chapters.

This month has had its ups and downs for sure, but closing it out, it's definitely been gaining momentum to end on a high note.
A couple of things I've learned this month:
Sometimes really bad, frustrating, bullshit things can bring on really good, happy things and changes if you let em. That stupid wreck that had me so pinched actually enabled me to purchase a new car. Now, I'm really not all that into cars and things of that nature generally. I drove the shit out of my old car happily until about the last year when things kept breaking on it and I knew the end was near but was really concerned about having to buy a new car generally knowing nothing about them and if I could afford a car now that was actually worth buying. Well, I found one and I absolutely love it. Whoever said money can't buy happiness wasn't 100% right, because I've been so happy driving that thing around. Now I know the new car high will wear off, but I feel more confident somehow driving a car I'm really proud to own. I hated that I let my old car get into the shape I did and was starting to get embarrassed about how trashy it was. Also, really proud to be able to do something like that for myself without help, just encouragement.
And, that's the other thing I learned. Being a grown up is kind of like the big leagues. You start to really choose the most valuable players to be on your team and stop letting yourself feel guilty about the people who end up getting picked last or spend most games on the bench. Unfortunately, there's usually a reason for that. I have an amazing team behind me and I am so appreciate of them and so glad I decided to focus my energy on people that will have my back in the biggest ways in the most important moments. It's just been justifying the decisions I've made so far since those decisions really started to matter. To watch someone do literally everything they can for you is so humbling and inspiring and I don't want to lose sight of it again.
I don't know how obvious to the people around me the changes I've made are, but the fact that I see them, acknowledge them and take pride in myself again is just about all I need.
I finally feel like I'm about to turn a page, name, number and start a new chapter and that is just so fucking exciting.

miles.

It's so appropriate that I'm loving listening to music again because, as it turns out, I'm actually getting a new car this weekend.
I have realized that I can get sentimental about absolutely anything. I mean, anything. This car that I've been bitching about for about a year I now feel like I'm driving her to the vet and putting her down.
We've had some amazing times together. Driving to California and back and everywhere in between. Windows down. Music blaring. The only reason there wasn't a care in the world in those moments was because I let them blow out of the windows onto the open road. I grew up driving this car.
The CDs that are lost in here are both my favorite albums and mixes made just for a certain time and I could tell you which as soon as you pop it in. The map my dad drew out for my big adventure is still in here, too.
I'm spending the next few days revisiting our greatest hits. Windows down. Volume up. Memory Lane.
But, I am so excited to feel like I am starting a new chapter. I know it's just a car, but I'm investing in something for myself. As much as the cracks, dents and burns are all scars of a life lived well for my car, they are for me too and it really is time for a fresh start.
I never really thought I'd be buying a brand new car and getting what I actually wanted.
That seems to be a theme I'm trying to keep in my life, you know, the whole stop settling, I deserve better thing? I'll take it.
But, for now I'm gonna keep popping in those long forgotten CDs and send ol' Camry off right.
See ya in my sassy new ride. (it's red y'all.)

here's my picks.

I'm getting back into music, y'all.
It's not what Pitchfork is telling me to listen to or "cool" or anything. Some of it's rediscovered old songs, some of it's old newly discovered for me. Not all of it is from Glee or sung by Glee cast members, either. Some of them are definitely pop jams.
I forgot about that little thing called Spotify. I was initially just using it to listen to new albums to get a test run (which is a great use for it, btw), but now I'm using it to its advantage of being able to pretty much listening to any song I may want to hear at any moment.
I also forgot that this can be public (facebook) knowledge. Which, at first, made me embarrassed because my living room dance parties of one (two if you count Kitty, I do) were there for public consumption guilty pleasures and all.
But, then I realized, that few things say more about me than the songs I'm choosing to listen to, especially the ones on repeat, and I'm trying to be more open about who I am every day. It seems silly I'm sure, and I promise I won't get into it again, but I have been so completely guarded in every way imaginable.
Cameron Crowe said in an interview that he makes a playlist for every month. He has anthologies of mix tapes from most of his life. How awesome is that? I started doing that on iTunes a while ago, but of course, stopped. But just like I wrote about the other day, it is really amazing how certain songs can take you back to a time so clearly. I can see, hear, taste and remember things that I had all but forgotten until the first notes of that particular song plays.
My March (aptly named "ides") playlist is constructed of songs I keep playing on repeat, some of which I only have on vinyl so this makes it so much easier to obsess, Glee songs that I love so much more than the original (ok, so there's a Lady Antebellum cover on there, hate me, it's such a good drunk dial song, k?! and, i listen to the hell out of it in the car), some old favorites that got plenty of repeat play throughout my life and once I listened to them realized they're all failed love songs, I'm a little conflicted about that.
They're songs that have hit me in my most vulnerable times. That put words in my mouth I just couldn't seem to dig up myself and like I said, tapped me on the shoulder and said "hey, you're not (completely) crazy, I felt that way, too."
Here's my most most played song of March (so far):

I mean, damn! Bruce is killing me (softly) right now circa 1985. When I was born. (creepy)

hurricane of love.

This week. This week. Five years ago.
I've wanted, ached for the words to really start to come. They won't. No matter how much I want them, too. It's just too much.
I can't speak for him yet, so I'm going to try to speak for myself.
On March 14 five years ago, the world changed. I have never experienced a pit in myself so deep. It's the most helpless I've ever felt as my heart ripped in two.
You know, I really do believe the human experience is so universal. We all feel the same things no matter who we are, but, often, just for different reasons. That's why I read what I read about other people's lives and that's why I write what I write about. That's why when you come to me about something in your life, I often relate it to something I've experienced in mine. Not because I'm trying to compete, but I'm trying to relate. Trying to tap you on the shoulder and say, hey, I know how that feels and it hurts really bad or it's amazing or it's going to get better. Just letting you know you're not alone, because that's what I always want to know. That someone else gets it.
However, this week five years ago, there was no way I could've or anyone could've grasped it, related to it, helped it, changed it, made it go away or get better.
This year, when the day rolled around, as always, I woke up with that faint breaking feeling in my heart just knowing what someone else out there was waking up to. It was a reality check for me of just how much I take forgranted and get wrapped up with. And, also just how much life goes on in five years and yet doesn't at the same time.
I remember that day, and the ones that followed so vividly. I remember how soaked I got running through the rain to get somewhere to find some answers and then how soaked I got in my own tears at the realization that sometimes nightmares do come true. I remember the phone calls. I remember the text messages. Everything just felt a million times bigger and more intense than anything I had ever experienced and I felt so, so small.
I remember driving later that day looking for something, anything and a song came on that I hadn't really listened to before and it just hit. The sun bounced off my windshield and the sky cleared and words came that I just couldn't seem to find. It became an anthem.

 He called. We came a runnin. As fast as we could after taking a wrong turn and going in the total opposite direction. (Remember when we saw the little kids playing on the tree branch?) We didn't know what purpose we had in being there. Being invited in in the darkest hours of one's life feels like a huge responsibility, but also a huge honor. We were just going to be whatever we needed to be, whatever we were wanted for. We just wanted to be there.
A different, and of course, appropriate soundtrack accompanied our journey this trip. A first listen to "Sky Blue Sky" was the perfect preparation.

 We were just trying to understand. Everything. Nothing made sense anymore. And I couldn't help but think about how all of the confusion, the constant thoughts swirling in my head had to be spinning in a terrifying way for him. How nothing possibly could've made sense anymore. How nothing would ever be the same. But, I would try to understand, either way.
When we finally got there. It took everything in me not to burst into tears at the sight of his sweet, innocent face. It was still there, but you could see that overnight he had changed. He grew up. We followed his lead to do whatever we needed. Turns out, all he wanted was just some time away.
We sat in the car parked outside of his hide out, all the lights inside on and burning and fumbled through music to find the perfect song (of course) and offered a gift to ease his mind. As we all inhaled and exhaled, we traveled somewhere else, and I'll never forget, after the story-telling was over and we scrambled to try to clean up the guts he had just spilled, he laughed, that unmistakable laugh. You know the one.

I made that journey several times. I wouldve done it a million. I've made it accidently once or twice since. The feelings always flood back in a way that is so suffocating I have to roll the windows down in order to breathe.
I'll never forget the circus (it was intense, wasn't it?) of it all. I'll never forget how calm he remained. I'll never forget walking in a line clutching the hands of my best and newest friends just hoping the energy of our chain would be enough to keep his legs moving. It was the most powerful experience of my life and I will never forget it. Ever.
I remember the longest line of cars I've ever seen going to the same destination. I remember the silence on our way. The chain smoking. Almost having to pinch ourselves to be sure this was all real. I remember us talking about him and just how much we admired and loved him. About how much he was going to need from us, but more importantly, how much we wanted to give him. Everything.
When it was all over, in a ceremonial way, anyway, we traveled again. We all felt this urge to feel something different. Something to numb us down. To regain our strength. The windows went down and we tore out every page of a stack of magazines and through them out of the window with the music playing as loud as it could. He was behind us. We just wanted him to see something different. Hundreds of pages flying through the air on a country road none of us knew.
We were treated like family that day. We surrounded him like an army. For some that day could've served as a chapter closed, for him, it was the start of a whole new fucking book. Blank pages staring us all in the face. I don't know if I have ever or will ever experience love like that. And, you were right, it was like a hurricane. He, the eye, and we just spinning around him going where ever he wanted to land.

It was the most painful week of my life, and for him, it's the rest of his life. The thought of that for me is almost unbearable. For the last five years, I have been so proud to know him, to be inside the eye of his storm. To watch him plow through life, and, most importantly, live. So incredibly honored and grateful for that.
There is so much more to this story, his story. He's filling his own pages and I hope to help, yearn for it really. It'll come. See, there's a storm brewing inside of me, too. But, he is most definitely still the eye of it.

indecisively independent.

Contingency and dependency are the bains of my existence.
In the last few years, I have replaced my co-dependent ways with as much independence as possible. It was like a knee-jerk reaction when I finally found myself alone. I realized my complete and utter dependence on others for my (mostly emotional) survival was crippling me.
I was exhausted from depending on everyone in my life for everything and being let down (no blame game, I put myself in this position). So, as I have admitted several times before I shut everyone out and stopped putting myself in a vulnerable position when at all possible.
Ask for help? Absolute last resort.
Keep calling and get voice mail every time? Nope, tired of feeling unimportant and rejected.
I am, indeed, proud of my independence. Few people, if any, have impact on decisions I make anymore. Yet, I still find myself submerged in turmoil from time to time over how this will impact other people potentially. When it comes time to leap, the last thought that usually surfaces is, "wait a sec, would this person even put half the thought into how their decisions impact me as I do for them?" The answer, of course, is usually no. So I leap and deal with it.
Today was an example of that. I've been waiting around (contingency) for someone (dependency) to give me the green light to make a decision that really is just something I have to live with at the end of the day. So I made the call. And it felt fucking great.
Every time I move forward in my life for myself is huge. I don't for a second think it's a flaw that I care about how I impact others, as much as it can at times slow me down it's gotta be one of my best qualities and I'll own it.
And I'll allow myself to be proud that I give things my all and move forward faster than others sometimes, too. I passed up a lot of people to get my job and was worried how it made them feel. Turns out they're terrible people who didn't deserve it to begin with and instead of focusing on improving themselves, they focused on destroying me. ( it didn't happen) That same job enabled me to purchase my home that I love in spite of most people telling me it wasn't a smart choice. The point is, as much as I write about how I hold myself back, I have propelled myself forward so much farther.
I have a long way to go and the truth is, I really don't have a clue what I really want and where I want to be, but I'm also not going to sit and wait for it to find me. Although, I may call you to ask what you think (old habits die hard, y'all), and that's ok. But, to be honest, I'm tired of not allowing myself to be proud of what I'm doing today. I shy away from telling people that I'm a store manger because I'm "supposed" to be doing something do much more "profound" (like what?) I don't like telling people that I own my house and I'll downplay the fact that it is really pretty badass and when you come over ( if, really) I will for a moment feel a little embarrassed that I have nice things inside of it (they were all on clearance though, really). Fuck that, I'm over it.
I will never stop wanting bigger and better and different things for myself. But, I have to stop asking for permission or approval. I got this. I can clearly take care of myself, and although I may need you a little less, it doesn't mean I don't want you to be involved. It's time that I start owning my shit. Waking up and giving myself permission to approve of who I am where I am today.
I will be better eventually. I will get to where I'm going eventually. I will do it all eventually. And, that is contingent and dependent on just me. K?

the cure.

Despite all efforts, and I mean all, I have been a total grumplesaurus Rex. All week.
I've tried everything. Bubble baths. Beer. Songs. Food. (I ate a Cadburry Egg for breakfast Wednesday.) Glee. Glee songs. I spent extra time yesterday making up my bed perfect and cozy to go with the rain that was making beautiful noises on my tin roof outside with the screen door open and a cuddly kitty. I expected birds to pull back my covers this morning and have my clothes picked out. Not even close.
My face broke out after all. Just because I said it wasn't. (the first one literally popped up as soon as the motorcycle cop pulled up to the stupidest wreck ever and they've just multiplied with every conversation I have with an insurance company or my father.) Shaving my legs has been on my to-do list for about a week. I have no desire. I wear jeans every day and we're past the prickly stage. (I mean, I'm just keeping it real.) I'm curious what that really says about me when shaving my legs is on my to-do list and never gets crossed out? (don't answer that.)
I'm just really, really ready to be out of this mood. I've been on such a stretch of positivity and it's like I'm paying for it now. I'm trying to find my way out of it and every day I have a pep talk with myself and try to find a cure for the blues, but it just ain't shaking.
So, I'm actually in the bubble bath now. (I just got a flash of Rev. Run texting his inspirational message in the tub at the end of "run's house" episodes.) I'm also drinking a beer. I'm not eating anything. If I wasn't writing this, I might be watching or listening to glee. Or reading something or trying something else to make me happy. I'm honestly sweating profusely, in the bath, because I decided to make it extra hot to try to get out some of the toxins or energy or something, but now I'm just kind of conflicted about sweating in the bath. So, I'm gonna go now and actually shave my legs and if that's the game changer, I'll be really pissed.

20 seconds.

So, I've had a lot of different things on my mind the last couple of days. I'm a little less mopey about it all, so I'm ready to put it into perspective.
I've been thinking a lot about relationships (of all kinds), people in your life, you know. Trying to wrap my head around how people can be so close and so involved and then not at all anymore.
How they impact you, good or bad, and prepare you for the next.
Sometimes, you meet them again on the long road to the middle. It can be like meeting for the first time, if enough change has occurred. Sometimes its a comfort like no other when you pick back up effortlessly where you left off. Others its a reminder of what you don't want out of your life anymore, which can be sad, but also freeing if you allow it to be.
I find myself over correcting when it comes to new opportunities and second chances. Going out of my way to fix where I messed up in the past, even if there is a clean slate.
I often wonder if I'll ever be as open with someone new as I have been with the first people I opened myself up to. Also, if you can ever love as freely as you do the first time you let someone take residency of your entire heart.
Those are the thoughts that scare me.
What will the next person have to prove? What obstacles will I set up for them in order to know they're worthy of me handing over the keys? What will I have to let go of?
And, that's the key. (no pun intended.) I see red flags raise when I'm in familiar territory and go into full alert. "You can't let this go down like that again," I say to myself. It's survival mode. It comes out of beating yourself up so much for not seeing the signs the first go around and putting yourself in a vulnerable position you never should've been in in the first place.
But, it happened for a reason. My fear, however, comes out of the fact that I take the wrong meaning to the reasons. I don't allow experience to always teach me a better approach, I just allow it to scar over and reopen old wounds. Instead of applying the lessons and moving forward and being able to say, "I didn't let you beat me this time!"
I fear vulnerability. Clearly. I mean, who doesn't? But, instead of being able to prove lessons were learned the next time I step up, I just back away entirely because I don't want to be put in the position and feel that pit in my stomach ever again.
About a month ago, I went to see "We Bought a Zoo" with my mom. My first shared Cameron Crowe experience with my mother. I know, I know, Matt Damon. But, y'all, it's Cam, trust. (Also, it has one of the most powerful Cameron Crowe scenes of all time that I've been scouring the Internet for. SOBS, y'all.) The point is, the pivotal scene and Crowe quote, Benjamin tells his son "You know, sometimes all you need is twenty seconds of insane courage. Just literally twenty seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it." The film is all about moving on with your life after hitting the lowest depths you can experience. And it all comes down to being courageous. A lesson I thought I had already learned many times over.
One of the things that stood out to me about that Cameron Crowe experience, is that even though you are moving on with your life, it's OK to continue to honor your past. Your past will always haunt you, its a part of you now, but instead of running away from it, allowing it to live in a really special place and acknowledging that it is a part of what brought you to where you are today. As much as the past could have been devastating, it was also an experience you wouldn't give back no matter how tragically it ended, or the fact that it ended at all.
So, it's all a part of me now. Just as much as I'm a part of someone's past, too. And, as much as it hurts to believe that sometimes, it's a painful past, I need to relish in the fact that it's helped bring them to a brighter future. Mistakes made, lessons learned and all.
Twenty seconds, though? I think I can handle that.
Right?

wrong channel.

Beer me.
So pinched today.
As I was leaving my house today and grabbed my lunch from the freezer, I said, "fridge, please fix yourself because if I have to replace you, I won't be able to get a new car this year."
I got in my car and the first car I see is a beetle (I've been channeling one since I was like 10 and even more so since I saw the new design) and it had those trashy eye lashes on its headlights and I said "ugh, you don't deserve that car if you're going to mistreat it" and had flashbacks to that weekend I got to drive a convertible one and was the happiest I had been in months doing so.
Not 30 minutes later a jackass backs into my car. At a stop sign. What?!
World, you're hilarious. Keep ruining my car with its dents from stupid things and its paint peeling off and its 200,000 miles and cig burns in places it doesn't make sense for cig burns to be. Keep on it, will ya?
I want a new car, I just don't want to pay for it, ok?
Also the commitment of this purchase stresses me out way more than buying my little baby house that's worth way more than a vehicle. So many choices and options and I just can't wrap my head around it. As much as I want that new little bug, is it worth it? Everyone says they're pieces of shit, but they're so cute y'all. And, I mean, I'd be so cute driving it, too. (see picture).
So, it's official, once this trashy business is taken care of from this morning, car search 2012 is on. If for no other reason at this point than to remove the last shred of my life that my father has something to hang over my head.
And little cam cam, you've been good to me, girl, you've lived a lot of life with me and I'll be sad to see you go, I promise.

pmcray.

Aunt Flow is about to be knocking on my door and although, I have seemed to stop the breakouts from happening (thank you, clarisonic) and most other symptoms that usually proceed her visit, she seems to be toting a lot of emotional baggage this time.
I fought off the strawberry milkshake craving last night with strawberry beer and watched funny shows so I wouldn't find myself crying at anything remotely sad or sweet. I am kind of relieved that I didn't actually gain my weight back, I was so confused how I could've put it on in Vegas when I walked a million miles a day there regardless of the food and beverages I consumed (note to self: move to a city you walk 90% of the time in.) So, I don't feel super shitty physically, but I definitely do emotionally is what I'm trying to say. It's deep in the back of my mind, but reared its ugly ass head this morning for sure.
Yesterday at work, jokes were made about my singleness (everyone's got jokes!) and I genuinely laughed because it was hilarious, but the chemical change in my body caused them to mutate over night apparently.
I JUST wrote about how I'm happy alone, but I wouldn't be keeping it real if I didn't admit that, sometimes, it really does fucking suck. It does. I can admit it.
I'm also really aware that I only have myself to blame on that one. I'm not actively seeking it out, and I really do think that's ok, but when the opportunities do arise, I talk myself out of it.
"oh, he wasn't checking me out, it was the girl behind me." (thank God Bethany and Lindley were behind me last time and said "holy shit, did you see that hot guy checking you out?" "oh, yeah, I did.... He was?" I rode that high for about 3 hours.)
or "he's just talking to me because he thinks I'm cool" (I mean, I am).
"those text messages were all just jokes cause we're cool like that."
"he was just playing with my hair because it's so long and awesome now."
Listen, I don't know how to be single. You have to hit me over the head and hire a sky writer for me to get the signal basically. Otherwise, message not received. I've had a lot of totally platonic guy friends over the years (and, no, not ALL of them are gay) I have an open invitation to the "bro-zone" and that's where I keep my reality.
As much as I like all things girly, I enjoy drinking the whisk and beer and the totally inappropriate joke. I just won't talk sports or watch them with you.
I can talk myself out of ANYTHING, dudes and strawberry milkshakes included. I need to build my ego into a Barney Stinson like monstrosity. I think this is my actual challenge in the year of yes and the badass. I have to stop talking myself out of things when good ones are coming my way.
So, I'll work on being a little more receptive to signals if you'll just meet me half way and be a little more obvious about them, k? Deal.

day old blues.

I've been fighting heavy eye lids since about 8:39 pm. I also purchased the most fashionable orthopedic shoes possible (which isn't very, but they're leopard print) on clearance today.
Both of these things were a great source of internal conflict for the past two hours as I was forcing my eyes to stay open as I caught up on my shows and drank a beer. So cool on a Friday night.
Then, I reminded myself that I stayed up to the hours of 5 to 7 am central time and was drinking by 10 am last weekend. I can still hang. Just when it's really worth it.
So what? My feet hurt and I work hard. This bitch is tired. I'm ok with the fact that I'm excited to work tomorrow because I'll be walking on fluffy cloud shoes and an adequate night's sleep. I'm also choosing to believe it isn't taking me a week to recover from one weekend, ok?
Alright I'm gonna let these eyes close so I'm not wearing pillows underneath them tomorrow even though I know my anti-aging de-puff eye gel will do the trick in the morning.
God, when did I get so old? And, yet, I was asked today if I'm old enough to smoke cigs.
CONFLICTED.

mr. march.

Guess what? I woke up late. Surprise! Only today it was even worse and I really did need to bathe (like, really needed to) and I really did need some Starbucks before facing my work day. But, I pulled myself together and made it to work (even Starbucks!) and had one of the best regular ol' days at work I've had in a while.
Not to mention, it was gorgeous and springlike and when I got off work I was able to find a non- static-y radio station so I could listen to my glee pandora station (shut up) and I jammed the shit out of the "Someone Like You/Rumor Has It" mash up AND Lady Gaga's "Telephone" and, of course my new gay boyfriend, Blaine's (Darren Criss) "Cough Syrup." Yeah, there were some glances in my direction, but I'd like to think that they were saying to themselves, "man, that messy ass, dirty, bed-head, blonde headed girl is awesome!"

 (Listen, stop judging me. If you didn't know this was on Glee, you'd think it was the shit. I promise. We had several hotel room dance parties in Vegas to this. Several. Also, you can download it here. You're welcome.)
So, now I'm wrapping up the day and Target trip (where I ran into one of my favorite girls ever!) with my first sips of Abita Strawberry and the fans on my patio blowing the few hairs on my head that will actually move. March, well played, sir. You just might be alright.
Tub time!

1. My plans tonight (not pictured: bubble bath) 2. I'm in a committed love/hate relationship with the person who is responsible for these morsels of heaven. 3. Fave cake ever. I have seriously been looking for strawberry cake mix for two months and found it today! 4. I'm dying for these new candles we got in today. They smell like sunshine poured into little glass cups. Obsessed. 5. Trash hair that, can you believe it, got a compliment today! 6. I just love that Vegas pic. My first taste of Vegas an All-nighter spiked milkshake with espresso and bailey's. Ridiculous!