunch for tomorrow and just as I was putting some cantaloupe into a tupperware I was struck by a familiar smell: rootbeer. I tasted a piece and of course, it tasted like rootbeer. Rootbeer cantaloupe far surpassed the strawberry banana rootbeer yogurt and the rootbeer-y Chinese food on the grossness scale and I quickly found myself vomiting up all these strange foods.

I realize this might be the most random, pointless blog of all time, but really this is starting to weird me out.

ahava

Anyone who knows me well knows that I’m very passionate about taking chances and not holding back when it comes to relationships. I always take the leap of faith required to experience love.

And yes, it hurts.

I’ve been cheated on, lied to, abandoned, fallen out of love with, and so on. But still I forge ahead each time, always choosing to open up again, trust again, give again. I invest a lot in hopes that my partner will invest equally and we’ll both experience the ultimate rewards that can come from that.

I once read that the Hebrew word for love is “ahava,” and that its root word means to give. That is, to love is to make a constant choice to give of yourself to another. To give partially, to hold back because you’ve been hurt in the past… it simply doesn’t make sense to me. To experience real love requires absolute vulnerability, risk-taking and selflessness.

I’m still here, baby. Bags packed.

now that that’s all said & done

Yesterday was my kitty court date and I’m pleased to announce that I’m blogging from my cubicle and not a jail cell.

The whole ordeal took much longer than I anticipated because it was one of those situations where there’s a room full of people and the judge calls each case up one by one and listens to each plea. I got there early, but was still one of the last ones called. The only benefit to this was that I was able to hear everyone else’s business.

So there I sat for almost an hour in a cold brick room, with the thick stench of B.O. and Aquanet looming over. I squirmed around, trying to keep my arm from brushing against the tattooed bare arm of a hacking bald man on my right and trying to look non-conversational to the chatty elderly woman who didn’t recognize personal space and started each sentance with “I was on morphine, y’know, for medical reasons…” on my left. There I was in a room full of drunk drivers, harassers of policemen, and violators of restraining orders. And me. With my little pink citation reading “cat at large.”

When my name was finally called, the judge actually chuckled as he read my charge, saying that they “don’t see a lot of these.” He kindly informed me that I could plead guilty and thereby accept the minimum fine or plead not guilty and receive a trial date. I plead guilty, of course.  The fine was $135 (plus the initial Shelter fee of $65). I was given a larger pink piece of paper, acknowledging my presence in court and the penalty I was given, and I scurried out the door. That’s one place I’d never like to go again!

And Jinx? She may never again see the light of day.