Nonexistent, yet somewhat existent New Year's resolutions

It's almost 2011 here in Spring Branch, Texas. I think that a post is necessary, even considering the amounts of alcohol I've consumed during an intense game of Monopoly. Sad thing is, I promise never again to post while intoxicated. I can't believe that my folks kicked my ass. It's a great way to start off the new year isn't it? Losing millions of fake currency, meanwhile downing glass after glass of wine because I can't handle the loss? Sore loser much? Yeah, this most certainly says something about the New Year.

BANKRUPTCY!

To be honest, I am excited for the new year. It may be all in my head, but I think that 2011 will bring me new and better opportunities- new and better things in general. I have this feeling deep down that shit cloud is going to take a looooooong vacation. I mean, come on. 2012 is  around the corner and shit cloud is going to need to save up its energy for future destruction, don't you think? I may as well relax the year previous to the end of the world, right?

Update: Dad owes Mom 10 million dollars.

I've been contemplating what my new year's resolutions should be and I have arrived at a well thought out conclusion (because the only awesome ideas I've come up with develop in my head while intoxicated). I think that contemplating resolutions is a waste of time. I have learned throughout the duration of 2010 that sometimes, even when you plan to do something, no matter the importance, life intervenes. Life often plays a losing hand. When time passes, you tend to want different things than you wanted before. Everything changes and not in increments of a year. Everything is unpredictable.

I guess that you could argue that even with life's frequent interventions, you still have control of your own actions. I agree completely. But three months from now, I may not want exactly what I want right now. What it bares down to is this: I want to be a better person. Every year I wish the same thing and every year I've accomplished it. I am not perfect. Never will I be perfect. But I strive to learn from what I experience. I strive to make mistakes. This year was full of them. I should be thankful for that. I cannot be better without the necessary mistakes. Mistakes are opportunities, open doors.

Update: Game is still going. Houses and hotels everywhere.


I guess what I'm trying to say is this: I have no idea where I'll be in 2011 and I have no idea what I'll want. I just know that everyday should be lived to the fullest, and that is what I intend to do. I suppose that is a resolution in of itself.


Welcome 2011! Happy New Year!

Update: Dad's losing.

( Feel free to check out my Blog-uh-duh-Month. Congrats Denise! )

The Devil digs bodacious tatas

Oh Kat. How your comics make everyday so much brighter.

A not so Merry Christmas after all

My brief hiatus from Blogger was justified I assure you. I say this with extreme distaste because after being forced back into Texas against my will and due to the many brief instances of bad luck that followed, I was pretty set on something going my way. Just a little bit. It's the holidays. So I thought that Mike flying down from New York on Sunday would have satisfied my desire for something good to happen. But I was wrong. You see, shit cloud decided to disguise itself as a blizzard and poo snow all over the Northeast instead, keeping Mike stranded at the airport and unable to fly at all because the planes were grounded. There was nothing that we could do. Ugh.

I took it hard at first. The night that he was supposed to fly in I kept taking note of the time, counting down to 6:14 when his plane was supposed to land. The wait was unbearable because I knew that reality wouldn't set in until 6:14 had come and gone. When it did, the sadness was somewhat alleviated. Amber came over with wine and whiskey and stayed to raise my spirits. My parents tried to make me feel better by making me laugh. They all tried so hard. We played board games, sat outside and talked. But my mind wandered to more creative ways to make the situation feel even more unmanageable. The entirety of the night I couldn't help but think, "Mike could be sitting next to me right now" or "Mike would have laughed at that too." Later that night when everyone retired to their rooms, I thought "he should be sleeping next to me tonight."

Fuck you snow.

The next day when Amber left I found that I had little motivation to take the time to do anything productive. I immersed myself in video games and liquor, which was what I did the previous night minus the video games. I was supposed to be taking care of my apartment situation, which is a mess. I also needed to drive into town to get my Jeep inspected. There are a variety of things that I was supposed to be taking care of, but all I wanted to do was sleep and wait until after Thursday so the "what ifs" would go away.

Now that it's Wednesday I'm feeling alright- well, in a relatively better state than before I suppose. Booze, friends, and laughs were involved. Many laughs. An entire night dedicated to nostalgia and a good time. Now I understand why Mike's schedule fills up so fast when we're not together. Distractions are key to escape. I envied him for that for a while, but now that I got my own taste of what it is like to run away from the situation for a night, I can't be upset anymore. He's hurting too.

I figured that a week of posts dedicated to the sadness I've been experiencing would really force some of my readers away. No one likes a downer. So I figure the best way to go about getting over it is to write it out in one post and move on to bigger and better things. Funnier things. Things that make no sense. Y'know, the usual shit I rant about. But in the end this is a Blog about my life and right now things aren't going smoothly. So here's my crash ya'll. The lowest of the low. Everyone has been telling me that my luck can only get better from here, but that was frequently preached after the New York incident so I am preparing myself for the worst. It can always get worse. But that does not mean I'm not hoping for things to get better.

In the end, I still have Michael. I still have love. That's all that matters.

When zombies crave coffee instead of brains

I thought that people were supposed to lose sleep Christmas Eve, not Christmas night! I pulled an unenthusiastic all nighter- unenthusiastic, meaning, all nighters aren't as fun as I remember them to be. It brings me back to what it was like during exams on campus. I'm just not build for shit like this anymore. It must have been a combination of the Acai berry supplements I popped last night and all of the anticipation for Mike to get here. I also worked out, and I think that's bad.

Never before have I been so desperate for coffee. I used to scoff at my parents in the mornings as they dragged their feet across the floor lethargically, destination always the same. The coffee machine was like a glowing beckon to them, leading them home. "Haha! You zombies can drink your coffee and stand around like the living dead. Be jealous of me, for I have my youth!"

My youth doesn't come in handy anymore. Now I'm the zombie, which sucks because I always imagined myself to be the kick-ass survivor who never needed to use the adrenaline shots in L4D2 because I didn't need help being awesome. Now I find myself dragging my feet in the same manner as the folks, grunting in response to anyone talking in my direction, groaning the word "coffee" in repetitions until my thirst has been quenched.

I used to be able to shot gun an energy drink and be cool. It used to be exciting doing shit like that. I am 20-years-old. I'm supposed to be able to do shit like stay up all night without consequence! What the Hell!

Insert squeal here <-----

Merry Christmas onliners! I'm sure most of you snuck online during the day didn't you? 

Me too. 

So, I am going to make this one a quicky, but a semi-satisfying quicky of innocent nature. Today was pretty stereotypical. My family wined, dined, and exchanged gifts. Nothing super stunning about this Christmas other than it being nice to see members of my family that I hadn't seen since returning from New York. There has been a recent development in my plans, however, that I find note worthy for you Nazi readers that get on my ass when I forget to mention certain details about my life. (Not hating- you are actually my faves!) Mike is flying down tomorrow and will be staying for a few days before he goes to school in California, which is needed considering that I won't see him until May when he is finished. I am going to go insane. 

Since I am going to bed, I will leave you with screenshots that capture the true essence of the people that I associate with, as well as the excitement of seeing my boyfriend that might have not been portrayed enough above. Good night kids.

Quick update: BLOG LAYOUT CHANGE GUYS. I worked hard to make this look super awesome, so if you don't like it, then I'm sure you are the only one. You my have also noticed that there is a new tab below my banner called "People I Often Blog About". You should click it. The page will be updated often. My blogroll has some recent additions. Also, December is almost over. With the up and coming year, I will be updating my Blog-uh-duh-Month. Keep your eyes peeled! It might be you.

That's a lot of shit

For the entirety of this month I have felt like a black cloud was constantly overhead raining piles of shit on the top of me and on top of everything that I did. No matter the circumstance, shit cloud would find me. I am not superstitious or anything, but for it to get this bad, I must have walked under thousands of ladders and broken a plethora of mirrors. Yeah, a plethora. That's how unfortunate I am. But I think after what happened last night, shit cloud will give me a break.

Firstly, I love animals, especially cats. When I was little, I was constantly begging to keep strays, so most of our animals weren't from the pet store- we collected hobos. But now that I'm older, the things that used to excite me don't excite me as much anymore. Birthdays are days that signify just how close to death I really am. Easter eggs no longer have anything inside of them worth hunting for. Christmas can wait until I've had a decent cup of coffee. So you would think that Dad surprising Mom with a cat would be, well, ho hum. But I squealed, I ran to the door, and I bounced up and down until my Dad came inside. Felines bring out my inner five-year-old.

"He shit himself in the carrier. The cat is covered in shit," he announced, bringing a wave of the cat poo aroma into the house with him.

That's when my excitement wavered and I was suddenly an unenthusiastic adult again, because I knew that I would play assistant in the operation that was about to commence: Operation: Bathe Chocolate Covered Kitty. 

At first we tried to clean him outside, but the poo was all dry and stuck to his fur, so that was a vain effort. Instead, Mom and I moved the foul, yet completely adorable addition to our family into the bath tub, but not without a strategy. (A strategy that did not take into consideration that cats think that water is the Devil.)

First Mom would get into the tub with kitty and hold him down while I poured soap into her hands so she could wash him without having to let go. After he was clean, I would wrap him in a towel and dry him off. It sounded simple enough until Mom realized that she would be standing in poo soup for the majority of the operation, but that epiphany came to her a little too late. She probably didn't expect kitty to climb her either, but the job got done and we both came out alive. Only I could no longer breathe and Mom was bleeding profusely. I can't imagine how many shots she might need from all of that exposure to kitty excretion. That shit was all over the place. Literally.

Shit cloud is ruthless.

So kitty was clean and Mom instructed me to do my share of the work and grab a towel. I grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped kitty in it. By that time he was exhausted from fighting and just wanted to be out of the damn water and dry. So I'm holding kitty to me to keep him warm, snuggling him, not realizing that Mom is still standing in the shit water staring at me.

"What?" I asked.

"That's the- ppffffhahahahaha!"

"What?!"

"That's the towel I carried him in here with!"

"BLARRRRGGGGGGG!"

No, I didn't throw up, but I wanted to. At that point, the shit cloud metaphor became literal.

I was covered in shit.

After all was said and done and everyone was sterilized, the energy died down as we decorated the Christmas tree and watched Elf. We managed to trap the poo smell in my parents' room and bathroom, which Dad wasn't too happy about, but I was just glad that shit cloud was quarantined. Maybe then I would have a little peace. But even though shit cloud was being held prisoner, another bad luck symbol of a different consistency but of the same nature was out to get my Mother.

All I could hear was the front door opening as she was letting the dog out and Mom screaming, "FROG IN THE HOUSE!" I, of course, burst out laughing and didn't help her because I am a terrible daughter and I deserve nothing but coal in my stocking. That's when the door slammed and she ran into the kitchen with her hands out in front of her.

"What?!" I cried.

"IT PEED ON ME!"

"OH MY GOD THAT SMELLS TERRIBLE!"

Yes. That was my response, accompanied by me running in the opposite direction of my Mother, who proceeded to chase me with the towel she wiped her hands off on after she washed them. I know, she washed her hands, but still. Ew. My first instinct was to run into another room and hide, which I did, only it was the room that smelled like shit. So the whole house smelled of frog piss and cat shit.

To summarize, Dad got my Mom a shit covered cat for Christmas.

There's nothing like claw marks and an active gag reflex to really kick in that holiday spirit.

Merry Christmas everyone, and may it be a shit-free one!

I suspect that Stephenie Meyer is in cahoots with Google Ads

Becoming a werewolf. 

Now you don't have to be Native American to look this good.

I found lemons, but the juice got in my eye

Well, I did what I said that I was going to do. I made myself vulnerable to the world by venturing out of my hiding place that was my parents' house. And even though it ended in disaster, everything leading up to it proved to be a much needed dose of freedom from the invisible chains that bound me to my room. The chains that bind me to my phone are still intact though. I'm working on severing those, but I feel like life's only given me a worn nail file for that job. So it might take a while.

I began yesterday morning getting ready to head into San Marcos to deal with some apartment issues, then planned on a necessary evening with my best friend Kat who would be treating me to dinner and a movie that evening. So of course, I sped through the chit chat about the apartment and decided to meet up with a friend and catch up until Kat came into town. We smoked hookah, watched a movie, and talked about why I was home earlier than expected. When Kat picked me up we went out for sea food on her, got some coffee, walked downtown and saw the lights, then saw a late night showing of Tron 3D. I want a motorcycle now, but seeing as my bad luck was reinforced last night, I probably should snuff out that dream and never seek to revive it again.

I said my goodbyes and got into my jeep. First thing I did was sit back and think about how nice it was to see my friends, and that maybe things would start to look up. That's when the supernatural decided that it was high time to mess with me.

On the back country road that leads to my folks' house, there was a dense fog. Now, I've driven through fog before, but in the Texas hill country, you have to watch out for stupid deer with bad timing. I was so, unbelievably paranoid. The first deer that ran out in front of me was smart enough NOT to stop in the middle of the road and stare at me. So that was nice. The next few appearances made my heart work so hard that I felt like it was going to give out and fall out of my ass.

In case you were wondering, I ended up surviving the fog, obviously, because I am here to tell you the story. When I drove into the driveway I felt lucky, like I had avoided something that was supposed to ruin my night. Little did I realize that the fog was just a warm up. I stepped out of the jeep, only to close the door and set off the alarm, because apparently car alarms are supposed to be triggered AFTER THE CAR IS STOLEN. I spent a good ten minutes trying to shut the damn thing off.

I discovered then that every sound is amplified in the middle of nowhere for that exact reason. Nothing is there! So I am nervously glancing at my parents' window, cursing at the Jeep, pressing button after button on the key chain. Eventually it died down, but I had realized a little too late that my shit was still in the passenger's side inside of the Jeep that hated me. So my paranoia took over. I knew that the alarm wouldn't be set off if I had opened the door, but I was positive that something was out to get me that night, so conclusively I wasn't so sure. I stared at my purse and my leftovers with a longing so profound, it could have been Shakespearean. 

I grew some balls and opened the car to get my stuff, then headed to the front door where the dog was stationed, ready to bark at me until I was able to find my keys, which I did find, only after his barking woke my parents up. Apparently the car alarm didn't. Stupid dog.

I managed the get the door open, only to find that the alarm was set. It was a catastrophe. I didn't press the buttons hard enough, so the alarm got louder and Mom had to rush out to help me. 

Then I almost dropped the left overs. 

I fell up the stairs too.

Then I tried to call Mike but he was asleep already.

Fuck.

When life gives you lemons, don't sit on your ass and stare at them

Why is it that awesome ideas for blog posts and creative ways to start them off flash in my head before I fall asleep? Because due to their unfortunate timing, and since I am never motivated to write anything down, what happens when I wake up? POOF! Gone. All of them, all of the fantastic things that I wanted to say disappear because I have the memory of a pot head. I'm just upset that I could have written something super awesome on here and now I can't even remember what I wanted to say.

So here I sit, scrambling to find something to talk about when all I've done today is paint my nails, watch movies, and sit around on my ass eating. I am living a dull and uninteresting life here because I've been hiding from reality since I've returned from New York. I have got to get out of this house and do something with myself, because if I don't, I will never have any decent posts to share with the lot of you. Ever. And that would be sad.

BUT YOU ALL ARE SO HARD TO PLEASE!

So it's new goal time. By the end of the day, I will have something to talk about-- something other than me complaining that I have nothing to talk about. I mean, if your life isn't full of great material, what kind of life are you living anyway, right?

Blogroll Update

I have discovered that over the course of a week I've attracted a gathering of frequent followers, which makes my stymied blog hunts less aggravating. So after researching this following of mine, I am content to know that I have attracted some wonderful bloggers. That says something about what I do, and it's uplifting. I have been going through a difficult time, but knowing that my writing attracts such awesome people is super cool. So, to say thank you, I've updated my Blogroll and placed stars next to my recent additions.

Again, thank you readers for your feedback, for always keeping me on my toes, for making me laugh, and for sticking around. I appreciate what you do for me. Now let me give back to you.

Some things that kids say, or sing rather

Here's a song I overheard one of my Mom's kids singing.

"Deck the hall with gasoline, fa la la la la la la la la!

Light a match and make it gleam, fa la la la la la la la!

Watch the school burn down!"

...I worry about American youth sometimes. They can't even RHYME.

When the phrase "It gets better" extends its hand to me

I woke up today feeling like I was mauled by a dog. Then hit by a train. Then lit on fire, extinguished, then lit of fire again. I felt like death. Even after a long shower, some grooming and some breakfast, I could not shake the shitty feeling. So, of course, I went into the office to blog about it. Because everything feels better when you rant to strangers.

So I took a seat and begin to write when suddenly there was a knock at the front door. My Mom runs a daycare out of the house, so I assumed that it was another kid being dropped off. Instead it was a lone parent, one of the older kids' Moms. I ducked down in my chair for fear that my Mom would make me get up and introduce myself, because I didn't recognize the voice and my Mother never thinks about whether or not I feel descent enough to be shown off.  But it didn't matter how low in my chair I was, both women came dancing in, only one had a purpose, and it wasn't my Mother.

"So this is the one dating the Coastie?" she said.

"Sure is," my Mom said beaming.

"Honey," the lady said. "I am married to one o' them. So is my sister. Those boys are wild at first, which is entertaining and all, but that doesn't last forever. They are the sweetest breed of man."

I suddenly thought of my Dad, who was also in the Coastguard and bragged that he and the other sailors were rude, crude and socially unacceptable. But I understood her message when thinking of Mike and my Father, I just didn't know why she was reassuring me.

"So how was Alaska?"

Mom told everyone, didn't she? "It was fun. Beautiful. I loved it."

"Where will he be stationed next?"

"He's going to school in Cali."

"Petaluma?"

"Petaluma."

"OH FUN! Oh honey. I have a story for you. When me and my husband were getting married, I didn't see him the day before the wedding. The next day there was this strange burn around his neck. Come to find that all the men on the boat though it'd be funny to attach a rope to the back of the boat and have my fiance ski behind it. Only the rope wrapped around his neck. Man was lucky to be alive. Stupid, stupid, stupid. But that goes away."

Thank God Mike would never do that.

Ahem.

She talked on and on about her husband, some high on the chain of command sailors she had met, and a few other things that I can't recall, because I was too involved in the surprise of unexpected comfort from an unexpected source. That's when I realized how much I had been yearning for support after the incident in New York. I had been searching for it since I got home, but instead, it found me in the form of a funny story and reassurance from a stranger.

Taking Alaska home with me

So I finally managed to upload all of the pictures from my trip and it took me a while because I was really, really avoiding it. See, I thought the worst thing I could possibly do when I miss Mike is look at pictures of him. It's like torturing myself. So when I bucked up and grew some man parts, there were tears-- lots of tears. But I am happy that I sucked it up and drained my camera, because I am tired of obsessing over the last few days of the trip. Words cannot describe how these pictures make me feel. So instead of paragraphs and paragraphs of me attempting to communicate that to you, I'll simply show you.

Thank you for the memories Homer, Alaska.

I'll Be Home For Christmas: The Darker Side of the Tree

If you have been following my posts chronologically for the past few months, especially during the month of October when I was preparing to fly to Alaska, you'd be caught up on how difficult it was to communicate to my family that I was ready to start my life with Michael. I'm not a Mother, I've never been a parent or a figure of the sort, so I acknowledge the fact that I won't understand their discomfort with the idea until later on when I do decide to have children.

But when you are ready to break away from an adolescent lifestyle and actually make some big decisions about your future with someone you love, it's very hard to give the people who disagree with the changes the time of day. However, on this trip I have discovered that there will always be opinions that you may not agree with, but they still deserve a listening ear.

I have enough respect for the situation to not share all of the details with my readers, which I am sorry about, because there is a lot that I want to say that I really just can't. I will tell you that my trip to New York was unexpectedly cut short due to some family conflicts caused by a variety of miscommunications, but there is nothing I can really do about it now. I am back in Texas, doing my best to cope with what has happened, while Mike remains in New York with his family during the holidays. The worst part, other than the fear of his family disliking me, is the forced separation. I have never felt so much resistance within me when standing in line for security at the airport. When I passed the threshold, and Mike watched me walking away from a distance, I could feel an absence within me. Something left me when I let go of his hand. More left me when I saw his face. I don't know what I took home with me, but I'm convinced that it's not much.

Luckily there were some friendly faces awaiting me when I got home. I have great friends. It was also nice to see my Mom, who insisted that I share a bed with her because Dad is out of town and she missed me.

I have updated you the best I can without overstepping my boundaries, so I guess this serves as a warning that I might not be as peppy as I usually am. I think my blog and my readers will help me heal. Hopefully that happens before Christmas.

Innovative?! Eh, not really.

I am quite pressed for time today, for Mike is restless and wants to get the Hell out of the house and into the world that is New York, so I will leave you with a new project that I thought of yesterday and managed to somewhat complete before I get shoved out of the door.

Check out my Blog-uh-duh-Month, which is an individual shout out to one insanely awesome blog, well, every month. It is pretty self explanatory. I am going to make a button and everything. It is going to be super.

Clllllllllick ittttttttttt!

When the walls come down, what is left?

Sometimes I feel terrible about the bullshit I put Mike through with my insecurities. I mean, it's nearly impossible to not let your fears reflect in the way you go about handling things. Even if you have a strong will, I'd imagine because you are a homo sapien that you'd slip up once in a while, even if all of your defenses are intact. The more I try to be less vulnerable, the more I make myself vulnerable. God, who am I kidding? I am always vulnerable. My walls were destroyed ages ago and I've never been motivated to rebuild them. And even if said metaphorical walls were in existence, they wouldn't be very stable.

My problem is that I don't want to pretend that something doesn't bother me, because then I feel like I'm lying. Even if that philosophy withstands for a few minutes and I say that I'm alright when I'm not, I always end up slipping because Mike has evolved to the point of seeing right through me. My transparency bothers me. Don't most women want their significant other to be able to pinpoint when something is wrong?

I'm not sure how I feel about it. I'm torn between wanting to be heard and wanting my emotions to remain behind lock and key for fear of a reaction- mostly mine. For years I was stuck in a situation where my partner didn't care or respond to the way I felt about things that he would do or say. The moment I'd open my mouth, the TV's volume would instead boom over my voice. I then grew accustomed to dealing with my own shit. Alone. And I feel like all of those things began to eat away at me inside and I am just now beginning to recover from all of the damage that was inflicted over the course of two years. It's not fair to Mike that he has to deal with my shit while I recoup, because it reflects frequently in our relationship.

From my 2 cents

If Mike walks ahead of me on the sidewalk, I remember how the other man never wanted to walk beside me, never wanted to hold my hand. Then I feel hollow, like for a split second history is about to repeat itself, and I mentally plead for Mike not to ask me what is wrong because I just know that no matter the issue, if it involves the other man, it will hurt him. He will get frustrated, but I won't be able to see that because he is not so transparent. He's a sturdy brick wall, and I crumble like aged chalk that turns to dust with contact.

I strive to move beyond this so I can fully enjoy what Michael and I share, because if I don't, something is going to deteriorate. Something I don't want to.

Technology stereotypes too

You know how Facebook alters its advertisements to appeal to viewers individually? I guess some sort of FB stereotyping system decided that wedding dress, engagement and baby apparel ads would suit me, because even when I clear them off of my screen- repeatedly might I add- more of them spawn with a persistence that I am beginning to question. I don't understand the engagement ring ads either. I'm not the one who should be looking at those. It should be directed to men, am I right?

Is it because I'm twenty (still young!), or is it because all of my friends are married and many already have children? Maybe it's because I have a vagina, and everyone knows that all women aspire to do is to get married and breed. And obviously, because I am a university student, I must need alcohol rehab, because I'm such a drunk.

Alright, alright, maybe I have no room to talk, considering that one of my labels that my sidebar includes "me and booze." And all of these relationship statuses that are shifting from "in a relationship" to "engaged" are really starting to make me want a drink. So scratch the previous sarcasm.

But I don't need rehab. Seriously. I don't!

*hic*

FML

The only downfall to adding my Father on Facebook.

Maybe I should change up my strategy when it comes to cheering my friends up.

I'm not the only one who waited for him

Never before has karma shined its light on me like it has the past two days. I must have done something historically commendable, because I have never been as content as I have been holding hands with Michael while meeting his family. It has been fabulous. Firstly, Mike and I flew into JFK yesterday without anyone but his Mother knowing that we would be home for the holidays. He hadn't been home in two years, so of course I didn't know what to expect. He was having a reunion and would be introducing me to his family.

"Should I hang back when he surprises everyone? What do I do if they start crying? Will they even notice me? Am I intruding on this reunion? Should I even be here?! Ahhhhhhhhhh!"

Mike's Mom picked us up at the airport and I watched at a distance as he ran around the van and embraced her. I stood on the side with the bags and let them have their moment, which was the best thing I could have done. What I saw melted my heart, because even though I am not a Mother, I know what it is like being away from someone you love for a long, long time. And right afterward, she came running to me and wrapped her arms around me. "You are so pretty!" she said. I knew right then that all of my insecurities were unnecessarily considered, and you have no idea how happy that made me.

When we went home, we hid in the van like ninjas while his Mom went inside, ninja'd our way out of the van to the fence, then sneaked along the fence to the front door with so much stealth we impressed ourselves. When he opened the door, I immediately heard screaming. His sisters darted across the room and cried as he held onto them. While pinned between the reunited siblings and the door, my mind wandered to a few years ago when my brother came home from Baghdad. Alaska is no war zone, but to have a brother gone for so long with such a dangerous job, it's tough to hold in the tears when he's home and safe. I never really took all of these similarities into consideration when I was worrying myself about meeting his family, but now that I have, my eyes have been opened. I'm going to make sure that Mike sees home more often than he has, because his family deserves to see his face more than every two years. They are wonderful people.

Insecurities taking over again

( So last night I couldn't manage to get a signal for the interwebz, so here is the blog entry I typed up last night, which seems completely stupid now that I've met his family. )

12/04/10
1:00 am in Seattle, Washington

I thought meeting the boy's family was supposed to be easier for the girl. I have witnessed my Dad, my Brother, both of my Grandfathers and all of my Uncles make threat after threat to my previous boyfriends. Each and every one of them were shaken to the core. I mean, I have the stereotypical Texan Father. With a beer in one hand, and a gun in the other, he will make any man whose eyes have strayed in my direction cry. All the men on my side are protective to the point of possible warranted therapy.

But I have been scared shitless for the last month because I have no idea what to expect from a large Italian/Irish family in New York. I am going to be the awkward girl from the South. My last experience of "meeting the family" included screaming, getting kicked out of the house, a lecture from his Step Mom about how she thinks that her son spent too much money on me, etc. It was chaos. Absolute chaos. And I'm aggravated that all of those experiences reflect in my view of meeting Mike's family.

Because this is the meeting that matters.

Paranoia aside, I'd like to let everyone know that my Alaskan adventure has officially come to an end. I am sorry that I didn't keep ya'll up to date on everything that I had seen and done, especially considering the fact that I can't upload my pictures until I get back to Texas in January. I have so many stories to share, but I am going to have to share them when I have more time. I'm currently in Seattle, Washington with Michael at the airport, waiting for our early morning flight to New York. Flying all day drained my motivation to share said stories through this medium. 

God I need sleep. Maybe I'll dream up some way to not make a fool of myself when I met his Mother in twelve hours.