J. K. Rowling, we have a problem.

Dear Ms. (Mrs?) Rowling,

I have heard great things about your Harry Potter series of books.  The movies as well, but I refuse to watch them until I’ve read the books, so for now we’re focusing on the books.  Problem is, I have not yet read any of the books and at the current rate, I may never even make it to the movies.

Within the expanse of the last two or three weeks I have tried several times to find your Harry Potter series online in order to purchase and load it onto my Kindle.  As a result, I spent many wasted minutes questioning my sanity as well as my internet navigation skills each time my search came up empty handed.

‘Where are all the Harry Potter books?’ I ask myself while staring blankly at my empty search screen.  ‘It’s not like I’m asking for some obscure book from 1826, I mean, only every single person on the planet above the age of 7 or 8 are familiar with these books….Harry Potter.  H-a-r-r-y space P-o-t-t-e-r, yep, I spelled it correctly.  What’s wrong with Amazon?  Is it not working today?  Let me try another book…..Well, it found Green Eggs and Ham.  Maybe I need a full title because there are so many?  Harry Potter and the Prisoner….Nothing.  Harry Potter and the Stone….Nada.  Well crap.  I’ll just get Eat, Pray, Love.’

So out of frustration I did a web search asking why your books are not on Amazon, J.K. Rowling.  You know what I find?  I bet you do.  I bet you’re snickering to yourself right now because you already know what’s coming, don’t you?  You won’t let your books be made available in eReader format, J.K. Rowling!!!  What the….

Are we familiar yet?  Can I call you J.?  Or do you prefer J.K.?  Look, I think it’s so fantastically superb and awesome that you’re all “Print Books 4-Eva” with your millions of sales standing up for the “little guys” Books-a-Million and Barnes and Noble.  That’s really excellent.  Warm and fuzzies for everyone.

(I kid, J.K. Rowling!!  I kid!!!  I know it’s about actual books vs. eReaders.  Keeping it old school.  I get it!  Really I do.  We’re still friends, yes?)

However!  I don’t know that you’ve actually picked up and held one of your actual books recently.  Do you realize with all that amazing wizardry and alakazam-ary you packed into each book they weigh about 27 lbs. each?  And they’re freaking humongous!!!!!  Monstrous!

I’m just sayin’, J.K. Rowling….what’s my backbone gotta do to get a shout out once in a while?  Because what I am reading stays with me at all times – in my purse that weighs about 42 lbs. on average with all the pointlessness I pack in there.  I’m serious.  Harry P. and his 27 lbs. ain’t gonna make the cut, J. K. Rowling!  And I really want to read them!

I have a Kindle because it’s easy.  Because I can carry 3,500 books with me all at the same time and it still weighs one pound.  You know what I’m reading right now?  War and Peace.  That’s right, J.K. Rowling!  The one book that dwarfs Harry P. and company.  Do you think for one second Tolstoy would’ve made it past my front door if he hadn’t gotten that eReader makeover?  Not in a million years.

But hark, I hear an angel sing, J.K. Rowling!  Because when I purchased my Kindle, I did not immediately stop purchasing real books.  In fact, I collect older ones!  J.K. Rowling, in my house right now I have a collection of Shakespeare that is over 100 years old.  Who’s old school now?!?!?  Holla!!!

I love the real thing!  And I promise, I promise, I promise that if you will just let me have your books on my little Kindle, I will not allow their paper ancestors to fall to the wayside forgotten and alone in a ditch somewhere.  I just want to enter old age gracefully without a hump in my back with Harry P. and crew’s name on it.  Can we compromise, J.K. Rowling?  Do we have a deal?

Sincerely,

Aspiring Potter Fan

Twilight Zone Kinda Saturday

Why, you ask?  Oh, let me count the ways.  The plan was to get an oil leak repaired on my car.  I have a friend who has a hook-up so I go to a neighboring town and friend up with her in order to get repairs on the low.  (Why am I street slang gangsta chick all of a sudden???)

Let me preface the story by saying….this friend is not all that close of a friend.  She used to be so I’m not being mean, but in getting to know her better she became one of those friends you start slowly, silently backing away from so as not to startle.

She always has some kind of drama going on.  A grown woman who never has money and never has a problem asking for a little handout.  Coincidentally, she’s Bean’s mother.  He also does not have a relationship with her.  But remember that kid that turned out not to be his?  She still claims it as her grandchild – even with other family members.  Outside of myself, the actual mother, and Bean she’s kept the secret to herself.

Her one good quality is that she was always a big fan of me and Bean being together.  She knew what I could offer him and she always hoped he would act right.  So she’s got some good sense somewhere, but keep your distance.

Ok, let’s just boil it all down. Go up at lunch time with the plan of meeting with said friend, eating lunch, dropping off my car, going to get whatever part the mechanic says I need, having it replaced and heading back home by late afternoon oil-leak free.

Did this happen?  Well shucks, no.

Get to my friend’s house and she’s in her pajamas packing 5 boxes because she signs the lease on a new place that day, so naturally it’s a good plan to carry with her 5 boxes of the most random, unuseful kitchen things she can find (i.e. bread box….glass serveware of her great-grandmother’s….alcoholic paraphernalia – shakers, shot glasses…..serving platters) to drop off.

A little double take as I enter her place to find her in shambles, packing.  WTH?

An hour or two later, after she puts one more thing in a box and spends the rest of the time sitting and updating me on the latest life drama she finally gets dressed so we can go for lunch.  Bean’s younger brother (15 years old) is with us.

On the way to lunch the mechanic calls to say they’re slow and asks if I can bring the car soon.  Absolutely.  So slight change of plans, we head to there and after dropping off the car, we’re on our way to grab some lunch.  Aside from the 2-hour delay, we’re chugging right along with the plan.

Lunch over, mechanic still hasn’t called so my friend decides she wants to go shop at the local Habitat for Humanity store.  Walking through the store her 15-year-old son rests his arm on my shoulder a la arm rest because I’m short and ha, ha that makes it funny.  He’s a good kid so I let him have his fun.  Whatever.

We’re wandering the store like two awkwardly mismatched Siamese twins and at a certain point his hand grazes the top of my breast.  He’s a good kid though – and he’s 15! – so I let this pass telling myself it was most definitely an accident.  You may be hearing the Twilight Zone theme song gearing up about right now and if so, you would be correct.

His mother is still roaming the store so he points to an area across the store we haven’t been yet and suggests we stroll over there to kill the time.  I agree because I’ve got to be the most naive 33-year-old on the planet.  I didn’t even think twice about it.  He’s a good kid!

As we walk down an aisle with doors on either side of us this “good” kid suddenly reaches down and grabs a big, honking handful of my left breast, then quickly reaches around for a butt grab.

“(His name)!!!!  What the….?!?!  What are you do…?!?!?  Don’t ever do that again!!  What the…!!!”  My mind is spinning and I can’t gather words quickly enough to tell him no and let him know this was unacceptable.

“PLEASE?!?!?!?”  My brain possibly exploded at this point.

“WHAT?!?!?!?  NO!!!!!!  Don’t ever do that again!!!  I can get arrested behind stuff like that!  Are you kidding me?!?!?”  I begin walking back towards the front of the store.

“I’m sorry, Crystal.  Please don’t tell my mom.  I’m really sorry.  I’m just at that age.”  He’s just at that age, people!!!!

I end up giving him a big piece of my mind but I agree not to tell his mother, which in hindsight was probably a mistake.  During all this Twilight Zone fun the mechanic calls my friend to tell her he can’t tell where the leak is coming from so he’s cleaned it and wants me to bring it back next week.  Great.

Leaving the store my friend tells me she wants me to see her new house before I go home.  I ask her how long she’s gonna be there (because I’m really ready to go) and she promises me it’ll be about an hour.  This is at 4:30 in the afternoon.  She’s supposed to meet the woman there between 5 and 5:30 she tells me.  I agree to leave my car behind and ride with her so off we go to at least pick up my keys.

Before we leave completely my friend stops to have a scratch buffed off the top of her car.  I should’ve bailed then but apparently I’m not as smart as I’ve given myself credit for all these years.

During the time her car is being buffed the 15 year old apologizes once again.  I almost believe him.  Then he asks, if he would’ve asked me for permission first would I have let him.  Seriously.

After the buff job on the car, we head off to the new house.  Oh, surprise!  We don’t meet the owner between 5 and 5:30 after all!  The appointment is an hour later!  So yay!  We get to go sit in a car and eat an ice cream to wait.  I get a little frustrated but I think the shock of what happened earlier is numbing my responses because I say nothing.

Finally we make it to the house.  We chat with the owners, I get a little tour of the place.  It’s time to sit down and sign the lease.  I am not exaggerating in the slightest when I tell you it takes my friend at least a full 45 minutes to make out the check she has to pay, read over the one solitary paragraph of her lease, and sign it.  This is because she apparently can’t write and talk at the same time, or write and listen for that matter, so she writes the name then stops to tell a “grandbaby” story.  Then she writes the amount and stops to tell a dog story.  Then she writes the amount out in words and stops…. you get the picture.

She has to stop in the middle of reading the lease to answer a phone call then she spends an extra 5 minutes with her head in her hands because she forgot she’d made plans for dinner with the friend who called and she’s not hungry.

The only thing stopping me from saying something is that I know after this blessed lease is signed we can leave.  Oh it’s comical now because little did I know….

After reading the lease – but before signing of course – she stops to call the friend back and tell her how she’d forgotten and asks if they still want to meet.  I’m glancing down at myself to make sure I’m still actually visible as she appears to not be seeing me anymore.  Yep, I’m still there.

Off the phone once again, Hallelujah!  Angels are heralding because the lease is signed, the check is written out, and my release is near.  She asks her son to go get the boxes and just because I’m thoughtful like that, I go help him.

When we get back inside my friend has changed back into those pajamas from earlier.  Wait, whaaa?

The owners are leaving to go get some last minute things for the house and even though it’s been about 2 hours already at this point, my friend has made plans to unpack those 5 boxes of ridiculous and asked the lady who called to come on down for a peeksie-poo at the new house.  I am seconds away from body slamming myself into the nearest wall in protest.

The next few hours are spent sitting at a table with this other lady and the now two boys, watching my friend cut out plastic to line the kitchen cabinets, then unpack these boxes of completely pointless crap.  Each piece is individually wrapped and she is saving both the boxes and the newspaper to use for the next round, so this was obviously a quick process.

I alternate my time between talking myself out of bashing my head into the table and poking my eyeballs and/or ear drums out for entertainment.  There is nothing for me to do.  I don’t have my Kindle.  My phone doesn’t have any cool games to play nor does it have a built-in taser I can use to incapacitate my friend and steal her car.  No one’s really talking.  It’s getting late, I’m getting tired.  Because she is Bean’s mom and because I have always in the past texted with or seen him while I was up there, I can’t get him out of my head and it’s not like I have a distraction.  This is pure torture for me.  My ADD is acting a fool.

At some point some of her family stops by so she stops unpacking to give them a tour and chit chat the night away.

By the time we leave….remember earlier it was 4:30 and she said an hour, right?  We finally begin leaving at about 5 minutes to 10.  Yes, 10:00.  As in PM.

Stupidly enough I didn’t realize “leaving” was an actual process so we don’t get outside the house and into her car until almost 10:30.  It’s 11 before we make it to my car and she even manages a straight face when she tells me she didn’t realize the time.  Apparently the dark outside wasn’t enough of a clue.

Pulling up to my car she asks if I want to spend the night.  Um, no.  Thanks.  Really, thanks.

I get out and her still 15-year-old son comes around the car to switch seats.  He offers me a side hug and because he’s been on relatively good behavior I’m once again naive enough to believe this is innocent and give him a hug.

He takes the opportunity to look down my shirt and offer up, ‘Damn, those tits.’  Charming.

Needless to say I push him off me and I leave before I punch him in the throat.

Facepalm Saturday, ladies and gentlemen.  Welcome to my world.

Last week round-up – Smile File

Baby Mia, Baby Mia, Baby Mia!!!!  Biggest news of last week was her arrival!  First child of one of my favorite couples on the planet and it was all such an awesome experience.  And what a precious little baby girl they have now!

I visited the hospital last week and me – the girl who has a probable allergy to generally all things kid related – was holding this brand new little girl in my arms and oohing and aahing all over her in the way I normally roll my eyes at people for, but I couldn’t help myself.  Her sweet little face and her itty bitty baby hands and feet and nose and legs and….  She is so sweet!  Just an amazing time altogether.

I’m pretty sure I heard a second or eight tick by on my biological clock that night, to be honest, but hopefully the fever has passed now.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Second news of the week….

That’s right!  I paid a credit card off!  It was a small one, but that’s $20 a month I have to myself once again.  Only one more credit card to go and I am “bad” debt free!!!  Coincidentally, the payment was made the day after I received the title to my now PAID IN FULL car!  Baby step by baby step.

I’ve worked so hard to finally be able to see this light at the end of the tunnel so I am uuuuuuberrrr excited-o.  So yes, it’s worth blogging about.  Woo hoo!!

*~*~*~*~*~*~

Still working on the whole Live Life Well campaign I launched for myself.  No fast food now for almost a month.  And I guess technically I could also include paying off my credit card as part of that.

I think this week I’m going to be trying out a Zumba class at the local Y just to get out there and do something new that is also beneficial.

My DVR box on my main TV has been out almost all week but yesterday, as it turned out to be a home-alone-all-day kinda thing, I discovered that I am actually more productive when I don’t have that thing squawking non-stop.  Go figure.

I did some cleaning, I did some reading, I did some writing, I did a little planning and a lot of thinking.  Of course, when I ran out of all that to do things got a little boring so it’s probably not something I want to let go completely, but maybe it’s time to scale back.  So, new point to consider on the campaign.

Overall I’m happy with the progress so far.  I’m still working on really getting this thing going in a forward motion where I see a real solid change, but every little bit helps.

Finally I’m free

That bullet right there?  Yep, that’s the one I just dodged.

See here for my emo-tastic post from last week if you need to catch up.

So Friday night I’m going out to eat with 12 of my buddies.  Standing in the restaurant awaiting our table, I get a text.  It’s Bean.

B: ‘Who is this’

I immediately want to throw my phone into the nearest wall because he knows exactly who he’s texting.  But I don’t.  Instead I answer his asinine question.

Me: ‘Crystal’  (Yep, that’s my real name.)

B: ‘Crystal’  (I didn’t realize texts came with echoes.)

Me: ‘Yes, Crystal’

B: ‘I just got a new phone.  Had to get names to number.’  (Because there’s no such thing as a sim card?  Or backup assistant?  Right.  I believe you.)

Despite the fact I am angry that he’s already lying to me, I decide to continue with the conversation curious as to where he might be headed.  Mind you, this is the first time I’ve heard from him since the last time we hooked up, and since I found out about the other girl.

Surprisingly enough he begins chatting like a normal human being.  I tell him what I’m doing, he tells me he’s about to do the same….that lasted about 30 minutes, mostly because of the time he took to respond.

Let me not mislead, I am spending this short amount of time hoping that he’s going to give me something….anything….that will make the past few weeks some kind of bad dream.  That will fix this where I can let him back in.  He doesn’t know this of course, but that’s what I’m doing.

30 minutes of normalcy is all there was, ladies and gents, before the real Bean came out.

He asked if I’d left my house yet.  When I told him yes and asked why, he responded that he wanted to know what I was wearing.  Seriously.

After ditching me for this other girl, not to mention the way he handled it, still not having addressed any of that with me, he wants to know what I’m wearing.

I told him it doesn’t matter anymore.

He asked me why.  (As if.)

I told him because he’s dating that other girl now.

He says ok and asks me an even more personal, sexual question.  All in the same text.

I respond, ‘I’m not doing this anymore.’

He says, ‘Ok that’s cool with me.’

I don’t respond again.  My first reaction is disappointment.  Yeah, it hurt.  He didn’t fix it like I’d hoped.  There was no resolution to be made.  That’s cool with him?  It’s that easy, huh?

But then I realize what really happened.

This other girl isn’t just astronomically better than me!  Because not two weeks after declaring her “someone special” he’s already texting me trying to step out in one way or another.  He’s the same Bean with her as he apparently was with me!  It wasn’t me!!!

And with that realization comes relief.  I’m glad that’s her problem and not mine anymore.

After dinner I go driving around with my girl power Destiny’s Child songs blasting, dancing and concerting all over town while I celebrate my ability to breathe freely once again.  I’m a survivor!!!

Then, speedbump.

On Saturday morning I’m heading for some canoeing with friends and I get a text.  Bean again.  This time he’s only asking directions (to a place in/around his town, which is not my town).  I give him the directions and he thanks me.  That’s the end of our conversation.

It’s not really the end though.  No, it didn’t ruin my day by a long shot.  I still went canoeing, I still had a blast with my fantastical friends.  He certainly did not ruin it but he was there, in the back of my mind all day long. And I’d so hoped for a thought-free canoe trip.  *sigh*

I wondered what the meaning of the text was.  Is he sad I ended things?  Does he want to come back?  Was his text some kind of subconscious signal that he doesn’t want it to be over?  He could’ve texted any of his other friends (especially those who actually live in that town) to give him directions.  He chose me.

So I’ll wrap things up for you.  First of all, I love my friends.  I had the best time canoeing and I don’t want it to come across like I moped around all day emo-ing over Bean.  I did not.

Secondly, I’m not upset over him like I was.  Friday night was still quite a release for me as I finally realize she’s not as special as he made her out to be.  And it has nothing to do with me.

Is there a part of me who wishes he would become the man I think he could be, realize what he missed in me, and come back a better man?  Wish that things had just gone bad last time, but that we could learn from it and get back where we were only better?  Absolutely there is, but I’m not holding my breath for that to happen.

The good thing that came out of all of this is that I no longer have to wonder about what made her special and not me.  Because she’s not any more special than I am.  Also, I stood up for myself.  I didn’t let him just worm his way back in like I normally would.  I shut it down.  Until he’s something worth spending my time on, I’m done (probably for good).

Hopefully the next time around, I’ll be a little smarter.  A little tougher.  For now, I’m free.

Smile File

I hate leaving my blog so emo, thinking if someone comes across this page, that’s the first thing they’ll get.  And since I don’t have the happy to offer up right this moment myself, I am going to borrow from others.  Here’s some non-emo Myra22.

Because sometimes you need a little reminder….

I have this quote at home.  It’s what began the inspiration that would become one of my tattoos.

My grandmother used to sing this song all the time….

Be still…..

Just something to think about.

 

This is me.  Or was.

Dumpster Diving – figuratively

I hate being emo.  It’s just not fun.  But I gotta be honest, I’m really hurting today.  To the point that I’m angry and I want to punch someone in the face.

I think it was just Saturday that I was talking about the end of whatever it was with Bean and how I didn’t want to break someone else down to make myself feel better.  Well, that little Dali Lama rainbow moment has passed.

It’s my own fault because I should’ve taken the ending when it came Friday.  But there’s really no more horrible feeling in the world for me than hurt when I’m in it and I will do anything I can to make it stop.

So I Facebook stalked his page and when it looked like they’d ended for good on Saturday, I built this pretty little fairy tale in my mind of how…..let’s just say I convinced myself we were star-crossed lovers and buried my hurting heart right in the center of Delusion Central for the weekend and holiday.  Because it doesn’t hurt there.

Unfortunately my little vacation was up yesterday when I saw that they were back friends and the truth of my fairy tale was exposed for the mirage it was.  Just to make sure the pain was at maximum capacity, I texted him last night so he could have the opportunity to ignore me.

I don’t know what is wrong with me that I can’t look at a situation like this and see the bullet I’ve dodged.  I don’t know why I focus on the few miniscule things he did instead of all the glaringly obvious ways he underwhelmed.  I don’t know why I, a completely independent woman with her own house/car/good job, will throw myself at the feet of a man freeloading in a soon-to-be foreclosed house, with a car that hasn’t run at all in about 3 months, and a job that doesn’t even pay the bills, if he were someone who actually did something so responsible.

The worst part is, I saw all of this fairly early on.  I saw it and I shoved it in a closet to clean it up a little bit, I threw excuses at it to make it prettier, and I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see anything else that might be peeking out.  I’m telling you, if worthless guys were a business I could make a killing in Public Relations.

I let him use me for sex, I agreed to it.  “Yes, we can be friends with benefits.”  Because when he said he wasn’t ready for a relationship I decided he had some issues and I’d just have to wait it out.

He told me…HE. TOLD. ME……not long ago that he’d never liked me in a relationship sense.  But then he told me he’d almost liked me and maybe he can again so I took that and built another little fairy tale in my head of what he “really” meant so I could stay a little longer.

I really shouldn’t have been surprised Friday when this girl popped up seemingly out of nowhere.  I’d predicted that from the beginning.  But when I told him to tell me if he ever met someone, I believed him when he told me he would.  And when he told me I was the only one (even just two weeks ago – the last time we hooked up), I believed him again.  So I could stay a little longer.

Now I’ve let this worthless excuse for a man leave me for some redneck-looking 30-year old “full time mommy and student” who wears entirely too much eyeliner, while I spend my time thinking of all the wonderful things he’s probably doing for her – that he never did for me – and all the ways she obviously must have been better than me.

I’m just so angry.  At myself, at him, at the fact that I don’t have anyone to go to when he’s already gone, and because I have let this epic waste of space make me feel like I’m not good enough, like I’m unworthy, and unlovable.  I’m mad because I don’t know if it’s ever going to get better than this for me.

I’m not a princess.  This ain’t a fairy tale
I’m not the one you’ll sweep off her feet,
lead her up the stairwell.
This ain’t Hollywood.  This is a small town.
I was a dreamer before you went and let me down.
Now it’s too late for you and your white horse to come around.

~ I’m Not a Princess, Taylor Swift

Emo-tastic.

Heart don’t fail me now

You know what really puts a cramp in the whole “Live Life Well” plans?  Finding out the guy you like has been stringing you along for four or five months until he finds someone (he thinks is) better and subsequently dropping you like a bad habit.

Yeah.  So yesterday wasn’t my favorite day ever. 

This guy Bean, who I’ve spent the past few months making up excuses for, has moved on to someone else.  “Someone special” as he has referred to her on Facebook.  She’s someone special even though he and I shared time together a week and a half ago.

But I’m being petty right now. 

I’m writing on here because writing helps me find my center.  Because I woke up at 4 AM this morning and tossed and turned for an hour or more listing the reasons why he must’ve thought she was better than me, and then beating myself up over them.  And that’s not living life well.

I have a strong urge to spend this time listing all the ways he’s actually not good enough for me.  Believe me, I could really let loose and lay some stuff down for you right now.   I’m hurt and I’m angry and at the root of it all is this guy who doesn’t even deserve what he just threw away.  However, I don’t know how productive that is – knocking someone else down to make myself feel better – so I’ll move on.

It was definitely difficult yesterday to learn that he’d moved on.  To listen to his mother who called and read me this status on Facebook about someone special he was excited about spending time with and then have to tell her that no, it wasn’t me.  I’m not the special one.  Not a good feeling. 

I spent a lot of yesterday just reeling through this ocean of emotions.  Anger, sadness, loss, hopefulness, determination.  Jumping from one to another in a matter of seconds.

Talking to my best friend Meredith at one point, she was telling me she wished I would realize how valuable I am.  My response to her I almost didn’t give.  I ended up  telling her, ‘I don’t know how to be valuable.  I don’t know how to tell myself I’m good enough when someone else is telling me I’m not.”  When I realized what I was about to say it’s like the truth of it got stuck in my throat for a second.  What a sad truth to have.

Somewhere in the spanse of my less than favorite day yesterday, I realized that this was actually necessary.  He had to leave the picture because I needed to let go.  Let go of him, let go of the cell phone I’ve been tethered to for a few weeks now, and let go of the roller coaster of emotions I’ve been riding.  I had this strong feeling that he is a distraction and right now I have other things to focus on – namely myself.  Painful as it is, I have to pick up and move on.

So I focus back on my original goal of improving me.  In beginning to live my life once again, I have made a few small changes already.  First I went and got the pedicure I’d been putting off for a few weeks waiting for someone else to go with me.  Secondly, I got my hair done yesterday and it’s looking all kinds of fab.  There’s nothing like getting all prettied up, is there?

Most importantly though, today is day 11 of me cutting out fast food completely.  This comes from someone who ate fast food once or twice a day instead of cooking for myself.  Day 11 of no fast food and though it wasn’t planned, I also cut out soda pops.  I’ve only had one since I stopped eating the fast food.

Another benefit of not eating fast food…..MONEY!!  I’d somehow convinced myself that picking up fast food for one person was much cheaper than buying groceries and cooking things.  Dude.  I couldn’t have been more off base.  With the money I saved in the past 11 days alone I was able to get my oil changed, buy a swimsuit, cover half the gas for a day trip to the beach, PLUS all the groceries I needed to last me.  You’ve got to be kidding me.  I’m about to be RICH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I’ve decided I might plan a trip to D.C. for this year.  A solo trip to explore the Smithsonian museums.  I’m also about to start planning a trip to Italy that will happen next year.  And when hockey season rolls around, I’m going to find a game and go.  Whether I have someone to go with me or not.

I’m still reading Eat, Pray, Love which is opening my mind with ideas and thoughts about my own experiences as well as things I might look into as ways of improving myself.

I hope at some point during all of this progress I find my sense of self-worth. 

It’s ironic how things seem to happen as you start some type of growth as if there’s something out there determined to knock you off track or take you out at the knees.  I guess that’s how I know I’m on the right path.  I got a little tripped up on this speed bump, but I’m not going to let this stop me.  I never have before.