So I haven't posted in here in almost a year. The thought crossed my mind the delete this, but I know how I am. I would regret the hell out of that decision and then want to write about how much of a mistake it was to delete my blog but have nowhere to write it, and the internal conflict would drive me insane. So instead of writing something long and wistful, lamenting my time away… I’m going to pretend like it never happened and get with the getting on.
In the last almost year lots of things have gone on. People were sick, people are sick. I’ve made some bonds with some amazing people that I can personally guarantee will never sever. I’m beginning to think I’ve inherited some doormatic (I invented that word) qualities from my mother. I tend to give everyone and everything and every situation I come across the benefit of the doubt time and time again. I think it makes me look like someone who doesn’t need emotional tending because I’m so involved in making sure whoever I’m involving myself gets to feel their feelings that my feelings get more than overlooked. How’s that for a run-on sentence? I will tend to other people and other things until my fingers are worn down to bloody nubs, all the while thinking I’m feeling this thing or that thing but keeping it to someone who isn’t even myself. What do I mean? I’ll explain. It’s like I don’t even let my feelings get bottled up because I don’t keep them anywhere near the empty bottles. It’s more like I’m thinking them into one of those astronaut training rooms, where there’s no gravity and things will bounce around for eternity if you don’t stop them. So instead of having that bottle that’s ever-filling for me to reference, I have this spastic chamber that bounces emotions off of me left and right, making it difficult for me to express what I’m feeling when I’m feeling it. I know, it’s epic. And it’s probably the most important thing you’ll ever read in the history (and future) of ever… so you may want to bookmark this entry now.
I celebrated my four year anniversary with Ryan not too long ago. That’s a long time for people our age, methinks. I don’t want to make some lame joke about how its 100yrs in gay years, so let’s let that mentioning of said joke be all of the exposure that it needs. I can’t imagine a functional relationship without ups and downs in it. When some people make claims that they are happy all of the time with their significant other I kind of want to coat their genitals in sugar and throw them into a room filled with fire ants, cockroaches, and fire ants with cockroaches strapped to their backs. While I’d never say something is the spice of life, it certainly does make for a life filled with stimulation and somethings. I don’t think I could ask for anything more than a boyfriend who fills my life with stimulation and somethings. In four years when we celebrate out 8yr (200th) anniversary, I want to reference this post and do something that involves fire ants.
I think the key to me making my blog (and maybe my life?) work and be something I update often is to not put so much pressure on myself the way I used to. I’d actually think when I was at work, or on the train, or standing around being amazing, that I had to think of something to write. I had to think of something to talk about. When really, I intend to use this as a place for me to vocalize with my fingertips what I can’t vocalize with my tongue. So maybe instead of beating myself up with imaginary baseball bats and tasers (side note: when did tasers become the new handgun/birth control/handshake? Was I out of the room when the entire planet decided tasers should be in vogue?) I’ll write about why I don’t have anything to say or why I don’t feel like updating. I can imagine if anybody is reading this right now they’re thinking “oh awesome, that sounds like a post I’d like to read. You’re so dumb I want to kick you until you’re dead”. Know that I would not appreciate that.
I really need to figure out how to get motivated and stay motivated when it comes to working out and exercise. I think I have an actual fear of cardio. I don’t like it when my body parts bounce up and down in rapid succession. It makes me feel like I’m going to jiggle a joint loose and my leg is going to pop off. It would be on the news and then I would be the laughing stock of all the people in all the land. I have a weight bench and I have a barbell and two dumbbells and maybe 150lbs worth of weights. The weight bench is currently propped up against the wall, filling in white space on said wall so I don’t have to fill that white space with artwork, and the weights are all stacked in an off-kilter column that LOOKS like artwork. Someone needs to show me how to re-prioritize and stick with it. There are very few things I do that I really want to do that I stick with. I remember when I crocheted myself a scarf two winters ago and I was convinced I was going to crochet an apartment-shaped cozy to cover my house in. What I actually ended up with was more along the lines of 1 and 1/8 scarves. I think the ONLY thing you can do with 1/8 of a scarf is to make a project out of unraveling it. I just have this idea in my head of reaching this idea of “better” with my body. I’m not crazily obsessed with some out of reach idea of perfection, and I’m not a half step away from being on "TRUE LIFE: My Biceps’ Biceps Have Triceps", but I would like to make my shoulders a bit more broad. Not only will I be unable to fit through doors, but it will also make my waist look TINY… so when I wear a one piece at the beach this summer everyone will be jealous of how svelte I look around the middle.
I can’t express how much it hurts to have your best friends basically turn their backs on you. And that is all I will say about that.
If I don’t stop here I’ll run out of things to say for the rest of the week. Plus my videogames won’t play themselves! I’d very much like this reintroduction to be a solid new beginning, so let this be the first step in a long line of next steps. I’m counting on me to pull through on this.
slick girls and sick boys.