the hair of the dog that bit you

Nighttime is hard. Every time is hard but nighttime is the worst. You have nothing else to do but think about how handsome he was and little trickles of me wonder if I left too quickly...and then floods of me scream NO! as they gush down my face. I did the right thing and I knew it felt right when I did it. I won't pretend that I am not lonely for the good things. The familiarity...getting to know someone in a romantic "yr mine" candy hearts kind of way is work. Testing limits and seeing what they are all about isn't kid stuff. I'm aching for the jokes, the laughter and the kisses. There is a rain barrel of tears gathering behind these eyes. We had so many special moments and I just don't know where they all go to after the fallout. I imagine a memory mausoleum with tattered, tear-stained moments scribbled on slips of paper. Forgotten seconds after sex, the first time they took your hand, getting lost in a corn maze, hearing them beg you to come back...hearing the door shut after they have walked out and left. Knowing I risk a PTSD meltdown if I set foot in a petting zoo seems so absurd, going to Wendy's on a Sunday night is a sacrilege. So what do you do? You wake up in the middle of the night and start crying for no good fucking reason and then you are tired all the next day and you can't for the life of you remember why. For fifteen years I wondered if I would ever love again and I should know by now that I most certainly will. I guess I made a bad investment...people do that sometimes. I didn't do my research and check the statistics and in this case I had plenty to go by. I got burned by someone I cared for and there is nothing I can do about it now but continue on being myself and saying the wacky shit that I say and just hope that out of all the people I offend in Utah that one of them is a man who thinks it's charming and is exactly what he is after. Someone who enjoys to dote and be doted, someone who can smote and be smoted. Someone that likes being a thirty something in America in 2012 and sees it as a challenge fit for the brave and true. My heart may be crumbled up and drying out but oh how it was shining and wet for him. It will be again...I know that, or I just tell myself that in hopes I will believe it again. I have done more for myself as a person in the last thirty days than I did in the last four years. Maybe it is self-preservation but I think it's because I don't have the weight of his pain, ignorance and pessimism holding me down any longer...except when I get night terrors.

Home is where you hide your crap

I crave home ownership. I salivate when I walk past a Lowe's; I watch "This Old House" and wish I could rip out shitty carpet only to reveal gorgeous wood floors. You want to turn an attic space into an opium den? I'm all over it. You know what makes planning for your future home easy? Pinterest.

I want antique chandeliers in every room. I want pedestal sinks and slipper-style bathtubs.

               I need this sofa. 

I would love nothing more than to lay on a thick carpet surrounded by house plants and stare up at this chandelier.

I think it might be the old Hollywood drunk in me who cannot get enough of a big ass chandelier.

Let us not forget the importance of a vanity. A lady must always have a place to set her lipstick.

Pinterest has totally taken over in the way people plan for things. You no longer have to scour design rags with your scissors poised to clip whatever marbled toilet seat and 18k gold faucets flip your way. Who cares about Reese Witherspoon's ranch house in Elle Decor when you have limitless pin boards to post fashionably avant garde photos of a dream house you will probably never attain? Whatever, that's what dream houses are for. If I can manage to have something with crystals dangling off of it in my future home I will feel like a winner. xo

Dear Diary

I am living with my cat, a dead tarantula and lots of mice in my grandmothers basement.

Sounds like a joke.

But it isn't.

After almost five years away from SLC I am back.
I traded in what I ?had? for the hometown I so desperately  wanted.

I broke up with B in May but I think he had broken up with me that fourth of July the previous year. I had pointed out quite violently what he already knew he was: a monster. He isn't strong-hearted enough to break up with anyone so he allowed me to apologize (which I shouldn't have) and then let me retract my statement (which I absolutely shouldn't have). We then carried on with me doing all the carrying as usual in my relationships.

Being in the midst of a full-blown meltdown didn't seem all that meltdown-y at the time. I see now that I handled it just as graciously as any girl in my position and mind set could. Realizing that the one and only reason I would even consider staying in a place that made me cringe was the promise that he loved me and wanted to build a life with me; that is truly pathetic. I had sacrificed so much to build what I thought was my forever; I apologized and said "I can't" to friends, weekends, school, and even parts of myself for him. When I undressed his personality and peeled off those military issue glasses, he was nothing more than ashes of the person he probably would have been had he not turned into the person he, in reality, turned out to be. It all blew away.

I had my job that I loved but they liked holding that carrot in my face to see how fast and far I would run for it with no merit. I realize what a detriment it is to my job hunting now because the job title I had was not the job title I performed and excelled at. That is no way to live.

I gave up approx 180lbs of a man for a freedom that I myself would tell any woman she deserved and I took way too long reminding myself of that. I know in my heart that he felt for me 1/100 of the way I felt for him.

My throat gets that ache, that stinging hurt that sits right above my heart and then burns behind my eyes and that means I am about to cry. What's a girl to do? "you want a fairytale but you don't want to sacrifice anything for it" will stay with me forever, you dick.