I need to get into the writing/reading mood as I am about to dive into several pages of typical work lingo meshed into similar question/answer paragraphs of stuff I’m not 100% awake for.

I thought giving myself an extra shot this morning would help get me mentally started, but alas my eyes drift and my head feels heavy.

Last night had an opinion of myself I wish to ponder further on today. I am, as I have said before, a “Jack of All Trades”. There isn’t one thing in particular that I’m very good at besides organizing the heck out of a closet. I feel a bit thin and like a faint whisper of something I could be, but can’t seem to grasp it.

I started pondering how I got in this place again with work: Complacent, bored and tired. My boss said he never wanted to find me in this position again, but here I am trying rather hard to bust my ass on not, at the very least, appearing so to him. Loosing ones job is not on the market right now for me.

Just one month ago I was vibrant, full of passion and energy despite all the coffee I didn’t have in me. I was constantly moving and challenging myself to reach beyond the boarders of my own office and person. I was volunteering more and constantly moving in my personal life. There was little time for TV or lazy Sundays.

I think the hardest part about being where I am in the present moment is pulling myself out of it. It’s so easy to allow yourself to slip into a little work here and more fun there, but it is NOT easy trying to pull yourself back out. To remind yourself, though this work is terribly boring and not thought provoking in the slightest, I could make less boring. I could treat it as if it’s something important and dedicate more time to it. I find I do a great deal of that in my office, turning things into interesting things and such.

One would think it’s high time to get another job, but in this economy I think that is very unlikely. Though, if it weren’t for financial reasons, I would gladly take a Starbucks position for a little less boredom in the office. At least I would have free coffee and an unpredictable schedule. But, then again, I would not ever make enough to pay of my ridiculous debt I seem to keep collecting.

I hate talking about changing jobs anyways, with so many friends who have lost their jobs due to the tightening of the company budget. But, at the same time, I can’t pretend that I should sit in a place of unhappiness and be thankful for it either.  So often I accept that it is not the dose of happiness I should be looking for, but rather the need to improvement upon my character. I have, in the almost two years I’ve worked here, grown. Instead of running I have faced and, in some ways, defeated boredom and lack of passion in my current field of work. Though I do find the industry I work in stimulating and interesting, the work I physically do is quite the opposite.

But, again for the reason of economy and lack of options, I stay and work through it; wondering all the while when will I find that open door to a place that I can’t get enough of. One that I loose track of time in and some how find it always on my mind.

Jack of all trades…what to do with you.

I know we are ever changing people with life patterns not always predictable. I may find myself in another place in a year, another job, another town, but will I have mastered the ability to be good at one thing or do I embrace being “Jack”?

Once I read a blog from a woman who completely and whole heartedly embraced being a “Jack”. She made no apologies for not knowing something wholly, but knowing enough to carry on a conversation or knowing what to do next. I know I feel being a “Jack” is wrong because my father use to call it so, but perhaps that’s what I truly am. Perhaps that’s what makes me truly valuable to a job, home and group of friends. I’ve experienced, know and believe enough to get where people are coming from.

Meh…I digress, this isn’t suppose to be about person, but career. But then again I always whine about my career when I’m bored.

Damn this pit…how did I get in here and why can’t I freaking figure out a way to make my rope out of hair to throw out so someone can help me get out of here?

There are always complications in life with just about everything, so I shouldn’t be shocked or generally irritated that I’m facing a few today. I guess what I feel I must get off my chest is today’s feeling of stress and anxiety.

Yesterday, my mother sent me a devotional saying something about “I thought of you when I read this…I hope it helps you see God’s plans for you!” and when it read it, there were several scriptures detailing:

• “put off your old self, which is being corrupted by its deceitful desires”
• “Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world”
• “Those who live according to the sinful nature have their minds set on what that nature desires”

Then the devotional goes into how our spiritual walk is like the erosion of the Grand Canyon: beautiful, slow and purposeful. THAT statement I don’t mind, but the whole devotional basically said, “You must choose daily to live by the Spirit. Study His Word and choose His plan. Each day a part of the old nature will wear away.”

The scriptures and the words in this devotional projected fear that me being Bi and being apart of the GLBT community was wrong and sinful (something I was taught to believe). My heart dropped and I sought council from a close to friend to make sure I wasn’t reading this wrong. Unfortunately, with the most open mind she had, she read as I did: My mom was telling me to put off my “sinful” desires and get right with God.

I feel like I fight on a daily basis to not conform to the Christian majority. Not because I don’t mind the group, I don’t like the close-minded Bible-thumping mentality where we don’t love our neighbors but rather take the position to serve as their judge. I dislike going to church for this reason and I often shrink away from “Christian” things because I’m afraid the old way I was taught will bring back to a place I don’t like. I was one of those people (judger, legalistic, holier-than-thou) and I don’t want to ever be that person again.

I can’t help but fight God at this place. I want to go back to the feeling I had been living in prior to this email: peace, trust in His timing and plans. What happened? I can’t figure out if this is Him or satan trying to pull me down. I know this can be hard for non-faith believers to take in because it’s leaving peace and thought to things not seen or “technically” proven, but this is all I am. As much as I want to run away and pretend it doesn’t matter to me, it does. It is rooted deep in my person and I will never be able to part with it. It’s not about a point system or earning my way in to eternity, but rather a relationship I subconsciously crave but currently feel distant to.

Sometimes that happens, sometimes you feel like He’s not there when really is US who walk away. Since Christ, He doesn’t turn His back on us, so what’s my deal? I’m afraid…I’m afraid to step forward and be forced to come to terms with His views on being gay. I can’t understand a God who loves us regardless would create us to suffer forever alone. Sure we have Him, but sometimes that doesn’t seem like enough. I love life and being apart of it too much to feel like all I need to do is store up in a closet reading the Bible and praying. My belief is found in me working for others, in movement with God, not quiet solitude.

This has completely gone a different way than I originally intended. I thought about getting rid of this blog the other day, but realized it’s a perfect place for me to vent, talk openly and be honest without being knocked down. I’m tired of fighting with God, but sometimes I don’t know if it’s Him I’m fighting with or myself, satan or others.

I can’t, just can’t believe He created us to be alone, ashamed of our genes and genetic disposition to things not “normal”. We’re created in HIS image, right? So why is it “desires of my flesh” to be me? This isn’t murder, evil thoughts or things to harm others. It’s what my brain thinks. I feel like I”m a hard case, though. I wouldn’t say I’m genetically dispositioned to be gay. I would say I’ve had thoughts, attractions and things I can now explain as that when I was little, but in so many ways I choose to allow myself this identity. Sometimes I wish I was one or the other, though, but that’s for another story another time.

I guess what I’m hoping to gather is peace. Not misguided, fooled peace but a constantly moving/growing peace right with God that furthers my relationship with Him and advances His plans for me. I do know I’m here for a reason. I don’t believe my life has be one lucky train of gayville at all. I’ve met the people I hold most dear in my life for a reason. I’m where I am at my job, in my social world and such for a reason. I do NOT believe in coincident or happenstance.

The other thing that seems to plague me is my job. I guess with our economy it’s not surprising that I would, er, worry about loosing it. Though our company seems to be making steps towards improving our financial growth, I can’t help but feel a heavy blow is around the corner. I’m trying to hard to trust that if I loose my job I’ll find another. Whether it’s good old Starbucks and Dillard’s is okay with me. I know things happen for a reason, so maybe it would be my opportunity to try something new, go to another place, further my volunteering? I don’t know. But, I just can’t help but fear that I’m at the bottom at the totem pole here. Of course, I’m blogging at work so that would make one not be surprised about that above comment. I know that was a contradiction.

In general, to sum up this whole post, I am trying to grow. I’m afraid of what will come because I don’t understand it. I don’t understand God and His plan, but I know it’s greater than me and I have to try to let Him talk to me instead of running. He loves me more than I can fathom and loves those around me. I just am afraid…afraid to hear the voices of old and right-sided Christianity. I know it’s not Him, but it’s so hard to get rid of those voices when they were all you heard growing up.

Well, I have to be honest here. With myself, with God and with the hope of what I want to get in the end. The honest truth: I want to tell my roommate off. What I hope to get: a sense of better values and kindness towards her, generally speaking.

Yep, I’m getting frustrated with her and the feeling of “I don’t matter” in our past, current and future conversations. I lie awake in bed often going over how irritated I am with myself and why I’m so cold towards her. As I beat myself up for not being nice, rude, short or disinterested a flood of reasons why comes crashing through my head.

I can’t decide if it would be usefull to type them out or not. Would it just infuriate me more or finally squelch the burning anger? Let’s hope for the latter.

First things first: Cleaning (she and I have gone over this, so really it’s a matter of me moving on and letting go):
It took her more than six weeks to finally vacuum the apartment. I can’t remember if I said anything that made her start, but I’m almost sure it didn’t happen on her own accord. At first I thought I would vaccume with no bother if she didn’t because it only took ten minutes and I was the one with the dogs, but then it came to her sitting on the couch, going in her room, etc. while I vacuumed the living room. One time, for HER Christmas party, I offered to help her clean. As I was vacuuming she was in her room doing something (cleaning I suppose) and because of the noise, SHUT THE DOOR. Here I was vacuuming the house for HER Christmas party and she is bothered by the sound of the vacuum. No so much of, “let me help with that” or “next time I’m vacuuming”…nothing.

Once I finally said something about her pulling her weight and she wanted to make a deal that she would vacuum half the living room every week. Half. I couldn’t argue because I knew it was a step forward, so I tried this her way for a while. My only stipulation was I did NOT want to be her mother and have to always remind/tell her to vacuum, take out the trash, unload the dishwasher.

We FINALLY went to each vacuums twice a month because it was the second time I had to play “mom” and ask if she had vacuumed. Is it just me or am I being overly anal about cleaning? I always thought that when you have a roommate (not to mention two dogs) you’re suppose to up the number of times you actually clean the apartment? I thought it was normal to expect two roommates to split the duties around the house as you do the utilities and rent? I have to know if asking her to vacuum twice a month is being unreasonable, because to me it just means less dirt, hair, fur, dust, crumbs and what not that two people and two dogs leave behind.

I think what hurt me so bad about this first occurrence, and why I can’t let it go, is because I felt like I was trying to be selfless and bending. For those that know me, I’m not very bendy so I thought this was GREAT improvement. It wasn’t until I felt like I was getting unintentionally walked on that I started to feel unappreciated. Which brings me to my second point.

Second things second: Selfishness
When I was looking for a roommate I wasn’t looking for a best friend. I was looking for someone that would split half the bills and be okay to live with. Our apartment is PERFECT for roommates in that the only areas we interact are the living room/kitchen spaces. So, if we were tired of each other, our rooms could be our resort away from home. With that in mind I was pleasantly surprised that we got along as good as we did. We have plenty in common, plenty of similar interest and goals. It was a smashing success, until I felt like it wasn’t about hanging out with me but being a sound board.

I’m not going to say I’m perfect and haven’t in-listed several good friends to be the same for me, but I hope this isn’t how it normally is. If so, please tell me(promise no feelings will get hurt) and I’ll correct the situation.

I started realizing she needed to be encouraged a lot, given the silver lining and wanted to do all lot of things together. Now these things are not bad at all, but her desire to be filled was sucking my desire to be around her. It wasn’t like I could say much without it feeling like a competition (like, “Yeah, I’ve had the same thing happen to me, but it was worse.”) or like I just shouldn’t say anything at all. Even in groups, the conversation would ALWAYS circle around to her and our need to stroke her life and tell her she was equal or better to where she felt she was standing. Normally, that’s not a problem because you truly want her to succeed and find herself, but when you feel like you’ve said the same thing seven thousand times with no avail, you just want to drop it and change the subject.

Example one of selfishness irritation is Jack. He was a guy she started seeing post new year and was really interested in. Despite encouraging words, equal happy squeals of joy and wanting to hear all the details, we never stopped hearing fears, worries and over analyzing. Again, not all of these things are bad, except when you hear them six thousand times over with no ability to encourage their disappearance or smooth down their power to take over her mind. Funny thing, she’s a great girl. See’s lovely, interacting once you get to know her and real, so this guy was lucky to have her, but by the end of the whole thing you were hoping he would just take her already. I kid, but seriously.

The second nail of the coffin to my anger hit when she choose to NOT go to Amy’s birthday party and got on a date with Jack. Jack, whom after three weeks or more eventually just stopped calling. Jack, whom occupide all our conversations, shared time and generally supportive energy. I was and am still angry about that. It made me feel that all those conversations and nights I stayed up to talk with her about him a complete waste. She choose to ditch her friends (albeit not closest friends; generally the people she will see at least several times a month) to hang out with a guy.  

That misstep towards our friendship placed this huge elephant in the room for me about anything she said that ever retorted back to herself. Any conversations she would change or walk into to bring back to herself infuriated me. I began to feel like she didn’t just like me for who I was but how I made her feel.

So, in this place I got colder. I started not asking about things I knew I wasn’t wanting to have to stroke any ill feelings or worries. I started becoming increasingly distant because I didn’t want the energy I barely had after work to be sucked into a negative, complaining world. No matter what we did, she complained, but never took steps towards fixing the problem. Again, there I am as a sounding board trying really hard to not get bitten by the complaining bug. I know I’m an independent person and generally don’t enjoy hanging out with someone for several days straight, but my distance became larger than just “needing my own space”.

Third of the thirds: Ditched for a Boy Again
This time I shouldn’t have been surprised but I was. It was a Saturday afternoon, you know those times you covet for yourself because it’s the most treasured part of your weekend, and she wanted to sit by the pool drinking sangria. First, I was like, “no, no ,no…every time I sit by the pool, regardless of how much sunscreen I put on, I burn and skin cancer runs in my family and am tired of burning.” But, she wanted to hang out and I was ready to please. I made myself drink sangria, burn in the sun and talk only about her current relationship with a mutual friend. Fortunately, Amy got to hear more of it, because at that point I was annoyed with having to stroke the same things over and over again to know it really didn’t matter what I said.

As the evening was winding down, we invited said mutual friend over to hang out with us, since, hell, we talked about him ALL FREAKING DAY. The moment he gets there, they leave to go to the pool. She looked at us and said, “you aren’t coming to swim?” Knowing full well we talked about hanging out up stairs and that Amy and I were fully clothed and freshly showered. So, not only did we spend all of OUR precious afternoon doing things her way, we get ditched for another guy. Done. I was done.

I was waiting on her to just say one thing about the following morning so I could just say how uncool the behavior was, but it never happened and I was too chickened to saying anything first. Funny how you can have some of the best lines in your head for telling a person off but when given the opportunity you can’t find the words and end up complementing them on their choice in wine or something random.

Truth is I do want to be her friend, not best friend, but I want us to share a close, roommate friendliness that we’ll appreciate, but frankly I don’t know how to do it. I don’t know how to be fake, lie about how I feel or pretend I’m okay with the way she unknowingly treats me. I want to say something, but it never seems like the right opportunity and in the times I have said something it always comes back to me being the problem and mean. I know I’m not perfect and have plenty to work on in our paths together, but that’s just it, I’m trying to work on them and she doesn’t. She’s always summing up her situations with blaming someone/something else or that’s just the way it is.

I don’t have the words to say to her right now without getting so angry and irritated. I guess I expected more from her and that’s my problem. I’m constantly being reminded I can’t keep this mentally “if you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours” but I also don’t want to be a door mat.

The hardest part I deal with now, is that I’ve already written her off as being someone I’ll share a close friendship with. I feel like I’m a sorority friend versus a good friend to her, maybe this is how she is with good friends, but this is NOT how I am with good friends. Lately, I’ve been irritatingly cold towards her when she tries to come towards me. I’m not happy with myself, but I don’t want to open up and let her in. I don’t want to be walked on and pulled into that place where it’s all about her.

Sometimes I think because I’m very sure of what I’m willing to do and not it comes across as me not being nice. What I’ve come to accept is, though we like similar things, our true interest, what we spend money on and things we like doing are very different. That’s okay with me, but for some reason I always feel like she wants me to be on the same boat as her, which brings me to my final issue.

Forth of the forth: Differences
She likes to spend money differently than I do and because I tend to be more broke than her (I have no idea how she is able to shop so much) I don’t want to spend my last $20 of the week on the movies or eating some where I really don’t like to go. Maybe that’s selfish on my part, but it comes right back to issue two and three. I don’t want to spend money or time I’m not truly interested in if she’s just going to either ditch me or occupy all the time on her. Conversation is always awkward and competitive for some reason.

Last night, we met for bookclub and then ran an errand to get the “True Blood” season one disc (her new favorite). Amy and her really wanted to watch it, but I told them I couldn’t. I know, I know, I should have taken this opportunity to pull the group together and not be the rouge hair, but this show really freaks me out. I watched five minutes of one with her one time and I had ten minutes of child-like fear laying in bed that night. I’m horribly afraid of horror movies, dark bloody movies and certain “Law and Orders”. Weak or not, that’s the truth and I don’t enjoy being in bed afraid of the dark or things that go bump in the night. I saw the “Blair Witch” project in 1998 and still check my corners at night. The short story is I know what I can and cannot do for true, honest reasons. No matter what I said or how I explained it she wouldn’t have it. Constantly prodding me to watch it and even turning it on as soon as we got home. I have no problems with her or Amy watching it, I just knew I would be in my room while they did. It was no big deal to me that that would be the arrangement, but it was to them. So, instead of taking my concern into consideration and finding another option, she drew the line and I was in my room.

This shouldn’t be a problem but that no matter what I do it comes across as I’m a bitch that doesn’t want to play. Same goes with watching TV in general. It’s a general, unspoken rule in our house that the one who turns the TV on first is the one who controls the channel. Unless, you’ve been sitting there all day, hogging the TV, you get the power to determine what we watch, which is totally fine. I can’t express to you enough how much I don’t mind this rule, but for whatever reason, if I’m not interested in watching what she’s watching and go to my room to watch something online it appears to bother her. We don’t like the same shows so naturally we’re not going to always watch TV together. So, why, oh why, do I feel like the big, bad bitch for knowing what I want to do and not want to do?

Ugh…I’m so tired of feeling like the jerk. I know I’m pulling away, but we’re roommates, not BFFs. We don’t have to share everything or even do everything together. In fact, I enjoy it more when she does her thing and I do mine. Makes me feel like we’re adults not necessary in college.

So, it comes down to this: what do I do? Do I bring it up only to sound like the big, bad bitch again or do I learn to let it go, because after all we’re all different and I need to learn how to deal with it in a kind manner? I want to be Christ like and let so much of it go, but damn that’s hard. I want to not care if I do more of the responsibilities than she does because I’m not doing them for her. In the beginning I did because I thought how nice it would be for her to not have to work around my dirty dishes or my end of the responsibilities. But, after her not ever doing that for me, I start to feel completely unappreciated and like a fool for going out of my way to make it easier for her.

Truth is, she’s not going to change and I can’t change her, but what can I do about myself? I’m the only one that can make things happen, but how? If I have to confront her, how do I do it without it sounding like I’m a bitch? It sucks that I didn’t say anything before about her ditching me for boys because now it just seems like I have tons of issues with her, when they’ve just been building up due to actual events.

Suck.

As I sit here on a Tuesday morning waiting for the coffee to hit me, I realize I’m secretly waiting for the moment in my life where I find myself on a normal workday NOT at an office, sitting in a cafe or on my porch, drinking coffee and typing my thoughts down.

I keep hoping that age will find me there and I will have not a care in the world in terms of my financial state. Sure, in some places (particularly Dallas) that is called a “Sugar Daddy”, but I believe that is not where I hope to find this financial freedom. I suppose I expect age to afford me all the blessing it has my parents and grandparents. I laugh at it, though, because I’m forgetting the journey.

Amy shared with me this most inspiring article written by a photographer and his encouragement to pursue past your fears and enjoy this ride, because it is the ride that’s worth the life. I must remember these blurring, often mindless hours of work I find not completely inspiring or exhilarating part of the process. I can not find my place in my work by merely walking into it; I will never be prepared for what God opens for me that way. It’s in these little, “why isn’t my coffee doing the trick” moments I must remember He is good and faithful, and I will not be here forever. Though forever seems to etch on in a motionless time here (sometimes) it is not long (I hope) that I’ll start to see what He’s getting at.

So, in the meantime I must ask myself “why is this coffee taking so damn long.”

I often find myself thrown into the “does this really work” mentality at work. Not that I”m educated in such fields of design, layout or even type, but in some way I feel more qualified to ask that question.

I flip through various pieces we send to potential clients and wonder, “do we really try to say something different with our words and design or are we merely just trying to get the job done?”

I find myself in this place, yet again, wondering how I got here and why I’m lingering for so long? I want to make a difference and change something in a big way, but the pushing of this giant boulder up the hill is seeming a little redundant. I’m partially expecting it to roll back on top of me and flatten my direction as a 20 something employee.

I should be happy I have a job and rejoice in my steady paycheck I always count before my chickens have reached the bank, but I wonder each and every Monday “why?” Not “why can’t I find that dream job and …”, but rather “why can’t I seem to get past this hump?” Proposal generation has slowed down drastically and I’m no longer the go-to girl of the office. Not sure of the change in the amount of work I usually had thrown at me, but part of me is not entirely sad of the fact. I’m having to create things for me to do, thus bringing me to the question “is the chopping block about to hit my head?” Am I the next person to be laid off due to this halt in our construction industry? If so, why me? I’m not the best in design in terms of designers, but I feel like I have a few legs up here on the variety I can offer.

Right now, as three co-workers busily move about for a project across the states, I sit here making up things to pursue because “must not seem bored” lest my boss have to talk with me again on “whether or not I really like my job.”

“Really like my job”…what a rarity. I hate it when people gush over their love of their jobs because it shoves my face into the mirror of “how I’m not my job’s biggest fan”. First of all, I sit behind a desk when I should be with people talking and making things happen.

There could be an opportunity, even though as each passing month ends I feel less confident, for me to move to our Phoenix office. There’s a need but no budget. “Hello” risk, but that I would love. I would love to be needed and able to do more than sit here and be a design monkey. Sorry, Amy.

I think the worst part is I don’t look good on paper. For me to pursue another adventure would be direct contact and winning them over with my personality and passion.

On top of that, my second plan was to stick through these tough times at my job and volunteer like crazy. Funny enough no one is interested in my volunteering in a committee, program aspect. What? Really?

I guess the real question is: Am I desperate enough to take what comes my way here or am I empowered enough to kick conventions ass and make my own way? I’m hoping for the latter.

Yesterday, I decided I was going to do something about this bike I bought back in January. I was gearing up and went to check the air in the tires. A little low, I proceeded to “fix” the problem only to make it worse. By the end of it all, I had no air in my tires and only two options in moving forward: a) buy a new pump or b) run up to the gas station to “fill er up”. I did neither.

I have never put air in my tired before and ever since using my dad’s pressure pump and having it scare the living crap out of me, I haven’t been the same since around compressed air. 

It’s funny how being afraid to use the air compressors stopped me short from getting back on that bike and moving forward. I do that a lot, I feel. 

I’m afraid to ride a bike competitively or for extended distance because I’m worried I won’t be able to stay in for the long run. I’m afraid to have a flat and not know what to do. I’m also afraid of being last. All sorts of things stopping me short. 

I hate that about fear. Not to say I’ll never get on that bike or sell that car or buy that house or move or whatever, but that it will take me a LONG while to get there because of it.

For the past, I don’t know, two months I’ve been obsessed with the Volvo c30. This little car stole my heart when I saw it parked outside of the strip behind Crossroads Market (or what use to be). It was navy with just lovey interior. Even though Amy described the shape of the car to be “bulbous” I still loved it, bulbous and all. 

I didn’t start my “new car” journey until I was having an in warranty job done to my Honda. I was blessed enough to have gone in when I did, because my car’s warranty expired exactly one month later. I started thinking about whether or not I wanted to get the extended warranty and then  a little thought popped into my head: get a new car. 

I looked at the Honda (because, let’s face it I love Honda) Fit and Insight. I was wanting a hatchback in a bad way. Actually, I was wanting the Volvo C30 in a bad way so nothing Honda offered me was better. One Friday, while shopping in vain for a wedding present at a store that would in fact turn out to be closed once I got there, I decided to stop by a Volvo dealer. 

“I just wanted to look”, I told myself, “It’s been a long day and you earned a little visual pleasure.” About 45 minutes later we were shaking on a not very good deal and I was borrowing the black love of my life for the weekend. Baby, does that car melt me. Elated in my own freedom and grown-up-ness in getting a deal that I wanted to show it to my parents for final approval. BAD IDEA. Not only was I shot down in mid-drive, but left crying because this one earthly possession was not mine after all. 

One embarrassing return that afternoon and credit check later, I was back in my Honda. No standard, no MP3 jack, no 2.35 turbo engine with a enough get up and go that you felt they finally managed to make the delorean in pint size. 

Since then I’ve been obsessed. I talk about it until no end. Amy has now started tuning me out and my mom makes big sighs notifying me the conversation is boring her. In short, I want it. I crave it. It’s like a flavor I can’t get out of my mouth and no gum will suffice (sorry, Jillian Michaels). Well, that was until a friend who worked for Volvo let me in on a little secret: Ever since Volvo was bought out by Ford they have the Ford promise to be flashy and fun until four years later when they start to die in the worst way. 

Dreams. Crushed.

I still held on, but now with a little more caution. Then, one lovely Saturday, I found one that compairs: the Audi A3. A five-door, hatchback with a little less turbo, but plenty of Audi promises. I’ve searched, built my own and found the prices and features relatively the same. 

Enter today. I hate today. I hate that every where I look I have people telling me “don’t buy”. “Save, save, save”, they say. I want to slap each and every one of them. 

Don’t they know about this love I have? This love given to only earthly possession that eventually find themselves broken and expensive. 

I hate this love. I hate everything about it’s green, tight little grasp that makes me feel that if I don’t get this car now I might surely die. Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but you get the idea: it’s bigger than I know how to control or want to control. 

Call me materialistic, selfish, financially screwed or economically blind. All these things I won’t deny or be offended by; in a way, I’m past all that. What I am having a hard time with is why is this stronger than I feel I can control? 

Because I’m a Jesus lover, I believe that my desire to fill a hole with earthly possession is my need to be really filling it with Jesus. Does that make sense? If not, tell me and I’ll go into further detail. 

Right now, I’ve been recounting a prayer “it’s in Your hands, it’s in Your hands, it’s in Your hands,” over and over again to remind myself God is bigger and better than this want that feels like a need. But, why is it not going away? 

I’ve been distracting myself with activities, volunteer work and friends to get this burning want off my mind. I think left to my own devices long enough I would do it. I would go up to Audi or Volvo and make the deal. I’m highly impulsive and in so many ways I like that. Right now, that’s my way of taking risks. 

I believe I was born into a “rush” mentality because I respond well under fire. I like the pressure and want the rush all the time. Perhaps, buying this lovely piece of deteriorating metal I can fill the void of wanting to move some where drastic, buying a house, getting an arm full of tattoos, starting my own business, etc. Things I think about and then push aside because they seem “crazy”. 

Long story short, I’m going crazy here with all the things I CAN’T do. What on earth can I do? Tell me, because right now I’m going crazy.

This is the second, consecutive (because if it’s your second why wouldn’t it be right after the first) year we’ve celebrated Cinco de Mayo. It started with me getting Molly (my Mexican sweet-faced dog) and has now turned into a reason to drink, like most Americans with no Mexican roots. 

Last night, we ate delicious Mexican food, had several drinks and met up with old friends. What was most interesting about the night was the conversations. Between discussing newly purchases (secretly jealous) homes, boyfriends in LA, awkward conversations about sex and ladies from Amy, talking it up about Catholic priests and books with neighboring drinking old men, and finally rock operas we had a great time. Some more than others, but then again it was a Tuesday.

There are few reliable things in this world, but one you can always count on is lip gloss. No, that bubble gum song that made one sexy scene in “Nip Tuck” (the only episode I’ve seen, I swear), but the tacky, glossy, sometimes flossy stuff we ladies love to cake on our lips.

The guarantees of lip gloss:

1. Will always get stuck in you hair, then as you try to remove the cemented hair, it smears the “pale pink” shade all over face, leaving a fresh, tacky feeling all day long.
2. Will always save those delicious crumbs from ever falling away from your mouth. You can rest a sure, no calories will escape your mouth when wearing lip gloss.
3. When wearing lip gloss, you will (unknowingly, I’m sure) pout your lips out like Renée Zellweger. Perhaps that’s why she does that? No? 
4. It will, in some form, not only get in your hair but on your clothes, car seat belt, jackets, accessories, midnight strangers, cell phones and the like. Once this expensive, high-demand product gets on your things, you can always count on a thin, gunky layer or sticky pink to always be there.
5. Will always show up on the rim of all glasses, which is always helpful in showing you whose glass is whose and exactly where to put your lips with each drink. Another good thing about this is the rimming of lip gloss helps inform you when you’ve a) had too much wine or b) just not paying attention. More than one spot on the glass  = carelessness. Tisk, tisk ladies.

It’s funny now we can’t get enough of this stuff, but at least there are plenty of benefits to wearing it! That’s what I tell people when they see how much I paid for it, “hey, you wouldn’t believe what this stuff can do.”

This morning Pippa was trying to tell me a secret; a secret about getting sick all over my house. First, I notice she threw up a little in Molly’s crate. This is normal with dogs as it is with children. Things go in and things come out both ways. I clean it up and move on with my morning. After my devotional, I walk into the thickest rank of a smell which was connected to a pill of non-processed dog food and poo so big that no dog Pippa’s size could manage.

Pippa’s poo has always been a topic of shear amazement. I’m not one for poo stories, but it never fails when someone is out walking with us they say “I’ve never see a dog so little poop as much as she does.” Much like a first time mother to a baby girl who is constantly compliment on her child’s “boyish charm”, I just smile and agree. Forget trying to remind them that she’s more a girl than a boy, it’s just the blue jumper and camo boots that give you that vibe. Never mind we call her “Billy” for sort of “Maryanne”.

My mother tells all the ladies she plays drinko bunco with about her unusual stool leavings. “It’s the size of a horse dropping, I swear,” she’ll yell as wine glass + bottle clank together in the background as mood music. Not that my mother is drunk, but we all know when the ladies in the neighborhood get together and are suppose to bring at least one bottle of wine good times are forth coming.

Back to the point: Pippa (my large poo shitting dog) got sick a multiple of three times today. Only one of them happened outside.

It’s funny how feeling sick and a whole bunch of poo brought she and I closer together today. Today my second dog and I bonded. I rubbed her belly, shoved Imodium and Pepto down her throat with a 7 mm syringe (parent’s note this) and let her run off her leash when we were outside.

It’s like when I was little and felt sick, my mom would dote on me making my illness seem like the only reason to love me that closely was for fear bad gas might kill her first born. I would often fake sickness to just come home and have some extra attention. Not to mention being home while I was suppose to be at school meant 5 hours of straight TV watching fun. I became quite the “Price is Right” expert.

In conclusion, no child chould do the nasty things I saw come out of Pippa today or Molly (that’s for another day). So, I think I’m ready for children and should just start adopting them. I got my dogs in Mexico, how hard could it be to get three boys and two girls across the boarder in an unmarked van?