Seriously

I can't stop drawing these things. So far, I've decorated a shirt and a pair of my shoes with this image.

I can't stop laughing at it either.

There's a Song About This

Anyone with a facebook can tell you how little the word "friend" can mean these days. I know out of the couple hundred friends I have on facebook, I speak to maybe 30 of them on a regular basis, some of those only in party situations, as big groups of people.

Few of them know who I am, who I want to be, what I want in life. Few know who I actually am, what I am actually comprised of. Those few would, for instance, not be surprised that I am currently blasting the Les Miserables soundtrack.

They know the me that is squashed at social functions. The nerd that emerges after a few hours of conversation is someone they embrace. Maybe they shake their heads, but they love me anyway.

I'm so glad I have these friends. I know of people who have few real true friends, and I can't imagine such a life. My few close friends keep me sane, keep me happy. I couldn't handle my family bombarding me at every moment otherwise.

Tonight I met up with two friends I met in Glasgow that live in the LA area. The three of us haven't gotten altogether since; two of the three of us would meet and vice versa, but never all three.

I don't know what it is about people you meet when you're abroad, but there's this almost instant connection. I'm sure it's because you're all away from home, it's a foreign place for everyone, that sort of thing. But these two girls are probably going to be friends I keep for years and years, when high school friends, college friends, have come and gone.

And it was so funny, all night we kept referring to Glasgow as "here", like we were still there. It made us all smile and laugh, and I was so glad to have that connection again. I missed them.

The fact that I found us a "pub" just made it all the better. Not that it was a pub, it was a bar in Hermosa, and nothing but a pub will ever be a pub. But we liked it, and it made us all go "awww" to see all the Underground signs.

We all want to get back out there. None of us like being stuck in one place anymore. The travel bug bit us all, and we want to GTFO.

Unfortunately for us, we are not made of money, so travel plans are thin on the ground. We're all stuck where we are, making money in a job and unable to leave for a vacation. We're all just waiting for the chance.

So that's all. I stayed home alone while my family (parents, brother, sister, brother-in-law, niece and nephew) all went camping, just so I could go see my friends.

Worth it.

Word Barf is Good for the Soul

It’s near to midnight, and I’m watching my family as they putter to and fro, getting ready for a camping trip. I decided last minute not to join them, in order to see some friends for the last time before they jet-set off into their new adult lives.

And I guess it’s made me think about my ‘adult life’, or whatever this is I’m living. Or where I want to be, I suppose.

Like I’ve said before, for the moment, I’m quite content to be working this secretarial job. It pays well, and so far it hasn’t given me the “oh Christ I hate my job” sort of feeling I was expecting. They’re pleasant people, they make me laugh, and again, it pays well for such relatively light work.

My plan, I guess, is to work here as long as possible, and spend as little as possible. I’m lucky in that my parents are happy to house me and feed me as long as I can stand living with them, as their graciousness comes with the guilt trips and restrictions that we associate with high school. It’s a matter of balancing. What is a little guilt trip when I’m not paying rent?

So the saving money bit is going to involve making a conscious effort to not spend all my money. Which, let’s face it, is going to be an effort. I mean, there are at least 4 video games I want, on at least 3 systems, not to mention clothes, and shoes, and other nerdy things I can’t even mention, and you get the idea.

Maliciously, I have calculated that if I work from say, August 2011 to August 2012, and adjusting for possible schedule changes, I could make anywhere from $12k to $18k. And again, I’m not paying rent. I DO plan on helping to pay for my insurance or phone or what have you, because I hate feeling like a brat, and I don’t want to get in the habit of taking things for granted, like plenty of people in my life have.

And I mean, even if I only saved $10,000, with that I could move and get a new job somewhere else. Or fly to Scotland. Or Japan. Or wherever the heck I want.

I want to keep traveling. It was so much fun. And once you leave and come back, it’s never the same. Home isn’t home anymore, it’s just that house you live in. And I love my family, but I learned that I can live in a place separate from them and be okay. I loved Scotland. I’m dying to go back. I loved Ireland, I want to see it again too. But I haven’t been to Japan, or Greece, or Italy, and I want to see so many places.

I think the hard part is figuring out how, and when. I never want it to be too late for me to do something. I want to make the best of the time that I have. Whether that’s traveling, failing, or loving - I want to do it all, and never regret.

I don’t want to put restrictions on myself. My mother says get a good job, settle down, get married, make babies. My father says get out, experience the world, get married in thirty years when he’s dead and I’ve accomplished everything I want to do.

But what if I want to have fun now, get married, and have fun with my spouse? No one ever suggests that option. No one ever brings up the valid point that if I can work for a year and save up money and then go on an epic adventure, it would work even better if I had a partner.

Part of me wants babies. Part of me wants to be domestic. But another part of me wants to get married on a volcano in Hawaii, or in Vegas, or elope to Italy. We could move to France, move to Canada, move to Japan. Wherever we want to go. Because traveling is so much more fun when you aren’t alone.

Right now? I want to roadtrip across America until someplace looks good enough to stop for a while. I want that freedom. To say sure, this place in Oklahoma looks cool, let’s live here for a few months, and move again on a whim.

And then one day, we’ll tire of that life, and finally settle down somewhere awesome. Somewhere peaceful. Or exciting, I haven’t decided. I want trees, and sunshine, and weather that actually consists of seasons. (California, what the hell, why don’t you have any seasons?)

Possibly the worst thing is that for once, I know exactly what I want, right now, and it’s a thousand dollars and a thousand miles away.

Life.

LOL WHUT

Well. This is the fun part about never keeping up with a blog. A month goes by - or a year or two - and suddenly everything is different.

1. I'm sitting at my desk in a law office, because I'm the secretary. One of two, but who cares, I'm employed. We split the work week.

2. I'm still on my healthy lifestyle kick and the last time I stepped on a scale I was 113.

3. I. Am. Happy.

Ha, happy. I don't even remember the last time I was this happy.

And I can't even pinpoint a single stand-out factor for this newfound happiness. I mean, there are quite a few, and they're each equally fantastic.

Some of my little nuggets of joy have yet to pan out entirely, but they're there, making me smile and float through what remains of summer.

I'm not worrying about school. The GRE I can take at any time, applications for next fall aren't due until next July, and it's not even my top priority. I like school and I like learning and of course I'd love to have a graduate degree in something fancy but at this point I'm using grad school as a reason to travel. Which probably isn't the best, but I don't much care.

So, for now, I work here as a secretary (I have ink all over my fingers), I tend to my new vegetable/herb garden, I babysit my niece and nephew, I bake excessively, and I enjoy the company of loved ones.

So before my bosses come back from court to find me blogging, I'll return to filing documents in a 10 lb case folder (1 case out of oh, 30 open cases) and do my best to appear clerical.

I seriously can't stop smiling.

~<3

Hurrah!

It's 5:30am, which means that I should be in bed (or if I were extremely more awesome than I am, waking up) but I'm not. I'm awake, and I have been since sometime in the late morning/early afternoon of yesterday.

The way I feel about my body - oh we're going there - fluctuates extremely. It's a combination of very little positive influence and bad health, and it's equally my fault and probably partly because of the way I was raised. I grew up with the "eat everything on your plate" motto, as well as good ol' hearty homestyle cooking, which frequently meant lots of fats and proteins and very little else. Most vegetables came out of cans, green beans and corn usually, which aren't even excellent vegetables to have. And now that I know about nutrition and diet and all that, looking at my favorite meals from my childhood is terrifying. Why was I eating all those things in my formative years? And to top it off, why wasn't I really being taught about portion-sizing, and balancing your calorie intake with exercise? It's awful, really.

So, basically, I've never been at a healthy weight or in a place where I've felt comfortable with myself. I hid in baggy clothing and binged on feel-good foods, all that cliché life story goodness we always hear about. And at 5'0" tall, it's been pretty disastrous; as I've told anyone who would listen, for maintaining my weight, as in not losing or gaining, I have to consume about 1,000 calories a day. Period.

Have you ever tried that? It's sort of ridiculous and hard, when you've been eating whatever, whenever your whole life.

I've gained and lost weight before, sure. A little bit of dieting, a little bit of elliptical here and there, and I can lose 5 or 10 lbs in a few weeks with a little bit of effort. At my worst, I was almost 140 lbs. Which might not seem like a lot to the average 5'6" person, but for me, that's overweight if not bordering obesity.

I never weighed myself as a teenager - never had a scale in my household - so when I see pictures of me where I'm actually not THAT bad, I have no idea what THAT actually IS.

So right now I'm ~118 (still no scale, but the chiropractor has one) and I'm unbelievably proud of myself. I'm wearing tank tops and shorts, which, if you know me, is BOGUS. One of my main characteristics for my entire young adult life was that I am always wearing jeans and a sweater, The End. This is my happy place, and I'm not even where I want to be yet.

Let me pause to state that for a lassie my size, 100 lbs is normal and healthy and not even underweight.

So why am I up so early?

1. I was dancing to music with some dumbbells for about a half hour, which, when done correctly (I know, correctly, who am I fooling) is pretty good for toning, I swear.

2. I made a purchase on Amazon, and I'm so happy I came here to word barf about it.

There's this lady named Tracy Anderson. She's a trainer. Her most famous client is Gwyneth Paltrow. This lovely lady happens to have some books and DVDs that I've wanted for a while.

I got a gift card for my graduation from an aunt and uncle.

Spoiler: I bought her book. And I bought another book for reading but that's not the point.

SO. I am excited. It's a workout and diet plan that is tailored for women who want petite and slim bodies, and Tracy herself is my size, so as stupid as it is, I trust her more than Tony Horton of P90X, which I've tried, and hurt myself on.

With any luck, I'll become the best Melissa I've ever been in my entire life, and manage to keep it that way. It would certainly turn my summer around.

.....

OH GOD IT'S 6AM GOODNIGHT INTERNET.

Blasé

Even though it smacks of Dear Diary, I'mma gonna share my day anyway.

I think I postponed waking up until an ungodly, unmentionable hour just so that I wouldn't have to spend the day worrying. Because I have been spending the remainder of the day worrying like a maniac. Waiting for a phone call, waiting for an email. Waiting seems to be my only game these days.

Waiting for employers, friends, even -oh my- boys. It's terrible, and not very proactive, but I can't imagine what else I could possibly do. I can't change too much, I've spoken my piece... so all that's left to do is wait, right?

I need something to occupy my time. Anything. I would take three part-time jobs if I could only just find one. I hate doing nothing, I hate being this listless and useless. I hate feeling like a waste of spacing taking up oxygen.

So in the meantime, I read, paint, and waste time exercising, because at least that's wasting time in a positive sort of way.

Oh, and writing here in this blog no one reads. Most excellent.

Oh. My.

How terribly embarrassing. I think I've had this blog for about 2 years? Possibly 3. Oh yes, 3 years. Silly me.

I can't figure out what you're for, blog. I confess that my life seems far too boring to commit to the internet for perusing. So then, creative writing!

Then 10 posts later I become paranoid that someone, somewhere, is going to steal what I wrote. I deleted quite a few posts of my original writing from this baby. Now it's safely on my laptop, where only I can look at it. But that seems wrong too.

Most of the blogs that I read are cooking. Cooking blogs suck me in like nothing else can, because oh goodness do I love to cook and bake and generally waste time in the kitchen. Who needs a watch when the stove has a clock, eh? That's me, single-handedly pulling a fast one on feminism.

I could crack jokes. But that seems like a waste of blog space.

Then again, so is this rambling.

But I'm going to hit the publish button anyway. Because it's my blog, and because I can.

So there.