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Another Month Later

Happy June, bloglings!

Well, now that I’ve officially made some of those big, scary life changes I vaguely referred to in my last post, and now that I have a week off and time to spare, I can finally write about things more clearly.

In short, things with my job were going south. I was working in a very career driven company, and I’m not a hugely career driven person – my mom, who has done everything from nursing to bookselling to PR has been my role model for that. On top of that, all the career discussions made me realize that the career path the company was offering just wasn’t the right fit for me. So, I decided to move on. I applied for a whopping TWO positions, somehow got in-person interviews for both, and after some trials and turmoil finally got an offer – an amazing offer – from one of those companies. I will be working at the same pharmaceutical company where my roommate works (carpool!), where I’ll be compiling clinical study reports and editing them. LOTS of editing. And while I realize this sounds awful to a lot of other people, it’s right up my alley. My happy place is imagining myself sitting crosslegged in an office of my own, editing huge manuscripts while Bob Marley plays in the background. And now I’ll get to do just that.

In hindsight, and written in one paragraph, the transition sounds easy, but it WAS actually big and scary. I’m still pretty newly on my own in the ‘real world,’ and I was really blessed to find a great job, a great roommate, and a great relationship. Then, suddenly, my job wasn’t great, my relationship wasn’t great, and even roomie and I had some rough patches. It felt like everything was going to crumble. Thankfully, things are all coming together again. I start the new gig on Monday, roomie and I are fantastic again, and Trouble – after TWO MONTHS – finally deigned to send a text my way.

So what am I doing with my week off? Not much. That’s my goal. I had considered planning a trip to San Francisco or some other place, but I realized that I needed time to just unwind and relax. I used to be able to do that, and now it’s surprisingly difficult to feel like I don’t need to accomplish 80 things every day. Today, I’m accomplishing writing on my blog, but I’m sitting on my deck with a huge iced coffee and a cat on my lap while I write. I could get used to this.

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One Month Later

It’s been a month since my last post, and I’ve been making some big, kind of scary life changes. Back in September, I made my leap into the “real world,” and since then I realized that there were aspects of my new life that just weren’t right for me. I’ve always been concerned with making others happy, to the point of becoming a bit of a doormat, and I’m finally realizing that I need to make my own happiness a priority.

That being said, Trouble is out of the picture. I suspected we weren’t going anywhere, I suspected I wasn’t the only girl in the picture, and I suspected correctly. Eventually, he blew up over the most tiny, insignificant non-argument possible, so I made the call and decided we were done. Sadly, we haven’t spoken since then – a few weeks, at this point – when we absolutely could have salvaged this and turned it into a friendship.

Meanwhile, I’ve been hanging out with Greg. It’s nothing official, and I wouldn’t even say that we’re dating. We’re just hanging out and having fun. He’s communicative, pretty reliable, and completely outrageous, and he’s a “say what you mean and mean what you say” sort of guy, so regardless of what our association with each other is, I like having him around.

I hate this post already, so I’m ending it here right now. It feels too dreary. I’m in a weird transitional phase as I’m making my changes, but things are looking up. I’ll post again when things are a little more settled and I have some solid, good news. Deal? Deal.

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A Little Epiphany

I’m horrified. It’s been almost three months since I last posted. This blog – along with another, more specific one that I’ve been meaning to start – are among many, many things that have gone neglected during the past few months, as I’ve gotten more and more busy and drained.

Let me sum up what’s happened since late January. I’m still dating Trouble – I’ve met his family, and he’s met mine. I’ve still been hitting the town and exploring Boston’s nightlife. I had my first series of panic attacks, which led to my first Xanax prescription and is also leading to my first appointment with a shrink.

I just got back from a long weekend in the Fingerlakes – a girls’ wine weekend with Steph and my sister – and I had a little epiphany while I was out there. The towns out there are SO tiny. We stayed in Hammondsport, which has a town square… and that’s about it. There’s one restaurant where everyone seems to eat every day. There’s one pub. There’s one place we found that served breakfast. Everyone knows everyone. I get freaked out by tiny towns like that. After talking to one of the guys who lives there and works at a nearby winery though, I realized there’s something appealing about the small town mentality. I’m not saying I’ll ever live in a place like that – unless I’m spending some time in a quiet place to, say, write my debut novel – but as he talked about spending his days drinking wine and talking to customers in the winery, spending the evening in the restaurant and pub with his friends, walking back to his house, and waking up the next day happy to be doing the same thing…. that sounds pretty good, doesn’t it? I didn’t understand the appeal of the slower-paced lifestyle before, but I’m understanding it more and more.

I’ve been really, really busy. There are some things I desperately need to get around to. There are friends I’ve neglected and need to call. I feel awful about it. I need to adjust my priorities and make some changes in my life. And, if I ever get a spare moment, I’ll be sure to keep you posted.

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Beautiful Dirty Rich

I’ve known my friend Joel since I was born. We rarely see each other, though, because we’ve lived in different states for most of our lives. Now that we’ve both moved, we live a measly 45 minutes apart… in fact, right now, he and his friends are out at a bar that’s only about 15 minutes away.

I feel really bad that I’m not at the bar and likely won’t go there tonight, because Joel puts effort into inviting me places and I do want to hang out with him. But I’ve also been looking at the clock for the past two hours, wondering when it will be a reasonable time for me to go to sleep. Another clue – I have a glass of water, a glass of chocolate soy milk, and a glass of OJ next to me. Exhausted and dehydrated. What does that mean?

It means I had a pretty fantastic Friday night.

At 9 PM last night, I hopped in my car, put a ton of faith in my GPS, and drove downtown to pick up Trouble. I’ve never driven downtown. I’ve been told all my life how horrible it is to drive in this city and how unpredictable the drivers are. Add to that the fact that my GPS gets lost and confused when surrounded by skyscrapers, and I’m pretty terrified of the whole idea. Last night, I finally told myself to get over it. I survived the drive. I would say that I was cool as a cucumber as I coasted through the city, but Trouble had to prevent me from missing turns and running red lights on more than one occasion, so my nerves may have played just a teeny tiny role. We parked in a garage that Roomie has free access to, and we hopped on the T for one stop to get to Bar #1.

We went to the Middle East, a grungy hipster bar in a drunk-homeless-paradise section of the city, where we met up with Roomie and our friend AJ, listened to a couple of awesome local bands, and drank a lot of Stoli (Did I mention that Roomie relieved me of DD duty for the night? Reason #59 that she’s fab.). I took Trouble’s coat from coat check and thought it was mine despite our significant size difference, and then sang Lady Gaga during the whole car ride to Bar #2, so it was a very good thing that I wasn’t the DD. From there, we went back downtown to go to Foundation Lounge, where we listened to our friend DJ and somehow ended up drinking a bottle of champagne. Here’s where I can add another drunk accomplishment to my list – I cried. As I stood at the bar, Trouble and AJ went off for a dude-talk, and Roomie flat out disappeared. For 20 minutes. I wandered around looking for them, I sent some desperate text messages, and the boys finally returned. Still no sign of Roomie. After scouring the entire bar and trying to call her many times, we were getting really worried. So Trouble hugged me as I freaked out, imagining Roomie being abducted and held hostage or something equally dramatic and unlikely. I may have wiped away a few dainty tears. So yes, I drunk cried. Roomie eventually came back, seeming pretty confused as to why we would have been so worried. We left the bar and called it a night…

…until Trouble heard word of a friend’s house party. Roomie headed home, while Trouble and I rode in AJ’s car to the party. It was pretty dead, so the only part worth talking about was our attempt to leave the party and find AJ’s car. We had parked several blocks down the street from the party, and as AJ led the way to his car, I kept saying, “Aren’t we walking in the wrong direction?” Yes, yes we were. But it took AJ an awfully long time to admit it. He left Trouble and me sitting on a random door stoop as he sprinted down the street in search of the car. No luck. We ended up hopping in a taxi, where the confused driver agreed to drive down the full length of the street in search of the car. As it turned out, AJ had stopped sprinting about half a block too soon. We paid our $5 cab fare, hopped in AJ’s car, and came back to my apartment.

After the boys funneled a few more beers, we made sure AJ was all set with pillows and blankets so he could crash on the couch. That’s when we realized we had a slight bathroom dilemma. See, in my apartment, Roomie and I each have our own bathrooms, and they can only be accessed by walking through our bedrooms. Roomie was fast asleep, and I didn’t want AJ randomly walking through her room during the night. Trouble has been crashing in my room (figure it out so I don’t have to say it), which meant that AJ walking through my room during the night could be awkward as well. Thankfully, AJ didn’t need the bathroom during the night – problem solved. Either that or he pissed off of our balcony, which is entirely possible and which we don’t really need to know.

Trouble and I passed out around 6 AM. I woke up at 10 AM, in my sunny, curiously chilly room – I discovered one of us had opened the window during the night. Brrr. Don’t you love waking up to mysteries like that? I couldn’t get back to sleep, which left me with a whopping 4 hours of sleep. Everyone else managed to sleep past noon, despite my best, most obnoxious efforts.

Friday afternoon, Roomie had struck a deal with me: If I bought beer for the boys to drink at our apartment, she would make a huge, amazing breakfast for Trouble and me. That’s the sort of girls we are – we maintain our beer supply, and we make food for each other’s “sleepover friends.” So, around noon on Saturday, I finally got Trouble to wake up with the promise of a breakfast buffet. He stumbled out into the kitchen, where I heard an “I don’t see any waffles!” and a “Dude, put some clothes on” (Trouble and Roomie, respectively). No breakfast?! Nope. Aside from the fact that everyone had overslept, Roomie was missing some key breakfast ingredients. So tomorrow morning, Roomie and I will make and eat an amazing breakfast, and the boys will miss out. Tough luck.

I feel like a little fill-in-the-blanks update on Trouble is in order. We’ve been dating, I suppose you could say, and he’s pleasantly surprised me. He also seriously caught me off guard by inviting me, during Date #4, to go to Colorado with him in March. He has that adventurous spontaneity that a certain British ex of mine was so well known for, and that I haven’t been able to find in many people since. I’m considering going on the trip (What do I have to lose?)… but not responding yet. And yes, despite pleasantly surprising me, he is still being called Trouble until he proves otherwise.

Time to catch up on sleep – which means no bars for me tonight. Sorry, Joel. I’m an exhausted, dehydrated jerk.

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SADs and Confused

The SADs are back, my friends. On Saturday, I woke up at noon (I was up until 5:30 am – more on that in a bit) and by the time I finished eating “breakfast,” the sun was already slowly going down… which made me REALLY upset. I sat outside in the cold just to soak up what little sun was left. I moped through the evening, finished off Season 1 of Dexter (so good), and vowed to get up at the crack of dawn the next morning. That didn’t happen. But speaking of Dexter… here’s the brilliant opening credits:

There are people commenting that the ham steak scene makes them hungry. NO, PEOPLE. The ham steak bit makes me cringe every time.

I needed a quiet weekend to rest and regroup, which I did, to some extent. I got over the flu within a week, but that took a lot out of me. If I had my way, I would have been hitting up the gym and out on the town this weekend, but I just didn’t have the energy. So, Friday night, when Trouble came calling, I made it pretty clear that I was spending the night alone. Cut to 2:30 in the morning, when my drunk dialing friend (remember him?) struck again… and kept me on the phone for three hours.

Now, this friend of mine and I have our situation pretty well figured out, and we’ve become comfortable with it. We’re friends who hook up when we’re drunk, and he occasionally drunk dials me. We say and do things that would be pretty embarassing if we didn’t have a relationship where we can forgive and laugh off anything the other person does. Here’s the tricky part, though – he blacks out, while I remember almost everything, so I have to call him up the next day and remind him of what was said or done. And lately, there’s something I’ve been leaving out of those recaps.

At New Year’s, Drunk Dialer and I hooked up again, but instead of laughing about it as we called it a night, he started pouring his heart out and talking about the possibility of a real relationship. He went into details that made it clear he had spent a lot of time thinking things through. I tried to shrug it off, and the next day, when he listed off what he remembered and didn’t mention the relationship spiel (he usually doesn’t remember conversations), I decided to just let it slide and not mention it.

Cut to Friday night’s drunk dial. The majority of the call was your typical drunk dial – I don’t need to elaborate, do I? – and then, just as I was thinking the relationship spiel was just fluke, he busts out with all of the reasons why we’d make a great couple.

I hate admitting this, so I’m only going to admit it once: it’s getting to me. I spent the first half of 2009 talking myself out of liking this guy, under the assumption that he wasn’t interested in anything more than friendship. When he started listing reasons we’d make a good couple, he was telling me things I had thought plenty of times in the past. On top of that, there are some logistics that would prevent us from having a good, healthy relationship right now. Part of me wants to have a conversation – a sober one – with him about this, but a bigger part of me thinks its best to push everything he said about a relationship into some dusty corner of my brain and keep going as if it never happened.

I don’t know, bloglings. Give me some words of wisdom.

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Here piggy piggy piggy

Guess what, chickadees? I have the flu. But no, it’s not actually the swine flu, as far as I know. Now, part of me wants to duck my head in shame and say ‘sorry’ for all those times I pooh-poohed the flu vaccine, but a bigger part of me is still standing firm on the fact that I’m young and healthy and my body should learn how to handle this on its own. Would the vaccine have saved me from feeling pretty crappy and missing a day of work? Possibly. But do I feel like I need to be bedridden in a hospital? No. In fact, I didn’t know I had the flu until I saw a list of flu symptoms on WebMD and said, “Oh look, I have the flu.”

So, we’re going to play a little game called How-Long-Til-Nyquil-Kicks-In. I took Nyquil at 10:05 PM. We’ll see how long I can type before I fall asleep. Or until I give up on the Nyquil ever knocking me out and make a call to the bullpen of my medicine cabinet.

A couple of quick updates:

  1. I might adopt a cat. Re needs a playmate to keep him company during the day, and I need to get started on becoming a crazy cat lady.
  2. There’s been a weird sort of something slowly brewing with a certain dude friend (who may or may not have been mentioned on this blog before) that reached a new level of Whoa over New Year’s. Too early to say what’s going to happen there.
  3. A friend of mine started this neat campaign to have one adventure for each week of 2010 and document it in some way. A lot of people have hopped on board, including me. The flu makes adventures a little tough, so I’m gunning for two next week. I may have to call on Trouble to take me out on the town.

Nyquil kind of sucks. Does this stuff actually knock anyone out?

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Let it Snow

H2Otown has turned into Snowtown:

Thankfully, Roomie and I were prepared to be snowed in. We’ve been spending the whole day cooking and eating, cooking and eating. I’ll be spending a lot of time in the next week or so ellipticaling and yogaing to make up for this.

Re is pissed.

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