Living in Sin

In less than 10 hours I'll be picking up a U-Haul, filling two adult-who-has-lived-alone-apartments of stuff, and depositing it all in one place. After a year spending pretty much every night together, a year spending every night together, and a few weeks of can-the-cat-and-I-live-with-you-while-my-apartment-is-a-plumber's-nightmare, the boyfriend and I are moving in together. Officially.

The subject of moving in together came up around month 8 of our relationship (move in day, tomorrow, marks month 25). My roommate had just let it slip that he would eventually be moving in with her boyfriend (or was he fiancé by then?), not in San Diego. Being the ever eager apartment hunter I am, I was browsing craigslist one night when the boyfriend looked over my shoulder and said, "you know, you could just move in with me."

It wasn't a total shock. As far as having the major conversations went, we'd established that the future was real pretty much right away. But at less than a year of dating I could only imagine trying to explain that one to family. Plus, there were other reasons I didn't want to move in to his place, the main one being that when I lived with a boyfriend I wanted it to be a place we got together, that didn't previously belong to either of us. We spent the next year discussing this. The biggest hurdle was the boyfriend doesn't rent - he joint owns his place, so it wasn't going to be as simple as giving a 30-day notice and there were two others who had a say in things.

One day a few months ago we decided we've move in together in the fall, after wedding season is over for photographer boyfriend and the weather cools down a bit. Plus, it would be great to be looking after the new students were settled so we wouldn't have competition. But then my apartment exploded, and I pretty much moved myself and the cat in with the boyfriend and the dog, so we decided to start looking. I don't think either of us were expecting to find a place we loved so quickly, but we jumped on it. And tomorrow we get to call it home.

Unfortunately for us, the weather not only has not cooled down at all, it's hotter than ever. Our "relief" that the weather stations have been talking about is a measly 2-3 degrees, which is still in the 80s. Fortunately for us, since I've been pretty much living at his place for the last few weeks, the cat and dog are learning to co-exist. Chloe accidentally occupies a space close to Argo on occasion, but rather than immediately hissing and running away like she used to, she's been hanging out, if only for a few minutes. Chloe is a pro at moving and adjusts almost immediately to a new home, but this will be Argo's first move. Tomorrow will be an interesting day!

Getting The Best Start

When 2010 was such a terrible year in every facet I made the decision that 2011 would not be the same. It didn't happen all at once, but I eventually got a job that wasn't great but gave me abilities and skills I didn't have before (which led to the great job I have now), started the most wonderful relationship, and ran 3 half-marathons. When 2012 started (by the way, how is it that you can tell so much from a new year's kiss?) I was confident it would be as good as 2011 was, and it only got better. Now it's ending and I have an amazing job at a fantastic company, my relationship with the boyfriend has gotten stronger and I love where I live and how I live.

Going over my predictions for 2012 from last year, I'm a little disappointed. The Mayan End of Times was no big deal. People seemed to treat it like I've treated all of the past end of times... with a party. The last day of the world was the night my company's holiday party and the group next to us was an End of Times dinner party. Awesome, but there wasn't as much fear mongering as there used to be. I suppose people are becoming more rational. Sigh.

2012 has been the year of Apple. In June I bought myself a new shiny, and in October the boyfriend got me a mini shiny, helping me finally join the world of iPhone (yay!). I bought a heavy duty case for it, mostly because the boyfriend is convinced I'm going to drop it in the toilet or something (to his credit, just the other day I was holding it while standing perfectly still and somehow it leaped out of my hand, but my hyper-aware iPhone reflexes helped me catch it, so there), but I want a thinner case to show off the sexy profile. Cause let's be real: a big part of the reason I wanted this phone was because of the slim, sexy design, and my case lets everyone know that I'm a clumsy fool. Or that I have a toddler.

This month my car and I celebrated our 1 year anniversary and I can proudly say I'm a full-fledged stick driver. Plus, I taught the boyfriend to drive so whose car we take doesn't turn into a who has to drive situation. We took my car on a 2,00+ mile road trip up to Oregon in August and he gave it a couple of sexy photo shoots. 

There were a few sort-of disappointments this year. The main disappointment being I did not beat the 2 hour mark on my half marathon in 2012, and in fact did not even come close. I ran the worst race of my life, coming at barely under 3 hours. Embarrassing. But here's to making 2013 better.

I also took out the piercing I got in 2011, finally admitting that it was infected and just not worth the pain and hassle (and money). Rather than working towards 7 piercings, I'll just stick with the 5 healthy ones I already have and be satisfied with that odd number. Maybe that's me being a little bit of an adult... other people, some of whom are younger than me, are removing piercings because they aren't "adult" so maybe it's not so bad that I do, too. 

This year has been a pain in the ass for birth control. I still had no insurance so had to rely on Planned Parenthood even though I was working full time for all of the year, and it's been really frustrating having to give up so much just to stay un-pregnant. I'm not one of those women who has to take hormonal birth control for medical reasons, so for me it's just to be able to have a normal relationship with my boyfriend and not have children neither of us want. Which seems simple enough, doesn't it?

Also, the fish I got in 2011 died. 

I'm ending the year with almost as much debt as I paid off in 2011, which is OK because I have the money to pay it off, but have been saving it for an apartment deposit. Once I have my moving situation settled it'll be paid off in no time. Making pretty good money helps.

So what's going to happen in 2013? One of the first things will probably be moving. This will be a terrific milestone for me because I haven't moved since late 2010, a feat I never really thought I'd do (one thing that stayed the same from 2011 to 2012 was not moving). Now that I'm working 4 blocks from my current apartment I have no reason to leave - especially since I love the neighborhood. So finding a place that likes dogs will be one of my first tasks. My second task will be to start training for my 5th half marathon - the 3rd annual Safari Park Half. This time it's for rhinos! I'm so excited to run for the guys I love. My third event will be my first time as a bridesmaid! All of those activities will take place before June, so I have no idea what the second half of the year will hold, but I'm really excited. If the first 6 months tell me anything, 2013 is going to be another great year.

My resolution will be to redesign this blog, host it myself, and write 10 posts a month. I want a new name, a new home, and a new look. I would also like to do some of the same things for the food blog, even though that's still relatively new... Also take that blog a little more seriously and write a lot more. 

I would like to write about some of the other things that happened in 2012, things not directly related to me, but when I think about what the world was focused on this year (rape, shady politics, genocide, taxes) it mostly depresses me.

So here's to a fantastic 2013, to all of those in my life old and new, to those who had a great year and those who had a not so great year. May 2013 be one of the greatest years. Cheers!

Feeling Like A Child

Childhood relics at your parent's house can set a person back.

There's an article in Cosmo magazine (I know, I know, but my littlest sister pointed it out [who is their demographic, after all] and it wasn't awful) offering advice for those with emotional distress when home for the holidays. It was targeted at the young adults who are newly into their adult lives: out of college, in big kid jobs with big kid responsibilities and lives, who suddenly feel like children as soon as they're back in their teenage rooms and being chauffeured in the back seat of mom and dad's car. 

This article was pointed out to us because it's my sister's way of telling us that she feels like we treat her like a child, and not like the young adult with responsibilities that she is. She's never been one to openly discuss her feelings, so just showing us an article in a magazine is an invitation to talk about it. 

So we talked about it. Not with her, of course, because we're a normal dysfunctional family. Amongst ourselves, though, yes. We discussed what she might be feeling, what she might want us to do, what we might be doing that is causing her to feel like we see her as a child. And we pointed a lot of fingers. OK, I did a lot of the finger pointing.

I haven't felt like a child when visiting back home in a few years. But I did feel like that when I was my sister's age. And I do feel like that at my boyfriend's parents' house. Not because they treat me like a kid, or treat him like a kid, not at all. In fact they treat us both like adults. And not because of the way they talk to either of us. But I do feel like a kid when we have to sleep in different rooms. 

To be perfectly fair, I fully understand that this is a their-house-their-rules type of situation and I would never, ever say a word (hope they don't find this); and it's not like we're married or engaged or even living together (though I seriously hope one of those things would cause the room situation to change). But my boyfriend, their son, is 30. We're in a serious enough relationship that we're taking each other to our respective families for the holidays. And I'm pretty sure they're both aware we spend the majority of our nights together. But I sleep in the room next to the master and he sleeps in a room on the other side of the house. And I feel like I'm 17 who needs to be stopped from doing naughty things with her boyfriend rather than an adult in a totally normal adult relationship.

The Cosmo article also touched on dealing with family opinions and beliefs that may be different from yours, giving changes in religious and political beliefs as an example. Having to sleep in a different room is conforming to a belief that I don't share. While this is a more extreme example from the annoying-but-harmless dinner table discussions about who voted for who the magazine was hinting at, the feeling is there. You don't want to say anything and start something (especially in my family...), but the article pointed out that if you don't speak up your family won't learn who you are as a new young adult. This is easily my sister's largest issue: blame it on the divorce, but both of my sisters are massive people pleasers who will do anything to avoid a fight and anything to make everyone else happy. This  means repressing a lot of their own feelings and emotions, which is also not healthy. 

If the holidays make you stressed out (and I think most people feel some stress during this time), do what you can for yourself. Take a step back, distance yourself if you have to, and remember that you can't control how other people react or feel. I was reminded that these situations are a two way street, and that each person has to give a little to get somewhere. Myself included.

Growing Up

Divorce at 1:10

To the surprise of exactly everyone, two of the boyfriend's friends announced they're getting a divorce. And just like that, this stuff is in my generation.

I have certainly not been in the picture long enough to get a good idea of the type of relationship this couple had, but I have been around long enough to be completely shocked. This couple was known among the group of friends for having the most fun wedding- with a nacho bar (oh yeah, stealing that). The boyfriend has a photo of their friends' faces after they realized there was a nacho bar at the wedding. It's amazing.

And just to be a total cliche, they seemed so happy. Granted, when I did see them it was always the two of them together, and they both were upbeat, smiling and generally... happy. I didn't hang out with either of them one on one and obviously I have no idea how their private relationship was.

But all of their friends are just as surprised.

It's a really unsettling prospect. The husband is a little older but still in his thirties and his wife is just a year or two older than me. She just moved to Seattle for a better job, where he was going to follow at the end of the semester, when he dropped the ax. The super unsettling part? Apparently even she was blindsided.

Now, if that's not something to make you question relationships in general I don't know what is. When I was younger I usually assumed my relationship was about to end when couple-friends would break up. When The Ex's best friends broke up I thought for sure we were on the chopping block. As if break ups are contagious. A few months ago the boyfriend's BFF and his girlfriend broke up, and that didn't affect me or my relationship with my boyfriend at all (for one, I don't still worry that my boyfriend's friend's relationships will have much of an impact on ours, and for another the boyfriend has made me feel very secure about our relationship). But a divorce is different. A divorce isn't just a break up.

I was told that once I turned 26 it would be all weddings and babies and grown up stuff. That kind of happened - Facebook has far more weddings and babies than it did even a year ago, and my new friend requests are in long term committed relationships, if not engaged. I'm even going to be in a wedding. It's weird. People have been telling me this part would come but it's still surprising to actually see it. The other day I got my haircut and the woman asked me if I had kids. Because I look old enough.

And now people my age are getting divorced.

People are still making the same mistakes our parents made, still not talking to each other, still letting problems sit until they're ready to explode. Did we learn nothing? Am I that naive to think we actually would?

The good news for me is that I don't let things stew. If I have an issue that bugs me I bring it up -  for better or for worse. I don't like going to bed mad, really don't like waking up mad, and want things to be resolved as quickly as possible. The down side is this tendency has caused a few sleepless nights, and not in the good way.

Louis C.K. once chastised his audience for "awwww"ing when he announced his divorce, saying "no happy marriage has ever ended in divorce." The man has a good point: happy marriages last - unhappy marriages sometimes don't. I guess the only thing you can do is try to make your partner happy and hope for the best.

Being A Feminist In A Relationship

The other day on Pinterest (because I'm a woman in my late twenties) I saw a quote that said "You're the type of guy I'd make a sandwich for." As a born feminist, it spoke to me. The boyfriend and I were discussing a very religious wedding he'd recently worked, where the priest told the bride that she needed to submit to her husband, and joked to the groom that a happy wife means a happy life. We both thought that was a ridiculous thing to say to two people about to commit their lives together: why not just politely advise the couple to do what they can to make each other happy?

I've been a feminist since before I knew what that word meant, but there are some stereotypically feminine things I really enjoy doing. I love cooking, cooking for others, I care about animals more than most people and love taking care of animals (and plants, though I have greater successes with animals), I enjoy being in an educational position, I'm a neat freak and am constantly cleaning or tidying up. And recently, I've developed an interest in home decorating (rather, discovered that I have a style). While there was a time in my life I thought my future held children and motherhood, I still never wanted to be a stay-at-home-mom, never wanted to be wholly financially dependent on my husband, never desired the traditional housewife role. As I grew up and realized it was never my dream to have children, just me mentally fulfilling the expectation that came along with my gender and dating guys who also made those assumptions, I inched closer towards being a modern feminist.

But I still want to get married, weird as that may sound. I still want to give up my name, have a wedding, be ridiculously in love, and adopt all the pets. I want to make one man feel like the luckiest man alive, and I'll want to make him a sandwich, if only because it would make him happy in that moment*. I would do that because making my spouse happy would be incredibly important to me, just as making me happy would be incredibly important to him. 

This idea - of mutual happiness - at first seemed out of line with traditional feminism; some women refuse to cook, or never bother learning how to be good at it, because it's "anti-feminist." These women might have children but only because they physically have to be the ones to do so  if they want them (we still haven't advanced that far in modern medicine) but will refuse to do anything but the most basic of childcare duties, throwing themselves into their jobs instead. But doing something for the sake of doing it is as bad as not doing something for the sake of not doing it.

In addition to being a feminist, I've also been a cynic pretty much since puberty and my adult years have only solidified those views. After watching marriages fall apart, see couples stay together for the wrong reasons, and see people be so sure they'll end up happily ever after only to see their relationships crumble (always painfully), my cynicism grew. I consoled women who saw their relationships completely fail when they were so sure they wouldn't. I thought maybe I'd marry my high school boyfriend only because he was so sure we were soul mates. I thought I'd probably end up marrying The Ex only because we'd been together so long. It was only after those relationships ended that I realized how wrong I'd been. But I was never so sure. I was never even sure. The very idea of being sure, much less so sure, is terrifying.

I started to realize I didn't really want kids when I was in college. I grew up the oldest of three in a home daycare house. There were always kids around. Always. And I helped. When I came home from school I popped a bag of popcorn and sat at the kitchen table to start my homework, and our regular daycare kid would come and sit with me and share my popcorn. Because I grew up with kids literally always around I knew what to do with them at a very young age. By the time I got old enough to start thinking about my own future I knew what work kids were, and knew that I wasn't very eager to get on that. The people I admired were childless: my uncle, who married in his 50s, never had kids and was able to spoil my sisters and I. The Director of HR at my first post-college job married in her late 30s, got herself snipped, and was able to buy lovely clothes, a sporty car and spend the night in a hotel with her husband, just because. Once I realized I could easily not worry about money, have leisure time, experience a marriage and spoil my nieces and nephews I was hooked.

This idea of modern feminism is sort of a blend of traditional female roles and the super feminist ideals. While we may not want children, we still want to experience the love and acceptance that comes with being married. We watched our parents do all the wrong things with us and each other, make the wrong kind of sacrifices, and we've learned. We'll get married for the right reasons, and if we have kids we'll remember why, and we'll teach them how to be good people. I think we'll see stronger families and relationships because of this.

*Should that man not eat sandwiches very often I would happily make him something else. Preferably something I also want to eat, so we can eat it together.

Calm The Fuck Down

This is what I need to tell myself on a far more regular basis.

And possibly post more anteater pictures...

Anyone reading this somewhat regularly since... well, I started, knows that I was loosely diagnosed with eczema. I'm still not 100% convinced this is what it is, especially since my symptoms are pretty much all wrong. The only thing that still makes it look and act like eczema is the all over itchy rash that makes me want to claw my skin off.

Anyway, I've discovered that whatever it is is stress induced. I've been to Planned Parenthood a few times this year alone issues that could be tied to whatever skin rash I have. The last time I went she asked me if I felt stressed or worried in my relationship (resounding no) or in life. I said, "well, I'm always stressed," in a nonchalant, this-is-typical-for-me way. Because it's true. There's always fucking something.

This time I've got it pared down: started a new job (3 month probationary period, looking at it like an extended interview, trying to be the best); sometimes I feel totally overwhelmed in my new job because I'm surrounded by some really smart people who know what they're doing and who are giving me very real responsibilities; some jackwad ran into my car and caused me $800 worth of repairs that my full coverage insurance won't cover; and the cherry on top is some other jackwad stuck a business card on my car window which slipped into the door frame as I rolled the window down because I didn't notice until it was there until it was too late. Boom, stress rash. And then I freak the fuck out and try to figure out if it is in fact eczema by looking at photos and descriptions online, which just makes me itch more.

But I honestly shouldn't be that stressed, definitely not enough to cause a rash to break out on my arms and legs. I did just get back from a very lovely vacation; I'm very happy in my job and mostly unworried about the probationary period because they seem to like me a bunch and the fact that they are giving me big responsibilities is telling; even though I sometimes feel overwhelmed the very next day I feel like I have a handle on things and that I'm just as smart as my coworkers; I can afford my car repairs (I'm just mad that I have them); taking on a very small bit of debt when I have a steady income shouldn't freak me out.

HA!

The vast, vast majority of my worry and stress stems from money (thanks, mom and dad). I know what makes me happy and I've pretty much got everything I need and want: my cat who sometimes loves me, a job that fulfills me, a boyfriend who adores me, an apartment I'm going to be sad to leave, a roommate I'm friends with, an easy 10 minute walking commute, a neighborhood and city I belong in, and dozens of opportunities every week to satisfy my little desires. But I just wrapped up debt and started to save up for things I want, rather than just the things I need, before being unemployed for a brief period, which added to a vacation did give me back some credit card debt, which I had been happy to be rid of. Add to that my new car repairs and the car insurance I still haven't finished paying off (all thanks to timing) and I've got myself some saving to do. Plus, there are the things I've wanted for a long time that I would much rather not postpone anymore: a new bed, my own apartment, and (maybe) an iPhone. As long as I wait until mid-November and know I'm secure in my position I think it'd be OK to take on a little debt (famous last words, right?). Fortunately, I make enough to save that money in a few months as long as I stick to the frugal lifestyle I adopted in college and never really grew out of. By the new year I should be debt free again and able to start saving for my next vacation, build up a security savings for when the next something happens (because it always does), and start paying down my car faster.

And in the meantime, tell myself to just calm the fuck down. I got this. I really do.

Meeting The Parents

XKCD. Always relevant.

During our road trip the boyfriend and I stayed a couple of nights in Oakland with his parents. Which meant I got to meet them. I'd actually met his dad once several months ago when he was in San Diego on business, but all that entailed was the three of us having dinner. This time we spent 40 hours with them. I'd met parents before and it was fine because I'm awesome and parents love me, but frankly it never really mattered before, and it was always very early in the relationship. I'd never cared enough to worry because by the time my past relationships were into the serious stage I was already well acquainted with the parents. This time it mattered far before I met either parent. Plus, I couldn't help but wonder if being the white girl that stole her son's heart would matter to my boyfriend's mom...

The boyfriend prepared me a bit by telling me stories and talking about how they interact with each other. And meeting his dad many months ago certainly helped. I was a little nervous because I didn't know if his parents were aware of the seriousness of our relationship and if so if that affected his mom's impression of me. And, as previously mentioned, I already cared (deeply) about this one, so being liked mattered.

Not long after we arrived, his mom showed me to my "residence," as she called it, which was a room that was better appointed than most hotel rooms. She told me, "I'm sure you and [the boyfriend] are close..." I stopped her and said I understood and expected that we would be in separate rooms (she had called my mom "very liberal" for allowing us to share a room at Thanksgiving and Easter, something she got a huge kick out of). My room had a queen size bed with my own full bath, and she placed fresh roses from her garden in a vase on the counter. It was ridiculous. I had to camp after that...

One of the most interesting aspects of the day and a half we were there was his parent's interaction. It's been a while since I've been around still-together-parents (my lady friend's parents being the only ones I know) and watching them with each other, and with their son, was... different. His parents have been together for so long that it seems they've just gotten used to being together, and worrying about their fully grown son must feel... weird. 

His mom interjected her stories with "[the boyfriend]'s father says" about the situation she was describing, like she was annoyed. Which, who knows, after being married that long maybe they are rather annoyed with each other. But there is a very clear level of respect between them, too. Every time the boyfriend's dad would forget a part of the story he was telling (where they'd eaten, who said it, what the occasion was, what day of the week...) he'd ask his wife and no matter what she was doing or if she was in the other room she'd answer in a second. They pay attention to each other, which tells me that even if they're annoyed they probably talk to each other, which has to be a step in the right direction. 

His mom was also very concerned with my diet, and it took some convincing for her to feel comfortable making dishes she thought I wouldn't eat. It is hard telling new people what I do and do not eat, and I've more or less adopted a mantra of eat-what-you're-served when in someone's home, and try to make them feel less guilty when I refuse a meat. She made red beans and rice, putting in ground turkey and hot links (I didn't know what those even were... sausage?), and it was delicious. When we stopped back to pick up the dog she had made ribs, and I asked for the red bean and rice leftovers (I've never had ribs, I think... not really any desire to try).

It was nice finally meeting them (well... her). We've been together for long enough and he's met my family a number of times already, so it was kind of starting to be weird that I hadn't met his mom yet. All in all it was a very pleasant day and a half, though I do have to say I feel a bit more comfortable around his dad (sorry, Boyfriend) having known him a bit more. But that might also have something to do with the distinct feeling I was being judged, and not unrightfully so, seeing as how I am dating her only child and he's clearly very into me... I just never really experienced that before. The impression I got from the parents of ex-boyfriends was more along the lines of them being happy their somewhat troublesome son had got himself a nice girl. But if there was a test this time around I think I did well enough to at least earn being called "a nice girl."

The First Year

Getting distracted making dinner.

Today marks a full year since deciding to date one of my great friends and it's easily one of the best decisions I've ever made. But while we've been dating a year, our relationship started more than two years ago when we met. I remember telling someone once, slightly more than a year ago, about our friendship and how I didn't think it would come to be considering how it started, and then saying how very glad I was that it did.

Right off the bat this was the person I texted more than anyone else. We had immediately established a mutual love of food and burritos (and what he was eating, normally way past normal bedtimes) became a frequent topic of conversation. Part of this was fueled by my late night job which required me to eat dinner around 11pm, which was right around the time he'd be grabbing a burrito or carne asada fries. After I left that job I remember laying in bed once just before midnight and checked my phone: no text from my friend. And no texts the whole day or day before that, either. Suddenly that felt weird, even though we didn't necessarily text daily. I must have just gotten used to that communication.

A few months before we started dating I was fed up and frustrated... I had been off and on seeing someone I felt meh about and was ready for someone I'd feel more for. My mind kept going back to my friend, making me ask myself why we weren't dating. I couldn't explain it but something just wasn't there, and by then he'd become too good a friend to risk a short term fling (I really liked him and I didn't exactly have a good track record of staying in touch, much less staying friends, with people I dated). But I caught myself thinking about him more than I should if we were just friends, and way more than I should if I was sort-of-seeing someone else. This was someone who was ready to be there for me, someone who talked me to sleep when my psycho housemate had some sort of night terror, who picked me up to take me to get my car at a mechanic, who made me leap out of my bar stool at a restaurant when I saw him so I could go say hi, who felt comfortable asking me about the brief time we pseudo-dated to assess a strange rejection, who introduced me to great little restaurants, who took me to the zoo for our friendship zooversary, who took me on a day date to a theatre matinee... why, again, weren't we dating?

And then all of a sudden, through a strange turn of events I still don't fully understand, we were. And it was the easiest, least awkward, and most exciting time. When my phone buzzed from a text it was already likely going to be from him, but now my heart was doing little skips hoping it was him. I hadn't had that in... a long time.

It turned out that year of being friends, and growing into good friends, was what made me fall in love with him without even realizing it. All we did was acknowledge it. And because of that, I've been lucky enough to have spent the last year with someone who:

*Pulls me closer in the middle of the night, without realizing what he's doing

*Dances with me in the grocery store (rather, dances next to me while I stand there looking awkward)

*Tells me I'm weird. And silly.

*Turns on Friends and laughs hysterically at all the same parts

*Brings me a cupcake from our favorite dessert place, just because I was having a bad day (and flowers just because)

*Sends me romantic text messages randomly, even ones that just have a heart

*Wanted to collaborate on a blog about food

*Looks at me in a way I've never been looked at before

*Is not afraid to be honest or direct with me

*Will eat anything I make, even banana bread

*Noticeably talks with me openly about our differences or disagreements

*Makes me feel like a real partner, an equal

Now this is a better representation of us.

When I wrote about having a boyfriend a week after we made things official I had said that I'd never felt this way about someone, that there hasn't been a person I've been this crazy for. Ever. A year later that's still true. I still, 12 months later, get that in-love feeling. I look at him when he's just sitting there, or playing with his dog, or editing photos, or (my favorite) out cold asleep, and get this wonderful surge of love. 

I get a similar feeling from his dog. From night one Argo has slept next to me (that might have far more to do with me being new than with me being me, but it still feels nice), sandwiching me in between him and my boyfriend, and as time has gone on he's seemed to get more attached and more comfortable with me. When the boyfriend is in the other room, Argo will come and hang out with me on the couch, and he's relaxed enough now to fall asleep on the couch spread out up against me or let me bury my toes in his warm fur. Through training and conditioning, partially due to my efforts but mostly due to the efforts of my boyfriend who immediately wanted us to have a deep connection, the dog now listens to my commands (mostly) and has developed an interesting level of respect for me that's entirely different from the respect he gives his dad. I'm still the fun one, but when I have to lay down the law he listens. And I can't help but think, when all three of us are cuddled on the couch, what a great little family we make. Now, to get the cat on board...

Civil Rights: A Review of Gay Pride Weekend

Now add another decade and realize how things haven't changed.

I hope one day gay pride parades, festivals and celebrations don't exist anymore. At least, I hope they don't exist because they won't be needed to bring awareness to the gay community because gay people aren't seen any differently anymore.

I had a discussion the other day with a rather conservative family member about Pride, which was last weekend here in San Diego, and we discussed mostly why they felt like they needed to have a parade and why they needed to be so overtly sexual (paraphrasing... can't remember the actual words used) with their displays during the parade. (For the record, this person knows full well of my support for the gay community and was probably trying to instigate an argument, not necessarily be enlightened to another viewpoint.) I offered that maybe it was because doing so would not only bring up the subject of sexuality and the gay lifestyle and encourage people to talk about it, which would hopefully eventually get people to realize gays deserve the same rights as everyone else, but also makes the argument that sexuality, even gay sexuality, is not something to be ashamed of. By parading around (punny pun pun) in booty shorts those in the parade were not making any apologies for who they are. And that's kind of the point of gay pride weekend, I think. We have gay neighborhoods, gay bars, gay clubs, even a gay brewery now so that gays have a place they can go and be themselves and among like minded individuals without worrying about offending someone. Isn't it the same reason people go to sports bars? All that hollering at the TV, jeering with total strangers, and ignoring almost everything else going on would be offensive at another bar or establishment.

I also pointed out that "the way times used to be," as I too often hear older generations talking about, probably wasn't all it's chalked up to be. Human beings have likely always been this way, we maybe just didn't talk about it as much (which this particular relative sort of agreed with, and then said that it's more decent that we don't discuss it). And now that we're OK discussing our sexualities and the so-called weird things that we do, which are only weird because we have a sense of self and guilt that many other animals don't have, now that these things aren't as taboo as they once were, some people consider our society to be degraded. I just think we're getting to the point where we won't have self-imposed guilt anymore for living our lives the way we've lived them for generations. In fact, from a feminine standpoint, I'm pretty glad things aren't "what they used to be" because if my husband cheated on me it would have been my fault for not pleasing him enough, having a job would have been classless and not having kids would have given me an unsavory label. And if we go back further, I would have been sold by my father to the highest bidder. No owning property, no voting, no speaking out of turn, no leaving the house without a male relative to escort me, no rights or individuality. Just a walking pair of boobs that might entice a helpless man if someone isn't there to protect me.

Maybe gay people feel different-in-a-bad-way too often. Sure they can't marry the person they love or even provide that person benefits no matter how long they're together and in many places cannot adopt a child, but that's a federal issue. Maybe it's less deep than that: maybe gay people feel the need to function in a straight world where their individuality isn't celebrated in the same way as others' is. And maybe Pride weekend is an outlet. Maybe those participating in and watching the parade last weekend aren't all flamboyant and overtly sexual and slutty, but maybe it's about fitting in, being noticed for being different, or even just proving a point.

Speaking of which, my whole point was gays might not feel the need to have that outlet or create that awareness of gay or straight didn't matter. There was a time, long before I was born, where people were campaigning for a right I now very much appreciate. Had my boyfriend and I been born just a few generations ago it would not have been appropriate for us to be seen together, much less date. It would have been illegal for us to get married, and our kids would have been ridiculed, having no place to belong. Fortunately, we were both born long after those civil rights were obtained and now it's not unusual at all to see us walking down the street holding hands; no one would bat an eye at  our wedding, and our kids would be welcomed into any group. Watching the parade with him made me realize in a tangible way that this civil rights fight is exactly the same as the one we're benefitting from: it might not be unusual for a black man and a white woman to walk down the street holding hands, but a lot of people still feel uncomfortable seeing two men holding hands or two women stopping for a quick kiss. Those couples have to deal with that discrimination (even when it's not blatant) every day. They might be in love but feel like they aren't allowed to express it. They might want marriage and kids like most people do but the government, and plenty of their fellow citizens, don't think it's a good idea. Actually the government and many Americans think it's a very bad idea, and one that would directly contribute to the downfall of our country. Just like they once did when the idea that races could intermarry and *gasp* have mixed children (the poor things!). 

I know deep in my heart that a generation or two from now all of this will be in the past and my grand nieces and nephews will ask questions about it, wondering why it was such a big deal. I won't know what to tell them, but at least I'll be able to say I didn't agree and did what I could to change things.

How To Get A Man/Job

What my rejection emails really mean.

The title of an article could be "how to get a man" or "how to get a job" and the content, with a few altered keywords, would be essentially the same. I've never really been the person to take Cosmopolitan magazine seriously, or for that matter worry about finding/getting/keeping Mr Right, but I have read enough girl magazines to know that those who do want to get married and have kids and have the kind of life we all believe we deserve that getting older and not having that, or even being close to having that, can make even the most well rounded of girls depressed or, worse, desperate.

But in my ever present job search I'm starting to see a lot, and I mean a lot, of the same exact advice for job seekers as there is for women on the man hunt. Here is the advice I've come across and see if it sounds like "get a man" advice or "get a job" advice:

Be confident.

Take the initiative.

Put yourself out there.

Be eager, but not too eager.

Showcase your skills and talents.

Follow up x amount of days after you meet.

If it doesn't work out, move on to the next opportunity immediately.

Any of the above phrases could fit in a dating or job seeking article. And in fact, aren't first dates interviews? Aren't you trying to make yourself seem as attractive as possible while judging whether or not the person sitting across from you is really the great fit you thought he was based on his resume/online dating profile? Aren't there questions you can ask and questions you can't ask, stories you can and should tell and stories you most definitely should not tell? Isn't there a specific dress code that, if not followed, could disqualify you for the position? Isn't it possible (or even likely) to come off as over eager or desperate for the job or boyfriend, scaring away a potentially beautiful match? Holy crap I'm making myself anxious, and I have a boyfriend! I also have a job, but unlike the boyfriend I'm hoping to upgrade A-SAP. 

Thing is, though, that this whole notion has been around a while. There are hundreds of articles that tell job seekers and boyfriend seekers why one is like the other and how to use the tactics in one to get what you want in the other. But both situations are entirely uncomfortable because we're only in them when we clearly want something. So we listen to the advice of those who say they've been there and know what it's like and we play by "the rules" thinking it'll help. And maybe it does for some, but for the rest of us? I for one am starting to feel like a stereotypical 29 1/2 year-old woman worrying about her uterus drying up and being terrified I'm scaring off great candidates with my desperation. 

Only it's not men and potential fathers I'm scaring off, it's a great job. But in a way, finding the right job is like finding the right father-for-my-future-kids to me. Finding a job that gives me more of a purpose is essential because I'm not planning on my "purpose" being motherhood. While other women have their kids, their homes, their husbands and their domestic lives to fulfill them, and possibly are more willing to put up with shit jobs in order to help make their real lives happen, I don't feel like putting up with a shit job when that's my main purpose. In place of motherhood I want my job to be meaningful, to make me feel like I'm doing something that will matter to others. I have no motivation to take the high paying soul sucking job with benefits because I'm not worried about paying for anyone else to go to college. I can be picky and demanding because I have that luxury.

And dammit here I am in the same boat as millions of women my age who are worrying about their rapidly emptying ovaries saying "but I'm ready, it's time, where is he?" about my non-existent future employer.

Fuck, I just realized I'm Ted.

Letting Go of Tradition

An example of a tradition that's gone through a lot of change...

Easily one of the biggest hardships I felt in the aftermath of my parent's divorce was the loss of tradition. They tried to keep it the same, but because we now had two houses to go to for every holiday and birthday the traditions got split up between parents: one did brunch while the other took care of dinner, we still got stockings at Christmas and baskets at Easter and one parent did a birthday dinner while the other maybe did a party the weekend before. It worked for a while, but when we got older and lives got more complicated the traditions started dropping. It was hard on me and I felt like I was the only one who cared. Truth be told I shouldn't have cared because I was too old for most of that anyway, but so much had changed during the previous years that I just wanted the traditions to feel normal.

But I'm getting better in my old age. And honestly I don't know what to attribute that to... am I really maturing? Do I just not care anymore? Has there been so much change that I've given up? A combination? Maybe. But I think it has a lot more to do with my relationships with my family members than anything. For a while I was working a tourist job and it was easy enough to stay in San Diego and work, allowing my coworkers to spend time with their families and earning some extra money I was desperate for... and I did feel a little like it might just be easier on everyone if I just didn't go for the holidays, which were always stressful enough on their own, and I couldn't seem to keep my mouth shut around certain people or situations. Now that everyone's a little bit older and has gone through their own personal ordeals they're letting me be myself as much as I'm letting them do the same and we're all getting through the holidays a bit easier. And at least we still have the same food traditions: Easter just wouldn't be the same without the lamb cake or buttercreams, just like we can't have Christmas without fudge and start every holiday with "holiday food" (most people call it eggs benedict). 

I have, however, noticed that it's been a lot easier for me the last year or so because I really like who my sister is dating and my other sister and mom haven't had anyone serious enough to make a big deal of. And since Thanksgiving I've had someone I'm excited to bring home, someone they seem to actually love, someone that makes me visibly happy. And I don't really know why but it makes me more excited for holidays because I'm bringing someone who's so accepted by my family. It's exciting in a way I haven't felt towards the holidays in over a decade. It's always wonderful to spend time with them, but knowing that they not only accept but like and welcome someone who's so important to me makes me the happiest of campers around the holidays. 

Now, if only I could get the cat to get along with the dogs...

In Which I Am A Stereotype

Also, a girl.

No idea why this was the first girl I thought of.

In a twist that's mostly unlike me I'm feeling extraordinarily insecure about the world, my own life especially. I feel like I'm failing at most things and being mediocre at the rest and that in order to improve in any one area I need to give up another. Between working, training for a half marathon, the two blogs and job searching my time runs out so quickly. I'm tired constantly, have little energy and spending close to 12 hours a day working (or preparing to work) at a job that's emotionally tiring makes my enjoyable evenings fly by. 

It's disgusting how one of my coworker's is being treated and that I'm being used as a pawn to hurt her after I tried to step in and help, it's terrifying how one owner seems to be actively trying to run the company into the ground and it's frustrating to have been there a year with very little positive changes to the company. I don't have the tools to properly do my job, despite asking for them repeatedly, and have been told we're all expendable, which feels awesome. There is a silver lining to my job: I'm now in charge of the company's social media campaign in addition to writing, there are more promises of taking me off phone call duty (we'll see...), and one owner seems to really appreciate me. 

I loved running 15 months ago when I had only a part time job that I didn't have to get up early for and could do my running first thing, which I prefer but am much too tired to motivate myself to get up at 6. Now it's just an hour or more into my night that I could spend relaxing, cooking, cleaning, running errands, and keeping better tabs on this blog. I had more time to plan my meals to fuel my body and help it recover, could eat immediately and then rest after a long run, and had the energy to keep going without stopping for double digit miles. All of that is gone now. But even if I didn't have the blogs or didn't want to spend time with my boyfriend I wouldn't want my life to only consist of working and running- I don't like either that much. I miss when running was fun and having to do it makes it not fun.

On a daily basis I see people who have made their living from their blog or their passion (hell... I'm dating someone who's doing that) and I'm jealous. I read home remodeling blogs at work, follow people making a difference for animals on Facebook, watch my boyfriend become more successful doing what he loves and feel like I put in a lot of effort and time for something I don't care about, something that doesn't matter. I want to care about what I do, I want to work for a company that respects its employees and tries as hard as we do to make it into something great, and I'm not even asking or hoping to make a lot of money... just to sustain myself and live a modest life without worry. 

But a big part of my newfound insecurity is knowing that there are things I definitely want that I may not get. I've always wanted to get my Master's degree and for the last couple of years have wanted to pursue sociology, partially because it's a field I'm interested in that truly matters and partially because pursuing the field I really want is unrealistic, especially in this educational climate. As funds for higher education are being slashed left and right, as kids barely even have the tools they need to learn and compete in the world, my hope for returning to school while working is starting to fade. Classes at community colleges are being cut, which means the prerequisites I would need are few and far between, and student loans are at an all time high. It's not easy to be in school right now, and it's hard to imagine being in school while having a full time job on top of it- I couldn't even do that as a literature major in undergrad. Another thing I've (almost) always  known I wanted is to have someone I could build the kind of life one would build with a life partner (is it weird that "life partner" sounds less awkward than "husband?"), and as I get older I realize more that it's important to me. My sister recently moved in with her long term boyfriend and they got a puppy together, and while I'm exceedingly happy and excited for them both I can't help but hope I have a similar future. The up side is that for the first time in my life I'm with someone who doesn't come with a "but we'll have to break up eventually" addendum. Like the How I Met Your Mother episode, everyone seems to have a "but;" for the longest time that was "but he wants kids," and it's exciting to date without that on the table. But (ha, see?) it's also terrifying to feel strongly about someone else when I know what I want in my life. 

Hopefully the insecurities will fade quickly... taking care of my taxes this weekend will at least get that off my shoulders and if all goes well money won't be as big of an issue (at least I'll be saving for fun things). At the very least my race will be over in 5 weeks and after that I'll be able to look at running and going to the gym in a fun way because I'll want to do it, not because I have to. And, above all else, hopefully a better work opportunity will come my way soon.

Three Years of Blogging

I started this blog 3 years ago today (under a different name for a few days, until I settled on this) as a way to keep me focused and sharp during what would become a 3 month period of unemployment. There's certainly been a lot that's happened and changed in three years:


Got 2 jobs at the Wild Animal Park
Broke up with my long term boyfriend
Seriously doubted my faith
Collected unemployment insurance
Moved out of my wonderful studio
Changed my phone number
Lived with a friend
Lived with a crazy person
Had an amazing summer
Started running, seriously
Reevaluated my meat eating habits
Dated a friend, then ended the friendship
Used my Class B license for a job
Made a bunch of international friends
Had a shitty year
Said goodbye to a dog
Read a bunch of books
Remembered why I love living in San Diego
Was more or less dumped in favor of cocaine
Was more or less disowned by my father
Found a great roommate and a great apartment
Learned to love North Park
Got a writing job
Rediscovered my real passion
Celebrated 2 cousin's weddings
Ran 3 half marathons in 2 states
Made real friendships
Lost fake friendships
Fell deeply in love with a real friend
Traveled to San Francisco and Las Vegas
Sold a car
Bought a car
Started a new blog


This year has been amazing so far and the vast majority of last year was, too. I fully intend on enjoying the rest of it as much as I possibly can. Imagining what the next three years might hold is pretty exciting, too, especially (and this is where I get to be a girl) when I think about the amazing times in store with my boyfriend at my side. There's one thing that will always be certain in my life, in the next 3 years an beyond, and that is that I will always be writing. 

Illegal Abortion

I get to use this image again!

For whatever reason, whether or not women should be allowed to get an abortion is a political issue, and some people believe there is absolutely no reason abortion should be legal, even in cases of rape (fortunately, even the craziest people think an abortion can sneak by when the pregnancy will kill the mother, but if not that would be condemning a woman to death).

But all this got me wondering: what would I do if I were raped tonight and forced by law to carry a resulting pregnancy to term? For the sake of depression, and because the thing that started this was a presidential hopeful suggesting women view babies conceived through a rape as a "gift from God," which you surely wouldn't return, I'll include raising a baby bestowed upon me by the gift of rape.

Emotions:

First, going through a rape (something I fortunately have never experienced and hopefully never will) is one of the most traumatizing things a person can experience. Some statistics say between 15-20% of the population have been raped, but I'd be willing to bet it's more than that because men who are raped almost never report it and women who are raped are often too afraid, too traumatized or don't believe it's rape because the criminal was someone they knew. Even still, at least 15% of the population has been traumatized by rape. First off, if this were to ever happen to me I'd be at the police station and hospital to report it and have any evidence collected to catch the son of a bitch. But I would be devastated. I would replay it in my mind again and again, trying to come up with something I did wrong, some way I could have prevented it or stopped him. It would depress me intensely, most likely affecting my sleep, my day to day activities, and most certainly my relationship. As much as I can say now I wish I were stronger than that, sex would be entirely different after a rape, and there's no way that wouldn't be an issue. And if the rape resulted in a pregnancy and I was forced to carry it?

Money:

I currently make about enough to pay rent, utilities, car payments, car insurance, cell phone, food and gas with just enough left over to put aside for taxes in April and car insurance in July. Other than what I'm currently saving, which is already ear marked, I have no savings. I would have to keep my current job, even though it does not provide any benefits whatsoever, because no company would hire a woman about to need medical leave in 9 months. This would mean that any time I needed to go to the doctor or felt too sick to work would be unpaid, and my eventual maternity leave would be 1-3 months of no income. Plus, I would likely lose my job during the leave (they would have to replace me) and finding a job that paid decently or maybe even one that provided benefits would be next to impossible as a brand new, single mother who will need flexibility to care for her baby.

In addition, I have no health insurance so all those required doctor's visits would be debt under my name. Of course, I would have to have health insurance for myself and my baby once it's born, but I couldn't exactly go get pre-natal insurance after I got pregnant, now could I? My credit limit is $5k, which isn't anywhere near enough to have a healthy baby in a hospital. Actually having the baby would cripple me, and if there were any complications whatsoever I would never recover from the debt. Diapers, a car seat, baby clothes, and whatever else you buy for a baby (even Target maternity clothes are expensive) would be beyond my current budget, which would change to zero once I became unemployed.

I could cash out my stock, but it would only be a temporary fix and only enough to cover basic doctors visits or maybe the time I would be unemployed, if I somehow found a job soon enough. Plus, cashing out would affect me at tax time, so the benefit would be further diminished.

(Should I decide to give the baby up for adoption and happen to actually find a couple willing to adopt my rape baby, they would most likely pay for my medical bills and giving birth. However, they would probably not pay for sick days when I was puking or at the doctor or for maternity clothes. And they definitely would not pay for a gym membership so I could work on getting my body back and try going back to my normal life.)

Life:

I would be forced to move out of my current apartment and find a studio or 1-bedroom apartment, which is already something I can't afford, much less after at least a month of unemployment and thousands in medical bills. I could probably move back to my hometown and rent out a room in my mom's house, but I would still need a job to pay for rent (which wouldn't be much cheaper than a place in San Diego) and baby stuff (and like I said, I have no savings). Plus, it would involve leaving my friends, my boyfriend and my life in San Diego.

Speaking of boyfriend, that would most likely end. I feel fortunate to be with someone who feels the same as I do about having kids, but unfortunately for this hypothetical situation that's that we don't want them. Even if my boyfriend wanted to be supportive and helpful, I could never ask him to stay when I have a baby that belongs to a rapist, not to him. Being pregnant is enough of a strain when the baby belongs to both people in the relationship, but a rape and a pregnancy together would be too much.

Things I Would Give Up:

All hope of getting my Master's degree (student debt on top of medical debt? Yeah right.), my dream job (taking any job without considering the flexibility, the benefits, the day care), possibly freelancing, traveling, having a horse, spending any time taking care of animals for a living, and having anything else that goes along with the somewhat exotic lifestyle I want.

My whole life would be living so that a baby I never wanted would have a chance at a decent life because, despite it just being the right thing to do if you bring a child into the world, it's against the law to neglect it. I suppose I could just go on welfare. Let all the other taxpayers pay for me and my baby, and just not work. God, this is depressing.

I might also have to let go of what I hope a marriage would be like. Dating wouldn't be for me anymore, it would be to find a husband who would be a good father for my rape baby, who would not have a father. Not to mention, between working and raising a baby I'd never have time to actually date. Meeting a man who already has a child (and probably an ex wife) would most likely be my only option, and then date nights could be movies at home with the kids. Lounging in bed for hours, making brunch and mimosas on Sunday at noon, hanging out writing this blog, spending time on Reddit, and  staying out late at a bar will be things of the past. And forget reading. Well, forget reading anything at my reading level. 

Additional Comments:

Should I ever be raped (which I'm just going to hope never happens... keep my wits about me, stay out of creepy dark alleys...) I really hope the criminal wears a condom. Fortunately as far as pregnancies go I'm already on birth control and have access to Plan B, so the chances of me becoming pregnant are pretty slim. But there's sexually transmitted disease and the trauma to worry about, one of which I will most assuredly have to deal with. The bottom line is rape is something so truly awful and should never happen to anyone, but that's unfortunately not the world we live in. I just hope I'm never forced to bear the consequences of someone else's criminal actions.