Stupid Brain

Everything is going really well. REALLY well.
I have finally busted back into the work force, and am working a "dream" job of mine!

S and I are very happy, or, at least, I am very happy in my relationship with S. We are finally all moved into our place together, and we have been having a lot of fun decorating and putting things where they go.

We got a KITTEN! A KITTEN! IN OUR HOUSE! He is so sweet and awesome (more on him later).

So...with all this great stuff going on, why do I feel like throwing myself off a cliff? Why do I want to ball my eyes out at the drop of a hat?

Maybe it is because I keep having nightmares, like I used to. When I went "crazy." Every night another vivid fight with a family member, or someone telling me how inadequate, useless, worthless, and unattractive I am. Sometimes it's my ex. Sometimes it's family. Sometimes I have nightmares about old failed careers and forgotten goals. Every once in a great while it is someone trying to hurt me. And yes, the nightmares about abuse in the past. Huzzah. Thanks a lot brain. With this, I am not getting "restful" sleep, and wake up upset and on edge.

Throughout the day I try to pull myself out of this stupid funky feeling, only to get beat up emotionally in some other way. Mostly it is me that does the beating, it's true, but sometimes it's outside sources. The biggest thing I am beating myself up over is my new job.
I applied a year ago, tested in March/April, interviewed a month ago, and started a week ago. Government work takes a while to get into...and it is not an easy process. There was testing, interviewing (as I mentioned), and more testing! A polygraph test and everything! I passed all the things with flying colors, and was even accepted into one of the more coveted positions. I was hired at mid-range, even, not starting! But, I am terrified I can't do it. My headaches are back in full force, I am already not sleeping, and my retention seems minimal at best. On the way in on my third or fourth day, I had one of the worst panic attacks I have had in a few years. I couldn't think straight, I couldn't see straight, and I thought for sure I was going to pass out or throw up.

This, of course, has sent me into a wonderful hate spiral. If I can't do this job, what am I good for? If I can't do this job, will S hate me/resent me, as others have done before? I doubt it, but this also resurfaces all my trust issues. I don't trust myself to hold it together...I am afraid I will lose everything and everyone. Lose the job because I am a crazy person, lose the boyfriend because I am a crazy person, which in turn means I lose my living situation. Then it's back to the ghetto apartments, where I live out my life alone and crazy. This leads me to feel like I should just jump off the cliff now, avoid all the heartache and failure that is "inevitable." Again, thanks a lot stupid brain.

I have been dealing with my ex a lot lately, too. Well, dealing with is such a relative term. I have a lawyer helping me, but my ex still refuses to get my name off of our joint accounts, and is now claiming I need to pay him back for the gifts he gave me. Also, he isn't even talking to me, he is having his new girlfriend do it for him, which is typical. Although, somewhat surprising, as one of the reasons for him leaving me was because he told me he was gay. Weird to have a girlfriend when you prefer men, but maybe I am just not understanding what gay means. In "dealing" with him, it has just been the same emails back and forth, with no resolution. Every time I have to deal with an email, it reminds me that I am inadequate, unlovable, and broken. That I was sad all the time, and that I have to hide how I feel from people, or they will leave. That I am too far crazy for anyone to care about me, because it is too hard on them emotionally, again reminding me that I have to cover up how I feel, for fear of pushing people away. Not to mention the large amount of debt I am in now, because of him, which is keeping me from getting a car or any other type of credit loan.

On top of all this, I am fat. I have had enough people confirm this for me in the last week alone to know it's true, and that I am disgusting. A brand new coworker even said I could stand to lose 20lbs. Thanks. Now not only am I stressed about the job, I am upset because I am a tub.

So yeah. All the things in the world are going well, except I can't seem to focus on any of it. All I can see it the negative. All I can feel is the fear and pain and inadequacies. I can't enjoy the kitten. I can't enjoy the job. I can't enjoy the relationship. All because my brain is stupid, and I fall for it every time. Stupid brain.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin

One of my earliest memories is of running away. I was maybe two or three years old, and I had busted out (yet again, from what I have heard) from the confines of my room. Like a child Houdini, I broke out of the Fort Knox style bedroom my parents had arranged for me. I did this a lot, running away. I was always headed to the same place, though. Every time I ran, or toddled, as the case may be, I was going to Pam's house. She was going to CSU at the time, living in Fort Collins in her charming little house with her husband Bruce Martin. I was headed up there, hell bent and determined to live with Pam and Bruce.

When I was picked up by police, they asked where I live, and what I was doing. I remember this very vividly...I told them that I lived in Fort Collins (I was picked up in Evergreen. A toddler off on her wild lone), with My Aunt Pamela and Uncle Bruce. If they could please give me a ride home, I would really appreciate it. I was "lost" and needed to get home. It was ok, of course, they were expecting me. The cops didn't buy it. Strange, I felt like I was pretty convincing for a toddler. They took me back to Gran and Tata and my mum, where I was spanked and promptly grounded (again) and denied the Winnie The Pooh special that was on TV that night. I never gave up trying to get closer to Pam, though.

Pam, Gran, and Tata at Pam's Wedding

Even Pam's cat was a huge influence on my life, and my family. Pam loved Russian history, and would often name pets Russian names. Her first cat that I can remember was a striped tabby named Natasha. I was obsessed with Natasha! She was a KITTY! She was PAM'S KITTY! Pam had to leave Natasha with my family and me while she was going to school at CSU, as kitties were not allowed on campus (which is a ridiculous rule, if you ask me). I barely remember this, but I have heard many stories about how I would toddle after Natasha, trying to get a squeeze on her. Being my charming toddler self, I was not able to pronounce Natasha correctly, nor was I able to say Tasha, instead it came out as Tata. "Tata! Tata! Here Tata!" Well, my grandfather (the wonderful man who helped raise me, often referred to as my "Old Man") thought I was talking to him! Every time I called for Tata, he would come to me, thus giving him his forever nickname of Tata. (For the record, I tried to scan and post a picture of Natasha, but my silly scanner isn't cooperating.)


Pam and Bruce moved to Tucson, so that Pam could work on her Masters (or PhD? I can't remember which). I remember one letter she sent to us that had a picture of her standing by her very empty mailbox. I vowed THEN AND THERE to write her every day! I was going to share ALL my stories with her, and help her to not feel so lonely so far away. I know I wrote at least one letter, and I feel like it was a thousand pages long...but it was probably one page, on one side, with a story about what the cat did that day. I am not sure if it even got sent to her, but I hope it did. I wish I had written her every day, even if they were all letters about kitties. (Again, I have this picture somewhere, but the scanner hates me)

My mum and I went to visit Pam in the exotic and distant Tucson. I was pretty pumped, I was getting to go on a trip, and I was getting to visit Pam and Bruce! Nothing could be better than this! I remember being told that I could pack a swimming suit, because the pool was open year round! The place MUST be magic!
I remember riding in the car in the middle of the night, and playing the license plate game with my mum on the way, all the while dreaming of things that we were going to do. Like swim! In the winter!

My memory is spotty at best, so my details of the trip are scattered. I remember trying desperately to swim in the freezing, but open pool. Determined to swim outside in the winter, but hating the cold of it. I remember that Pam had cable, and that the cable has this magical new cartoons only channel - Nickelodian! We went to the Sonora Desert Museum, where there were caves of awesome and big cats, and gigantic cacti! Mostly I remember being happy, and wishing I could stay with Pam and Bruce in this magical wonderland of palm trees, cartoons, and pools.

Pam and Bruce eventually moved back to Colorado, and into Littleton. This was a lot closer to where we were living in the Mountains, and I was beside myself that they were back! There would be sleepovers! Ice Cream! The world was a better place when Pam and Bruce were close. They moved into a little townhouse in Littleton, and everything was right with the world. Eventually, they started talking of having children of their own. This was beyond exciting! Granted, I was a little jealous that they weren't going to adopt me, but if they had a little one, I could come over and hang out with them and the new addition! YAY!

After what seemed like a lot of trying (I remember Pam was worried that they might not be able to have kids), she was pregnant! So exciting! When Emily finally arrived, it was the most wonderful day ever. Pam and Bruce were SO HAPPY, and Emily was so amazing. What a fun baby! I was lucky enough to help my mum babysit, so for the first few months I got to see a lot of Emily, which was awesome.

Pam, Sarah and Emily

Pam and Em at the Dino Park

When Em was still pretty little, Pam and Bruce took us to Utah to visit some of Bruce's family. We went to a farm, rode horses, then met up with Tata to go fishing and camping. Pam later made me a little scrap book of that trip, something I will treasure forever.

Then, in what seems like the blink of an eye, they were talking of a second baby! Sarah was born during a rather impressive snow storm, which had me worried. Em was worried, too. My mum and I stay with Em while Pam and Bruce were at the hospital. One of the sweetest things I have ever known was when Em was saying goodbye to her mum and dad, and she gave Pam a small toy to give to Sarah when she arrived. She wanted to make sure the new baby had something fun and comforting. Such sweet girls, but this isn't surprising considering who there mom was.

Time passed. Pam focused on her family, and I started to focus on my life. Pam was always my biggest influence, though. When I started failing in school, I remember being so disappointed in myself. Pam had gone to, and graduated from, Evergreen High School. I lasted one whole week there before I left. I was not doing well, I was not focused, and I managed to get into a fight in my first week. So, I transferred to a charter school in Lakewood. It was a hard decision, because I wanted so much for Pam to be proud of me, but at the same time all my friends that I was close to were going to the charter school, and I felt like it was the only place I could do well. I was teased relentlessly by Pam and Bruce for going to the charter school, and even though it was just teasing and sarcasm, it hurt. I wanted to be like Pam. Smart, successful, happy, and it started to feel like I had let her down. I was just some dumb dropout, not worth investing in anymore. To be fair, I was in a very dark place in my life, and was not handling ANYTHING well, let alone teasing from my idol. I eventually figured out that she still loved me, and was proud of my accomplishments, and was able to joke about my school choices with her.

When I started college, Pam, again, was the biggest influence in my choices. Pamela was the only member of my family to go to college at that time. She had majored in Psychology, so I figured that was a good place to start. I had a passion for it, but like most college freshmen, my passion was sort of wild and unfocused. I knew I wanted to get into psychology of some sort, but I also really wanted to work with people. Specifically criminals. I had an obsession with abnormal psychology, but I had no idea what to do with it. So, I started taking the pre-reqs at Red Rocks Community College, and hoped for the best. Pam was one of my biggest supporters! It was so awesome to be able to talk to her about all the things I was learning, and ask her the thousands of questions I had about psychology, college, and life in general. Being able to reconnect through my going to school was amazing. I was finally pulling myself out of my darker days, and I had a real cheerleader in my successes.

When her mother, my grandmother, died in 2005, I literally began to lose my mind. I lost my job, I was losing my house, losing my mind, and was starting to really believe there was no reason to live.  I had dropped out of school, and was floundering through my existence. There wasn't a day that went by that I didn't think about doing something drastic. Losing my Gran, the woman who raised me, who loved me, who was one of my best friends and confidants, who was the family glue, tore me apart. I had struggled with some dark issues before, and with losing her those all came flooding back. I was a mess.

Pam and Bruce literally saved my life, again. Whether they knew it or not. They invited me over to their house, and sat me down outside on their deck (they had long since moved into a bigger house). I remember Tata was there, and I imagine my mum was, too. Again, my memory is spotty at best. Pam and Bruce were so calm, cool, collected, and kind. I remember it felt like an intervention. They asked what it would take to get me back into school, and what it would take for me to finish. How many credits did I have left until I finished my degree? What did I need to do to get back into the school? How was I planning on doing this? I didn't have any answers. They offered to help, and in doing so, saved my life. They offered me free room and board, if I went back to school. Bruce would build a room in the basement for me to use as a bedroom, they would feed me, and I could focus on school. I couldn't say no! They opened their home, their lives to me, just to I could get back on track.

While living there, I was still an emotional mess. One of the biggest regrets I have, and may always have, is something I said to Pam once. Well, indirectly. I was on Myspace, and wrote a blog post about how I was feeling at the time. It was hurtful, and rude, and I was ungrateful about my surroundings. I was still so dark and twisted up inside, no longer on the medications I should have been on, still reeling from the loss of my Gran, and after finally getting something I had wanted my whole life, the chance to LIVE with Pamela. I felt like an outsider. I shouldn't have written a blog about what was going on. I should have talked to her about how I felt. Mostly I was upset that I was letting her down, again, and that I was never going to be on her level. She read the blog, and confronted me about it. It was the only time in my life I remember ever seeing her cry, and I had made her. Out of all the things I have done in my life, of all the stupid mistakes, and trauma and everything else, hurting Pamela is the worst thing I have ever done. It still makes me feel sick to know I caused her pain. I feel like that changed all my relationships with her family forever.

I was young and stupid, and continued to make stupid mistakes. I dated abusive idiots, I rebelled against help that was given, and fought to be independent, hell bent to not rely on anyone. Stupid. The whole time, though, Pam was helping me to get through it. I managed to finish my degree! Well, mostly. There was a little bit of a mix up with one credit, that took four years to fix (again, with Pam's amazing help!), but I managed to finish all my classes! AND get a pretty decent GPA (I graduated with a 3.14 - enough to qualify for honors). While living with Pam, I was nominated to be on the National Dean's List for the second time, which was a pretty big deal, AND I made some strong contacts in my final classes. Even though I was still a mess, Pam and her family were able to help me pull through. While I was living there, Emily and Sarah became huge influences in my life, and decisions. Both girls are brilliant, and were doing so well in school, it drove me to do and be better.

My Mum, Me, and Pam at my Graduation.

When I was finally able to officially graduate, Pam was so happy for me! I wasn't planning on walking in the graduation ceremony. I finished my degree in 2007, but wasn't able to walk until 2011, due to that one credit mix up. I was sort of meh about walking, thinking that no one was really interested, and that I should just take my degree quietly and move on. Pam, however, was not having it! She convinced me to walk in the graduation ceremony, and I am so glad I did. She welcomed me into the Elite Club of Graduates that day. Finally! She was not the only one! Pam and Bruce were kind enough to throw me a little graduation party at their house, with balloons they picked out, yummy little noms, and some of my friends. Graduating college was one of the greatest days of my life, and I know I would not have done it without Pam's never ending support.

Pam and Bruce in France

I could talk about when she was diagnosed with Cancer for the first time. I could talk about how she is the strongest and bravest woman I know, working and supporting her family, while fighting a battle for her life. I could talk about how she beat cancer, and how it seemed to make her a little stronger and a little wiser. I might even talk about how, when she was diagnosed with Cancer a second time, well...I don't have words for how it made me feel. I won't, though. Pamela was bigger, stronger, and so much more than being a cancer patient. Even while she was fighting for her life, she was still the most vibrant, adventurous, and amazing woman I may ever know. She traveled the world! She CHANGED the world! She changed my world, and saved it a few times. While Cancer may have taken her life, it was not who she was.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin was the most influential, supportive, strong, beautiful, vibrant, brilliant, kind woman I may ever know. There are a lifetime of wonderful memories I have of Pam, a million pictures from her live that I want to share, a thousand and one things I want to say about her. All the times we laughed, the times we cried, the family we shared, the bonds of our lives. Her sharing in all of the good and bad...I know I am a better person because she was in my life. She taught me more than I can ever convey, especially in a blog like this. I loved her. I love her. I am so so thankful I was able to know her, and I will miss her for the rest of my life.

Pamela Ruth Parker-Martin

November 9, 1961 - August 4th, 2013

The Parker Family Flower - Daylillies. Pam had a tattoo of these on her ankle.

Unreasonable Rage

It is a good thing I am home alone today. I think I would have killed another human being if there had been one within reach.
It took every fiber of my being to not break something expensive, also.

What could possibly cause this amount of unbridled rage? What could be so horrible as to make me want to smear blood on the walls and scream like a banshee?

You would think, or like to think, that it was something epic. Something so mind blowing that no jury in the world could put me away for blowing up entire buildings.

No.

No this is a special rage only seen for the most ridiculous of events. Today's rage-out was brought to you by me trying to stuff a resume/application of seven pages into too small of an envelope.
Yup. Nations could have been destroyed today because I could not get my papers to go nicely, or professionally into the envelope I had available. To add to this, the bombs were going to drop because my scanner has decided that it no longer scans important documents (or any, for that matter, I am not sure. All I know is that it seems to be on strike), it is lucky I like it as much as I do, and that it is as expensive as it is. It almost died today. *glares*

Watch yourself printer...this could be you...

I don't know why this well of rage started to spew forth at this doll sized envelope. I don't know why I couldn't get the guts up to ask the landlord if they had a normal sized envelope I could have. I am not even sure I am qualified for the job. Now, however, due to this monstrosity of an event, I am not only sure that I won't get this job, but I will never get ANY job. This teeny envelope has cursed me to a life of disability checks for ETERNITY. I don't know what I did to piss of suck strange gods, but I hope they are happy watching me flail with the envelope, scream at it, and start rage crying. I hope they are happy.

Tiny Envelope Gods are scary indeed

Fuck you Archer

Yeah, I said it. Fuck you, Archer.

Just in case you don't know who/what Archer is, Archer is a cartoon on FX that is aimed at adults. 99.9% of the time it is funny, nay, hilarious! Last night, however, I watched the one episode that wasn't funny. At all.

In case you have seen the show, the episode I am talking about is the one where Archer gets diagnosed with male breast cancer (Season 2, Episode 8, in case you were wondering). The basic premise, in case you haven't seen it or don't plan to, is that Archer's mother Malory goes in for a Mammogram. Archer decides to get checked out, too, and they find a huge lump. Archer is diagnosed with breast cancer. While terrible, it changes his whole attitude, he is going to "stay positive" and be nicer to those around him. Archer gets it removed, the Doctor says they got it all, and then everyone goes off to celebrate.

During the party at his flat, he gets a call from the Doctor. The Doc states that he was wrong, and that the cancer has spread to his lymphnodes. Archer quickly falls into a deep depression, and starts handing out deathbed confessions like candy at Halloween. Just as he is about to get to Lana, the female lead, and confess (or not) his undying love for her, the phone rings again. It's the Doc! He got the charts mixed up! Archer is going to be fine and is totally cancer free! YAY! Celebration begins again.

Then, as one might expect. The phone rings a few moments later. Oops, it's the Doc again. Turns out he was wrong, again, and that is HAS spread to his lymphnodes. Crying again, more deathbed confessions, once again skipping Lana.

Ha. Ha. Ha.

The sad thing is, I feel like this has been a lot like my life for the past few months (even years, if we are really getting dramatic). With my Mother and my Aunt both battling breast cancer, and now cancer in their livers, I feel like their various doctors have been throwing us on this same roller coaster. Yay! You beat breast cancer! You are fine! Nothing to worry about! This felt especially true, because just like Archer got a lumpectomy and was "fine," the same thing happened with my Mom. She got a mastectomy and was "fine." No need to even get regular scans to see if anything had spread. That would just be silly.

Then, WHAM! Oops, we were wrong, you aren't fine, the cancer has spread to your liver. It is now totally eating your liver, and you have seconds (well, weeks, but you get the idea) to live. They told us it has probably spread to all of her lower half.
But wait! They were wrong! It's just in her liver! Or is it? Perhaps it has spread? No...wait...it's...um...just...oh let's just do chemo and hope for the best.

That has been a roller coaster, too. Yes, it's working. No, it's damaging the rest of her too much. Yes the levels are going in the direction they should! The levels started at 100, no, 1,000, no, was it 10, 000? Is that possible? Well, now they are at 100. No, 75? Wait, 10? 100? Is that a kitten in your liver? You should do more chemo. You shouldn't do more chemo. Yes, but no, but maybe yes?

FUCK! Make up your damn minds! You went to ALL the schooling! All of it! You are a specialist in CANCER for crying out loud, and you have no idea what you are talking about. I feel like the Doc's are either crying on my Mom because she is at death's door, or throwing themselves ticker tape parades because they figured out what numbers her levels are actually at.

Not to mention my Aunt. Luckily she has a great support network, and a very fierce couple of daughters. Which is good. I would have snapped one Doctor's neck, after slowing roasting his eyeballs over a spit (with them still in his head) and popping his eardrums with needles.
I won't say what he said, or how he said it, but needless to say he is one of the worst doctors on the planet. My poor Aunt seems to have the worst luck when it comes to that, she has had a few very horrible people. To be fair, she has also had some AMAZING doctors and nurses, and she seems to be doing a lot better. Which is good. She has been on a hell of a roller coaster with her cancer, too.

So, while Archer was probably meant to be hilarious, it hit WAY too close to home for me. While the flip flopping phone calls all in the matter of an hour were funny to some, it was so much like real life that I thought I would cry, throw up, and break something expensive all at the same time.

Honestly, I am not sure why I am telling you all this. Mostly to get it off my chest, I guess. A chest, by the way, that I am increasingly paranoid about. I thought I felt a lump last week, and almost ran to the doctor. After a lot of further inspection, I figured out it was my ribcage. I have been so chunky for so long that when I felt something, I assumed the worst. There is no way it could be bone! Now I feel stupid...and glad. I don't want to be that girl in the office every five minutes because I am scared of the cancer demon.

In conclusion, fuck you cancer episode of Archer. The rest of the show is still very watchable, just this episode sucked. Also, more importantly, fuck you cancer.

The Usual

I know I said I was going to post every day. Or at least more than once in a blue moon. Or at all. I just haven't felt like writing lately.
Not much of an excuse, but there it is. I feel like all I would write down is negative and whiny crap that no one wants to hear, thus annoying the few readers I do have, and annoying myself in the process.

So there's that.

I also don't want to jinx what feels like the only good luck I have. Like, if I talk about what is good in my life, monsters will come and destroy it all, then laugh while I go back to being a depressed puddle on the floor.

Instead of writing about my MANY failed attempts to gain employment, or how my mother is doing, or how my aunt is doing, or how I feel I may never leave this Hotel California apartment, I shall leave you with a cat video, and perhaps I shall write again. Sooner, rather than later.

blegh

Yup. Blegh. I can't think of a witty title, and I don't want to be stuck here for a few hours, not writing anything, trying to think of a witty title. So there.

Super Powers! I think I need a bubble pipe, too

I feel like crap. Emotionally and physically. I have had a migraine now for what feels like an eternity. Have I always had this headache? Will I always have this headache? Is my headache my brain trying to come to terms with new super powers I am getting, and soon I will be able to read minds/do magic/fly? Or is it just stress, like it always is?

I am going with super powers. My brain is having growing pains because of the new super powers. That HAS to be it!

 It probably has nothing to do with the fact that I am, in fact, torturing myself to death.
How am I doing that, you ask? Well, let me tell you ALL about it!

First and foremost, I refuse to cry. REFUSE. In fact, I have gotten so good at NOT crying, that now I don't even think I can. Like my tear ducts have sealed themselves from lack of use. The little workers have packed up and found jobs elsewhere (like using lightning and jackhammers in my brain). Sometimes I want to cry, but then I mentally kick myself in the face, and buck up. Like a soldier.

He wasn't THIS bad...

When I was growing up, it was made VERY clear to me, at a young age, that crying was a sign of weakness. Being raised by a Marine from the 50's could be a little rough, sometimes. Especially when he was under a lot of pressure and stress. My crying would usually make whatever was going on a hell of a lot worse, so it was best to just never cry. Ever. MAYBE if we were watching a movie, and there was a really sad scene, you could MAYBE shed a manly tear (I am not a man, by the way. I am a pretty squishy girl, just in case anyone forgot). Otherwise you had to be strong, all the time, no matter what. Your Mom just died? Nope, no tears in front of the others, because THEY need to be able to cry, and someone has to be the strong one, and since you are pretty strong it might as well be you. You can cry later. Alone. In the shower. When everyone else is asleep.

I finally began to relax a little, and trust a little. Mostly after my Old Man passed away. I guess I figured he couldn't retaliate against me for crying, especially for crying because he had died... This didn't last long, however.
I never mention my ex-fiance. Mostly because he is not even worth mentioning. That, and I have nothing nice to say about him, and you know the old saying...BUT, he is important in this part of our story. SO, I was finally opening up and crying. I would cry on his shoulder. Which, at the time, I thought was acceptable. He and I were going to me married, right? I was going to sign a contract stating I would spend the rest of my life with him. *shudders* So, one should be able to show emotions to their soon to be spouse, yes? No. Apparently that is not in the contract.
I was mourning the loss of my Old Man, and had a lot of other bottled things I was dealing with that kept bubbling up. This was in the thick of my mental breakdown, to be fair, but I was at least crying about it, right? And not going to the hospital because I was hallucinating! I wasn't breaking things! I was finally getting a little sleep!
Well, apparently crying is still a sign of weakness. The ex-fiance said, in his long litany of reasons why I was a horrible human being, that one of the MAIN reasons why I was a horrible human being - and deserved to die alone - was because I was sad all the time.

Yup.

I was sad all the time. So he bailed.

My Old Man had recently (like that year) died. My biological father - who didn't even really know my name - had killed himself. My Aunt was battling cancer. My Mum was battling cancer. I had lost my career in a firey ball of ridiculousness. Now, I understand how you can think these might just be excuses, as he said they were. Maybe they are excuses. Maybe a grown Agoraphobe shouldn't cry in front of anyone. This was why I was "sad all the time," though. That, and, well, my fiance was a **comment deleted for obscene language, violence, and partial explosions**

I know how stupid that sounds. I know that crying is important and whatever else you are about to tell me. HOWEVER - I do not think in LOGIC! That is just silly! So, because I have never had any real luck crying, I just don't now. I feel like maybe this makes me a little bit of a sociopath, and adds to the whole "No one will ever love me" thing. Because...I don't cry...so...right. Anyway... Don't get me wrong, I don't think you are weak if you cry. Quite the opposite! I am happy to console (or try to, I sort of fail at being consoling. I make the stupid consoling face and never know when to hug or man-pat), and hear you out. I think you are a strong person for showing your tears to me, and I even feel honored sometimes when someone feels safe enough to cry in front of me. I know, I sound like a hypocrite because you are allowed to cry - sometimes encouraged to - and I am not. Like I said, though, someone has to be the strong one. Might as well be me, right? ESPECIALLY if you need to cry. The LAST thing you need to see is me crying, too, right?

Flake

Everyone has setbacks.
Even your favorite Agoraphobe. ESPECIALLY your favorite Agoraphobe.

This weekend was disappointing. I have a feeling it was to a few folks, not just me.

As you may have noticed, I have been in hyper-drive lately. Going outside ALL the time! Cleaning ALL the things! Joining social groups! Making commitments with time (which is one of the scarier things for me to do...more on that later)!

Epiphany?

However, I do not have the best memory, and often forget to take a day off. Maybe I am too afraid I will relapse into never going outside again, so that drives my hyper determination to go outside, even when I am terrified to do so. *epiphany!*


This weekend I had made plans with two different folks. My BFF and his lovely wife, and my Aunt. One night I was going to go watch a movie with my Aunt, another evening I was going to go hang out with the BFF and his lovely wife. I was pumped! Outsies! Well, my brain decided it had had enough of this outside malarkey, and made other plans for me. Stupid brain.

I know how he feels, or felt, I guess

Friday I got myself showered, got some treats together to take to my Aunt's, and was just chillin' enjoying the lovely weather we were having when BAM! My head exploded. I am no stranger to migraines, not my any means. Migraines controlled my life for a LONG time...but this one seemed different. For one thing, I had no warning at all. I was minding my own business, then it was like someone shot me in the back of the head with a shotgun! I couldn't see out of one eye, blinking was maddening, and nothing was working to make it go away. Drugs, caffeine, another shower, lying down, nothing!
I postponed my plans with everyone until the next day, thinking that with a lot of time in bed I would be better the next day.

LIES!

The next was just as bad! I felt like I was going to throw up, and I couldn't stay out of bed for more than half an hour at a time, and that was pushing it. I went to lie down, totally forgetting my plans with my Aunt.

So, at 7pm-ish when she texted me, I felt horrible. I had done it again. I had flaked out totally, and let people down. I had let myself down. I hate that feeling, and it happens way too often. It is a little better than it used to be, but obviously still an issue. Sure, I had a "legitimate" excuse, but I still disappointed someone counting on me. Again. I disappointed myself. Again.

This is one of the huge things I have been working on. I never want something like this to happen, and I thought I was "better," because it hadn't happened in a while. I felt like my memory was getting stronger, like I was getting braver, and that flaking out wasn't going to happen anymore.

However, I am trying REALLY hard to not beat myself up about this for a month. Like I have been known to do. Yes, it sucks. Yes, I flaked out, again. Maybe I can learn from it? Not try to be SO hyper about going outside all the time, try to understand and know my limits, so that MAYBE my head won't explode with such ferocity...OR, if it does, to be better about communication and letting people know what is going on, before I am two hours late for something. I have to remind myself, too, that everyone has setbacks. I am not perfect, and that doesn't make me a bad person. Right? It is really hard to not spiral out of control into depression when something like this happens. Maybe that is my lesson this time? I am not a horrible person who was better off dead because I slept through an outing (I don't think that this time, but that thought has cropped up in the past).

If I disappointed you, flaked out on you, or inconvenienced you at all, I apologize. A lot. Maybe next time will be better? *sigh*

EPIC TUCSON TRILOGY, Episode I

For a few years now I have wanted to go to sunny and exotic Tucson. The sites! The sounds! The WARMTH! Not to mention I have a gaggle of friends down there that I needed to see.

Getting down there is...ah....a little more than difficult. Between finances sucking really hard, and...well.... the fact that I literally can't get out of bed or the shower due to panic attacks sometimes, traveling 900 miles is rough. Being able to do anything once down there felt impossible. That, and there are giant spiders in Tucson. GIANT ONES! Hairy, scary, spiders. That is terrifying! (Actually, this LINK is terrifying. These are the scaries that live IN TUCSON!) Not to mention scorpions...Did you know they found a NEW species of Scorpion? Because I did. It is the ninth new species found in the last six years. *curls up and cries a little*

Needless to say, it took a little intervention from the Universe, A LOT of bravery, the selling of some things I was not sure I wanted to sell, and the kindness of some very great friends to get me out of my house and down to the sunny locale.

In December of 2012 I was finally able to part with some things that belonged to my Grandfather. This was a lot harder than I was expecting, and I was expecting it to be pretty hard. However, I was able to part with a lot of materials and equipment he obviously no longer needed, and that I was never going to use (he was always the fly-tyer). After paying off some bills, putting some in the bank, and giving some money to my mom, I finally FINALLY had enough money to go to Tucson! YAY!

I do, actually.

I packed my bags! Then I unpacked and re-packed my bags! I think I did this three times, of course stressing out about what I was going to bring, or not bring, or whatever. Would I need lots of socks? How many shoes would I need? Was I going to go to a fancy dinner?
And, of course, I was stressing out about seeing Mr. and Mrs. SassBuckets. I had been friends with The Sass' for years, but, as strange as this is to admit, we had never actually met in person. We became friends through a mutual friend of ours, The Trauma Surgeon (which is a clever nickname, he is not actually a Trauma Surgeon in any sense of the word), who I was also going to visit while on my trip.

So, there I was, ready to go! I was going to fly to Phoenix, take the shuttle to Tucson (the flight to Phoenix saved me roughly $200), then start my adventures with the Trauma Surgeon and the Sass'. All by myself! *struts* I felt pretty brave, let me tell you. I also felt sick, migrainy, and terrified...but I DID feel brave, so we are sticking with that. I managed to get to the airport with the help of my Mum, I got on the plane, and flew to Phoenix! I think I even managed a real nap, instead of a terror induced passing out! YAY!

After that, I found my shuttle, like a big girl, and started the rest of the trek to Tucson. I feel like I should omit that the Trauma Surgeon didn't acknowledge that I was on the shuttle until I was almost in Tucson, which had me terrified I was going to be at some bus stop somewhere in the desert, but...well...he sorta left me hanging for a good few hours while I was en route. 

As a Public Service Announcement, if you are receiving an Agoraphobe, please answer your text messages and/or phone in a timely fashion when they reach out to you. It makes things easier for you and them in the long run. The more you know!  

After a lot of looking at dessert (not at all imagining or searching for spiders), I was picked up safely from the Shuttle Depot, and there I was! In the sun! TUCSON!

Driving through the city to where I was staying was a neat experience. I finally got to see, if only in passing, the University of Arizona, where my amazing Aunt got her Doctorate! I saw a wide variety of Cacti! New places to eat Noms! So much excitement! My first stop on my Epic Tucson Vacation? The POOL! Yup, even though it was the middle of December, it was warm enough to sit by the pool, and that is exactly what I did. I dropped off the precisely packed luggage, and dashed over to the pool, dipped my toeies in, and was relaxed. It was AMAZING!

After a nice toe dip in the pool, the Trauma Surgeon and I hit the town!

***********************************DISCLAIMER***********************************

I have the memory of a Goldfish, AND waited too long to write this all down. I do not remember the specific order of when a lot of stuff happened. You and I should be happy that I remember the events! 

Slushy Air Fresheners. Yup. 

My combo slushi thing

In Arizona, and probably a few other places, they have a place called Eegee's. We don't have these where I am from, so this was an exotic treat! There sammich's were meh, but the slushi thing was delicious! I had a combo slushi thing, and I could have swam in it, it was so good! I should have gotten one of their air fresheners while I was there...Oh well, maybe next time.

We also toured one of the malls, which was...you know...like most malls. HOWEVER, there was a GIANT liquor store in the mall, AND there were *blushes* adult items available. In the mall! Where kids go!
Actually, you can buy booze just about anywhere in Arizona. Grocery stores, gas stations, the mall, everywhere! That was a real "culture" shock from Colorado, where alcohol is still treated like a back alley drug. I wish we could get real alcohol at the market here, that would save a lot of hassle! My little mind was blown!

Beer everywhere! YAY!

They killed Snow, those bastards!

 The next day (again, I don't remember if it was ACTUALLY the next day...but close enough), I was taken to the Reid Park Zoo! I haven't been to a zoo in ages, and this one was neat! This one was laid out a little strangely, but that could just be me and my poor sense of direction, and I did find out some heartbreaking news at that zoo....but otherwise it was a good time. AND! I got a penny squished. I love squishing pennies. It makes for a cheap souvenir, you can keep them all in a little box (or in a scrapbook, if you can figure out how to do that), and I think they are a neat reminder of places you have been. If there is a penny squishing machine someplace, I am there squishing a penny or two. I LOVE THEM!

Mr Meowsers!

Guess which one I got?

One of the big highlights of the zoo was a tiger. Shocking, I know, that my favorite thing was kitty related, but it's true. He was pacing back and forth against his barrier (which was withing reach of me, I COULD have booped tiger nose - and probably would have been bitten), growling and chatting. He was all meowy! I don't know why, I don't speak tiger apparently, but he DID respond to the Universal Cat Call, so that was a huge thrill! I sat and hung out with Mr. Meowsers for as long as I was allowed. I should have tried to boop his nose. I don't need all my fingers...
We also saw otters swimming, panthers lounging, and the sweet new elephant area!

Rose Park

After the zoo we wondered around the nearby park and rose garden. It was so nice to see such lovely flowers in bloom, it was the lift my spirit needed. Roses do wonders for a girl, and a whole park still in bloom in December was stunning. I...may or may not have...taken a fallen bloom. It was already off the flower! I didn't steal it! 

We also wandered around the large Duck Pond, which was indeed filled with ducks and other water fowl, which was neat. There were orange trees! FILLED WITH ORANGES! IN DECEMBER! Tucson is truly a magical place!

This is not the flower I stole

Well kids, that's all for now! In our next episodes, we will travel to TOMBSTONE! See the wonders of Trail Dust Town! Explore the Sonora Desert Museum! We will also make a gingerbread house with a Giant, eat ice cream with a T-Rex, and go shopping with Sass!

Directions

This may just be a variation on an old theme, but, then again, what isn't these days?

OUCH!

Last week I went to dinner with my friend, The Cop (more on him later). He and I were chatting about a variety of things, life, loves, bullets, and poker, when he hit me! He smacked me right in the face WITH WORDS! He said, in the nicest way possible, that he would never date me because I seemed to have no drive. No direction in life. I had no passion for something/anything. I was taken aback at first, my mind a tornado of excuses for why I am not out saving the world...but maybe they were just that, excuses.






I have touched on this here before...I am not working for a list of reasons. Right now, I am not conquering the world because;

Cancer Demon, is that you?

A. My Mother and my Aunt are both in the battle for their lives against Cancer Demons. This draws most of my focus, even when I am not with either of them.

B. I am pursuing a Masters in Crimonology, but have discovered that I am useless in online classes. I am now looking into a classroom environment, but want to wait until A. is resolved.

C. Agoraphobic. Seriously. It's harder than it looks. I have been having a panic attack about writing this blog! I panic getting in the car! Conquering the world means going outside, which is not always possible.

This is sort of how my head feels

I had others, but due to the panic attacks I know have a migraine. HOWEVER, I have come to some decisions, and DO have goals, and life plans. I am not just rotting away in my apartment. I know it looks that way, it is hard to show quantifiable proof of progress when most of the stuff I do is on my own.






My New Years Goal was to go outside and be more social. Again, this is harder than it looks, and it is a lot harder to show progress to others. No one really notices, "Hey! You didn't leave the house for a few months (other than for groceries once every couple weeks), and now you go outside almost every day! Good job!" To the outside, it doesn't seem like much, but to me it is huge progress. I literally FORCE myself outside sometimes, but I still go. I have to. Leaving the house and not being a crazy person when I am outside is a lot like a full time job for me. Sometimes getting out of bed makes me feel like I deserve a ticker tape parade, let alone driving to the dreaded DOWNTOWN!

Downtown

 Still, though, with all these "accomplishments" and things I am working on, when I get hit in the face with a comment like The Cop's, I start to feel lost. What am I doing? Where am I going? What do I want to be in five years? In five weeks?

Well, let me tell you! I will NOT be rotting in some apartment some where, telling myself that this is another "rebuilding" year, and that I will be stronger later. NO! I am mentally and physically working out now, so I will be stronger to do all of THESE things;

1. This is a big one....
I want to get an RV, much like these, and travel the US (and around, if I am lucky). With a 4wd RV, I would be able to see ALL the things! This then moves into the main goal, which is to write for a living.

2. I want to write articles for magazines on fly fishing. Traveling around in my sweet RV, I will fish all the places, write about it, take some photos, and submit them to magazines. Get published, make a dollar or two, and start working on the MAIN main goal, which is to...

3. Publish books. Yup. Not just any books. The Main main goal is to go to roadside attractions at night, take pictures of said attractions, and write a quirky story about the attraction. I had a cool title for my coffee table book, but I won't share it with you! What if you steal it! So...I want to write a book about roadside attractions as seen at night, I ALSO want to write a book about fishing in cool places. I could do it, I really think I could. I just have to get on it.

Poker Cat drinks too much...

There you have it. One domino effect of goals. There are other goals, such as being a Poker Pro (which I could also use the sweet RV for, and still do the fishing and roadside thing), and just generally being awesome. I have thought about going back into the Criminal Justice System, and maybe I will. I feel like that is always an option, and one I would be good at, but not sure I want the soul sucking heartache and stress that it brings. So there's that.

I don't know, maybe this is all just ridiculous, maybe I am just rotting away. I used to be, I don't feel like I am anymore. Besides, I never wanted to date The Cop anyway! So who cares what he thinks! Except I care when it comes to stuff like this. Well, everything, really. Over-thinking is a super power of mine after all...

The Sweetheart Formerly Known As...

Things have taken a change here in Crazy Town. Nothing too dramatic, but it warranted an update...

My Mr. S is not Sinatra

The Bar Manager is no longer a Bar Manager! He has moved on to bigger and better things in his career, and we are all very happy for him!

However, this poses a small problem. He can no longer be referred to as the Bar Manager. What if he opens his own bar? Or no longer works in the bar industry? WHAT DO WE CALL HIM?!

The world may never know!

I know what you are thinking, "Why not just call him Boyfriend?" We don't use the B word (or G word, for that matter...it's...well...it is what it is). So, after a lengthy discussion with Mrs. Sass Buckets, she and I settled on Mr. S. The S, however, shall remain...A MYSTERY! AHAHAHAHAH!
Does S stand for Sweetheart? SexyTime? Slightly Elusive? Samerkins?

So. There you have it. Bar Manager = Mr. S. Same man, just with a fancy new name. Thank you for your time, enjoy the rest of your regularly scheduled programming.

The Rare and Elusive Mr. S

Nightmares

Nightmares are nothing new to me, in fact one might say we are old friends. Or...rather...nightmares are a constant stalker that never really leave, sometimes they just hide in the bushes better.

I am more likely to have more nightmares, and have them be more vivid, when I am stressed out. This was common when I was working at the Probation Dept., making it another straw on the poor camel's back that eventually led to my downfall. Lately, due to the stress of ill and dying family, it's not surprising that the nightmares are back.

The difference this time is that I am reliving past horrors. Over and over and over. Like a broken record replaying every excruciating detail. My brain has also added a soundtrack, playing songs to accentuate the pain I am feeling.

The nightmares have gotten so bad that I have been hyperventilating in my sleep. At some point I think I have even affected the Bar Manager's sleep, which makes me feel terrible. I wake up in a cold sweat, unable to breath, clutching him, or the cat, or a pillow, for dear life. The daylight doesn't help, because during the day I feel like I am barely keeping it together. Everything makes me want to cry, and scream and lay it all out there. Every wound, every horror, let the world know why I have these nightmares and this anxiety in the first place.

Then I remember that I am not talking about it. Ever. I want to, but I don't want to lay this on anyone else. I am afraid that it will hurt them by me getting it out of my system, in addition to the myriad of other worries I have.
"Why don't you talk about it in therapy?" You ask? I have. Exhaustively. It tires me out to talk about it, and not feel like I get anywhere with it. Therapy doesn't make it go away, or make it better. It just gave me tools to cope with it, which helps a lot. Before, when I would get consumed by this, it was debilitating. I would scream, be filled with rage, fear, push everyone away. I would like to think I am handling it a little better this time around....

I just with the nightmares would go away. Or at least go back to being monsters and beasts, and not being so real. Please? Is frolicking with kittens too much to ask brain?

Crashing

Days like today remind me that I have a crazy.

I have been cruising along, doing pretty well outside. Going to a friends house to work out, going to dinner on a whim with a friend, and going out with the Bar Manager a lot has sort of helped me forget that I am agoraphobic in the first place. Well, ok, to be fair, I never forget, and there is always the hyper-vigilance and some panic involved. And all the OCD crap...BUT we are getting off topic.

Water World. Swimming, rides, and death all rolled into one.

The one thing I always forget, and feel silly about forgetting every time, is that after a while I will crash. The first analogy that comes to mind is going to an amusement park or something similar. You go to the amusement park, ride rides, walk all over the place, and it is all very exciting! New smells! New sites! Different noms! So much to see and do! Hooray! When you get home that night you are EXHAUSTED. You have never been so tired in your life! You are asleep before you even take your shoes off. Maybe that doesn't happen to you? Oh, well, ah...remember when you used to go swimming all day? Or, hiking? Fine.

That is sort of what this feels like. Like I have been burning adrenaline for too long, and now my body is mad at me. I am totally wiped out. I can barely get my eyes to focus, my brain is a complete cotton fuzz, and every movement - especially strenuous ones like blinking - make me feel like I might die.

Then there is the headache. I have been doing pretty good about not having/getting migraines in the last few months (for a while, a long while, there was not a moment when I didn't have a headache), but when I get like this, my brain sort of explodes. My left eye feels like it doesn't fit in my head, and that I should pop it out. My brain feels like it is swelling, and that my skull might crack. Or I should crack it and let some steam out. Not to fear, I am not actually going to pop my eye from it's socket (I would misplace it), and I shan't crack my skull (it's not as much fun as it sounds). I hate this headache. There is nothing anything can be done for it, either. Pills make it angry, so I just sort of ride this one out. Wheeeeeeee

I bet everyone thinks I am lame. Back to bed then...

Jerks

I also sort of crash emotionally. I would over think things, but I am too tired to, so instead I just get kind of sad. "Yup, I probably made a fool of myself dancing in the bar the other night, and now everyone hates me. *sigh* I guess I will go die in my bed" - spoken in the tone of Eeyore. I have the over-thinking and panic to look forward to, when I am not so exhausted. I try to keep myself from letting this happen, the panic and over thinking, but when I run myself raged like this it sort of sneaks up on me. Like, "oh! Now's our chance! She is vulnerable! Lets give her a lot of nightmares about all the crap she did this week, so she can worry about it when she wakes up!" - squeal the dancing demons in my head. Jerks.

There are remedies to this, for sure. Trying to recognize that this is happening is a big part of it, instead of succumbing to the sad. Also, as ironic as it feels, going out helps. Sometimes it is a distraction and the crazy is still lurking behind my eyes, but other times it snaps me out of whatever agoraphobic funk I am trying to throw myself into. The flip side to that is sometimes I go out too much, and the funk is thrown off, then it hits me like a ton of bricks later. Like today. When I am so exhausted that I can't think straight, let alone function in the real world.




So...there's that. I would write more, give you clever analogies and what not. Instead I am going to go pour myself back into my bed, and daydream of someone bringing me noms and cuddles and horror movies. (Noms, cuddles and horror movies make everything better. Everything. It's a scientific fact. If the Noms are Chinese food, and the movie has zombies in it, then things like Cancer can be cured. Ok, maybe not, but close.)

I leave you with a cat in a bowler hat

Gushing

Hi there.

I would like to tell you all about my Valentine's Day this year, so...if you are not in the mood to read a gushy sappy post...you have been warned. However there is bacon involved, so maybe you should stick around after all.

Now that we have that out of the way, I had THE BEST VALENTINE'S DAY!!

The Bar Manager and I had previously discussed a few different options, like going to a basketball game and seeing the new Die Hard movie. Those were going to be fine, I super excited to get to spend the day with him and I didn't really care what we did. We finally made plans to have dinner at his bar (which for the sake of the story, we shall call the Winchester, and is fancier than it sounds), see a movie, and come back to his bar for trivia.

I have been debating on what to get the Bar Manager for literally months. MONTHS. With Christmas, then his birthday, and then Valentines Day back to back, basically, I have been stressing and feeling woefully inadequate in the gifting arena for ages. AGES! There are so many things I want to give to him, but being as how I have $0, it is hard to get him most of what I want to. I would list there here, but there is a remote possibility that SOME DAY I will be able to afford them, and an even more remote possibility that he reads this. So, I won't spoil the hypothetical surprises here. Just know that the ideas for gifts I have are epic.

Anyhoo...I ended up getting him two pounds of thick sliced bacon, I made him chocolate chip Reese's Pieces cookies, and I made him a playlist of songs that not only expressed how I felt about him, but were hopefully songs he liked. The playlist was the "big gift" so to speak, and it was the one I was the most stressed out about. I almost ALMOST didn't give it to him. Men are a skittish creature, and scare easily, and I didn't want my heartfelt playlist to scare him away.

This is the outfit I WISH I had

Finally V-Day came! I was terrified! I wanted to look amazing, but not too fancy as we were going to the Winchester. I asked him what he was wearing, assuming it was going to be jeans and a shirt...nope. He was going with a tie. A TIE?! SHIT! So...this changed me from wearing a typical black sweater and nice jeans. Now I wanted to look nice, but not over do it, or under do it. Or wrong do it. So, like a typical OCD crazy girl, I worried about my outfit for hours. I think I tried on every nice thing I have, and have since decided I don't actually have that nice of things...I settled on a nice brown skirt I haven't worn in ages, a forest green tank top, knee high brown boots, and a sweatshirt. I fluffed my hair, as I spent too much time freaking out about the outfit and didn't have time to curl it, and STILL don't own a straightener... Did my make-up. Then re-did my make-up. THEN I changed my shoes four times. Finally I settled on shoes, outfit and make-up.


SIDE NOTE: The last time I had a big date (previous to the Bar Manager), it was a disaster. I had a brand new to me vintage 40's dress, incredible shoes, had spent six hours on my hair, had perfect make-up, and the only thing my date said was I was a bit too busty for the dress. Not a single compliment, and then later he complained about every aspect of me and the date. Not something an Agoraphobe easily forgets. So, this is one of the silly reasons for my panic and paranoia.

When the Bar Manager arrived, I actually felt a little weak. He looked amazing! His green shirt and tie really complimented his eyes. *swoon* He looked so good, I wanted to throw myself on my bed and pout, because I paled in comparison to his handsomeness and I hated my outfit. I started to get nervous all over again. He kept looking at me sweetly...and I had to ask how I looked. He seemed in shock that I would ask a stupid question, and said I looked fine. The WAY he said it was what counted, like "of course you look amazing, why would you ask?" NOW, granted, I might be reading way too much into everything, like usual, but that is how I interpreted that whole interaction.

How I felt on the inside. *sigh*

At this point I felt a little...shitty I guess. I rarely have gotten flowers, and I LOVE flowers. LOVE THEM. I am not a chocolate girl really, but something about a flower really goes a long way in my heart. They never happened in my last relationship unless I literally begged for them, which at that point I could have just gotten myself flowers, which defeats it a bit. So, when the Bar Manager arrived without flowers, I am not going to lie, I was a little bummed. "Not to worry" I told myself, I was still going on a great date with a great guy. Flowers are silly. *sigh*

While in the car, I asked if he had made reservations. The Winchester was having a special occasion dinner, and it seemed like the type of place and type of time to make reservations. He scoffed, why would he make reservations? He's one of the managers! PFFT. Ok, ok, but did they at least know we were coming? Just in case? Places having fancy dinners like to know who all is coming, right? He scoffed again.

We get there, and he was really sweet about walking with me. This is such a little thing, but he was concerned I would slip in the ice, and so he held my hand and walked slowly, or avoided it altogether when he could. It really is the little things that make a girls heart melt. Well, mine anyway. Genuine concern for my well being. *swoon*

Stick with me kids, this is where things start to get really good!

We walked into the Winchester, and at the end of the bar was the largest bouquet of flowers I had ever seen. My first thought was, "Awww, how sweet! Someone got one of the other bartenders or servers some really nice flowers!" We got closer, and the Bar Manger sat me down right in front of them! However, I am a little slow, so it took another couple seconds before I understood that they were for me! ME! *Melts* He and the lovely Lady Bar Manager (yes, they are co-managers) unwrapped them for me, and I got to stick my face in the loveliest flowers I have ever received. Ever. My Bar Manager got all cute, saying "Yup, turns out they DID know we were coming," and then all the other servers and women in the bar started to gush about how he had set this all up. He had been planning it "FOR WEEKS! Literally weeks," stated the Lady Bar Manager, while others were telling me about how sweet he was that he came in and got the place setting ready and the flowers. Apparently he hand picked the flowers! Just for me! There was such a lovely variety to the flowers, and he said that was on purpose. He figured if he got a lot of them, he was bound to get one of them right (as far as which ones were my favorite). This is one of the sweetest things ever. Ever. *Faints*

Literally breath-taking!

At this point, I decided I should share the playlist that I made. After a little technical difficulty I was able to "beam" my playlist to him, which was technologically AWESOME by the way!

Our dinner was DELICIOUS! We were treated to a three course meal, with a marvelously matched bottle of wine. First he and I had salmon cakes and stuffed artichokes. For the main course he and I had pan searched chicken, and bistro tenderloin. *drools* For dessert we shared a chocolate mousse berry napoleon. Fantastic delectable delights!

After dinner the original plan was to go see the new Die Hard movie. I was whatever whatever about it, but I was into seeing it. This is how I know the Bar Manager is a keeper; "I know we were thinking of Die Hard, but that isn't very romantic. Would you rather go see a zombie movie?" Sir, I think I love you.

SO, instead of seeing Die Hard, he took me to see Warm Bodies. Which was perfect! It was a really cute movie, a RomZomCom, or whatever the cool kids call it. Zombies. Romance. Shenanigans. Perfect! This is another movie I think I need to own. AND, another little thing, he held my hand the whole time.  *sigh*

Strawberry Beer is better than it sounds

Between the Winchester and the zombie movie and and I stopped at a place across the street to try a strawberry beer, which was quite delicious.
We then went back to the Winchester for Trivia and cocktails. We took over for another team that was leaving, and ended up coming in 2nd place overall. Not too shabby, especially since I was able to get us a couple of points with some nerd answers *brushes shoulder off.*

I think at this point this is when he started taking pictures of us. That was really cute! He said something like, "I think it's about time we got a picture of us" or something along those lines. We took silly pictures, cute pictures, kissy face pictures...it was really sweet. Then, after posting them to Facebook for the WHOLE WORLD to see *swoon* I proceeded to make one of them my profile picture. A very public declaration that the Bar Manager was my guy. He did the SAME THING! With the same picture! *melt*

Finely we were in my apartment again. I think at this point I couldn't take the anticipation anymore, and I sort of yelled at him to listen to his playlist. "Hey! You should listen to that. RIGHT NOW!" Patience and tact have never been virtues of mine, but he took it in stride, and started listening to it. He played it over the speakers of his phone. I tried to contain myself, not apologize for songs, or over explain why I had them in the order they were in, etc. Luckily this was one of the few times I could pretty much keep my mouth shut. I think he liked it? He sung along with a lot of the songs, and commented on others. SO, I think it was a success? He didn't hate it, and I am too scared to ask him what he thinks...so there's that.
He LOVED his cookies, though. He didn't know I had made Reese's Pieces choco-chip cookies, and those are one of his favorites. SCORE! He was very excited by them. He also really like the bacon, so that was a win. YAY!!! As a post Valentines Day treat, he and I had some of his bacon this morning. We made candied bacon together, which is the first time I have ever had that. It was VERY tasty. "Millionaire Bacon" was the recipe, and I WILL be making that again. It would blow your mind in a BLT. *drools*

All in all it was an amazing Valentines Day. The best one I have had in recent memory. He is so sweet! And romantic! In the perfectly awesome, steak and zombie loving kind of way! All the little things, making sure I didn't slip...holding my hand....taking pictures with me and posting them in a public forum...and the way he looked at me throughout the night, really made it special. Oh, and not to mention the INCREDIBLE flowers! I...may or may not carry them from room to room with me at home, so I can see and smell them wherever I am. In a sort of obsessive way. They are so lovely!!!










Alright, alright, I will stop gushing over the Bar Manager, and get back to writing about going outside or playing poker. I just wanted to shove my happiness in everyone's face for a moment. I .... he... ok, ok, I won't get into the sappy stuff. He is the Bee's Knees, and I will leave it at that. For now.

Boxer Bee's Knees!

Happy Valentine's Day!