I miss everything about you

Quoting Colbie Caillat goes against most everything I believe in; however, there is a time and a place to compromise my assumptions on right and wrong: to bend the rules in the oh so delicate manner that I do. Turns out, I enjoy more Colbie than not... she may know a thing or two that my rigid values will not typically allow.

...

she said she loved it once today.

"I'll sing you a song, I'll light a candle"

He yelled from the front of a bar lining sixth street in Austin. Jessica couldn't find her wallet so we were not able to make the mistake of staying out too late before running a half marathon.  We did stay out until about 11.  I was falling asleep while driving to our hotel. A nice little room overlooking a lake in the outskirts of Austin. We woke the next morning and dined; looking out over the lake toward a gloomy, raining morning, very Seattle- esque. Without fail, we would arrive late to the race after being misguided by our telephone GPS. We actually saw all of our fellow runners going the opposite direction as we drove to the starting area.

The course had more hills than expected. They were in excess of the amount alluded to by knowledgeable runners. I wanted to quit and do the 10K instead but, fortunately, Jess did not give me that option. I'll have to remember to thank her for that (once more) in the future one day.  We walked the middle portion of the race. The last two miles were a swift pace and difficult to complete. I suppose I should be impressed by the things that a person is capable of, when failure is not an option. I wanted to fail, I even wanted to stop during the LAST two miles. We did not stop. I can be proud of that.

I thought I was going to fail out of school that week. I failed radiology hard. It was not a dramatic fail, characterized by not reaching my expectations. It was an actual, take your breathe away, fail requiring completion of the paperwork associated with failing. Somehow, something happened that allowed me to pass the second exam. I may believe it was due to fairies or something equally ridiculous. I was so convinced that my dreams had expired. I was so convinced that I had actually started thinking about where they (the CG) would station me and what I would do next. I questioned if I could find myself happy. Could I be happy working in prevention or if I would try to get a response gig? I considered if I could rent my friend's house up in the Suex. Fortunately, to date, I do not have to answer these hypotheticals.

Advice

My facial wash says, "we came into this world with all the right instincts. Full of joy, excitement and a sense of wonderment."

My hair paste says, "apply a small amount to damp or dry hair with fingertips."

My shoes say, "simple. shoes for a happy planet."

Everywhere, there is both inspiration and instruction. I find that it can be a little overwhelming. The best advice I was ever given shocked my world. It was, "you cannot change them based on what you do."
I have agreed and disagreed with this advice.

It took me months to discover that regardless of how much I loved her, it would not make her love me back. It has taken me weeks to figure out, that even though I want it to be one way, others want it a different way.  I think the only way to make sure that what you are doing will influence others is to tell them what and why you are doing what it is that you are doing. Maybe this will help, maybe, even with the knowledge of your intentions, it stay the same.

She says she is good for me and that I am good for her. She says that I need someone to fuck up my life and my car every so often. If I had a dollar for every car she has messed up, then I would have more dollars than I have now.

Different she says she will keep her non-working hours free minus the hours spent celebrating a 15 year old boys birthday. It was in response to me keeping my non-studying hours free.

Still, another she doesn't say anything at all. Is it because I have not said anything first? who knows?

Another New Years in Seattle

Polar run and plunge is scheduled.

Plus, meeting up with all of my good friends, I cannot wait :)

tick tock

I used to hug my first girlfriend and tell her that I would only get better with time, that our love would only get better with time.  It did not exactly need improvement but I believe in a continuous process of improving.

At 25, and after a couple of recent debacles, I feel it is once again time to look back and see if I actually am better.  And the answer is yes, definitely better.

Just another love song

I know that I am supposed to write about love and growing up. I know that is the intent of and the expectation for this blog. I think though, that sometimes, love is that subtle thing that builds within a person until bursting into reality.

Sometimes, love is not about timing. Sometimes, love is not about forgiveness and sometimes love is not the belief inside every teenager of one chance at something real.  Sometimes, love is about sending gluten-free waffles to India and telling all of your friends that it is "what a real friend would do." And sometimes, love is sending a silly text message to break the proverbial ice, then getting your heartbroken when you do not receive a reply.

What remains about love is that it is always about yourself first, because lets face it, after a pint of ben and jerrys or a little too much halloween candy... the only one who is really going to want to lay next to you is either yourself, or that one person in your life.  The one that held your hand as you both climbed a mountain (proverbial or actual) and yelled from the top, for the first time, I do, love you.

Dexter Angles

Tonight, my buddies and I watched the latest (past sunday's) edition of Dexter. We generally wait until our tests are over until we watch the new episode, so, if we have a test on Monday morning then we cannot watch it live on Sunday evening.

Somehow, our first awareness of sex came about and I confessed that although I understood sex at a relatively early age, around 12, that the angle of intercourse was very confusing to me. I struggled as an adolescent female to understand the interpretation of the "angle of intercourse".  This was primarily due to a straight out angle depicted in cartoons (southpark, etc) versus the "tucked under the belt" concealing version of the male penis that I discovered in high school... okay, okay, my first year in college.

EITHER WAY! that angle was mad confusing.  How far we have come. Oh, and Dexter, amazing.  My friends, more than amazing. A great group, more than I had expected and even more than I would have hoped for.  I consider myself lucky as I move forward. Hoping for a new years in seattle.

xoxo,
until next time!
you're favorite chatty wino :)

Flash forward

Seldom in life are you able to see a potential future through others. Or, perhaps we see our future selves constantly and are unable to see the things that we envy or those that infuriate us could be the future us.

Often, I put up walls when I meet people for the first time. It is almost as if I want to be liked so much that I have to put on a fake mask of exaggerated characteristics. That mask is called ass-hole-ish-ness. It is unintentional but results in me appearing, during that critical first impression, as conceited,  angry, righteous, among other undesirable descriptors.

The other day, I went on a meetup with a new friend. She made a horrible first impression. She was absent, self-absorbed, conceited yet interested in getting together. I am sure that her perfectly laid plan of grabbing coffee with the option to continue to karaoke at a local gay bar was among the best options for an initial greeting-- there was no pressure to continue to make conversation and to click.  There was also so little time between her fielding calls from friends/ angry ex-girlfriends that I barely felt like we really even met. I wonder how her mind is warping the other night today. Has there been a transformation of the conversation into something more intimate than what transpired? Or were my otherwise funny comments now interpreted as immature? Truly, it does not matter outside of me wanting to know how she warped into who she is so that I can ensure that I warp into something different than her.

I had hoped that we would be good new friends. I felt like there would be so much to learn from her and her experiences in the 16 years she has as my senior. Unfortunately, I learned it all in about 30 minutes. I guess it is too true what Hallie used to tell me... the walls have to come down.

*disclaimer: (usually disclaimers should never be used because you know that you are about to say something that you shouldn't) I am not intending in any way to be mean.

Thank you, angry, self-absorbed lady, you have given me more than I had hoped for... reason to be nicer and not so serious.

It seems like there is little to say lately. 


I really need to pick a thesis topic so that I can complete my 10 page submission by November 1st. I had high aspirations. I had high hopes. I wanted to do something so remarkable, insightful and interesting but everything I picked seemed to flop. My latest potential topic, out of desperation, involves a comparison of colon cancer treatments. I have a thing for booties so I hope this one sticks. 


My worries are bigger than the thesis paper. I feel a sense of my youth fading. A lost of the idea that there is still time to change/ make an impact. A 41 year old is hitting on me. She tells me not to worry about her age and I haven't. I hope we can be friends, there is so much that she knows now that I have not figured out yet. 


Otherwise, I keep thinking about timing, confident that in time, it will work itself out. 


A father and a son just rolled passed on a tandem bicycle. The boy was not holding onto the handlebars but he was in the position to let-go. 

Old School

Regardless of the environment or task there will always be both old school and new school. Regarding the Coast Guard, old school is the day before you joined and new school is the day after you joined.

Today, Mr. C lecturing without gloves and touching a cadaver with his bare hands while explaining the etiology of a simple pneumothorax was most definitely old school. He wipe the end of his nose and then touch the specimen again... an action that horrified me. Would I touch a dead person's lung without gloves? no. Would I touch a living person's lung without gloves? no. I am new school and happy for it. In the same breath, thank you for you crusty, old, old-schoolers, without your adventure and ingenuity... we would not know about communicable diseases and the need for gloves (amongst other things), thank you.

A Brief Period

I have thought and felt many things for a brief period of time-- happiness, sadness, laughter, love, pride, etc.

I thought I could be an artist for a while and I suppose in many ways, I still want to feel that way. I love to draw and have even at times thought that I was good at it. I have a favorite poet and author but I assume that is not enough to be a true artist.

Often I have felt that things would change in an allotted period of time, as if it were a time issue and not that my priorities were maladjusted at the time that I couldn't find time to do the things that I would do if I had had time at that time. I think the sixth time was an overuse but I wanted to squeeze another into that last ramble.

Today, as with many other days before, I pledge to make time for the things that I want and need to do now, today. 

Houston Astros

I went with Jay to the Astros game the Friday before semester break. We spent a couple joyous hours driving to Houston joking about the endless fields, flat land, poor radio stations and brief thoughts of falling off the edge of the world once we left town.

I cheered for the SF Giants. They lost. Unbelievable.

I refused to sing the Texan pride song which immediately following the 7th inning stretch and actually lasted an out or two into the game. Oh, Texas....

The Debt.

Going to see the debt tonight with Jessica from class.  We learned a little bit about medical research in different classes-- medical history, medical ethics and medical law. 


I hope the film is good. 

Line.

There is not a book that tells you when to stop. When to tap out and leave the game, whatever game that may be. In some ways, we search our whole lives attempting to figure out which battles to fight, which hills to die on, and when to turn the other cheek.

Many poets, songwriters and lovers tell endless stories about the struggle between the 'heart' and the mind. Many lives were lived focusing on satisfying one over the other. Romeo, Juliet, Hitler, Spartans and Martin Luther King, Jr. But where was the line that they found... where is that spot in the sand... when was the moment that they decided they needed to stop? and why?

I think it is possible to spend your entire life loving somebody who does not even know you exist-- hello, have you ever heard a country song?!

Seriously though... where is that line? How many times can a person be shrugged off before they stop attempting to be a friend?

Playing 2nd

It felt oddly familiar, like the smell of your mother's perfume coming from a stranger on the bus. Sure, I was not the best second-baseman who ever took the field but I made a couple of safe plays and was proud of our first victory this season. There is something to be said about remaining classy when given the opportunity to exploit a situation. In general, the ability to refrain from exploiting others distinguishes good and evil. On the softball field, it separates fun and misery.

I appreciate the other team for their ability to remain classy while we were down players. Sure, in the end, a little exploitation, a couple extra stolen bases when playing against a team with a limp, would have flipped the score and they could have walked away with the better record, but instead they walked away with pride.

After all, softball really is not all that important... especially when playing in the super social league during 105 degree heat.

ADORABLE

http://new.music.yahoo.com/blogs/ourcountry/94411/taylor-swift-captivates-crowd-with-eminem-cover

3rd Base

It was not the third base that every high school boy brags to his friends about arriving to on a Friday night. It is a position on the baseball diamond and my most feared position on that field. I have a healthy fear of line dives, broken teeth and a discomfort for the left line of white chalk.

I did alright, not exactly well but satisfactory nonetheless. It felt like every ball was hit to my side. Admittedly, my nerves allowed a few more to get pass than my skill level would have allowed. A couple of practices may have helped but there is nothing like the rush of being tossed into the deep end without ever having swam before. I liked the responsibility, the effort that was needed to push the ball over to first, and the comfort of the closeness to home plate.

We lost. We have lost all games. In many ways, I am good at losing—able to appreciate the successes that we did have and supporting the concept of a developmental season. The funny thing about leadership is and will always be, the many different leadership styles.

Is it still raining everywhere you are?

Pouring tragedy and flooding your days? Overwhelming your thoughts and clouding judgement?

I hope it bends before it breaks.

Dog days

He wakes me up every morning at 630 without fail, keeping me responsible and ensuring a headache (and necessitating an afternoon nap) if I stay out too late. This morning he was pushing a toy into my face, wagging his tail with excitement, reminding me that happiness is the excitement of a new day full of play.

We take a long walk, showing him off to my hood and pursuing morning coffee along the way. A woman asks, does he bite and I say, no, he kisses. Then he goes for her face. My dad calls him my best friend in Texas and it is true.

Studying with the snowman

He says it takes a village and there was no exception with him. His village is my family. He has been immersed in a culture that my occupation prevents me from being able to fully enter. I have my moments, my membership to different clubs and participation in different leagues of play but nothing like 25 years of being raised by a village.

He does not know it, or perhaps he is more aware than I give him credit for, but that village created a wonderful man. A guy who listens. Yes, a low threshold but most women have low expectations of men. Plus, he wears silly shorts and I sorta like that.

I find it comical that the man from a village does not recognize a woman with a specialized village community of her own. Queer it is, indeed.

Lamesauce

1st semester, week 8.

Two lost, perhaps more. Monday will solidify the numbers. At least it will be 4 more weeks until another review board. Then we will see a larger hit, we will have people recycled into the incoming class and still others will be sent home.

Sure, if I can swing it

I swing into the future, into the past. My life is a pendulum: rocking, soothing, ups and downs. I hoped that you could swing it my way. It was a gravitation and as innocent as that can be, perhaps it meant as much as I feel it does.

You accused me of being a smooth talker. I only spoke the truth. Admittedly, I wish I could spit game like I did then but unfortunately; it was raw truth stifled by circumstance.

You painted your signature on my back, relieved and satisfied standing above me. A texture uncommon to me, a fleeting experience. Forced into accepting weakness, a position not familiar, a desired intercourse. Communication always leads to this, manipulation of fear, strategic force, accepting weakness, successful interaction.

Humpty dumpty

How many times? How many times must I put Humpty Dumpty back together again? A broken conversation interspersed with tears falling from rounded cheekbones, tears cried once more. How do you tell Humpty that sometimes, it is not worth the fall? How do you tell Humpty not to jump instead of fall? How?

I was humpty over Humpty years ago. I let that go, I forgot how to leap into being humpty and how to take that fall. Instead, I soared openly into someone new but that didn't work either.

To stop Humpty from jumping; leaping down into the tears, into sadness, into confusion, I am asked to explain how I stopped being humpty over humpty. How do you explain to the vulnerable that you have to love to get past (the wrong) love? Is it possible to explore your biggest mistakes without having it hurt? When does the pain of remembering outweigh the positive of helping others? It wasn’t challenging to say no to the showers, it is harder to resist the cries for help, those echoes that should be in the past. How many times should one autopsy your fatal flaws for the benefit of Humpty?

5 month old Ayden brushing his teeth, wha?

Ayden is now a 5 month old puppy and we have certainly reached the "terrible twos" of puppyhood. Everything that we mastered in the last 3 months has been thrown out the window and we are relearning it all. Fortunately, he has always been a good pup and VERY responsive to treats and cuddles.

I sat on my patio watching Ayden play in the yard and it finally hit me (literally 3 months later)... this is my life. I live in Texas now and I have no idea how I got here, where I will go next, or where I will go after that. Somehow, I need to be okay with that. In some ways, it finally felt okay to be alone. At least I know that I can depend on myself, after all, who else have I ever depended on?

A song came on pandora entitled, "this is not your year," and I thought of many people. I did not think of myself though. Progress.

Who am I now?

You said you did not know yet who I was, meaning which role I would take in your life: a friend, a good friend, a lover.

Who am I now?

Can't Go Back Now

Copy and paste the following link into your browser, then read below. (I apologize for not knowing how to upload the video from a website)

http://youtu.be/6JscAwVu2QI

If the most important steps are the ones that we take alone then this step is my most important and I fully believe that. I often feel that every step that I have taken has been alone but that is a skewed belief. I have always had support, just not the support that I wanted or the support that I would have given. I have done my best to understand that it is impossible and improbable for a person to love someone for the things that they are not. Somewhat unfortunate is the truth that one must love others for the people they are, however temporary or permanent these traits may be. Supposedly, you cannot change others, most specifically the ones that you love. Heaven knows that I have tried. Sometimes, you cannot transform into the person that someone else wants to love. It may take a lifetime to find the perfect balance between two types of crazy.

My dad is a hard man to love. It takes more effort than it should. I am much the same.

My mom is a hard woman to understand. I share her disposition but I want her to be able to escape the melancholy that I have accepted defines me. I want her to escape the isolation that characterizes my existence. I presume she wants the same for me and these projections, love and want for something more for the other is the fatal flaw of our relationship.

In the end, you cannot go back now.

well, the old man just blew me a kiss

Today is the last day that I am able to enjoy the youth of 24. Tomorrow, I welcome the end of underage driving fees while renting vehicles and the comfort of being a mid-twenties, single female.

An otherwise successful, not self-proclaimed but by societal norms, young woman; my largest failure is being single. The highest value in life is love. The ability to decrease the inherent loneliness known to man. The belief that one person truly understands, respects, and supports your interests (individual and as a couple) above all else. Call me a romantic and I will say yes, an unsuccessful romantic.

One could chalk it up to timing. Admittedly, I grew tired and annoyed by the stagnation. I became childish and demanded attention through ridiculous statements and ideas. I wanted attention and reassurance, perhaps a deeper connection which was not mutually desired. I wanted to hold a hand that was already being held, or at a minimum was supposed to be held by another.

I was not mean though, just self loathing and incapable of accepting that I may have produced something better than I perceived it. Regardless of the quality, the action was genuine and the intent sincere. I wanted, above all, to show how love is supposed to be and how lovers should act.

There was a gravitation, an unexplained attraction. Improbable and relentless. If it were someone else, and not me, then I may even say it was wrong. If I could take it back then I wouldn't. A voice so comforting, a void not yet replaced. I hope that in the next year, I will be able to understand why it turned so sour. Maybe I will discover an explanation not given.

Week Complete

This is my life... I go to class and attempt to pay attention and attempt to stay awake... kudos Army for having a Starbucks in the medical building... not so many accolades for your food options.

The fun starts this week with our first biochemistry exam on Friday morning... then the testing begins at a rate of 1-3 a week.

I am not scared. Maybe I should be scared but I am not. I was asked this weekend if I have emotionally prepared for the possibility of failing out of school... no, I have not. I cannot fail out of school... well, obviously it is a possibility as 15 failed out of the last class, but it is not an option for me because there is no reasonable alternative. So here I am, studying with the handsome Ayden... every night without fail. This is my road. I have taken it. I look forward to the stops along the path on my way into the future.

Last Sunday

Dubbed our last chance at freedom, it withers away. The last day to try to compensate to those who we will not be able to spend enough time or effort on for the impending future. Last seems so final bc it is.

There is a concept quality over quantity. Most Americans disagree. Most people disagree. Many lust for more and then more on top of the already acquired surplus. I say nay.

I have one follower. I appreciate you :) and I miss you very much. I say this sole follower is sufficient and I do not lust for more.

I am struggling to find 500 words to adequately describe the past, present and future of a classmate. The assignment is due tomorrow. I will need to find the unoriginal words to describe an individual and unique journey that only one person would not trade for the whole. It is my own struggle to find the words and to accept that this is my last day, my last chance to put it off until I "feel" like doing it.

Now is the time to do what I have wanted to do for years, yet I cannot find the motivation. I am scared of failure... I am sure that at one time, a wise man said not to be afraid and perhaps another wise man said that failure is the true success. I am not a wise man, but with work and time, one day I shall be. (obviously not a true man, but you get the point)

riverwalk on the edge of danger, SA

tonight, I decided to go out with two middle aged men who were complete strangers but shared an interest in the success, or impeding doom of the University of Arizona NCAA Men's Basketball tournament... The issue with tonight was not with these two respectful men from Kansas City, Missouri, but with three enlisted? officer? female students at Fort Sam Houston who felt the need to publicly grope, make-out and otherwise make others feel like they were witnessing the introductory scenes of a porn flick while trying to have a good time at a public bar downtown... these girls stated that they were in 'such a stressful environment that they need a release,' and so naturally... I asked for more details... turns out that they were in SCHOOL to become combat medics, no not actual medics but in school... guess what buttercup, if school is so stressful that you need to diminish your self respect and perpetuate the heteronormative stereotypes of women as a sexual object... then go right ahead... let me know how the real combat medic gig works out and I will stay back here fending off all the chumps who think that it is okay to treat me as a sex object as you have let men publicly treat you... you may be serving our country chicka, but I am serving womankind... which is a greater cause? I challenge...

Morning in San Antonio

I spent the beginning of my first morning in the small pool on the 6th floor of my amazingly luxurious hotel. The view of downtown filled with a comforting morning dew/ mist reminded me of the wet in Seattle. I thought to myself, this is something that I could not do in Seattle: point 1 for SA.

I find myself at a queer coffee shop, queer in the strange definition, not the sexuality. Greeted by a sign posted on the front of the restroom, "Worship at the Foundry," I want to run... instead, I chucked to myself and order the first $1 cup of coffee I think I have ever had. It is not bad. It is not great. I feel like I am surrounded by a couple of gay guys which is comforting but then there is an overwhelming sense of 'doing unto others' which is gagging me as I attempt to sign onto the internet with a password of friendship. Perhaps it is endearing and I am just being angry, an emotion that I resort to when I am alone and a little scared.

Today is day one of apartment shopping which is getting progressively more difficult as I have just adopted a puppy who may be pit. I have already been advised three times to have him 'pass' as a lab. Passing was Rolls Royce's favorite novella and her pups namesake. I still wonder how I could have let that situation get the best of me.

Forward march towards a new home.

Return to Tucson

I sit with a swollen head, weak from the night before, and I realize that I was supposed to have given this gig up a long time ago. I have made promises to so many of my friends that I would not let this happen again. It is the last time... this time is the last time.

Vegas was full of learning experiences and take-away lessons. I want to return when I am thirty and partake in the March Madness once again. The shows surpassed my expectations, the food did not.

Sometimes, New Years is when people decide to reflect. I have chosen today to decide upon the improved image of myself which will slowly evolve over the next year. Progress is coming.