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Christmas wishes shooting out of your eyes

So far on this fine Chistmas I have already knitted approximately 1/20th of an extremely wide grey lumpy scarf, I have watched 4 minutes and the 30 seconds of the pope's midnight Christmas mass before switching to 30 Rock, I have drunk approximately 3/4 a bottle of Martinelli's apple cider by myself and to top it all of I have already written 1/4 of this blog. All within 30 minutes after the stroke of Christmas midnight. Happy Merry Christmas to all!

I see Blue, he looks GLORIOUS

As fall rears its beautiful head, I find myself in the midst of another season of life. Somehow, I have put enough of life's pieces together in order to start graduate school, buy a tiny closet condo and somehow still be a nurse all at once. Oh shit...I bought a condo, I'm a nurse and wait, what I'm in graduate school full time? Guess this is the ultimate be careful what you wish for moment. As the year moves forward I feel small moments of panic bubble up into my consciousness, so I smack those moments away and pour my energy into the downward dog of my yoga class. But when I'm not in the yoga class and the fluffy white clouds of Namaste zen have clouded over into an angry dark storm, I feel a little overwhelmed.

In addition, I am the proud survivor of a flash flood and the grateful owner of a non-destroyed Scion who by the grace of god survived the flood, despite being tragically abandoned in the midst of the raging waters. Unfortunately, I have not figured out how to remove the smell of Louisiana swamp ass from the framework of my vehicle (suggestions welcome). The memory of the flood follows me around like a dark cloud as bits of fine mud dust still stream out of the hatchback whenever it is opened. Perspective wise, I am so grateful to A) Be alive B) Have a working vehicle. Another adult lesson learned, always have comprehensive insurance coverage for your vehicle because the moment you don't, a freak hailstorm will come from the heavens and release baby head sized ice balls onto your car effectively inflicting horrible damage.....or you will get caught in a flash flood.

As the year moves forward into the glorious time of seasonal festivity and I continually slather myself in seasonal lotions, I count my many blessings and cling onto them with a hopeful death grip. (Scion roars triumphantly through muddy waters as I fist pump out the window). Scene.

Rumspringa

I officially declare myself to be in a state of Rumspringa. This is my solution to dating mostly oddly immature boys. The other option is to get thee to a nunnery. I am hoping this works. I use the term loosely because A) I am not Amish B) I am applying it to a very specific facet of life.

The root and necessity of Rumspringa arises from my own nature which happens to be part crazy, part emotional basketcase. Unfortunately, it is not a nature that functions well within the world of modern casual dating. I am not good at casual surface level friendship. I hate small talk and yet here I am talking small on countless occassions to the opposite sex in the hope that it all just clicks and we ride away on white horses into the sunset of happily ever after. Yeah and then I found $10 dollars.....I wish. The oxymoron of the whole situation is that one must guard and protect their heart and reveal nothing of true importance but at the same time reveal enough of one's true nature in order to encourage the other person to reveal truths about themselves that can later be used to build a long lasting relationship. Seriously though, see how exhausting this is? I know I'm practically comatose just writing that.

Rumspringa is my way of hardening myself to a generation that largely thinks only for itself. Its like carrying around a 10 foot pole and prodding anyone unworthy who steps into your inner sanctum. On the surface nothing will change. I will be more than ever open to new experiences and people but I will have the wariness and the ability to prevent myself from getting sucked into emotional black holes. Rumspringa for me is going to be the art of living within a contradiction, of becoming a contradiction of one's self. This doesn't have to be a bad thing. It can be liberating even to live within a carefree space where you do not attach emotions to the unpredictable nature of human behavior. I know that it won't be easy to go against one's own nature. But I will try to recognize the warning signs and "shut it down" before I again find myself on the floor of the kitchen licking the remants from the inside of chip bag blubbering nonsense, entrenching myself in the belief of my own unworthiness.

My main fear is that Rumspringa will not come to an appropriate end, that I will run around in my mid 30’s oblivious to the pitiful looks 20 somethings dart my way as I try to “put myself out there.” That I will build up such a thick shell of protection that I will fail to recognize the humanity in others. But If I have learned anything thus far, it is that calculated risks are worth their wait in gold. So its either Rumspringa or pushing Emily Dickinson....the cat around for her evening stroll in her custom baby carriage while I mumble things under my breath to bystanders.

I am a Vampire

It has been most conclusively decided by myself that I am a vampire. I haven't necessarily developed a taste for blood or carnage but I'm not completely ruling it out, don't knock it till you try it? Right? The facts are that I love the night. Night is generous and full of possibilities while the day exposes all of my shame and shortcomings. Sure sunlight is beautiful and lends to great days at the beach but it also betrays you by slowly turning your skin cells cancerous. Nighttime would never do that.

At night I am more optimistic...about everything. As a self proclaimed pessimist, this is the ultimate confession. At night I know that the day is done and that there is nothing more within my power to change its outcome. There is only the promise of tomorrow, of getting a second chance to try to do it all over again. And lets not forget to pay homage to one of the finest things in all of existence, sleep. Those last few seconds of consciousness as my head is being cradled by my one true love, aka my pillow, are some of the best seconds of my existence.

Morning on the other hand is life's cruel joke. In my life, morning can only go one of two ways. The first scenario involves my alarm going off at 615am. When the jagged sound crashes through my REM waves my first reaction is confusion. My heart beat pounds in my head and waves of nausea greet my first few seconds of wakefulness. Once the fear of life's consequences sufficiently convinces me that yes I must get up, I stumble around in a zombie like state where I am unable to form intelligible English words to my roommate who seems to enjoy these strange unnatural hours of wakefulness.

The second scenario involves my alarm going off at 830am. Remember, my optimistic vampirish night self set the alarm. The reality is that........its not happening. After swiftly silencing the offending alarm I spend approximately 30 seconds tossing around disgust and guilt in a last ditch attempt to try to motivate myself to get up and do something productive...like the 9am yoga class. Before I can sufficiently conjure up enough self disgust to be effective, I fall asleep, where I blissfully remain until about 10am. When I finally do awake the daylight streams into my room highlighting all of the dust and specks of dirt on my furniture and rug. In this moment, I know that I have already sold myself short. I know the day will be an uphill battle to try to overcome the waste of those hours I spent in my bed. And yes, I look forward to the night where I will have the opportunity to hope for a better tomorrow.

Worst Thanksgiving Guest

Yet to be Determined

The day is beautiful and blue with a hint of fall crispness and yet I sit waiting. Waiting for something to jolt me out of my paralyzed state of fear. Today I am scared of things lurking under the surface of my subconcious and since I cannot tangibly see them, they taunt me, skirting just outside of my locus of control. So I sit and wait hoping that something will change. Hoping that at any moment I will lace up my running shoes and begin the rest of my day.