Look at me now

Spent the night in a suite with him. Italian food, a soft bed, and tired eyes.


I still got it!
I ran four miles on the treadmill this morning on the "hill/strength training" mode. Then did an hour of strength training (core, arms, and shoulders) When I got home I spent another hour and a half hanging and climbing on beams fixing the roof on the barn, then took tank running around the lake (twice!). I did over six miles, probably a hair under seven (if not seven) and I feel amazing. My knee has a dull pain but I had this.. I can't even explain it. It felt like coming home after a long absence. It felt like crawling under a warm blanket after being out in the cold all day. It felt like home, it felt like I was at peace.

Suddenly, I came to terms with my life and I grabbed it by the horns. I have the control and I was coping. All the things I quietly absorbed, I was releasing. I didn't want to stop, I wanted to just keep running until morning but Tank was tired and my knee still isn't completely healed.
But god, it was such a high.

Between yesterday and today I feel great. I needed to get out of here, I needed to get away from all the familiarity screaming down on me. I needed to get out of it so I could deal with it.

"You're so cute and cuddy." ... "Enjoy it while you can, cause when I'm all better I'm like a Raptor!"

Dear pms,
Making me eat all the time sucks. Gaining 5lbs once a month (if it comes regularly) sucks. Being bloated sucks. Having stomach pains sucks. Headaches sucks. "feeling" those emotional things sucks.Having my iron completely drop off the chart sucks. Making my vag bleed sucks. Basically, you suck.

No love,
the broad who destroyed the Oreo's.


I've been a waste of space for the past few days. I have a serious bacteria infection that started off in a bug bite below my right knee (the good one). I ran a 5k saturday morning with my Dad and step-dad. My mom and step-mom were there and he came. He met my father, they got along (this is where I take a deep breath and that half-conniving-smile).

I absolutely refuse to miss a tradition with my dad.

After wards, he took me to the urgent care clinic. I limped out of there and spent everyday since hobbling around the house like a pathetic wounded animal.

I'm a hellbent independent.

He's completely set up this new snazzy laptop I have. (Hello beautiful).

Life recently has been good, painful but good.
Though I can't shake the feeling that it's a calm before the storm. What storm I don't really know, maybe I'll un-suppress a life worth of living, or maybe something really bad is going to happen. Regardless, I made it through having a half inch hole in my leg dug out with forceps without crying

"There will be days when you think you've raised an alien. there are the same days she feels like she's being raised by one" (seemed appropriate).

So, technically it's Valentines day. /the day of roses (gag), chocolate (gag), mushy-gushy feelingy stuff (gag gag gag) oh and someone crying (gagggg). Someone always cries.

I usually make it a point to plan my relationships around today; either I wait until afterward to start a relationship or right before to end it.

This year however I'm going against my own grain and dating someone (who I have no complaints about). Typically I would spend the day working and in the evening at the barn with the only man in my life who's always been there for me with open ears and slobbery kisses.

This year I'll come home to (ah, yes, I'm working until seven am) a man in my house and my other man in my backyard. Well, two men in my house really. I can't forget my new little man, Tank.

I'm no good at days like this. I'm no good at feelings. I'm no good at gifts that mean something and I'm no good at "moments". Aside from something scandalous and red, I didn't get anything. I didn't plan anything.

I have this innate fear of anyone leaving a permanent mark in my life. I talked about this to my room mate last night. I don't have anyone saved on speed dial (short of parentals because like it or not, they're here to stay). I guess it's my way of preparing and protecting myself or when they do leave. Only it's fermented over the years (and my romantic history really didn't help this) into this overwhelming fear that makes me lock my breaks up at simple things. Meaningless things. Metastasizing. Inhibiting my already handicapped ability to divulge anything of real substance. Feelings. Nightmares. Questions. They whole nine-yards.

Hello issues,
I have you. Lots and lots of you.