This Got Very Long. Consider Yourself Warned.

This started out as a general What's Going On With Me post, but evolved fairly quickly into What's Going On With My Brain a.k.a. I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS.

One of the biggest things going on in our life right now is moving. This is fairly all-encompassing, because it's not just The Move I/we are thinking about, it's everything that we're doing once we get there.

Both Ryan and I are planning on visiting a GP when we get back, and possibly a nutritionist as well. It was originally Ryan's idea, for himself, to get in shape for the wedding and just generally become healthier. As he's talked about it, I've thought about my health more, and how much I need to change. Plus, I'm obviously going to support him in whatever way I can, both in diet and exercise. The details all depend on what the doctor's say, obviously, but we know we need to make a lot of changes. Big changes. Cutting things out of our diet, signing up for classes, getting on the Wii Fit changes. The more we talk about it, the more excited I get.

Something else I'm doing when we move is going back to therapy. I had decided this even before the awful summer I've had, as I still have very specific issues that I'm sick of living with. Then this summer happened, and it became a definite. Most of June and July disappeared into a black hole of depression--and I mean that pretty strongly, thinking back on those months doesn't bring up a lot of specific memories. It's a big, dark, awful blur. August brought a lot of normalcy back, but there have been nights where the emotions want to creep up again. Even when that doesn't happen, I've been thinking about it, and I think I've figured out exactly what's wrong.

...Even before Ryan and I decided to move to Indiana last year, we had talked about going somewhere, mostly because his choice of grad schools for the program he wanted was slim and scattered. I knew I wanted to get out of the area, at least temporarily. Not because I hate the place or the people, but because I felt...stifled. Which is a stupid word if you know my parents, but there it is.

It's hard to grow when you live in a place that has known you as one thing for your entire life.

Everyone, even people who loved and adored and supported me, even the people who were the best for me and helped me grow the little I did, still saw me as the same person I'd been as long as they'd known me. In a situation like that, there are expectations, and actions based on those expectations, both conscious and unconscious. Hell, I had expectations, I have no doubts that I've always been my own worst enemy, and have gotten in my own way more and better than anyone else. Ever.

POINT IS. I was stuck. Then we did the biggest, scariest, and best thing ever, and moved 800 miles to a strange place to live and work with strangers. We gambled everything--our money, our credit, our identities, our relationship, I suppose even our lives--and jumped. And we grew. We grew a lot.

Then, over the second weekend of June, we went back home to visit for four days. We had a great time, we came back, we started up our lives again, and then I fell into a hole and didn't crawl out for almost two months. And even though I'm out of it, I'm still struggling, and I finally know what's wrong.

I'm having an identity crisis.

When we moved out here, I withdrew from my classes at MCC and basically ignored my acceptance to ECSU. I had a lot of interests fighting in my head, to the point of just...seizing up with indecision. I decided that, when we got to Indiana, I would just work. I wouldn't pursue marketing or graphic design or art or editing or anything else, I would just work and see what I would do without any requirements, what would emerge naturally. And it did. And it still feels like I want, with my whole heart and soul, to do and be: mother, wife, artist, writer.

But I'm still struggling with other parts of myself. I'm struggling with parts I didn't know existed, struggling in ways I don't really comprehend. If I think about it too much, I get this disconnected feeling--literally disconnected, as if gravity has cut off and I'm about to float away. I feel like vomiting and screaming and attacking the furniture.

Even if I don't think about it too closely--and trust me, with that reaction, I avoid doing so--I find myself...grasping. I'll think about getting a spontaneous tattoo or piercing, going home and getting very drunk, or even trying a drag of my friend's cigarette--I KNOW. That last one, especially, made me realize that I'm grasping at straws, at others' identities.

One night, talking with Aurelie, I re-mentioned that I loved her new tattoo, and how much I really want to get one, especially before we move back. She said that she'd talked about tattoos with Allie, and they'd agreed that, to them, tattoos aren't about tattoos, they're about feeling so strongly about something that they want it permanently on their body for the rest of their lives. She advised that I should think of it that way, not the way of Tattoos Are Awesome I Want One.

And I started thinking about it, and the more I tried to narrow down that One Thing I felt That Strongly about, the dizzier I got and the more I felt like vomiting and screaming and punching furniture.

POINT IS (again) I have some issues going on, and I need to buckle down and deal with them. Thinking about therapy, I know that I'm going to go in there ready to buckle down, and I know that I'm going to spend a lot of time being asked really hard questions, feeling like I'm going to float away, wanting to scream and run away. It's going be really fucking hard, and it's going to hurt like a motherfucker.

But I have to do it. For my relationship, for my future, for my physical health, for my mental health, for my identity. For my life.

Moar Sleep Nao?

Blargh. Exhausted. I need a day where I wake up naturally, no alarm clock, and maybe then I'll actually wake up feeling like I could take on the world, and not just want to crawl back under the covers. There's a NEW pattern going on, where I wake up after one cycle, almost exactly four hours after I fall asleep. Every night. BAH.

...Not much else to say right now. I'm tired. I haven't had the time to take pictures, so I haven't really had anything to edit or upload, which makes me unhappy. Still having a hard time with life in general, but I seem to be slowly heading uphill instead of down. Just keep swimmin'...

I'm Currently Fan-Freaking-Tastic, Considering It's Nighttime...

Still here, although not all there.

I mentioned recently that I've been depressed; that timeline started around the middle of June. I've felt a bit better the past two weeks, which was either ironic or fitting since it directly coincided with the time of the month I'm usually much crabbier and harder to deal with, first with PMS and then with During-MS.

Then the past week, I've been bouncing--hard--between a bitch, a mope, or a complete spaz. Ryan's despaired of taking me shopping anywhere, even for groceries, and if I'm not working on something (be it barring, writing/planning, or photoediting), my mind is all over the place. Unless, of course, I'm snapping at someone or whimpering in a corner.

I'd really like to know where the hell I went. This isn't me. I have mood swings just as bad as the next girl, I have an entire steam trunk of issues, and I'm always a bit of a spazzy little weirdo, but this is whole other animal. It feels like back in June, someone opened up my skull, stuck in a wooden spoon, and had a fine time mixing it all up.

Something isn't right. And I fucking hate it.

Anyway, that's why I've been really horrible with everything...it's even reached blog posts and photo posts now. I hate making excuses, and I promise I'm not instead spending all my spare time being a sad sack, it's mostly just a lack of physical and mental energy, a hole in my memory, and an inability to keep my thoughts in a straight line.

Love you all. I'll be back eventually. All of me. I promise.

Raw Ruth of Now.

Okay, you know what? It's time for the truth.

I haven't just been cranky. I mean, yes, I've been cranky, but that's not all. I've been depressed. Really depressed. Maddeningly depressed. It's like some evil hand reached into my head, cranked every negative dial it could find up WAY past 11, gassed the whole place with a dark blue funk cloud, put me on a hair trigger, and then left little remote control negativity bombs set to go off whenever I have a moment of idle thought.

I've been snapping at co-workers. I've been listless and beyond anti-social, the idea of doing simple chores feels immensely taxing and complicated. I've been crying...a lot. I can't honestly call them crying jags because they don't happen at random times all the time, but when they do happen it's out of my control. Phone calls have been just about out of the question, which I really hate...I promised myself after Connecticut that I WOULD be better and more regular with communication, with all my parents, and I WANT to be...but the energy just isn't there. I might hate that more than anything else.

Is life stressful right now? Yes. YEAH. Has been for a while, basically since we arrived here. This is not because of that stress. This is not because I'm miserable in Indiana and wish we were back in Connecticut. This is not because we're broke. This is not because I hate my job. None of these things is true (well...we ain't rich, but my point stands).

I'm honestly not sure why I'm suddenly overwhelmed by everything, why I feel so...miserable. I also don't really know how to make it stop. Ryan has been indispensable, and I'm trying to focus on happy things and doing what makes me feel better--reading, photography, etc. Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn't.

The reason I started this blog and moved from LiveJournal almost two years ago was so I could talk about my emotions honestly. I've never actually done that to the extent I had originally hoped...well, here it is.

I don't want worried calls or texts or e-mails--hell, I don't want worry, although I know from experience that's impossible. I won't lie and say I'm okay, because obviously that ain't the case, but I'm not about to hurt myself or crawl into a bottle of Kahlua or check myself into a hospital because I can't deal with anything anymore. I am dealing as best I can, and I know I will get through this, one way or another.

This depression has lasted almost a month. If September comes and I'm still this level of miserable, or worse, I will be visiting a doctor to get some kind of medication. It's not a good time to start seeing a therapist here in Indiana, but I do have one lined up in Connecticut. While I really do not want to go back on medication, the idea of feeling this way while moving back to Connecticut, settling back into the basement, starting at a new store, all without therapy...it's not a pleasant thought. As I said, though, I am dealing as best I can, and I have support.

I don't want anyone losing sleep if I don't update or call back or respond. I don't want anyone worrying about my health or my safety. But I don't want even worse ideas forming because I don't update or call back or respond, and I don't want anyone to think I'm not thinking or remembering them.

I just want to be honest.

Partayyyy?

Last night (that is, Wednesday night) was Emily's birthday thang. Started off in a pub near Notre Dame called O'Rourke's, then moved to Mitch's, the same place the Ben & Ruth Birthday Drinking Spree ended up back in May. I'll admit to enjoying a couple of drinks (including a caramel macchiato martini, how could I not?), but I spent most of the evening dishing with people way drunker than me, and watching a drunken birthday girl try to dance. It was a lot of fun!

Today...not so much. I mentioned in my last entry that I've been feeling cranky lately? Today was a bad day for it...and I'm not sure if it's weird or fitting that today was actually a pretty good day. I was up pretty late, but slept in and got plenty of lovely sleep. I tried my hand at baking snickerdoodles and am very proud of the results. I had some study time at Quincy's with Aurelie where we were actually productive, including re-outlining the first chapter to Found in a way that I feel really good about.

Of course, my mind guilted me for sleeping in so late (noon!), the snickerdoodles were for a house-warming party that I ended up feeling too crappy to go to, and I got incredibly mired in brainmuck trying to work on the second chapter. Hmph.

The day ended with a new episode of Futurama and ice cream, though, and I'm still very happy with my snickerdoodles, so...yay.

Ssssstuff?

I have been cranky and feeling mildly crappy for about two weeks now and I DON'T LIKE IT.

And when I say cranky, I mean CRANKY. The little things that might barely blip on the Annoyance Radar have me ready to rip someone's head off...and I've come really close to it on several occasions, when normally I just clam up and seethe in silence.

I've always tended toward a very short frustration fuse, but lately it's been almost nonexistent. I can go from fine to FUCKOFF in no time flat, and I hate it. I've always hated it, and I hate it even more now...which is funny, because do I hate the fact that it's shorter, or is my hating it caused by it being shorter? Whee!

And I'm exhausted and creaky, but what else is new.

I got tomorrow off, so I can go to Emily's birthday dinner. Thursday may be a surprise party for another friend, Saturday is Other Shift's last night before transferring and may end with a few of us going out to say goodbye.

Tomorrow's plan: writing/stuff in the morning and early afternoon, evening spent with Ryan, night spent with friends. Thursday is more Ryan time, probably errands and such. Friday I don't work until 4:30, so more Ryan time or possibly Aurelie time since she's back from her trip.

Next week's schedule is almost all closing, which is confusing since I almost always pre-close. Oh, except for Sunday, when I'm schedule as a mid...okay! o.O

Ummm what else what else...OH! I got up early with one mission today: Get to book store and buy new A Dance With Dragons, the new book in A Song Of Ice And Fire. :D I usually don't like hard covers, but there's no way I'd be able to wait the year or however long before it hit paperback. Plus it's pretty, has lovely maps on the inside of the covers, and I had a gift card from my birthday still, soooo....mine :D

Of course, I still have half of A Feast With Crows to finish first, but that's okay. I'll get through it fast enough.

And on that note...

One Foot In Front Of The Other.

I did not post yesterday because I didn't know what to say. The day sucked for a number of reasons, but it left me truly speechless when I got the news that Zach was gone.

...

I will forever be awed by my family, and their capacity for strength and grace. From beginning to end, my cousins and aunt and uncle--the wife and in-laws of this man--have been stubbornly hopeful and optimistic without denying the truth of what was going on. They are amazing and incredible, and I love them very much.

Anything else I would try to say would just be stumblingly awkward and wallow-y, so I'm not going to try. All I'll say is that I'm sad, but I'm glad he's at peace, and my heart is with his family.

Life goes on.

I have the next two days off, and I need them. Leaving all personal things aside, work has been kinda awful. I'm not going to get into it, but just...ugh.

Life kinda sucks right now. But it goes on.

This too shall pass.

Ups And Downs And Inside Outs.

I'm extremely tired and have to get up on the early side, so here are the highlights:

[o] whoever thought Easter would be slow at Starbucks when Lent just ended and no place else is open and it's a travel holiday GUESS WHAT YOU WERE WRONG
[o] stood up to a co-worker who used "queer" to insulting describe a guest, and told him that shit isn't funny. I had wildly shaking hands and racing heart and felt like puking for a good bit afterward, and he probably just thinks I'm just an over-reactive feminazi who can't take a joke, but it's a start.*
[o] another co-worker brought in her crock pot and made soup for us. ham, cheese, potato, and bacon soup. I LIKE HER.
[o] Ryan made Alton Brown's French toast for dinner. ommmmmm.
[o] watched Easy A with Ryan, BJ, and Sameh after dinner. Very good, very funny, very entertaining, even had a sweet ending that made me smile. :D
[o] watched the most recent Game of Thrones. Spoiler: THE QUEEN'S A BITCH.

Tomorrow is up early for laundry (and hopefully photography), store meeting at 12:30 (yayyyy), eight hour shift to follow. WOO.

*Exact conversation:
Me: Hey. That's not funny.
Him: Why, are you? Wait, of course you're not.
Me: Why does it matter? Do I have to be black to be offended by a racist joke?
Him: Maybe you do.

ERRRRRRRRRRRRGH

This Weekend Is A Bitch.

Today was insane in a different way than earlier this week. Mainly because, for the first half hour I worked, there were seven people on the floor. Seven. Five is usually the max number, three or four the average. Seven was a bit ridiculous. I walked out and had no idea what to do. There was already someone barring hot drinks, barring frappucinos, ringing front, ringing drive-thru, cleaning, brewing...I was a bit superfluous!

Then, after 7 or so, it just died. No one. For a long time. Whee.

Tomorrow is Easter, and we of course are open our normal hours, and we are not getting paid any extra. WOO. Most seemed to think it'd be pretty slow since most of the world would be (a) closed, or (b) busy with family stuff, but I am suspicious. We thought Thanksgiving would be dead, and I'll never forget the madness I came into that day. Easter is another travel holiday, with people driving to have dinner with their families. While it's not nearly as big as Thanksgiving, I still see plenty of opportunity for us to be swamped with people wanting coffee for the road.

Of course, this store is also not directly next to the highway, so maybe we'll be lucky? Cross your fingers?

There's not much else going on...actually that's not true. My cousin's husband, a wonderful man, husband, and father of two small girls, has been moved into hospice care. I've spent the past two days checking my phone constantly to see if I've gotten The Call from my mother. It's sad and shitty and unfair in every aspect, and I don't know what else to say about it right now. I'm sending love and thoughts and prayers, and invite everyone else to do the same.

For now...dinner and rest.

Almost Did It Again!

It wasn't until almost noon that I realized I hadn't written a post for Saturday. And now, it's past 2:30 in the morning, about to go to bed, and I realize I almost did it again. G'ah!

Obviously, my schedule is slewing toward the late end of things again. However, as opposed to my reaction when it started happening last fall at 933, I'm almost okay with it. It's complicated, but I think it boils down to finally being okay with how I spend my time. I don't have to jump out of bed at 9 every morning and get everything done before noon or I'm a complete loser (and seriously, looking at my parents, where did that come from?).

I didn't have work until 3 today. I slept until 10:30, lazed in bed until 11, then spent the next half an hour getting ready, only to spend my last 15 minutes before leaving out on the balcony, on my knees taking pictures of the distressed wood in the bright sunshine.

I was at 933 from around 12:30 to around 2:30. The first half an hour was spent catching up with AD on her meal break, then I wrote for the rest of the time. Actually, it was partly writing and partly fixing and planning and thinking, with some socialization mixed in as well.

I spent my free time before clocking in at 3 sleeping, prepping, arting, and socializing. A year ago, or even a few months ago, I would have been guilting the crap out of myself for "not getting anything done." Hell, even if I did nothing but go in and work for eight hours, then come home and eat and crash, I would chastise myself for not getting some dishes done, not getting up earlier to do laundry, some bullsh like that.

It does help that I usually don't sleep later than 11, which means most days I have at least an hour to do something. That something usually ends up being dishes or poking at art one way or another, and that's okay. My god, that's liberating!

Of course, this line of thinking is thoroughly helped by the fact that I just finished watching The Devil Wears Prada, in which the heroine (Anne Hathaway) battles between her job and her integrity--did I mention she wants to be a writer, and starts the movie with zero interest in clothes or fashion? Ye-ah.

Anyway. Fantastic movie. Meryl Streep is beyond words. Life is stresful but more or less good. I'm still alive.

...yeah. :)

Love & Technology: Closing The Distance.

Since coming to Indiana, I have made several new friends. Many of them, especially Aurelie, prefer communication via text when not in person (and sometimes both...cuz we're sillies). My inbox fills up on a near-daily basis.

Also since coming to Indiana, and getting the new phone, I've had about a large and ever-increasing number of texts locked and saved in my inbox. Most of them are from friends and family in Connecticut, bits and pieces of innocuous conversations that either encapsulate that person's place in my life perfectly, or just simple messages saying they love and/or miss me.

I'm going through my inbox now, including the locked ones. And I'm realizing that I don't need to keep every single text from a missed person that reaffirms that they care about me.

I know they do. I'm secure in that. I'm not afraid that I've lost them, that I've chased them away or walled them off or anything. I'm 800 miles away, haven't seen them in 9 months and counting, and I still trust both them and their friendship completely. In some cases, even more than I did a year ago.

As odd as it sounds, deleting the texts is therapeutic. I don't need the talismans anymore. I have the faith. I have the knowledge.

They such fantastic things to have.

Me Oh My.

Apologies for lack of update yesterday. I got kinda tired and cranky last night, and no one should have to listen to (or read) me when I'm like that.

Pity Ryan.

I'm actually kinda cranky at the moment, albeit for different reasons, and I'm less angsty to the point where I'd write about it. Suffice to say: argh.

On the Good News front: I WROTE TODAY. For the first time in...a while. Just shy of 1,400 words in just over an hour. Over 6K words now! Whee!

I also got to work at 933 today, which was...good and bad. I've basically decided that I shouldn't cover over there again for a month or so, it's just...hard being there right now. In the metaphor Ryan created where this whole transfer thing is like a break up, I'm attempting to hang out with an ex and be cool about it, and I just can't do it yet.

Tomorrow and Sunday are the same schedule as today (3:30 to 9:30, although at Ireland. I definitely want to do what I did today, going somewhere before work and getting some writing done. What I can't decide is where to go. Aurelie wants me to go to the Goshen Starbucks, since she has the day off and lives there and we could hang a bit, but it's 40 minutes away down the bypass, so...*shrug* 933 is still a possibility, as writing there wasn't as painful as working there.

Also on the yay side of things: I made meringues sometime last week, but no one in the house has been eating them, so I brought them in to 933 today. They were...kinda scarfed. :D

If you're wondering why they're still good a week later: we have a time capsule! Kittie made BJ and Ryan a birthday cheesecake in November, presented in a glass cake dish that was also a present. When the cheesecake was done, it got cleaned and stood on the dining room table. One day, someone was neatening, there was a single apple on the table, and the apple was put inside the dish. Where it stayed for quite a long time...and never rotted. Or withered. Or anything.

The dish has since been used to house just about every baked thing in the house, because damn does it keep stuff fresh! It's magic!

...yeah, I've gone a bit nutty from hunger and tireness. I think it's time to have some of the pizza that just left the oven, then nom the cake pop I brought home, get ready for bed, and read for the next few hours.

...yeah...that sounds nice...:)

Last Day...Waa.

Today was my last day. It kinda sucked.

I mean, yes, I worked with great people and had fun for the first half of my shift. The second half was slow and tiring and just...depressing. On the upside, I got a great poster made and signed by co-workers, and Shift H made me a giant pistachio muffin (delicious!), and there was pizza and hugs and stuff, so...yay.

Tomorrow, there's a store meeting at my new store from noon until two, and then I work from two until 9:30. Seven and a half hours at my new store! Woo...

Tomorrow is also my dad's birthday! YAYYYY DAD!

For now, it's time to shower and watch Weeds and sleeeep.

That Chloroform Gave Me A Headache...

I swear, I really did used to be good at thinking positively. Over the past month, in fact, I became annoyingly chipper and upbeat about life.

Then life bitchslapped me and it's been all downhill from there. And today was just...no.

Attempting to find articles and advice on how to make or fix a budget found me nothing but how to budget around children, around saving for a house, or with actual salaries instead of minimum-wage level jobs. Tried out a free online thing, but it was so buggy that I almost threw my computer across the room from frustration.

Gave that up and moved on to the next item on the day's list: printing out a photo. Just one. That's all I wanted. But the brand new ink that we just bought for the sole purpose of printing photos? Not compatible with the printer. And I thought it was, so I spent most of my day trying to figure out how to fix it. It wasn't until Ryan got home that we figured out that salesperson at Best Buy had been wrong.

Dug out the receipt to return it: expired four days ago.

As we got ready to go to Best Buy anyway, I did something bad to my back causing it to be miserable for several hours.

Fortunately, Ryan has become a retailese expert, plus we were nice to the return desk people and didn't want a full return, so it was as easy as finding the correct ink.

That was the start of an upturn in the evening: exchanged ink without a fuss; looked for something at Toys R' Us and enjoyed the visit immensely despite not being to find it; found the perfect thing at the candy/stuffed animal store in the mall; got to sit in a couple of nice cars being displayed in the mall and daydream about the future a little bit; came home to find that today's photo has been reblogged; back felt better; started making a breakfast-dinner with Ryan.

Then we discovered that we only had enough eggs for the pancakes but not to eat, the bacon took forever to cook and never got very chewy let alone crispy, and my pancake skills were just in the basement and I kept burning or messing them up in several fun ways.

Not to mention the people drama going on all over the place that I can't even begin to get into.

I'm done. I need a vacation. I need the world to just STOP for a day--ONE DAY--so I can catch my breath and find my way back to the driver's seat instead of being tied up and gagged in the trunk.

Oy...

...Poop.

Today was a long, hard day.

Slept like crap. Started the work day with several reminders of the upcoming transfer. HUGE order came in, cramming the back room with boxes which were solely my responsibility to check in and put away (fortunately, Shift B immediately dove in to help when he came on...2 1/2 hours later). Spent the day feeling bitter about my job. Cold, windy and gray day turning into a freezing blizzard that I had to drive home through. Returned home to find homophobic crap on my event wall. No response from an upset and depressed friend since last night.

In a word, my day was overwhelming.

Ugh.

Trying to focus on positives. Trying to look forward. Trying to get to bed really early tonight so I'm not up until the wee hours of the morning staring into the darkness with a depressed and overactive mind.

Wish me luck.

Second Job Frustration.

Day off! First of two! Okay!

So far I've...gotten up.

Okay, so a little more than that. I found the number to call at the clinic we went to last month so I can find out why I didn't get a bill when our insurance says I owe them money. I even called the number!...they weren't there. I'll try again later.

I am also currently listening to YouTube videos of an indie group called Bishop Allen, suggested to me by Katie Petunia. So far my favorite song is "Click Click Click Click," about stepping out of the rain and ending up in a picture of someone else's wedding.

Tried to get up and have Writing Time, but ended up choosing sleep instead. >.< Dorita gave me great writing advice, and she reminded me of Stephen King's advice in On Writing (one of my favorite books ever), I'm just...having a hard time following it so far.

For one thing, I don't really have a given "space" for writing. My desk is almost guaranteed to fail unless I'm in a very concentrated mood, what with the to do items on one side and the photography props on the other (which reminds me, I have to take some more picture today!). There is a half-table in the dining room, but it faces a wall with ugly wallpaper, and I feel like I'm stuck in a corner. I liked my set-up at the coffee table the other day, but that's also dangerous--the TV is right there. All these spaces are also easily "invaded" by boyfriend or roommates, through no fault of theirs, so...yeah.

Going to one of the Starbucks in the area might help, except that requires money, which is tight enough right now that I can't "let" myself spend money on coffee so I can spend a couple of hours at a table, not to mention the paranoia of someone grabbing my laptop when I'm in the bathroom or distracted or something.

The Setting Hours advice is already failing, as I keep hitting snooze or changing the alarm or getting up and doing something else. Doesn't help that my sleep schedule has been skewing back toward the wee hours of the morning, which was already a problem before the week of pre-closing and not getting home until 10 started >.< I keep setting the alarm for 10 or 10:30, but the mindset when it goes off is "It's my day off/I get to sleep in late this week when I usually don't get to, I can't waste this opportunity, sleep is very important...zzzz." ARGH.

Getting Ready kind of requires the Setting Hours part, and a Writing Space to go to...argh.

I'm not giving up, and I'm trying very hard to not say "Well, it's already past noon, I guess today is a waste." I'm just frustrated. Ergh.

I think I'll get dressed, eat something, take some pictures, make some cupcakes, then get some help from Ryan when he gets home. He's very good at being authoritatively supportive, he'll probably glue me to a chair and say I can't have any cupcakes until I write something, then refuse to speak to me until I'm productive. Hopefully it works.

Oy...

Where I Am Right Now.

I was raised by, in a community of, hippies and feminists and liberals. From the moment I took breath, I was taught and told and shown that I could do and be anything. President? No problem. World traveler? Fantastic! Literary legend? Of course! Genius artiste? Duh!

The fact that I was a girl was never part of the lesson, except perhaps for the lesson of They Might Try To Say You Can't Because You're A Girl, But That Just Means They're Dumb. The words "housewife" and "secretary" weren't exactly dirty, but...

Gender, age, money, none of these things mattered, what mattered is that I put my mind and heart and soul into it and I can go anywhere, I can do and be anything.

...is it wrong, then, that I want to stay home? That I want to be a homemaker, to literally spend my time making a home for my family?

I spent my mini-vacation being domestic. I cleaned, I neatened, I laundered, I cooked, I washed, I rearranged, I organized, I grocery shopped, I planned, I outlined, I budgeted. I neatened my boyfriend's desk, cleaned up his dishes, refilled his drink, made him breakfast and dinner, helped him cook and get ready for work.

I loved every single second of it. Even the frustrating seconds, the seconds where I looked at our money situation and wanted to throw up my hands, the seconds where I got to the laundry room after hauling down an overflowing basket only to discover that I had forgotten the quarters, the seconds where the pancakes burned and the cupcake batter turned to cement and I got sauce on the bottom of my sock and Ryan spilled melted chocolate on the white shirt I just washed yesterday.

I loved taking care of my man. There it is. I gave him shit and sassed him while doing it, I never once did anything because I thought it was "my place" to do so, I helped him when he asked and got his help when I needed it. He never once just assumed I would do something because I'm a girl, he never waved off what I was doing as a given, and all references to my being domestic were either ironic or completely appreciative.

I didn't spend every moment focusing on the house, of course. I also worked on my photography, spending hours taking, editing and uploading pictures. I even hacked at my writing a bit, although that's been quite sticky. As much as I focused on making up our home, I also focused on my own personal and artistic endeavors.

Part of the plan in moving to Indiana was to figure ourselves out, to work and live and get by and think on what we missed from what we were doing in Connecticut. Specifically for me, I hoped to dabble in all my interests--photography, graphic design, marketing/advertising, writing, editing--and see which ones stuck, which ones I made time for because I wanted to, which ones I wanted to invest my time and money in, in terms of potential college degrees.

I have a full time job where I am on my feet all day, I spend a good deal of time taking care of the house, and I still make sure I find time to read, write, do art photography, and be with my friends and boyfriend. These are the things I find important: words, art, people.

I realized, months ago, that I don't want to back to school. In fact, the thought gives me the willies--spending thousands to sit in a room and learn crap I don't need so I can get a piece of paper? I'd rather spend a fraction of the money to get good lenses and materials, I'd rather spend the time concentrating on an outline or learning what exactly each button and dial on my camera does or having a movie & crafting night with my friends or cooking dinner with my love.

The things I care about, the things I want to do, the person I want to be...I don't need college for that. I just need to get the hell out of my own way.

Okay, so I don't just want to be a homemaker. I also want to be an artist and a writer. I know my hippie parents will be overjoyed that I'm finally realizing the last part. I guess I'm just worried about the first part. I was raised in the woods, in workshops, at period faires and drum circles and Pagan gatherings...and I want to be a housewife? A stereotype?

For me, the real stereotype is the woman who is only at home because she's been taught, from the moment she took breath, that it is her destiny, that her brain doesn't matter. The woman who has never had a choice. So no, I don't want to be a stereotype. I just want to be me.

And that happens to mean that I stay at home and take care of my children, my spouse, and our home. I'd even be happy staying a barista part-time to help with bills--not a shift supervisor, not a manager, but a barista, because I happen to love it.

I guess that's what it comes down to--I happen to love my life where I "just" serve people, "just" keep house, "just" write and take pictures.

I'm losing that frantic feeling that I NEED to Do Something, to Have A Career or at least a Real Job, because without one I'm wallowing in the rut that so many people fought for me to be able to leave. I'm losing the self-imposed of cloud of Should, of What Am I Going To Do With My Life, the guilt that's more from myself than anybody else. I'm gaining self-respect, fulfillment, peace and contentment with who I am and what I want to do.

And hell, I'm not even there yet! I'm still in the part where we have to work our asses off to get by, where I can only get myself to write once or twice a week, where I have a small window for photography each day that I miss as often as I hit, where most nights I'm so tired that even reading sounds too taxing. I'm still at the part where the house and the family and the life that I crave is far enough away to seem impossible.

But I know I'll get there, I know we'll get there. And I know now what I want it to look like.

I love that picture. I'm proud of that picture.
And that's all that matters.

My Mini-Vacation, Day 4.

What I did today:

[o] Futzed with more photographs
[o] Went to my Bux to hang out with people for a couple of hours
[o] Went to Hobby Lobby and dorked around a bit with AD
[o] Made dinner with Ryan (eggs and bacon, yum!_
[o] Attempted to make chocolate cupcakes....

We had the recipe for chocolate cupcakes, we had the ingredients for chocolate cupcakes, everything was peachy...until I went to add the brown sugar, and found that the container we kept it in wasn't even close to airtight, and the brown sugar had turned into rock candy. We chipped out enough to get the molasses flavor before giving up and substituting the rest with regular sugar, but the time it took changed the nature of the batter. So instead of chocolate cupcakes, we have cupcake-shaped fudge brownies. Not necessarily a bad thing, but not what I was going for. I'm a bit disappointed, as I was more in charge of this baking project than on previous ones, but again--fudge brownies. Not a bad thing.

I realized as I was baking, that I am a lucky fool. I'm a fool in that I had a childhood filled with cooking and baking, with my stepfather David doing his best to instill the love for it in me, and it just...never seemed to stick. I enjoyed the time spent with him in the kitchen, but I never had the inclination to do anything on my own. I've always felt guilty about that.

I'm lucky, first off, that I had someone in my life to plant that first seed, someone to coax and urge and gently push, even when I was a complete teenager about it. I am lucky, now, that I'm finally learning the joys of it, and that I again have someone to gently coax and urge and coach and push. Both of them have been extremely patient with my trepidation and second-guessing, firm about my doing it on my own without constant hand-holding or pampering, and encouraging of my successes without coddling. I have been spoiled with these presences in my life, and I couldn't be grateful or happy for it :)

This is the last day of my mini-vacation. I've spent most of it doing errands and chores; I cleaned up around the house, did dishes and endless loads of laundry, cooked and helped to cook, baked and helped to bake, caught up on correspondence, done the budgeting and planning and busywork to keep our teensy two-person "household" going...and I've enjoyed every second of it. It certainly helped that I still had the time to spend on art and socializing, and that I had my favorite person with me for half of it.

I'm looking forward to going back to work--I miss the people more than anything, but I also miss the barring and customer interaction to some weird degree. I blame the brainwashing. Still, it's been a lovely rest, and I can't wait until I get actual vacation time and can do this on a more regular basis!

My Mini-Vacation, Day 1.

What I did today:

[o] Got nine hours of sleep
[o] Had sleep interrupted only once, by a text message from Boss Lady saying that all district stores were closed due to the snow. \^.^/ This means FOUR WHOLE DAYS OFF IN A ROWWWWW
[o] Sleeeeeept
[o] Made pancakes
[o] Shoveled out the cars
[o] Went to the grocery store with Sameh
[o] Cleaned out the fridge
[o] Made a cake with Ryan
[o] Helped Ryan make dinner (chicken in the same style I described a few nights ago)
[o] Watched Seven Pounds

It was a really, really good movie. If nothing else, it proves that Will Smith is one HELL of an actor; there were times that he literally looked like a different person from all the pain and suffering his character was going through. Stupendous movie. It will make you cry. It's sweet and touching and so freaking sad. G'ah.

So now I'm trying to figure out what to do before I go to bed, so that movie isn't the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep. Cuz. G'ah.

Rage! Rage! ....Rage?

So...tired...

Woke up at 9 today, enough time to decide if Ryan needed to go to the doctor, and if I needed to call out to get him there. He decided that, if I could find someone to take my shift, he'd like to have me drive him to the clinic. His throat was still extremely sore, and he had a lot of pressure in his head.

Called/texted three people. Two were busy, one slept through all three of my calls. >.<

Ryan said it was fine, and refused to let me just call out and have the store deal with it. I'm not sure I would have been okay with doing that as it is...point is, I went in. I was exhausted and cranky beyond belief, but I went in.

I arrived, warned everyone I was cranky, and prepared myself to be a bitch for the entire day. Not on purpose, just...not trying to put on a fake smile and lie through clenched teeth. Instead, I was nicer and sweeter and more cheerful and charitable than usual.

...confuuuuuused.

BUT. Tomorrow and Friday are my days off! And Ryan is feeling much, MUCH better! He even plans on going to work tomorrow! Huzzah!

I may get real sleep for the time in 2011! WOO!