doahleigh - Holy Waste of Teabags!

Today was a bad day. Yesterday was good, but today was bad. That’s pretty much how my life has been lately. I’ve tried to write about it, but I can’t seem to accurately describe how I’m feeling, so I just stop. I think it’s because I’m in an in-between phase—in between feeling awful and feeling good again. Yesterday I felt great. I got through work fine, and I spent the evening helping Robin make wedding invitations for a friend. Then she even talked me into going out for a drink, and I went to bed feeling fine. But I woke up feeling awful. I was sad again, and as much as I tried to fill my time with friends and family, the sadness followed me all day. Sometimes it just wants to be there. As much as I try to kick its ass and tell it to leave me the fuck alone already, it insists on hanging out some days.

I know it’s good that I’m having good days though. It means I’m on my way. It’s been just over a month, so I figure in another month I’ll feel even better. And in another month I might feel good again. And in another month maybe even great. And so on.

Lately it has been less about being sad about Brad and more about feeling so hurt by how it all happened. I feel so deceived. I feel like the whole thing was cheap and it cheapened the entire relationship. I feel betrayed. I deserved more, our relationship deserved a better ending. I just can’t get past knowing that he knew it was over long before I did, and he didn’t tell me. I can’t get over how he told me one thing for a week and then suddenly changed his story and the hurtful truth came out. He didn’t cheat on me in case that’s what this is sounding like (or at least I don’t think he did - I’m not sure what to think anymore), but I still feel like I was cheated in a lot of ways. I was so hurt by the way things went down that I think even after I move on from Brad, I will still carry around some hurt from the way it all came crashing down.

I still do miss him sometimes though. Some days I feel genuinely excited about the prospect of dating again. About having fun and meeting new people. I am excited about the idea of falling in love all over again, especially with someone who can love and appreciate me so much more than Brad did. I actually feel good sometimes about what’s to come.

Then other days I get discouraged. I get sad, feel lonely, feel the emptiness, and wonder if it will ever be filled. I wonder why it all fell apart, why he didn’t love me, why he thinks he’s better off without me, and if it’s really feasible that I can fall in love again. I don’t know what each day will bring, or even what each hour will bring. I’ve been in this in-between stage for about a week now and it’s pretty tiring, but I guess the in-between stage is better than the dark, depressing month that preceded it.

I’ll probably go back and forth like this for awhile. My relationship with Brad was so much of my world, and it’s a lot to let go of. Some days I am really eager to see what kinds of experiences this has freed me up for.

And some days I just miss my Brad.

This roller coaster stuff is not working for me. I don’t like seeing a glimmer of hope for the future just to have the shades pulled down, leaving me feeling dark and lonely again. Yesterday evening I felt pretty okay. I was prepared to curl up in pajamas and watch a movie, and I was completely fine with that. Then my friend Erica called, and she came to hang out with me for a few hours instead. We only talked about Brad and the breakup for about 15 minutes, and I didn’t cry once. After she left there was some drama with my sister, so that distracted me for awhile, then it was time for bed. I went to sleep feeling hopeful, like I could actually see an end to this. Like Brad doesn’t know what he’s giving up and I’m better off without him. Like maybe I could eventually get through a day without missing him or hating him for what he did. I didn’t feel good, but I felt like I could feel good someday.

Then I woke up and I had to face it all again. I feel really sad again today, and really lonely. Mornings seem to be the worst. Even though I managed to eat dinner last night, I still can’t eat breakfast. I still feel too depleted in the morning to put much effort into my appearance. I wear my glasses a lot because contacts are too much work. My clothes often don’t match or make any sense. I really don’t care. I spend the first few hours at work each day wishing I could go home and crawl back into bed and forget all this. Mornings are the hardest.

Next week I’m going on vacation with my family. We are staying in a cottage on Lake Michigan for a week, a trip we did last year as well. Last year Brad was with me – this year he won’t be. He was supposed to come, but three weeks before the trip he decided to do something about the fact that he doesn’t actually love me. Now I’m going as a single. Two of my sisters are bringing their boyfriends (the third has to work all week), my brother is bringing his girlfriend and kids, and my dad and his wife and two kids will be there. I’m the only one going solo.

I thought about skipping it because the thought of going to bed alone at night, in the same bed Brad and I shared last summer, while everyone else snuggles up next to someone else, breaks my heart. I’m not sure I can do that five nights in a row. I’m not worried about being left out of anything, but I’m worried about being a charity case, a third wheel, an extra. Emily organized all the meals earlier this week and sent an email requesting money from everyone. The list looked something like this:

Dad and happy family
Josh and happy family
Andrea and happy family (her boyfriend’s daughter is coming as well)
Emily and the love of her life
Shannon

There’s me, all alone. Single. Solo. And I’m just not sure I’m ready to face that so head-on yet. I know if I need to be anywhere next week it’s with my family, but there might just be too many memories of the fun we had last year, and too many reminders of who is not there with me this year.

My god, is it after noon yet? I hate mornings.

People are starting to catch on at work. They ask me what’s wrong and when I say I’m fine, they come up with their own reasons. Are you tired? Not feeling well? I just agree with them. It’s easier to say I’m tired or sick than to tell the truth.

One sign of the times: I haven’t had a bowl of cereal for breakfast since Wednesday, before the all too honest email. Breakfast cereal to me is like coffee to most people—my day doesn’t feel right if it doesn’t start that way. But I’ve hardly been able to eat anything at all.

The Xanax has been nice, mostly because it knocks me out. I don’t usually sleep well, but I took some both Thursday and Friday before bed and fell asleep hard. Unfortunately that means I can’t take it during the day when I sometimes feel the worst. Saturday I almost fell over in the shower because I couldn’t stop crying and I couldn’t hold myself up. I often find myself stopping to just lean on something and catch my breath even though I haven’t exerted myself at all. I don’t want to take anything unless I really think I need it though, so I survived Saturday med-free. But on Sunday I started to feel panicky, and I took a Xanax to relax. Instead of just relaxing, I waited a half hour, then stumbled to bed where I slept for two hours. Sleeping keeps the thoughts away though, so I don’t mind.

My friends and family have been pretty awesome. Robin and her boyfriend Jason took me miniature golfing on Saturday where I actually found myself laughing a few times. That was nice. Too bad I can’t distract myself with putt-putt all day every day. My sisters check in with me regularly to make sure I’m okay, and both mom and dad and many friends have called or emailed to check in too. My friend Lauren said she wanted to visit me on Sunday, but she lives on the other side of the state, so I told her she was crazy, I was fine. She came anyway. Bearing gifts. She drove over two hours to see me and came through the door with her arms full of books, candy and flowers. My sadness could not possibly be worth such incredibly kind acts of friendship.

Lauren let me talk about the things I needed to talk about, then we talked about a million other things because she and I are so much alike. She’s very wise and has an amazing outlook, and I’m so thankful for her visit. And for everything all my friends and family and blog readers have done. I try to gain perspective by knowing that others are going and have gone through much worse, but I’m not very good at that. So thank you to everyone who doesn’t think I’m ridiculous for struggling so much with this.

Last night Lauren actually had me convinced for awhile that despite my incredibly high standards, hopes and expectations, there really could be someone out there for me. If the one person I’ve found who met (most of) those standards doesn’t want me, how am I ever going to find someone else? Brad was the one and he didn’t want me. What can be left? But she really made me believe it was possible.

Except when she left I went to bed lonely and woke up feeling empty again. Why doesn’t he want me? And why do I even care anymore? I should be able to know that I deserve better than to cry over someone who isn’t crying over me. I wish my heart could figure that out.

Things are getting worse around here. I’m not handling this well at all. Which is hard for me because I normally handle things pretty well. I don’t know how to do this.

I sent a desperate and pathetic email to Brad on Wednesday, I completely poured my heart out to him. When he finally wrote back later that day he only (I think intentionally) pushed me away. He said some things that were hard to read. And I realized some things about this break up that I wasn’t acknowledging before. Things aren’t the way I thought they were – they’re much much worse. I completely freaked out. I fell to the floor in my bedroom and sobbed until I couldn’t breathe.

I spent the evening and the next day with two of my sisters. I couldn’t face another day at work, another day of hiding the pain, choking back tears. I had to come home yesterday evening for my class, which I couldn’t miss. On the drive home I started having a break down. My stomach was a mess, like I was nervous but worse. I kept taking deep breaths so I didn’t pass out. My hands were shaking. Andrea told me I needed to call my doctor and try to get something for anxiety, so when I got home that’s the first thing I did. While I was on hold, I crumbled. I completely fell apart. I sobbed to the receptionist, asking her to get me in as soon as possible, but I couldn’t get an appointment until next Wednesday. When I hung up, I started choking on my sobs. I couldn’t breathe and I couldn’t sit still. I paced my house, trying to get control of myself. But I couldn’t. It was definitely a low point.

I went to class, but I left after an hour. I couldn’t sit there. I called my mom and drove straight to her house. She had some Xanax she could give me, and I knew I wouldn’t make it through the night (let alone the days until Wednesday) without something. She let me cry and talk to her, then I took a pill, went home and slept to forget my feelings. I’ve never taken anything like that before, I’ve never felt bad enough. But I need something to turn off my thoughts, make me functional and get me through the day. At least until enough time has passed and I can finally face this on my own. I can’t eat, I don’t sleep well, sometimes I can’t breathe. I feel like I never stop crying, and I can’t stop thinking. I have a final for my class, I have work, I have interviews. I need to be able to function.

I had to work today, but it isn’t easy. Everyone can tell something is wrong, but nobody knows and nobody asks. My supervisor asked how I was feeling since I didn’t come in yesterday, and I almost cried right in front of him, a person I never ever want to cry in front of.

All I can hope is that this is rock bottom and it’s only up from here. It’s been almost two weeks and I’ve gotten worse instead of better. I know there’s an end to this somewhere in my future, but that is small comfort when I can barely get through the day.

I hesitated to write any of this here because I’m no longer comfortable with Brad knowing how horrible I’m feeling when I know he is fine. I know you’ll all say that there’s no way Brad is totally fine, and I’m sure he’s feeling something. But this is what he wanted, this is what he wants. He did this because he would rather be alone (or with someone else) than with me. So maybe he hates that his needs are hurting me, but essentially he is fine. It hurts to know that the end of our relationship is a relief for him when it’s completely devastating for me.

He said I could talk to him any time I needed to and I didn’t need to feel bad because he wanted me to understand, and he wanted to do what he could to help me get through this. But when I turned to him in a weak moment, he told me the truth and he pushed me away. It hurt. It broke my heart all over again. But I can’t expect him to care for me when the whole point of doing this was to get away from me and focus on himself. He is ready to move on from me and probably has been for awhile in fact. So as much as it crushes me, I can’t expect him to miss me or help me. I hate knowing that.

And I don’t mind if he reads my blog – I make it public for anyone to read. But I thought twice about writing so honestly about my feelings now that I know exactly where he stands.

However, I didn’t want any of that to keep me from writing in my own space. You guys have helped me so much and I haven’t even said thank you yet. I know it sucks to come here each time I write and read another heart broken, tear-filled post. And I know it’s hard to say the same things over and over to a sad person who doesn’t seem to be hearing them. But each and every comment you have made has meant something to me. I hope you won’t abandon me while I find a way out of this sorrow. I’m told that eventually I’ll feel better, and even though that doesn’t help me right now, I believe it. So eventually this blog will get back to normal. But for now, I can only be honest about what this is doing to me.

While Brad is out there finding himself (and maybe finding someone else to love), I am losing myself. I’m losing control. I feel like I’m losing everything.

It’s been a week and a half since Brad moved out. The first week wasn’t very realistic though because Brad was in and out a few times to get what remained of his stuff. Plus Robin was gone all week, so roommate living hadn’t quite started. But I have been able to make a few observations about the new arrangement so far. Some good, some bad, some kind of strange.

Good
- I can buy what I want at the grocery store. I bought some new things on Sunday that Brad never wanted to try.
- I don’t have to coordinate meals with anyone. I swear we were never hungry at the same time.
- My milk lasts longer. In the past Brad would finish his Vitamin D gallon and then steal from my fat free milk before he got around to buying more.
- (Why are all the good things relating to food?)
- I yank and tug and twist the covers in bed to my exact comfort with no concern for anyone else!

Bad
- Computer problems need to be solved over the phone.
- It’s now a twenty minute drive to see my boyfriend. I don’t have that kind of time but on weekends.
- I now have the bathroom with the tiny stall shower and I HATE IT!
- There’s nobody around to kill insects and spiders.
- There’s nobody around to open the hard-to-open things. Though Robin did get a stubborn cap off for me last night, so next time we’ll see if that’s just a fluke.

Strange
- Apparently he makes his bed every morning now. He was always the last one up when we lived together, yet the bed never got made (which I actually prefer). But now… his is always made.
- I’m still not sleeping well. I thought with his loud breathing gone I might actually get some sound sleep. Not yet.
- I still walk around in my underwear a lot even though I have a roommate. Good thing Robin doesn’t care. (And yes, she does it too. I know I just turned you all on.)

Also, thanks to everyone for the nice things you said about this situation. It’s hard to admit something isn’t working right, but you all made me feel like we really did make the right decision. The words ‘logical’ and ‘mature’ and ‘sensible’ were thrown around too, so of course those didn’t hurt either.

One time Brad and I talked about which identifying marks we’d use if ever we had to identify each other at the morgue. Like if our faces had been eaten off and we had to rely on birthmarks or scars to recognize each other. I can’t remember what we decided for Brad (so hon, don’t die and get your face eaten off until we’ve talked about this again), but I do remember mine. It’s pretty obvious: my freckle patch.

Maybe you’ve noticed it in pictures before and wondered, what the hell is on her arm? I get that all the time. Especially after a long winter when I start wearing short sleeves again. Suddenly there’s this splotch on my arm that has been hidden for months, and everyone’s curious. You know that look you get when you’ve got something in your teeth? People try to look you in the eye, but they keep glancing down? They think they’re being subtle, but the eye shift is pretty obvious every time they sneak a peek at your mouth? Well that’s what I get, only they’re looking at my arm.

Here, you can see it in this picture:

Did you catch that? Here it is a little closer (ignore the fat rolls and chubby arm please, focus on the freckles):

There’s no explanation for the freckle patch, it’s just, well, a patch of freckles. I have random freckles scattered all over my body, as do all my sisters (thanks for that Dad), but it’s as if all the freckles on my right arm forgot to spread out. They were born, and then they were supposed to migrate, but nobody told them, so they stay there huddled together.

I’ve tried to count the freckles many times, and so have lots of other people – I think it’s somewhere around 30, but everyone comes up with something different. Depends if you count certain splotches as one or two, and if you count the really tiny ones that look like pin pricks. At first, most people think it’s a faded temporary tattoo. Others say it looks like henna. My dad thinks it’s funny to lick his thumb and pretend to try to wipe away the “dirt” on my arm. He does this nearly every time I see him and has been since I was little. It’s one of my favorite ongoing jokes.

I’ve tried to get certain other people to have the exact same splotch tattooed on the same place of their arm, kind of like a “friendship” tattoo, but so far nobody’s going for it. Brad said if we ever get married, he might consider it, which is really saying something since he’s sooo not a tattoo guy. It’s not as crazy as having my name tattooed across his shoulder blades (hello Mr. Mariah Carey), but I think it’d be a true sign of commitment. Because otherwise how do you explain why you tattooed a freckle patch on your arm?

Most people won’t ask me about it. They not-so-subtly check it out while talking to me, but don’t dare to inquire. I don’t say anything about it either, even though it’s obvious they’re looking, but if someone asks me, I’m always happy to talk about my freckle patch. I think it’s really cool and unique – it’s one of my favorite distinguishing marks. And it’s definitely a really good way to identify me if I ever end up faceless in a morgue.

(Except, what if my face and my right arm are eaten off? Then what? Then you look at the fourth toe on my right foot. But I’ll have to tell you about that one later…)

About six weeks ago I wrote about a scary syllabus I had gotten for my first session summer class. I was dreading that course, dreading the work, dreading the many hours of sitting in a windowless classroom on warm summer evenings. But many of you said that I might actually end up enjoying this class.

Well smarties, you were right. So far, it’s the best class I’ve taken in the program. The professor had high expectations of us, but it’s because he truly wanted us to learn. And I did! I was really interested and engaged in the material, the discussions were interesting, and my classmates were fun.

Tuesday was the last class and the majority of us went out for a drink afterward, along with the professor. It was a really good group and I’m a little sad it’s over. Actually no, I am really glad it’s over because I’m one step closer to my degree, but I kind of wish I had taken this class during a full semester and taken one of the crappier classes for only six weeks.

I start my second session course next week. I haven’t seen the syllabus yet, but I hope it’s not as intense. Yeah I know, I just said I learned a lot from an intense course, but I’m tired and I really do want to enjoy my summer. Fortunately about half the students from the first class are taking the second one with me. I’m counting on them to get me through it!

So here’s the big NYC post. Like I said, this is going to be mostly for my own future reference, for that day when I’m like “Wait, have I ever been to Grand Central Station? I can’t remember.” I’ll just check the ol’ blog and find my answer. If you’re interested in the play-by-play of others’ trips, read on. If you just want to scroll through the pictures, feel free (by the way, I was so rushed and distracted the whole time that picture-taking was not my primary concern. I basically just held my camera out and hit the button a lot. So these aren’t the greatest photos I’ve ever taken). And if you’re bored to death with the whole business, come back a little later when I’ve written something more interesting.

I took this trip with my friend Robin. She had been there once before and so remembered a little bit about the lay of the land, but I’m happy to say I figured it all out pretty easily. I never really felt completely lost or confused, and we even gave directions to people a few times! Despite our cameras and maps, we so looked like locals. Uh huh.

We left Thursday morning and actually had to fly west to go east (oddly, it was cheaper that way), so we sat at our layover for a couple hours and got to New Jersey in the afternoon. We were staying with someone R knew just across the water from Manhattan. This is the view from the end of her road, about a sixty second walk from her front door:

Since it was our host’s birthday on Thursday, we didn’t go into the city that night so we could hang out with her. We strolled through the park at the end of the road and took pictures of the skyline, went to the grocery store to buy a birthday card, then had Pakistani food made by our host’s Pakistani friends. We got to learn a little about Pakistan culture too, including the fact that one of the girls was related to Benazir Bhutto. I think maybe Benazir was her aunt, and she was in Pakistan for a wedding when Benazir was killed. She had even talked to her earlier that day. It was surreal to hear her talk about her so personally. We also took a ride in the BMW convertible that our host had just leased! That night we went to bed later than we wanted to, but we were ready to go see the city Friday morning.

Friday we figured out the bus system and went through the Lincoln Tunnel to Manhattan. As soon as we stepped foot onto 8th Avenue outside the Port Authority where we were dropped off, I was immediately overwhelmed. We just started walking with no real destination and got swept up in the fast-moving chaos of the city. Eventually we stopped to make a plan and look at a map, but we made the mistake of pausing right in the middle of Times Square where we were immediately accosted by the tour bus people. We talked to this guy, Salu, for a good half hour before agreeing to buy tickets from him.

As soon as the sale was complete we asked for the nearest Starbucks—I was starving and Robin needed coffee. That’s one thing about New York that I noticed: no matter where we were, it was never in the right place to find what we wanted. On our walk to the middle of Times Square we had been looking for a Starbucks, which supposedly are on almost every corner, and never found one. But later that day we saw one every two minutes. There were a couple times we were starving and walked forever looking for a place that didn’t seem sketchy but didn’t cost $30 a plate. Once we were severely craving gelato, and we even went so far as to call our boyfriends who searched Google Maps for us. Guess what, the nearest one was about twenty blocks away.

Anyway, Salu pointed us to a Juan Valdez café where we had a quick breakfast, then we were off to find Madame Toussaud’s. That turned out to be far too expensive, so instead we hopped on the tour bus and went to the Empire State Building. Part of our tour bus ticket deal was one free day on the bus and a ticket to the ESB. We waited in a crazy long line, spent about 15 minutes on the observation deck and headed back down. As soon as we got to the ground floor we encountered mad media. Camera crews and reporters blocking our way.

We got outside and saw signs everywhere for Mariah Carey. We had no interest in awaiting her arrival, so we moved right along and found our way to Grand Central Station where we took a couple pictures and grabbed some lunch. Then we walked to Rockefeller Center. That is one of those places you see all. the. time. on tv so it was pretty cool. We saw the golden statue, the Rockefeller building, the place where they ice skate, the spot where the Christmas tree goes, Today’s Studio 1A. Around the corner we saw Radio City Music Hall, then went on to find the Museum of Modern Art.

We knew that MOMA had free friday evenings, so we got there early to make sure we got in. We checked out the gift shop, then sat around the lobby. At about 3:45, just before the free hours started, we realized maybe there was a line we should be in. Uh yeah. A line that went down the block and around the corner! It went fast though and we got in no problem. We blew through all six floors of the museum, doing our best to take it all in without lingering so long that we wanted to leave before we got through. I took this one for Brad (if you haven’t seen it before, read the caption):

We sat in the MOMA sculpture garden for awhile eating over-priced gelato, then decided to walk to a tour bus stop that would take us closer to the Port Authority. We sat at the SE corner just outside Central Park for 20 minutes before we realized that the buses were done running. By then my legs were so painful that I was practically limping, so we hobbled down to the SW corner of the park and sat in Columbus Circle until I could move again. We worked our way down 8th Avenue until we found a place to eat dinner, then hobbled the rest of the way to the bus station. We were so tired, we fell into bed soon after getting back to the house.

Saturday morning we got to the city about 10:00, stopped at a Starbucks (this time we knew where to look) and hopped on a tour bus. We rode the bus all through midtown, into the Flat Iron District and then into Greenwich Village. Although Friday was gorgeous, this day was cold and windy and we were ill-prepared. We got off the bus in Soho partly to walk around and check it out, and partly to get out of the cold wind on the bus. We strolled around, checking things out, and eventually made our way to Ground Zero. I’m sure you’ve all heard about the little chapel next to the WTC buildings that survived with hardly a scratch. We checked that out for awhile, and took what pictures we could of Ground Zero, which isn’t much. It’s all blocked from view while they do construction. Still, it was an obvious hole in the landscape, and that alone was enough to evoke memories of the loss that happened there.

From there we walked down to Battery Park to sit for awhile. We didn’t want to take the ferry to the statue, so we took a couple pictures from the park and called it good. Off to Wall Street we went. We saw that iconic bull statue (can’t even remember what it’s for), the New York Stock Exchange and all the other fun money-related things. By then we were exhausted, but we still had to walk up to the pier by the Brooklyn Bridge to catch our bus. We rode that into Chinatown, got off to walk around, then struggled to find a good place to eat lunch. We ended up in a little Italian place with delicious food in Little Italy. We went back to the other end of Canal Street, but it was so crazy and overwhelming that we escaped as soon as possible. No Coach or Chanel or Prada for us (thank god), but not for lack of trying on the sellers’ part. Hopped back on the bus to get to midtown. We found the Marriot Marquis where you can buy discounted Broadway tickets, and the line was holy long already!

But we entertained each other to get through and buy tickets to Chicago. Since we had a few hours until the show, we got back on the bus (our legs were so tired!) and rode the whole downtown tour so we could see the things we missed by getting off the first time. By the time we got back up to the Broadway area, we had time to grab some Jamba Juice (in lieu of dinner) and get in line at the Ambassador Theatre. The show was amazing and very entertaining. We got out and walked through Times Square at night, which is full of energy. Then back to the bus station and home to bed.

I want to take this moment to say that my best word to describe Manhattan is: DENSE! So dense. So many people, so many cars, so many buildings everywhere. Look at all the people:

That tiny little island is jam-packed with stuff. I don’t get how it doesn’t just sink. Anyway, Sunday we slept in a little later. We knew it was going to be cold again, and we had accomplished so much already that we knew we could be a little more casual on our last day. We got to the city around noon and immediately hopped on the bus for the uptown tour. This one took us along Central Park, over to Grant’s Tomb, past where John Lennon was shot, through Harlem, etc. We got off at the NE end of Central Park and went in. The park is so totally different than I had imagined. I thought it was just a big park, like grass and trees and people hanging out. Oh no. First, we encountered elaborate fountains and flower gardens.

Once we figured out how to get out of there (we kept hitting dead ends), we were in the middle of a sophisticated system of paths and trails full of runners, walkers and bikers. Then we found the reservoir and some tree covered grasses, and then somehow we ended up hiking in the middle of woods.

After the forest we walked over a bridge and pretty soon were in the middle of what was basically a street fair. Finally we got out of the park and, in search of much-needed food, we ended up down on 47th for pizza. That’s when we called the boys about finding us some gelato, but instead ended up at Red Mango. Which, by the way, best frozen yogurt EVER! By then we were freezing and so very tired, so we agreed that we had done all we wanted to do and now it was time to say goodbye to New York City. We got back on the bus, through the tunnel and into NJ. We took a nap, ate some dinner, packed up all our stuff and crashed. Monday was a long day because of the layover (and we almost missed our connection!), but we were home by 4.

Tuesday I was tired and so not ready to go back to work, and my legs still hurt a little too. Plus, all the walking and not a single pound lost! Such crap. I’m so glad I went though. It wasn’t a very expensive trip (thanks to the fact that someone let us use their house to sleep), and I got to see a city I had always wanted to visit. I’m sure I’ll be back someday, but it was definitely an amazing first visit. Thanks to Robin for putting up with my soar legs and slow walking at times. We should travel together more often. I’ll leave you all (as if anyone is still reading) with this gorgeous view:

Friday night I put the finishing touches on and submitted a 68-page paper for one of my classes. Thirteen of those pages were chapter titles, but still, that’s a lot of frickin’ pages! I had been working on it all semester, and when I hit SUBMIT, that was the very last thing I had to do for the semester.

For two whole weeks I’m so done with classes! It’ll be a busy two weeks, but at least one part of my life is on break. Damn that feels good.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go enjoy the last couple hours of this gorgeous day.

Holy crap you guys, help! I’ve been so busy that I haven’t time to write anything, and I’ve hardly had time to read your stuff. My life has got to relax or I’m going to crash. I’m so close to the end of this semester, and even though it’s a very short (and busy) time before summer classes start, I can’t wait to be done.

Work is out of control, but I can’t talk about that, so moving on. Almost all of my after-work time is spent on school stuff, little life errands, or pre-arranged engagements with friends and family. I feel like I’ve been busy since November, and I wonder if it will ever chill out or if this is just my life now. I’m hoping for the first one.

I’m sorry, I hate posts that are only about how busy someone is and how they just can’t manage to blog. But it’s all I’ve got today. This week, actually. Hey at least I’m not writing about how I think I’m done here because other things have taken precedence over blogging. This is still really important to me, I’m just too busy to be creative. Or interesting. Or funny. Or at all worthy of your attention.

Please love me anyway! I still love you, and I promise I’ll visit soon.

You kind of forget how invested you are in the lives of the people behind the blogs you read until one day you click on their link in your feed reader and BAM! Rejected, blocked out. “This blog is open to invited readers only” and you weren’t invited somehow.

Dude, Kelly, what’s up? I get a little behind on my blog reading, and suddenly you’ve gone all private on me. I don’t even have your email address to tell you how desperate I am to be invited. I can see that you’ve posted twice since I last stopped by, and one of them is titled “TOTAL DISBELIEF” in all caps. What? What is total belief? Why? What happened? I must know!

Good thing I’ve got this little tool called my own blog to write a public statement that says: I’m pretty sure we’re friends. Right? Can I be an invited reader or what? Help me out girl.

As for the rest of you, if I find a similar message on your blog with no warning, I’ll either cry or punch you in the thigh. Depends on my mood that day. So just don’t okay?

It’s been a whirlwind folks, busy busy busy (I wrote busty as first, which is actually sorta true too), but I wanted to tell you about my Minneapolis trip before it becomes old news. A long time ago I told Katie of willikat that I’d be out there for four days and would she like to hang out. She said she would, so we emailed for awhile, but never made official plans. At the last minute I also found out that Angie is from the same area and knows willikat. My master plan was to meet both these ladies at one big blogger night of fun, but master plans never work out. So the first thing I did when I got into Minneapolis, while still on the shuttle to my hotel, was text Katie and make lunch plans. Since I didn’t have any work obligations until the next day, I knew it might be my one and only chance to meet her.

I’ve never done an actual blogger meet up before, so I was nervous and excited at the same time. I’m not good at meeting new people, so if I hadn’t have felt like I already knew her, I probably would have made up some excuse about being busy with, um, some work thing I just found out about. But she and I have been reading each other’s blogs for awhile now (what? couple years?) and we have this joke about our ‘parallel’ lives since we have so many odd things in common. Like okay, when we’re making plans for her to pick me up outside my hotel, she tells me she’ll be driving her Elantra. I drive an Elantra. At lunch? We ordered the same thing.

Basically what I’m saying in my rambling way is that I’m a little bit in love with Katie. Whenever bloggers meet, they always report back about how amazing and sweet and spectacular the person they met was, and I’m making no exception. I mean the girl just got laid off from her job and she shows up to lunch in a cute dress and heels. I was looking a little rough in full-on travel mode, just short of a hoodie and flip-flops (see below). We had lunch and gab gab gabbed about all kinds of stuff, then we stopped at a cupcake bakery where I snapped the only two pictures of our visit.

Then she drove me around and showed me the twin cities. She even felt comfortable running an errand while we were out, that’s how tight we are already! Seriously, it was fun. And it made me want to meet more of you. So come on people, let’s work it out!

The rest of my trip was mostly work stuff. I ate well, as is usually the case on business trips, but I didn’t see much of the city. By the time I finished work obligations and dinner with colleagues each day, I was pretty exhausted and ready for bed. Which by the way, sucked. I promised I wouldn’t go into details of the suckiness, but shut up. It was a sleep number bed, which I discovered is nothing more than a glorified air mattress. I spent the first night moving up and down the number scale, unable to sleep. Number 65, try to sleep, too hard. Release some air. Number 50, try to sleep, no good. Release some air. Number 35, try to sleep, too soft. Add some air (which sounds like a jet plane by the way), no good. All. Night. Long. The second and third nights I popped some Excederin PM before bed and slept hard despite the awful mattress. But on the last night I forgot to take the meds, and if I don’t take them before I try to sleep, my body isn’t fooled. I was wide awake, watching bad tv and eating vending machine snacks until a few hours before my shuttle picked me up. I even shaved my legs in the bathtub out of pure boredom at 1:30am. They hadn’t been shaved in, I’d guess, a month or two, so it was nice and time-consuming.

Minneapolis, or what I saw of it, is actually really nice. Their public transportation system is about 823% times better than GR’s, and hello, the skyway. I walked all the way from my hotel to the Convention Center (a 15-20 minute walk) and never once went outside. All Twin Citians are probably laughing at my fascination with this, but seriously, it’s genius. I want to sleep with the skyway it’s that wonderful.

I’ve been busy since the moment I set foot on Michigan soil, but I hope to return to a normal life as soon as possible. Hope you’re still with me!

Tomorrow I leave for Minneapolis. I don’t think I’ve mentioned it, but I’ll be there the rest of the week for work. Turns out that I may have some free time during my stay, so if you’ve visited or live there and know of something worthwhile, let me know. I’ve been there once before, in my last job, and all I had time to do was visit the Central Library of the Minneapolis library system. What else should I do?

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I had a fun weekend in that it was fun, and a kind of crappy weekend in that I was busy and spent too much money. As much as I love having so many social engagements (because remember how miserable I was before I moved here, with no friends or family around?), they are expensive and make it hard to do things that need to get done. Like homework. And bathing.

Friday night we had dinner with some friends, then came back to our place for an exciting game of Trivial Pursuit Totally 80s. We were all quite young in the 80s and so didn’t do very well. After awhile we moved into a “lightening round” in which you must speed-read the questions, and anybody can answer. If anyone gets the right answer, the person whose turn it is gets a pie piece even if they’re not on a pie space on the board. It was fun and fast, so I highly recommend this method in times of need. We drank beer, ate ice cream, played Nerf basketball, Tetris and Guitar Hero before finally calling it a night.

Saturday night I met up with some old high school friends. There was a group of five of us (called SMEAR, which is an (acceptable) acronym from the first letters of our first names) who hung out in high school. Some of us manage to still get together on a regular basis now that we all live in West Michigan again, but this was going to be a big reunion with all five of us. But dinner and movie for five turned into dinner for four and a movie for three. It was not a rave success, but those of us who could make it had good time.

Sunday we went to my grandparents’ house for Easter dinner. It’s rare that the entire family (aunts, uncles, cousins and all) comes together, even for holidays. But this time everyone was there except one of my sisters. We had fun, but nobody ate the $15 veggie tray I bought and brought. Next time I get assigned something, I’m just going to pretend I forgot because it won’t be missed and then I save 15 bucks.

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The next few weeks are a bit crazy for me. I’m gone all this week, and as soon as I return I have plans almost every day through the first week of April. Not to mention trying to finish up everything for school before the semester ends. As soon as that happens, I’m off to New York for five days. Then finally, finally I think I can breathe a little until summer classes start up May 5. Then it’s school two nights a week until early August, when I leave for a family trip out west. I hope I find time to enjoy the sunshine and warmth, once the weather finally turns. Which may never happen at this rate.

I’m supposed to be going to this Passion Party tonight. I’m guessing it’s kind of like the popular Pure Romance parties that women like to have. It’s with a fun group of people so it should be a good time, but the problem is that me and parties that specialize in sex products do not get along.

My first Pure Romance party was highly anticipated. I had heard about these parties that sell vibrators and lubricants, and I definitely wanted to be in on that. So when my sister decided to host one, I was eager to attend. I ended up buying about $70 in products, most of which have never been used. One of them, I quickly realized, though it smells and tastes like green apple, is too sticky to use. Another turned out to be effective but inconvenient. I do actually use one product, but only to spray on my chest when my boobs are sweaty in the summer. Hot, I know.

The last product I bought, the most expensive one, was a certain… tool if you will. The consultant raved about it, and my sisters convinced me it was a hundred times better than the current “tool” I owned, so I bought it. As soon as I got it home and turned it on (yes it’s the kind of tool that requires batteries), I discovered it made an unbearable buzzing sound. Not the normal whirring that these tools are supposed to make, but a high-pitched motorized sound. Kind of like a child’s remote control car. There’s no hiding its use from anyone within fifty feet of you. When I’m in the mood to use such a tool, the last thing I want is to conjure up thoughts of children’s toys. It was definitely not going to work for me.

But Pure Romance has a no return policy on such items, which I suppose makes sense, but this tool never even came near any regions that might render it “unclean” or non-refundable. So it sits in my room, in the plastic wrapping, in the original bag it came in. Fifty bucks well spent I’d say.

My next Pure Romance party was a couple weeks ago. Again, it was fun, but this time I was smart and didn’t buy anything. I think a party that’s supposed to celebrate women’s sexuality is a great idea, but when they pass around rubbery tubes that look like a woman’s mouth and nose (um, for men to use in case you didn’t get that) and play a game called “Tic Tac Toe, Give Me a Prize You Skanky Ho” it doesn’t feel very woman-friendly.

I’m not sure how Passion Parties differ from Pure Romance, but I don’t think I want to spend my money on any more products or tools that will go to waste. I should go anyway, for the social aspect, and just pretend like I’m a virgin and don’t condone sins of the flesh. Or something. But there’s so much pressure to buy something, anything, so the hostess doesn’t feel like she made that plate of cheese and crackers for nothing.

I finally got around to updating my blogroll, something I’ve been meaning to do for oh, I don’t know, six months? Check it out, maybe you’re there! And if you’re not but should be, kick me in the neck and let me know. Especially if you comment a lot or if you link to me, then I definitely want to include you. And the fact that I didn’t does not say anything about the depth and meaning of our friendship, I promise, it just means I have a lot going on okay, so get off my back already.

For real though, let me know. Mutual love.