Friend or Foe

I found the last tangible piece of my childhood torn to shreds this morning. My long-time comfort laying dismantled at my feet with no hope of reconstruction. My eyes augmenting in disbelief, my breath absconding, my hands trembling, tears welling, I collapsed to the floor.

These moments of utter loss have been frequenting my seemingly affected existence lately. Yet, this symbolically tops them all. I have been doing a commendable job disarming panic attacks with a nonchalant air and convincingly carefree smile. Lassitude surrounding the indirection of my life. I can pull off this guise because all those who really know me, know that change is no friend of mine, are thousands of miles away.

But this week, my uncanny abilities to brush off overwhelming feelings are weakening. I avoid moments alone that aren't packed full of purposeful activity. The place bereft of a comforting and familiar presence is now a medley of strangers' scents.

Eyes perfectly lined, hair punctiliously placed. Fitted in tight jeans and peep-toe pumps. Layers shedding on a diet of greyhounds through neon cocktail straws. Playing into the games, but following through with little. Those quiet nights at home are equating to equivocal memories. This poison comes instruction-free and regularly costs me nothing.

I've cried over this before, the hurt, the anger. But for the first time I'm truly sad over it all. No anger, no blame, no dwelling and analyzing, no wishing for it to go back to the way it once was- just sad over the demise of the love we once knew.

Insomnia

The woes of working 12 (really 13 or 14) hour night shifts are far too many to fully divulge here, but I would at least like to make one major complaint: insomnia. I have slept for seven hours in the past three days, only 2 of them being consecutive hours, and all were obtained between 10am and 7pm. In case you haven't already come to this conclusion, I am turning into a vampire, or at least have severely impaired functioning. My poor sleep habbits are partly due to going through such huge life changes, and partly because I am hormonal, and stressed, etc. But I would like to place most of the blame on night-shift. I cannot stay a prisoner to a dysfunctional schedule for much longer. My mother believes that there is a strong correlation between me working nights and the Iraq war. When I mentioned this to my manager, she laughed for a moment, then paused with a sobering frown and stated "If I thought that there was even a minuscule chance that Bush and Cheney would shrivel up in a tiny ball and evaporate, I would place you on day shift before you could blink your eye." In other words, I will not be making the switch to day shift at my current place of work. Therefore, I may have to look elsewhere.

For those of you who have not heard, my fiance Tim and I are parting ways. It sucks. It sucks real bad sometimes. But, this is life. He is going to be attending Emory for his MPH, which is his dream come true. He will have a whole new world to explore, and I'm sure his discoveries and adventures will leave him nothing short of elated. At least that is how I am envisioning the whole situation. He may even be able to land his fantasy job of being a professional peach taste tester- Georgia is, after all, the peach state.

So that leaves me with what I'm going to do now. The answer is: I really have no idea. I may be moving to Colorado, or I might become a traveling nurse and go to someplace warm with a beach (since Abe's first beach trip was revolutionary). Maybe Portugal or St. Johns or something. I don't know. But I have decided to embrace the mystery.

I have really pulled myself out of my funk. It may very well be lurking around the corner waiting to pounce when I least expect it, but bring it on. I even retired my sweats for a night out on the town (thank you Crystal). We had one hell of a night at work on Tuesday, easily one of the worst nights ever, so plans for mimosa breakfast turned into vodka breakfast. We slept for a couple hours and then got dolled-up to go to some fancy pharmaceutical dinner at Portland City Grill. Turns out we could not manage to get ready in time, so went to Masu Sushi for dinner instead. It was so delish! We sat at the bar and were chatted up by the adorable sushi chefs fitted in their hachimakis. Then ended up spending the remainder of the evening bar-hopping SE Portland in their company. It was very therapeutic for me to get out of the house and make some new friends. This girl is going to have to trade out her slippers for her leopard pumps a little more often! Have a happy weekend!

Doom, I mean Spring is upon us...

Well, the 2008 SI swim edition is in my possession, so it is officially spring time, though the weather has not been particularly cooperative in welcoming all that spring has to offer. It has been a while, a long while since my last blog. I have a lot of catching up to do I suppose. Here is my speed rendition at an update on life:

Tim came back from a month in SE Asia, with thousands of beautiful photos. I was so happy to have him home again. It sure was getting lonely around here. I have since been fortunate to sample all of the cooking skills and recipes he learned while in Thailand. He is a master at curry, the green is my favorite.

My mom came to visit last month for a few days, it was so great to see her! We went several mini adventures in PDX including the Tao of Tea, Pambiche, the Japanese Gardens, Laurelhurst, the general Belmont area, and of course Portland Nursery. But mostly we just sat around huddled under blankets sipping tea or Vietnamese coffee, and enjoyed the company due to the nasty cold weather.


Tim and I did plant therapy with all the new and exciting options at Portland Nursery (our favorite place to spend our free afternoons). We have a dwarf nectarine, poppies, window boxes as well as an attempted kitchen herb garden that hangs over the sink.

Work has been one crazy night after the other, but we have been staying very busy until last week- which I am very greatful for. I have come a long way in my profession in the past 6 months. I even took my first balloon pump! This probably means nothing to you, but just take my word that it is exciting. They have also asked me to do relief charge, which is so so scary! Flattering and all, but no thanks.


A couple years ago, Tim got this old TV console and record player. The TV didn't work, so he gutted it, refinished it, and put in a fish tank in place of the TV at my request. Ever since, it has been our aquatic canvas. We have gone through many remodels with plants when it begins to look uninspired, and unfortunately many fish have come and gone (gone down the toilet burial that is). One fish, if you can even call him a fish, that has held through from day one is Nessie. He was our prehistoric looking eel with snake like scales fitted with dinosaur spikes. We named him The Loch Ness Monster, or Nessie for short. He was a survivor. Even when we moved the tank from the condo to the new house, and had to put each fish in a make-shift travel tank (aka various vases half filled with water), he made the bumpy journey with no problem. He was the only living fish on arrival. A few weeks ago on a dreary night, Tim and I were talking about needing to liven up the tank, and what the options were. We went to bed undecided. The next morning I walked out of our bedroom and immediately noticed something on the floor. It was big, it was black, it appeared to be slimy... basically not something you would voluntarily pick up. I very hesitantly walked over to get a closer look. It was Nessie. Apparently he decided it was time to evolve. No such luck, he was dead. I have no idea how he got out. There is only one small hole that he could have squirmed through, and even then he would have had to crawl or slither over the steep slope of the tank light and carefully maneuver his way out through the front side of the record player avoiding the many cracks, nooks, and crannies on his way out. Anyhow, he did it. Not only did he get out, but he managed to end up several feet from the tank. In case this did not make me uneasy, there was more to come. I put on my blue rubber gloves to transport him to the flushing burial grounds, bent down and picked him up in my fingers. Then came the blood curdling scream... Nessie was not completely dead, he was writhing, thrashing, turning his head and lunging toward me. It was awful. I am severely traumatized. He always scared me a little, but I never envisioned my own private version of Jurassic Park to materialize in my living room. Needless to say we got some new fish, and none of them resemble anything close to a prehistoric beast. My favorite, our beautiful discus, is pictured above.

Ever since experiencing the tragedy of the Loch Ness monster, things have just been going down hill. I am not sure when, exactly, everything went wrong. What I can say, is that this house is full of sadness, tears, and change. I know that change usually makes us stronger, that it comes about for a reason. I sure don't feel strong, don't currently feel that change is a welcomed friend.
Betrayal is a funny thing, not funny haha. It seems that you cannot truly betray someone else unless said someone has put quite an investment in you- whether it be time, emotions, love, money, trust- or a combination of such. When you betray yourself, it gets much more complicated. How is it possible to love someone so incredibly much, and things begin to crumble anyway? How can you put so much effort into making everything work out, but know in your heart of hearts it will not be a beautiful ending? How is it that you can live with someone for so long and invest so much, but not be the one who intervenes in their saddest struggle?

Going postal at the lovely post-office

Oh my goodness, the holidays are totally here, and I am not quite prepared- mentally. For example, I had to go to the post office yesterday, an activity that is completely overwhelming and anxiety provoking enough as is: the never moving line; the packaging options and rules; the robots who work there who are not the least bit interested in smiling or making anything easy; making sure there is enough bubble wrap to secure the precious items I'm mailing; panicking about whether everything is going to get to it's destination on the right day or not... the list really could go on and on, but I might work myself into a panic attack if I continue. So, knowing that I either need a valium or a shot of vodka prior to arriving at the hell that is the post office should make me depart prepared, but I never am.
I had to mail 20 jars of our homemade jam to my mom to distribute as "happy holiday" gifts to her coworkers and the like. I put them all in my bag, recounting three times before I left, had all 20 tags to place on the jars, my payment options, and my sanity. I even had my dad's, brother's and mom's birthday cards to include in the loot. I was totally prepared.
I am not quite sure when I lost the sanity I had been sure to pack for the trip. It may have been the second I walked in the door seeing an endless line and hearing the frustrated remarks crazed line participants were muttering not so quietly. It may have been when I was unable to obtain the special packaging tape you have to use for priority mail. It may have been when I finally got my package together (with stickers I found mind you, not packaging tape) and was standing in line to be addressed by another crazed citizen who yelled "You have got to be f***ing kidding me, what is everyone doing here?! This is absurd!" But it was most likely when I had stood in line for an hour (with another half our to go), arms painfully shaking, 20 jars of jam slowly causing my biceps to fail. I refused to put the package on the floor for fear that when picking it up, the sticker holding the bottom tabs together would loose it's strength and 20 jars of jam would go crashing onto the floor.
There were two guys behind me, and two in front of me. The two behind me taunting me about how heavy my package looked, asking if I was going to drop it. Nice. The saint in front of me turned around, obviously not being able to stand it anymore. "Hey, can I just hold that for a while?" Those who know me, know that it would take some serious coaxing to get me to let go of my box. Turns out it didn't take that much. I let him hold it for a while.
Needless to say, I did not leave with my sanity, but I did leave with the tags and birthday cards I was supposed to mail. My poor dad, this is the second time I forgot to include his card in a package I was sending back in October. I just got so frazzled by the time I got to the window, I could barely remember my name or address. Thankfully these things can go through the regular mail picked up by the mailman at my own safe home.
If it weren't for the nice guy in front of me, I quite likely would have been committed yesterday. He was a tall, built man in his 20s wearing a white beanie and a north face fleece. Brown eyes. I think his name was Adam. He didn't want me to buy him lunch- I suppose if I were him I most certainly would not go to lunch with a stranger who looked on the brink of lunacy either. If you see this kind soul, kiss him, tell him he's wonderful, do him a favor, throw money at him- he deserves it. And for God-sakes: avoid the post office at all costs, and if you absolutely have to go, remember there is safety in numbers!

Thursday Night Life

For most people, Thursday is a sneak-peak of the weekend to come, the appetizer for Friday night craziness, partying, or even laying low with no obligation to get up or prepare anything for work or school. For me, Thursday night is where it's at- the night full of fun and glory. Tim and I relish in watching the office, usually with our dear friend Nate. We usually come up with some sort of imbibe concoction to quench the thirst, and usually find some fine dining to fill our anticipation for what Micheal or Dwight may delight us with at 2100 sharp. Sometimes, we even have a theme to the night, such as biore strip night. I guess you could say we are all obsessed. But, who really cares? It is always a great time. So thanks Nate, Tim, and surprise guest (who I really like and you will be hearing more about at a later date) for another great Thursday night.

One year older, and thankful...

My 24th birthday officially ended one hour and 43 minutes ago, but we all know the celebrating will last at least a week with some sporadic gifts, cards, and celebrations happening at least a month from now. That's just how it is. I found myself sniffling and aching late Saturday night. This nasty cold has survived all the sleep, emergen-c, hot tea, and even Tim's care one can imagine- and is still going strong. Despite this ailment, I had a pretty great birthday.
Tim brought me homemade hot chocolate crafted with Belgian chocolate bars and soy milk- delish!- while I lingered in the warmth of our bed. Then, just as I was getting out of bed, the fed-ex man showed up with some beautiful variated Peruvian Lilies sent with love from my dad. I assumed the duty of a flaneur most of the morning with Tim and Abe by my side. We went to Target and craft stores to get supplies for gifts and tag making, and anyone who has been into one of these stores with me knows I have to have a limited amount of money or I'd take one of everything available. I just love the endless possibilities of cardstock, embossing powder, ribbon, colors, and textures that line each and every isle. After exhausting the craft store isles or at least successfully comporting myself with a degree of restraint, we had worked up an appetite and decided to try out Zien Hong, recommended by pals E and Ali. I am so ecstatic to report I have finally found a place that serves vermicelli bowls and fish sauce (this may sound disgusting, but it actually tastes nothing like fish). Needless to say it was a lovely dining experience with superb service and scrumptious food. They even have young coconut juice served in a coconut shell- who could possibly ask for more?

On a completely different note, thanksgiving was not so shabby either. We went down to Salem, which I was admittedly apprehensive about. It was sad to be away from my family, but it was a good time with the help of some Riesling and a game of Apples to Apples. Which brings me to list a few of the things I am thankful for, in no particular order:
*Tim
*My Family
*Abe
*Securing a difficult but sometimes rewarding job
*Diane, Meghan, and Bay for helping me get through the rough nights at work
*People who are dedicated in researching and advancing medicine and understanding the holistic being of our species- special mention to Medtronic's Real Time monitor, which I have yet to acquire
*Eugene Langdon-inventor of Splenda
*Having the power of choice, and the health of mind to use it...
Quite honestly this list could go on and on, but for the sake of time (mine and yours) we will keep it short. Hope you all had a lovely Thanksgiving and the upcoming holidays are splendid!

Marmalade is on his death bed

Our bright orange cichlid, marmalade, is near dead this afternoon. His fellow habitants of our TV console fish tank are all hiding in the shadows of the plants, anticipating indulgence in carnivorous delight. It is a sickening thought, as Marmalade was the bright entertainment that swam across the screen, the social one. Poor little guy. I hope he passes into the afterlife peacefully and has a plethora of brightly colored dames awaiting his arrival. So long Marmie, we will miss you dearly.
Alright then, onto a more pollyannaish subject. I have cured a portion of my homesickness! I returned late last night from Bozeman, MT where I was visiting my brother Chris at college. He seems to have picked the perfect location for himself. He dwells on the 9th floor of Roskie Hall- some of you may be familiar with their claim to fame in High Times Magazine. I stepped out of the elevator, the aroma of Ganja floating freely in the air. I walked down the hall to my brothers pod and was greeted by many friendly happy faces. There is no drama here, just good times. There are homemade informational posters covering the walls (each one considered a punishment for having been caught doing something against the rules). Some examples: why marijuana is bad for you, why slip and slides made out of garbage bags that line the hallways in the dorm is dangerous, etc.
Chris's dorm room window frames a horse pasture and barn nestled below the mountains. He is 15 minutes from the mountain and snowboarding, and he is 15 minutes from the river to go fly fishing, camping or hiking. Main street hosts blocks of independent shops, restaurants, coffee shops, and a friendly food co-op. It was a great place to visit, and seems like a fabulous place to live. Everyone was friendly and helpful and Chris's content was emanating from his pores. There was nothing unpleasant about my three day adventure and I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to go see my brother and can't wait until our next family rendezvous.