midnight musings

I've known it for a month or so now.  I've fought it, denied it, repressed it, hated it, and ignored it.  But that's becoming harder and harder to do.

I can feel it within me, carving a place inside, making itself at home.  It makes me nauseous and tired, but I can't sleep.  It makes me angry, and it makes me ache.  Sometimes it feels like my entire insides are being consumed simultaneously, and I just want to crawl into a ball and give up on everything.

The denial comes back sometimes, and then I feel it rear up again, reminding me of its presence.  Sometimes it's down in my gut.  Sometimes it's in my chest, compressing my lungs and making it impossible to breathe.

I keep debating whether I should tell anyone, or if I should just see how it plays out.    It could just go away, after all.  Or so I've been deluding myself.  It could just fade into oblivion.  I could wake up one day and be all better.

I don't want it here.  I want it to just go away.  It'd be easier if I could just accept it, being content with the possible changes in my life, and move forward.  Move past it.  But I literally hate  it with every fiber of my being.  I'd do anything to just make it all go away and go back to how things were.  But I don't know how.

I don't want anything to change, but I'm terrified that if I tell you, it would.  I don't want you, or anyone, to treat me differently.  I hate the way this makes me feel.  If I could wish it away, I'd have done it back when I first found out.  I don't want anything to change.  I don't want the things I've talked about to become could-have-beens and impossibilities.  I don't want to have to abandon the things that make me me.  But I don't think it can just stay the same.  Not now.  Not anymore.  It kills me to say that.  But this is killing me anyway.

18.12.12  12:33 AM

Somehow, he's done it again.

I'm in kind of a bizarre headspace tonight, and I'm not entirely sure why.  Well, I have a couple ideas, but nothing I feel like writing about just yet.  My brain feels like it is simultaneously working on overdrive and not working at all.  I'm on the verge of crying, which means my temples are pounding, my throat feels constricted, and my eyes are unintentionally squinting.  You know exactly what I'm talking about if you've ever experienced it.  And I hope you haven't.  It's pretty miserable.

It all started when I was reading, and if you know anything about me at all, you know that there's only one author who pretty consistently inspires me to think and, consequently, write.  If you don't know who I'm talking about, shame on you.  His name is probably in the last 10 posts over a dozen times.   Anyway, he was describing how he had a girl in his life who he had probably loved in the past, and woud inevitably love in the future, and how they both still knew they would never be together.  And somehow, this got me thinking about my childhood home.

About six months ago, I was eyelid-deep in the hunt for a place to live in Milwaukee.  I was spending the better part of my days looking at listings, for weeks.  I started dreaming about browsing Craigslist and Hotpads, and would wake up disappointed that the perfect apartment I'd found was only in my head.  In all this research, I happened across a random website where you could look up property values.  For fun, I searched the house my parents used to live in - the one I refer to as my childhood home.  I found it, and saw that it was currently on the market.  The site was even kind enough to link to the listing, complete with a plethora of pictures of my house.  But it was not my house.  I was angered.

Sunday Morning Ruminations

You know, there are a lot of things that I don't understand in this world.  Racism, for one.  Sexism, homophobia, why our government can't get their shit together…all on the list.  There's one thing in particular, though, that is on my mind right now.  If you are doing something that makes you feel miserable - particularly, if it makes you feel bad about yourself - why do you continue to do it?

We've all been put in situations where we had to choose between the lesser of two evils, and we find a way to justify our decisions, to cope with the outcome.  But when you find yourself continually doing something that you feel bad about…something that you know is wrong and you are having problems coming to terms with it…stop doing it.  And for the love of God, if it involves lying to other people, that's just another reason to stop.  Lies beget lies, and add to confusion, frustration, distrust, and anger.  It's just a disaster waiting to blow up in your face.

I am writing from personal experience, indirectly.  The person who inspired this will know, but I'm not going to go into details out of respect for said person. I think/hope I can explain my own confusion without giving away any details…

A person has to be able to live with their decisions.  We can't escape them, most of the time, and God knows we remember the stupid shit we do better than we remember the positives in our lives.  So if we consciously decide to continue doing something stupid, or something we know is probably not right, we have to find a way to justify it.  And when we can't justify it, we develop a disconnect between our actions and how we feel about ourselves.  The action may make us feel good, or feel loved, or feel worthwhile, but internally we are tearing ourselves apart because we know that we aren't doing what is 'right'.

Now, I could go into a whole rant about who defines 'right' and 'wrong', and I would probably completely annihiliate most social norms in the process, but frankly it's not worth the time or energy.  Let's just assume that there is some sort of common ground as to what is 'right'.  For example, cheating on your taxes, cheating on your significant other, killing somone…all probably 'wrong'.  Being honest when you fuck up, trying to avoid harming other people, paying back your student loans, probably 'right'.  Ok, got that out of the way.

So.  When we do something contrary to what we believe is 'right', it generally leaves us feeling not so great about ourselves.  Sometimes we can justify the action if it only happens once.  But when it happens repeatedly, the disconnect between what is 'right' and what we want to do continues to grow, and spread, and it eventually manifests into a fabulously overwhelming self-loathing.  We hate what we are doing, but we don't/can't/won't stop doing it.

This is what I don't understand.  If I hate myself for doing something, I'm pretty likely to say "Hey, Amber, stop being a moron and you'll feel better".  I hate the overwhelming feeling of hating myself for something I've done.  It is only made worse when the action is continued, and situations only get worse when ignored or built upon over time.

I can hear you saying "Amber, Amber, Amber, not everyone will start to hate themselves and feel miserable when they do things that aren't right.  You can't just assume that, just because you feel that way."  This, reader, is where you would be wrong.  The people who don't feel some level of guilt - that will grow into hatred - when they continually do something that goes against their fundamental moral principles, well, there's a term for them.  Sociopaths.

What I'm describing here isn't some hullabaloo I just made up so I could sound smart or moral.  It's basic psychological theory, derived from countless research and case studies, and only reaffirmed as time has passed.  When your outer/physical/momentary needs are not congruent with your internal/emotional/long-term needs (in this case, when your beliefs about how you should behave are being entirely thrown under the bus by your actions), you breed your own neuroses.  Ignoring this - or even worse, accepting it - is what causes self-loathing.  The only way to reestablish some personal peace is to find that congruency again.

So if you're doing something that makes you feel like a horrible human being, you should probably, ya know, stop.  The people who are willing to accept self-loathing are literally feeding into their own neuroses, developing their own psychopathologies.  Even if the action they are doing makes them feel slightly better, the hatred of the self will eventually win out.  And if you're doing something you know is 'wrong', and it makes you hate yourself, and you decide to continue doing it anyway because you don't mind the self-loathing…that's a whole  'nother topic I could go into.  Perhaps at a later date.

Maybe this makes more sense to me because I've studied the psychological theory behind it.  Maybe it's just because I'm weird and approach things differently from other people.  Maybe it's because I actively avoid making decisions nowadays that I know I will not be able to live with.  Who knows.  It just shows to me how much I really don't understand why some people do what they do.  Why is it ever a good idea to do something that you know - KNOW - is going to make you miserable?  Any momentary happiness will be overran by the lingering misery later on.  It's just not worth it.  Not to me at least.

9.12.12  10:25am

Songs that Induce Flashbacks

Please join me on a trip down my aural memory lane.....

A Thousand Miles - Vanessa Carlton

It was the spring of 2002, campus was starting to warm up, and the 8th graders were in the  middle of prepping for the best 8th grade play in the history of Thomas Jefferson School (possibly in the history of high school plays ever).  We had just completed our dress rehearsal and had piled into the art room in the dank basement of Main to do a final prop check when the radio came on.  Andy Matuschak started singing first, almost under his breath, but as he got into the song, he got louder, and we all joined in.  We were each in our own little world, worried about the first performance that was looming and avoiding the presence of Miss Fairbank like the plague, but we all realized at some point that we had reached a moment of perfect harmony.  It was beautiful.  And when the song ended, we didn't speak of it.  We just kept on with what needed to get done.  Remembering moments like this make me miss my class.

It Makes Me Ill - *N Sync

One of my roommates in 7th grade was a freshman named Min Hee Han, a transplant from South Korea who was new to the United States.  This was the only song she had in English on her computer, so we listened to it a lot…basically any time I needed a momentary repireve from K-Pop.  I still know every single word, and I gleefully sing along whenever I happen across it.

Canned Heat - Jamiroqui

This will forever be the Napoleon Dynamite song for me.  Probably for many people, really, but I don't just connect it to the movie.  I very clearly remember curling up in bed with my high school boyfriend, in his dorm, and watching this movie.  A few days before, I had tried to teach him to dance - really, it turned into a lesson on basic rhythm which he still failed - and I had continually told him that it wasn't about looking amazing, it was all about not giving a damn what others thought.  He didn't understand what I meant until he saw Napoleon shaking his ass in snow boots in front of the whole student body.  Watching the final dance in Napoleon Dynamite with him was hilarious, and endearing, and I will cherish it as a totally light and funny moment in our otherwise often tumultuous relationship.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life - Eric Idle

This is another one that is tied to my high school boyfriend.  The song itself doesn't mean a lot to me, but the circumstances around it will stick with me forever.  He had a single his senior year, and we had pushed the two bunk beds together into a king-size bed for, ya know, convenience, but we really only ever slept on one side of it.  Anyway, one day while he was playing soccer with his friends, my best friend at the time, her boyfriend, and I all decided to sit on the bed and watch Life of Brian.  I was on the side Blake slept on, and the other two were on the spare bed, as it were.  Blake came in from playing soccer and initially balked at us being there, until his best friend told him to man up, stop his bitching, and go climb in bed with his girlfriend.  So he did.  He climbed in bed and cuddled right behind me.  To be honest, I don't even remember the end of the movie, other than hearing the song, because he wrapped his arms around me and whispered in my ear "When are those two leaving?"

Innocent - Our Lady Peace

The first guy I was serious about in college was obsessed with this song.  It meant the world to him because he was dealing with some pretty serious family issues at the time, and because it meant so much to him, and I heard it incessantly for a while, I will forever flash back to those days when this song comes on.

Playground Love - Air

This song was featured in the movie The Virgin Suicides, a Sofia Coppola film about a family of teenage sisters and the boys who were obsessed with them.  It deals with love, lust, grief, and fear in very moving ways.  It is one of two movies ever that have affected me so deeply that it changed my mood for several days after I saw it.  This one caused me to think a lot.  The other genuinely brought back my depression.  I like this film more now because of it, and this song always takes me back to that first viewing.

I Say A Little Prayer For You - the Cast of My Best Friend's Wedding

This was one of only a couple DVDs we had in our dorm in 7th grade, and thus we watched it incessantly.  We were so obsessed, actually, that we made up a dance to the song…which I could probably still do.  Those totally carefree moments of dancing, singing, and falling into a heap on the floor in laughter are what I miss most about TJ.

Sayonara, and peace out.

I've always had problems saying goodbye.  It's always "see you later" or "talk to you soon".  Sometimes, I say it in a foreign language.  Au revoir!  Ciao!  Hasta luego!  If that doesn't work, "byebye" or "miss ya" may fill in.  But very rarely do I say the word "goodbye" as such.  It seems so formal, so definite.

Goodbye has always scared me.

It's not like I thought that speaking the words would make any separation permanent.  I knew words don't hold any magical powers to be released when spoken.  It just never feels right.

It wasn't just speaking them either.  Just the thought of goodbye intimidated me.  Saying goodbye to someone - admitting that you may not talk to them for a long time and possibly never speak to them again - was frightening.

Thoughts During a Football Game

Today, I had the opportunity to watch the Rams play on TV, because they were playing my new local team - the Packers. (boo, hiss).  These are my thoughts.

1. Do football players really think it's a good idea to hit each other in the head after a good play?  I know you've all been concussed before.  Let's not make it worse.

2. Aaron Rodgers is stretching his neck and the announcer says that the pillows in the STL hotel must not have been good enough.  Right, because it couldn't possibly have anything to do with the fact that he JUST GOT SACKED.

3. The Saints are losing!

4. I really like GB's pink shoes.

Time

Here's a question I like to ask people when I'm 5/8 drunk: Let's say you had the ability to make a very brief phone call into your own past.  You are (somehow) given the opportunity to phone yourself as a teenager; in short, you will be able to communicate with the fifteen-year-old version of you.  However, you will only be able to get to talk to your former self for fifteen seconds.  As such, there's no way you will be able to explain who you are, where or when you're calling from, or what any of this lunacy is supposed to signify.  You will only be able to give the younger version of yourself a fleeting, abstract message of unclear origin.

What would you say to yourself during these fifteen seconds?

                                                            - Chuck Klosterman, Eating the Dinosaur, p. 57

Chuck Klosterman is one of the very few authors who can inspire me enough to close a book, stare off into space, and contemplate what I just read.  This is perhaps not the best thing for him, because it takes me forever (relatively speaking) to finish a book, so I haven't read as much of his work as I want to.  It's great for me though, because his thoughts do what very few people can - they actually force me to think about the world.  Not only force…they make me want to sit and stare and think.  As someone who can't sit still for very long, who is constantly multi-tasking and mulling over a dozen things at any given time, it takes a hell of a lot for something to slow me down.  For something to make me want to cease all activity and to just think about a specific topic?  Well, that's essentially unheard of.  And yet, Mr. Klosterman seems to have it down to a science.  I'd love to have a beer with the guy and chat, but the odds of that are pretty damn low.  I'd probably end up sitting, slack-jawed, listening to his genius anyway; I'd be a horrible companion and he'd probably think I was mental.  Ah well, a girl can dream.

So now I direct your attention to the above quote, which (if you are a normal person) you read first, and then got confused as to why the first paragraph had absolutely nothing to do with time travel.  This is the most recent passage that caused me to zone out and process.  Klosterman spends an entire chapter in his book Eating the Dinosaur on the implausibility of time travel, which is perhaps-not-so-coincidentally written in a non-linear fashion. The entire chapter is brilliant, but this specific section really struck me.  Probably because it asked me a question.

What would you say to yourself during these fifteen seconds? 

My first answer came to me instantaneously.  It wouldn't even take fifteen seconds.  Mr. Klosterman, I thought, I have beaten your game!  I'd just tell myself that medicine was the wrong field.  Maybe even simpler.  Don't apply to medical school.  Yes, that would do it…that would be what I needed to hear.  But just as quickly, I flashed back to my fifteen-year-old self.  She probably would believe such a phone call was a joke.  Maybe even a hallucination brought on by too much work and not enough sleep.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The phone rings.  Amber searches for the cordless and answers with a short “Yeah?”

“Amber.  Listen up.  Don’t mourn for Pluto.  Just come up with a new mnemonic.”

Amber wrinkles her forehead.  “Uhh, what are you talking about?”

The phone disconnects.  Amber drops it on the counter and shrugs.  She goes back to cooking.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So I thought again.  How could I make it more clear to past-me that medicine was the wrong field?  I could say that the 6-year program was a bad idea, but even that might just come across as a challenge to past-me.  Could I point myself toward psychology?  I could try, but fifteen-year-old me wouldn't understand why, and I wouldn't have time to explain.  Ok, Chuck, I am now seeing the conundrum.

It was here that another thought struck me.  Say that I was able to say that medicine was wrong and psychology was a better choice.  Say that fifteen-year-old me believed it and went along with it.  How could she ever know for sure medicine was wrong?  Would I really want to create a perpetual sense of doubt in myself?  That sounds thoroughly unhealthy. 

So, hypothesize with me again.  The phone call works.  Past-me somehow believes me, and I save myself the 4 years of misery and debt I spent in medical school.  The things that would change would be innumerable.  Many of the friendships - pretty damn close to family - I have were forged in the hours of lectures, labs, patient rooms, libraries, and Starbucks that medical students are forced to endure.  I can't imagine my life without them.  Here's when you say, "But Amber, you'd make entirely different friends, they'd surely be just as close, and you'd never know what you were missing.  That's a stupid thing to get caught up on."  And you'd be right.  But the fact is, I wouldn't want to lose them (but it's not a loss if you never knew them, you say).  But I do know them.  And if past-me grows into present-me and doesn't know them, somehow she has managed to lose something from her future.  Something that has kept her grounded, sane, and happy for over 6 years.  How could I do that to myself?

Then I got stuck in common time travel conundrum, one that Klosterman spends a significant amount of words on.  If fifteen-year-old me did believe me, wouldn't that change the me I am today?  It would have to, somehow.  So then if past-me changed career paths, there would be no reason for me to make said phone call.  And now we're stuck in a loop that really only has one viable solution.  Constantly splintering, simultaneously existing, alternate realities.  I kind of like this idea…if only there was a way to peak through a portal and see how the other timelines were doing.  That may just make the what-ifs worse though, knowing for sure what was best and having no way to fix it.

I reread Klosterman’s quote.  Obviously, I thought, I had just chosen the wrong message.  Maybe something not so life-changing could be easier and still have a positive impact on past-me.  I went through several options.

Don't trust him when he smiles that way.

Make sure you finish that paper.

When you go get stitches, make them x-ray your hand twice.

That fight isn't worth it.  Stand up and walk away.

Go above his head; make him stop harrassing you.

Don't let him convince you to do something you don't want to.

Every one I tried, ultimately led me to the same conclusion.  I had no way to know how such a message could be believed, or the effect it might possibly have.  So I got even less specific.

She’s not worth your, or his, time.

There are more people out there.

Don’t pull your punch.

But, see, these all could cause ripples that create waves, changing the tide of my past and recreating the future/my present.  It simply wouldn't do.  By this point, I wanted to simultaneously shake Mr. Klosterman's hand and punch him in the face.  Damn him for outsmarting me!

I thought more deeply about me at fifteen, too, trying to recall just who I was then.  Counting back to figure out what grade I was in at fifteen (I can never remember anything by my own age), the memories returned.  I was a nearly suicidal, honor roll-making, varsity-sport-playing, not-so-healthy-relationship-having, future doctor who was functioning on absolutely no sleep, raising two children, and running a household of five.  She was not in a happy place, and she felt completely cut off from the world.  In her mind, whether she was right or not, no one understood just how much pressure she was under.  Klosterman had picked a great age to contact.  Who at fifteen wouldn’t kill for some insight into the future?  That’s the girl who I wanted to reach out to.  That’s the girl that needed my help.

I gave it one last stab, convinced it was a paradox and that I'd never have an answer.  Then it came to me.  Unfortunately, it's the same message that we've been hearing for months and years now.  Of course, fifteen-year-old me wouldn't know that.  And it's vague, and unclear, and not enough to change my entire life trajectory.  But it's exactly what I wanted so desperately to hear back then.

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The phone rings.  Frazzled, Amber scrambles to find the cordless phone, locating it under a pile of homework that Joey needs reviewed.  As she shoves the phone between her cheek and her shoulder, she answers with a short "Hello?" and turns back to check on the homemade pasta she is preparing.  She hears a strangely familiar voice start to rush.

" Amber, I need to tell you something.  Are you listening?”

"Who is this?" she responds, returning her focus to the stove.  Their voices overlap.

"You need to know this.  Life is hard, and I know you want to give up, but you can't. There are people who love you.  People rely on you.  And someday you will look back and see that even the worst days were worth living.  You're strong.  You can survive.  It gets better."

“Who—“ The phone disconnects.  “Hello?” She sets the phone on the counter and stares at it, feeling tears well up.  She doesn’t know who the caller is, but she loves her in that moment and hopes they'll meet someday.

The other Amber is crying too.

I'm Just Here.

For years, I told myself I would never do it.  I would not be that person.  I couldn't bear the thought; I didn’t want people to look at me, judging me. I refused to be the person sitting in the theater by myself, trying to pass the time before the previews with no one to talk to, no one to laugh with. 

I had been lucky.  Once I moved out on my own, I rarely missed out on seeing a movie that I wanted to see.  I could always find someone to go with me.  I had a network of sorts.  Niju for action movies, Tina for dramas, Nida for pretty much whatever struck our fancy at the moment.  That was the normal rotation - the core group - and then there were several others who I knew would be up for seeing something if the mood struck.  As a cinephile vehemently against sitting in the dark theater alone, it was a perfect position to be in.  Until it wasn't.

Rumination should be a 4-letter word.

It's bad, and I'm guilty of doing it a lot, and it makes situations and ideas exponentially more painful and complicated. But since I have little else to do right now, I struggle to avoid getting stuck in my thoughts, thinking and assessing until I can't see straight and every thoughts makes me want to cry.

And so, I cried a lot yesterday.  I couldn't shut off my brain, and I hadn't slept, and I couldn't find the words to explain how I felt - or why - to anyone.  Yesterday was miserable and I quite literally wanted to crawl into a hole and die.  I leaned on my family and friends a lot more than I have in years, probably.  They were all great.  Some of their advice and ideas I agreed with.  Some of it, not so much.  But frankly, just being able to get some things out of my head and hear them aloud helped tremendously.

Today has been significantly better.  No tears, the weather is in the 60s and rainy (aka I'm in heaven), and I went for a 2.5 mile run today.  The rain, the clean air, feeling the pounding in my chest and my soles hitting the pavement...it was wonderfully freeing and helped me clear my mind.  Now I just need to shake this headache - no doubt brought on by the fact that I haven't eaten a meal in 36 hours.  Oops.

What's my age again?

It's been an interesting day.  It started by being awakened by a phone call from my dad to accuse me - jokingly - of withholding information.  Then I got to deal with water dripping in the walls.  Not my fault, but I still had to deal with it and clean up the mess.  Then there was Ice Age, which was not a cinematic marvel but was entertaining enough.  Then home, where I checked my mail and found that I had received a massive box.  Except I spent the next 2 hours fielding phone calls from my entire family - most of them more than once - so I couldn't open it right away, as much as I wanted to.  I knew exactly what it was.  Finally, I got it unboxed and unwrapped.  It was an absolutely beautiful new guitar.  It's possibly one of the nicest things someone has bought for me.  I'm not sure I deserve it, or that I was worth the money, but it means a hell of a lot to me.  So I taught myself 9 chords, fiddled with a few songs, and stopped when my fingers felt swollen...stupid calluses being gone due to my crazy couple of months.  Then I watched TV, ate dinner, and relaxed.  It was a good day.

Finally back home, after a week of being away.  I am so tired of traveling, of being away from my bed and not having my own space.  And I'm back in my tiny apartment where 90% of my stuff is packed in boxes, but it still feels more comfortable than anywhere I've been in quite a while.  So it's 4:30pm and I'm in my pajamas, sitting in bed, content.

It's been a long week and a half.  A lot has changed, in some ways, but in other ways it feels like I'm completely stuck.  I don't  have a way to easily explain it.

I have a place to live.  After two trips to Milwaukee - both planned last minute and ultimately with money I didn't have to blow - easily a hundred phone calls, and way too much stress, I have a place.  And I  move in on July 27th.  3 weeks.  Eek.

I can't deal with any of this shit anymore.

I can't deal with the fact that I had a place to live for next year that was unceremoniously taken away because the landlord's mother wanted to lease it to her friend.

I can't deal with the fact that the landlord waited 2 weeks to tell me this.

I can't deal with the fact that I don't think I am going to be able to go visit again to find a place to live, and have to trust that wherever I can find online will be A) acceptable, and B) safe.

I can't deal with the fact that I called my mother because I needed someone to listen while I freaked out, someone to calm me down, because the people I normally go to for such things aren't available, and she just went off on me.

I can't deal with my mother telling me that this is entirely my fault because I go about everything I do wrong and don't know how to make decisions.

I can't deal with being lectured about 'spending my graduation gift this year' on frivolous things, especially considering I didn't GET a graduation gift.

I can't deal with the fact that I'm supposed to be moving in a week, have no place to live, absolutely no one to vent about this to, and feel tiny and utterly alone.

I just can't.

Necessities

You know that feeling when you temporarily lose contact with someone you are used to talking to every day?  No?  Let me try to explain.

It’s not constant.  It’s not nagging or painful or distracting.  It doesn’t become a permanent disruption in your life.  It doesn’t wear you down or stress you out or remain in the front of your mind.

Coming

She knew it was coming.  They had talked about it enough - in vague conversations at first, where she had gathered a handful of likes and dislikes and devised a few ideas.  The more they talked about it, the more the entire thing felt inevitable.  So as the talk lost the vague and became more concrete, conversations became propositions.  She had said no when she had thought yes.  But the time for that was over.  So lying there on his bed, his parents asleep on the floor below, she knew it was coming.

Busy Mays and Mondays always get me down.

The entire month of May is a blur to me. I started the month knowing that I would be going from one trip to another - an experience I expect to never have again - and I had accepted the stress of packing for multiple trips simultaneously.  I did not anticipate the rest of the month to be just as busy.

A brief recap:
4/30-5/2 - Finals in KC
5/2-5/5 - St. Louis to babysit while my parents went on vacation - 210 miles
5/5-5/12 - Cancun - 1231 miles
5/12 - Cancun to St. Louis to Kansas City, arrived at 9:30pm - 1441 miles
5/13-5/19 - Mississippi, left KC at 6am - 1462 miles round trip
5/24-5/28 - OP, housesitting for my Aunt and Uncle - negligible miles, compared to the rest of the month
5/30-6/2 - KC to Chicago to Milwaukee to Chicago to KC - 1200 miles

That's approximately 5500 miles, for those who don't want to find their TI-83+s, discounting any random driving I did in any of the above cities.  Now that may not be a lot to some, but I've done more traveling in the last month than in the entire 2 years before.  I missed my little apartment, my bed, my kitchen.

I'm having trouble keeping straight who I was in each city with.  It legitimately takes me a few seconds to reason it out.  I've several times woken up unsure of which city or whose home I was in.  Is it possible to have jet lag when a portion of the trip wasn't on a plane?  Because that's how I feel.

Things I Learned in Cancun

• There is nothing more relaxing than lying on a white sand beach, in a bikini, reading a book, beer in hand.
• Kayaking provides a sense of both accomplishment and power.
• Two people can share a double bed comfortably without touching.
• Coming across a giant sting ray or sea turtle while swimming is simultaneously terrifying and exhilirating.
• The Caribbean Sea tastes saltier than licking a spoonful of salt.
• You don't realize how much you use/drink tap water until you can't.

Goodbye.

I'm sitting here, wide-awake.  According to your clock, it's nearly 3am.

You're lying next to me, facing me.  You look peaceful, your frown lines are no longer visible in the calm of sleep.  Those frown lines, probably caused by me over time.  In this moment, you look like the man I fell in love with.

You're sleeping deeply.  I can tell because your breath is slow and steady.  There isn't much I could do to wake you right now.  Not that I want to.

I think back to how I used to enjoy waking up before you.  Stretching in bed, watching you inhale and exhale, slowly tracing your outline with my fingers.  Moving my hand lower until I reached my target and then sliding my body down so that my mouth could claim my prize.  Keeping my eyes open so I could watch as you woke up and realized why you felt so good.  Feeling your hands tangle in my hair, urging me on.  Licking my lips once you were done and sheepishly saying good morning.  Knowing that you would relish making me feel just as good.

I miss those days.  I miss when I thought you were all I needed.  When all I wanted was lying in bed with me.  I miss the bliss of love, the ignorance of youth.

This will probably be on repeat for the next ever.

Lies

Marina & the Diamonds

You're never gonna love me, so what's the news?
What's the point in playing a game you're gonna lose?
What's the point of saying you love me like a friend?
What's the point of saying it's never gonna end?

You're too proud to say that you've made a mistake
You're a coward to the end
I don't wanna admit, but we're not gonna fit
No, I'm not the type that you like
Why don't we just pretend?

Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go oh
I just want it to be perfect
To believe it's all been worth a fight
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh

You only ever touch me in the dark
Only if we're drinking can you see my spark
And only in the evening that you give yourself to me
Cause the night is your woman, and she'll set you free

You're too proud to say that you've made a mistake
You're a coward to the end
I don't wanna admit, but we're not gonna fit
No, I'm not the type that you like
Why don't we just pretend?

Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go oh
I just want it to be perfect
To believe it's all been worth a fight
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh

Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh
I can't let you go, can't let you go oh
I just want it to be perfect
To believe it's all been worth a fight
Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know oh

I'm too drained to relocate to my bed, so I suppose I'll just stay here curled up in my chair a while longer.  It's been a long couple of days.  I've been burned - literally and figuratively - and I've traveled a few thousand miles.  I've napped and relaxed, thought and talked, peeled and began piecing myself back together.  I'm exhausted.

I'm not sure you understand why I'm mad at you.  I'm not even sure you realize that I still am.  Now you know.

1:47am  14.2.12

It's easy to list off things you want in the future.  It's fun to fantasize about it.  A big house, a job I love that also pays well, a nice car, a puppy that will cuddle next to me.  Thoughts like this are a welcome escape from reality - a temporary distraction before life sets in again.  But when I start imagining my future, the things I think of are just that - things.  If i sit back and really picture my life ten or twenty years from now, I don't picture objects to purchase or jobs to perform.  The whole entity of the future becomes entirely abstract.

I want to be happy and healthy, and I want the people I love to be happy and healthy too.  I want to have people in my life that know me and love me for it.  People who would drop everything if I needed them.  People I'd instantly do the same for.  I want a place where I can unwind and let loose and finally just be myself.  I want to actually believe I deserve success.   I want to feel smarter than I do now, to finally shake the feeling that I'm a complete moron who is simply good at hiding it.  I want to be able to look in the mirror and not be disgusted by who I see.  I want to accept me.  That is what I want for myself.  The rest is just stuff.

18.1.12  1:00am

My couch smells like you right now.  I sat down to watch Firefly by myself, wishing you were here, and bam.  There you were.  It's a good smell - I told you you didn't stink - but it makes me miss you....it makes me want you to be here still.  You, sitting here, watching one of my favorite shows.  Me, glancing over every once in a while to see if you were genuinely enjoying yourself or just placating me.  Me, wishing and hoping you'd stop being quite so interested in the TV and just turn and grab me already.  But you didn't.  We sat so close, but not touching.  Never touching.

And now, when I breathe, it's almost like you're here again.

11:39pm 4/1/12