Clarity

Happy Friday, babies! Okay, so this post is to elaborate a bit on yesterday's post. See, if you haven't figured it out already, here's the thing about me. Sometimes I get on a ramble and I just GO. K and my sister know this well, since I'll call them and ramble on for 45 minutes before I realize we got disconnected. So, to elaborate...

This year has been filled with a lot of stress for my family and I. My Grandma passed away in August, the same weekend I moved in with K, actually. It was the craziest thing I've ever experienced, and I'm not sure I've completely come to terms with it yet. I still have her number in my cell phone, I just can't bring myself to delete it.

There are a number of other things that have gone on like rapid fire, one after another. You know how that is, right? Something goes wrong, and then the whole card castle comes fluttering down. And I remember thinking to myself a few months ago: really? It was all a bit overwhelming. It still is.

I'll tell you what, though-- it has shown me how incredibly strong K and my sister have been for me. That weekend that I had to go back to the mitten for my Grandma's funeral, K had to move the entire contents of my apartment to the house along with the help of his friend, both of whom I'll be forever grateful to. So while I was with my family in Michigan trying to process that I had lost my only living grandmother, my apartment was being moved. I came home to a new home, and though it was a good transition--it was still a transition. One that I've never been happier that I decided to make.

Yesterday, I watched Eat, Pray, Love. I think that's pretty much all I had to say to explain my post, but I'll go on. It made me think about the times I had when I went on my study abroad backpacking trip to Europe six years ago, and how much I miss it. I think while on that trip, I realized the tools I need to be happy in life. To rise above whatever is going on and maintain my sanity, and some clarity. And quite honestly, in recent months, I have lost that sense of clarity. I've been so caught up in all of the drama of my life, swimming so far deep without a sense of how to surface, and it's taken its toll on me.

I just want to remember how to rise above it all. How to deal with everything with grace and dignity, and to feel like myself again--happy, carefree, giddy, despite whatever is going on. And now that I'm more aware of it, I think it will be a little easier to return to that place. Hopefully this post was a bit less cryptic, and left you feeling with a better sense of what the hell is going on. (If you figure it out, can you give me a call? I'd love to be clued in!)

With a blog, some posts are lovestruck, some are funny, and some are just plain self-indulgently theraputic. So if you're in for the ride, keep reading about my life. At the very least, I'm usually good for some comic relief. Maybe I'll post a little Police Blotter Friday action later to make up for it.

And on a brighter note: we have some good friends coming to visit the next couple of weekends, so stay tuned for posts about our (probably slightly intoxicated) adventures!

Anger Hangover

I had a hot date with Lisa Vanderpump and the gang again tonight. This time, it was the reunion show. (I'm behind on the DVR, okay? Birthday weeks are very busy!) What really struck me though was Kyle's reaction to everything. She's a spitfire, that's for sure. She says things right off the top of her head, and she doesn't give a shit who knows it. In some ways, I envy that about her. I'm passive-aggressive by nature, and I hate conflict more than cat poop on my carpet. I'm also a people pleaser, to boot. Maybe that's why I take out all of my sarcastic aggression on my blog, where nobody can chase after me with a baseball bat.

It must feel good, to just blurt out what you're thinking. Just spit it out, no filter. To say whatever comes to mind, not care who it hurts or what kind of consequences you'll face. And while I think there are some very theraputic advantages to spouting off at the proverbial mouth, I see the remorse in Kyle's eyes for some of the things she's said. And I'm reminded once again why I am better off finding a happy medium between being a complete bitch and the rug under people's feet.

Over the years, I've had to learn to stand up for myself in more ways than one. I've been put to the test in friendships and in relationships. And while I'm not afraid to look someone in the eye and tell them what I'm really feeling, I think there is a difference between heated confrontation and tactful conversation. And for the last 26 years I've been struggling to find a balance there. What I think I need to work on is telling people how I actually feel, but in a way that doesn't give me an anger hangover the next morning, regretting things I've said (or thrown.)

But I have to say that sometimes all I really want to do is cave into my childish and self-indulgent desires and make a list of all the people and things that piss me off, write it on my facebook status in all caps with seven exclamation points and a big sad face at the end, and wait for the sympathetic comments to follow. Everyone else does it, right? Maybe there's something to it!

TACKS, Y'ALL.

Okay, I am PISSED, y'all. Like Britney-with-an-Umbrella mad. Yesterday, I went out in my little red Focus to run some errands, buy some presents and such, and I pulled into the garage. I get out of the car, and it's like YAY, K IS HOME! So we huuuuuug since we haven't seen each other in a few days, and we wind up on the passenger side of the car. K looks down to my tire, and says "hey, what did you run over?" I follow his eyes down to my right front tire, and...

IT'S TACKS, Y'ALL. TACKS. Not just one. A whole BUNCH of effing tacks. So K, being the wonder mechanic that he is, gets out some tools and starts pulling the tacks out of my tire. And I'm flat out in tears, because I've been having a shit day anyhow, and this is really just the cherry on top. So he pulls THREE out, plus two without heads, and they're just sitting there in an evil little pile on the garage floor. Just out of curiousity, I walk to the back of my car to check out the rear tire. And what do I find... MORE TACKS. FIVE more tacks, to be exact. Which means there are MORE in the back tire than in the front. Fucking fantastic.

So K is desperately trying to keep me from having the breakdown of the century and is saying things like "it's okay, baby"... and "they must have just been in the street."

But WERE THEY?

See, this scenario could have gone down two ways.

Scenario A: A cute old schoolteacher comes out of Target carrying bags upon bags of school supplies that she can barely carry herself. She gets to her Buick Stationwagon, pops the trunk, and drops the supplies for her underpriviledged third graders all up in the parking lot. A taped box of tacks hits the ice so hard that it pops open, innocently spewing eight tacks in a neat little row. Poor lady. Maybe you should pick up those tacks you spewed.

Scenario B: Some punk kids are bored to death on a Wednesday night and think it might be funny to line up some sharp weapons in the street. They pull their hoods up over their red beady little eyes at the mall, and loiter near the pole, smoking packs of Kools and watching to see which unsuspecting patron of the Tar-jay will run them over.

I'm going to go with Scenario B, although K tried his damndest to convince me it could really have all been an accident, bless his heart. I just don't see how that would be a possibility given that they are all on the outside of my tire, in a neat little row, spaced almost symmetrically apart. I'd just like to add to this, that these tires are BRAND fucking new. Literally, I bought them in August or September. So now, I have to either have K spend hours trying to find all of these tiny devil holes in my tires, or go buy TWO new tires.

Honestly, this is shaping up to be the best week of my life.