evil toys

(no subject)

Well, world.

Alex and I are broken up.

I knew it was coming. I'd been taking emotional precautions to steel myself for it. I'm able to feel the edges of being relieved that I'm no longer dating someone who, for the most part, never really indicated that he truly wanted to be in a relationship with me.

I've never been in a relationship like this before, so I don't know how it's going to end. I think, with time when I'm able to think about him without my heart feeling like it's going to fall into my stomach or sprout wings and fly away, we will be able to be friends again. I think I know the difference between Alex the Person and Alex the Boyfriend, I just don't know how long it's going to take to be able to separate the two.

I'm still in shock. I didn't want this. I honestly cannot believe that last night was the last time I'll have talked to him, seen him, hugged him, smelled him etc... I know that I won't be able to move on if we keep communicating, that my heart will continue to defy my head and refuse to sever the strings. How do you just cut someone out of your life when they've done nothing terrible to you? How do you go from being so close and talking all the time and texting every day to doing none of that? How can I change my automatic reaction to "call Alex" when I see a funny bumper sticker or someone I know makes a really bad pun?

How can I stop my heart from hurting so much when I realize I can't talk to him or see him? And how will I know when the heart strings have loosened enough to see him again?

I'm just so sad. I'm going to be okay. I have a lot of big changes coming up that will not only help distract me, but will also help me really solidify this new chapter in my life. I just thought that I should put it out there that, even if I'm laughing and carrying on, that I am indeed so sad. I hope these make-up ruining emotions will lessen sooner rather than later.
naps <3

There's a first time for everything

Well, I've officially cried in my car three nights in a row. Despite feeling on the verge of tears all day I thought I'd held myself together nicely, but then that Adam Lambert song came on the radio and set me off. Adam Lambert. Go figure.

For reference, it was the song with this chorus:
Just don't give up
I'm workin' it out
Please don't give in
I won't let you down
It messed me up, need a second to breathe
Just keep coming around
Hey, whataya want from me


I'm still reeling from our conversation last night. On the one hand, I think the fact that The Boy got all kinds of pent up negative feelings off his chest helped both of us out immensely, if only because I know all too well how having something to say but being too chicken to say it can consume everything. On the other hand, I'm not convinced we did anything but postpone a breakup because I don't think he and I are operating on the same wavelength. I got the distinct feeling that he went into our talk last night with a resolve to break up and then chickened out.

I know he's confused, I know his life is nothing less than chaotic right now. I just hope he'll hang around long enough to see that long term relationships are designed to be fixable. We've never really had a rough patch before, and therefore don't have coping mechanisms other than "welp, this must be the end or something since it went from good to not-good".

I know we both know that, in the past, when we actually took the time to talk about serious things, things got better. I hope this time is the same. I'm tired of crying.
evil toys

(no subject)

My freshman year in high school, I decided that it was my chance to re-create myself. I wasn't too sure how one goes about changing oneself, so I convinced myself of the concept that all I need to do is make a list of the qualities I'd like to have, and just...do it. Or maybe if I wished hard enough, it'd happen.
 
Obviously that was a flawed strategy. It never worked.

One thing that I've always told myself (or perhaps wished for myself) is that I could do pretty much anything, job/career-wise, and be happy. As long as I have coworkers I enjoy, friends I can talk to, and enough money to do the things I want to do, I couldn't really care less what my profession was.

On the one hand, I still believe that this is true about myself. For example, I'm ridiculously content with my bartending job. I love my coworkers, I love that they're turning into friends. I make good money, I'm living a good life. I'm currently struggling with the concept that it seems like a lot of people, from my parents to my managers who keep asking me how my "job search" is going, expect more from me. That is an issue in of itself.

My lease will be up in, oh God, 2 months? and I need to figure out what to do. The plan had been to move into the city with Linda, but doubts have been plaguing me. Finances are a small part of it, but mostly the concept of change is giving me the willies. I convinced myself last night that, eff it, this is a perfect opportunity to test out the theory that I'll be happy doing anything, anywhere.



New Secret Life-Plan:
-Transfer to TGIF downtown, live with Linda
-After year, move up into management (in 'burbs?)
-While managing, get MBA
-Utilizing MBA and industry knowledge, open own bar/restaurant, someday
evil toys

Re-exercising

As some of you (all like, 2 of you that may or may not read this), I bought myself a bunch of personal training sessions toward the end of last year. It was partly because I'm a sucker who can't say "no" when people present me with really compelling sales pitches, and partly because I did have a real desire to learn how to take care of my body.

I accomplished a couple things: I learned that I am capable of having a healthy diet (though it takes a LOT of work). I learned that I am physically capable of a semi-rigorous exercise regimen (which is also a lot of work). I lost a little bit of weight, a couple of inches here and there, and proved to myself that I can, in fact, be active. I liked the way my body looked when I was done, but I loathed the time consuming and distasteful diet and I hated waking up early to make it to the gym.

Tragically, I treated my release from my physical training sessions like a college freshmen treats her newfound freedom: poorly. I irrationally resented my trainer for "forcing" me to eat healthy and "forcing" me to work out all the time, especially in the (gasp!) morning. I allowed myself to fall out of what had almost become a routine (I say "almost" because the exercise regimen never really clicked) and went a little overboard with the fact that I no longer had anyone to report about my diet to. Because of this, I gained back the weight plus a pound or two (to be fair, my weight loss was anything but dramatic, it was what some people lose in water weight when they stop drinking pop) and lost the muscle tone that  made me look skinnier, thereby gaining those inches back.

Swimsuit season is coming up. Now, I hardly anticipate to actually have an occasion to wear a swim suit as I have an intense dislike for direct sunlight, chlorine, algae, sand, and small children; all of which tend to accompany any sort of swimming occasion, but the idea of not having my long layers to cover up my rebounded body has given me a sort of jolt.

Why am I sharing? I need to be held accountable. I believe that was why I was even moderately successful during my PT sessions: I had a nice young man who was expecting me to tell him about my diet and exercise. Having some sort of accountability, ANY sort, I think will help me be more faithful.

So, tomorrow (well, technically today) I intend to start my quest to be healthy [again]. I plan to:
-Sleep for 9 hours a night. Since my schedule is so erratic, I figure imposing a time limit rather than a hard and fast wake-up time would be best. This will also prevent me from being a lay about who sleeps for 14 hours a day.
-Eat 3 full meals a day, plus two snacks. These should be healthy-ish. Not sleeping through both breakfast and lunch should help.
-Make it to the gym 4 days a week. Mondays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays should be good for this.
-Do at least 45 minutes of cardio and do three sets of at least one core-targeted circuit each time.

Crossing my fingers that this will help.
naps <3

(no subject)

 As a lame April Fool's Day joke, The Boy and I changed our relationship statuses on Facebook to "single". I suppose I should be pleased that the very first response was from a high school friend (who neither of us really communicate with outside of FB) who said "April Fool's Day lies!". I'm disappointed our joke is going to go over like a lead balloon, though.
evil toys

My first meme! *tear*

Your birth month:
→ Pick your birth month.
→ Strike out anything that doesn't apply to you.
→ Bold the five to ten that best apply to you.
→ Copy to your own journal, with all twelve months under a lj-cut.

DECEMBER:
Loyal and generous. Sexy. Patriotic. Active in games and interactions. Impatient and hasty. Ambitious. Influential in organizations. Fun to be with. Loves to socialize. Loves praises. Loves attention. Loves to be loved. Honest and trustworthy. Not pretending. Short tempered. Changing personality. Not egotistic. Take high pride in oneself. Hates restrictions. Loves to joke. Good sense of humor. Logical.

Why is December only half as descriptive as July :(

Collapse )
naps <3

This love isn't good unless it's me and you

Today (well, technically yesterday, since it has passed midnight) was my and The Boy's quasi-official 4 year anniversary. I remembered around 7pm via a long, unrelated train of thought that led me to visualizing my facebook homepage and thinking "Hey, our anniversary is on Wednesday...TODAY IS WEDNESDAY!". I announced this to my mother, who was sitting with me after a "family" dinner (ie: the two of us) and she promptly asked "Did you two get married and not tell me?". Her Baby Boomer POV doesn't allow for trivial things like dating anniversaries it seems.

It's a bit startling to me to think about it, really. 4 years ago I was 20 years-old which simultaneously feels not-so-long-ago and very, very long ago. 20 sounds young to me, now, despite being the age I feel I've mentally stopped maturing at. The Boy was still in community college and living at home, I had just gotten my internship, was still working at Dairy Queen, and was still living at home. A lot of things have changed since then, both physically and mentally. I'm approaching the 2-year anniversary of the receipt of my BA (or "Noob of Arts", as Seester so aptly described it) and living very comfortably, debt-free, on my own, and agonizing over the realization that a career won't just fall into my lap. The Boy is almost a year out of college, wrangled with the trials and tribulations of university alcohol shenanigans,  and is just a few months away from completing 10 months of AmeriCorps volunteering. We've had months where we were able to spend every single day and night together, and months where we weren't able to see each other at all. We've endured few petty squabbles, a couple heart-wrenching scares, and only one major fight; an almost perfect track record for 4 years, if I do say so myself. We've observed friends both getting married and ending years-long relationships without feeling the need to question where we are in ours.

I am 24 years old. 4 years is one-fifth of my life, and despite 20% of my time here on this earth being consumed by The Boy, I truly feel like we're just getting started. I have a myriad of songs and cliches to describe how I feel, but above all I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I've been able to experience a love and relationship like this, young as I am. The Boy is a great boyfriend but more than anything else, he is a Good Man, and I think we are two very lucky people.
evil toys

On things uncomprehensible

I've been very, very lucky in my life that I have never lost a loved one. I have attended the wake of a friend's mother whom I had never met. I have never been to a funeral. I have been around loved ones dealing with great loss, and dealt with the guilt of really disliking a girl named Diana who was killed in a terrible car accident in high school.

I found out a few minutes ago, via an outpouring of shocked, dismayed, but above all loving Facebook status messages that a former speech competitor of mine, Curt Byars, died yesterday suddenly, terribly, and it seems for no logical reason.On a personal level, I'm feeling a muted sense of shock at the fact that someone I knew, a "real person" if you'll pardon the awfulness of that concept, a young, talented, crazy smart person has passed away. I'm incredibly saddened on behalf of his friends and family, his former teammates, and those who did know him well. I'm terrified on behalf of mortals, that one moment you can be going about your life, perhaps having a drink at a local bar, and the next moment be found in a stranger's burning car, dead. I'm sick to my stomach imagining what, if anything, he felt or saw in his final moments on this earth. And I'm struggling to find adequate words to describe the impact he had on my life, despite me being peripheral at best in his.

I won't pretend that I knew him well--we weren't even Facebook friends, the easiest place to be friends. We competed against each other in many speech events, we chatted occasionally outside of rounds, during extemp prep, and maybe a few times during other periods of down time during a tournament. He was an inspiration to everyone on the speech circuit, not just within the Illinois schools or even District 5, but on a national level. He was extremely talented as an interp-er, public address-er, and limited prep-er, which meant more to me as a competitor than the awards he won. He was an inspiration in working hard, doing your research, and being passionate about your events. Despite being from The High and Mighty Bradley University, he was approachable, personable. He took the time to talk to other competitors, like myself, even if we weren't major talent or a force to be reckoned with. He was funny, he was nice. He broke his foot once during a drunken party episode and lied about it to my teammates, earning him a secret nickname. 

He was a bright young man with a lot of potential, any idiot on the street would have known that, and the speech community, as well as other communities at large, are now weakened by his loss. Magneto, it's clear you will be missed dearly.
evil toys

(no subject)

Without giving it much thought, I just threw my sheets and towels in the wash.

Guess I'll be staying up late tonight! Perhaps I'll indulge in more Bailey's Carmel and coffee...