Thursday, August 28, 2014

Berry Pickin'

Thoughts on robbing fruit trees in the alley on the walk home? 

My thoughts are that alley fruit is obviously fair game. I definitely wouldn't steal fruit from a tree off of the branches that dangled into someone's yard, but seriously, this fruit is just going to fall into the alley and consequently rot and then cause a major bee issue. 

So I think I'm doing everyone, and I mean EVERYONE a favor, by helping myself. 

You're welcome, everyone.

In other news, we have this magical fruit in Montana called the huckleberry. My entire life, I thought Huckleberry Finn was really just a camp-y name in a spectacular children's book. Not so. They are real and they are FANTASTIC. This summer, I made it my personal mission to pick my own huckleberries because not only are they magical, they also cost an arm and a leg if you buy them from someone who gathered them on their own. 
Huckleberry patches, as it turns out, are very serious real estate. People keep their spots a secret and will shed blood over their patch should an intruder come around. Also, bears REALLY enjoy huckleberries, so there is an added degree of danger. With all this information in mind, I wholeheartedly accepted the challenge. 

Sadly, I failed. 

I mean, I didn't completely fail, I went once, at the very beginning of the season. Me being, well, me, I forgot a container, so I had to use a cup I had in my car. There is a relatively well-known area pretty close to where I live where these berries are known to thrive. On public land. (Notice the veiled secrecy?) So I wandered up one day with a sparkle in my eye and a dream in my heart. 

Now, in prime season, these berries are almost the size of blueberries. When I went, they weren't even the size of a pea, which was a tad disappointing. 

But, they were still delicious. 

However. The single cupful that I gathered won't be enough to get me through the winter. Who am I kidding, they barely lasted me a single day. So, I'll once again be feeding my addiction by purchasing them from the Hmong at the farmer's market. For like 15 dollars a pound. Worth it.

I never new fruit could be so intense. 

somtimes, i wish i were actually a cowgirl.

Wednesday, August 27, 2014

this would be easier if i hated my job.

I really have to pee right now but I can't leave my post at the desk right now because I'm the only person watching the phones in the office. Which, I've had at least two diet cokes, two cups of green tea, and two water bottles full of water, so I'm pretty full to bursting. In an effort to distract myself, I'm clicking away on these keys.
Here's some news, I got a job as a therapist! Maybe I shouldn't be surprised, but honestly, I kind of am. I didn't really try that hard and I only had two interviews total before I was offered a job. Baller status, right? My friends hate it when I call things 'baller,' because it's really douchy, but I haven't completely worked it out of my system quite yet. I probably shouldn't post too many details about the job on here, but I'll be working with severely emotionally disturbed children, ages 5-12ish. I'm kind of scared because I don't have a ton (read: none) of therapeutic experience with children of this age group, but we're going to make it happen. I'm going to make it happen.
Getting a new job means a lot of really good things, like a lot more money and getting hours toward my LCPC licensure, but it also means some pretty sad things. The saddest of all being that I have to leave my current job. You guys, I've honestly never had a job that I enjoyed going to so much before in my life. I don't know why it is, really, because it's not really anything special. Just an office job in the food industry like I've had before, there's no reason that I should feel anything other than joy to actually enter my chosen field of vocation, which I should mention, I've sunk myself under a mountain of debt to pursue.
But there's something, I don't know, keeping my from being truly happy about the transition. I really think it's because I just enjoy spending time here. I like interacting with the customers and I love bantering with my coworkers. My boss has been totally flexible with my very part time schedule over the last year and a half and then let my transition to full time as soon as I graduated with my Masters this summer. These people that I see every day now, they're my friends. I spend more time with them than anyone else and I truly enjoy it.
This past weekend, my boss, who owns the company I work for, came to my house and helped me move all my furniture to my new place. OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF HIS HEART. Who helps people move? Even BEST FRIENDS sometimes don't help you move, because moving is THE WORST. I've found a good tribe, and
My point is that these are good people and I'm really sad to leave them and also sad that I'm going to miss the every day stuff and not get the jokes anymore. And more than that, I'm scared that I'm going to lose them as friends.

And it breaks my heart a little.

New new

Heyo! I've got a lot of changes happening right now, which is equal parts exciting and terrifying. I'll elaborate soon, but here's a sneak peek into my new home.

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

breaking up is hard to do.

Good day and a disclaimer: I'm not trying to be a total bitch, but this will probably come off that way.

I recently broke up with a dude.

We dated for five months and I really cared for him. I did. But it wasn't working out and I wasn't happy with him, so I ended it. We had many good times, but I also spent a lot of the time pretty unsatisfied.

Now, a younger version of me would have stayed in a miserable situation, totally unhappy, for a lot longer just to avoid having the awkward break-up conversation. We're talking years. And then the inevitable parting of ways would have been really ugly and destructive because I would have had a ton of pent-up negative energy toward the situation. I know this, I've done this before. Multiple times. I avoid break ups, even to the point of staying with someone I actually start to hate. And then afterward I'm filled with bitterness and anger. It's a pattern. I admit.

However, in this most recent case, I wasn't super miserable, I just knew that ultimately it wasn't a good fit and it wouldn't work out. I was basically at the end of the pre-miserable phase. About to merge onto the highway of unhappiness so to speak.

So, in a totally uncharacteristic move, I opted not to drag things out, and to just end it. I debated if I could reasonably pull this off via text or email, then mentally slapped myself across the face and internally shouted 'get it together, man!' I can be pretty avoidant, as I've mentioned above. Instead, I paced around for several moments and actually called to break things off. Yes, I realize in-person would have been ideal, but I already hadn't seen the guy for a week and we live two miles apart. He wasn't exactly trying to see me.

So, what I feel I did was the mature thing. I opted to end the relationship very directly and honestly. I didn't say anything nasty or mean and I didn't point fingers, though I certainly felt like I could have. I just told him it wasn't working out and I didn't think we were right for each other. He said 'ok' a lot and was mostly quiet. I told him I really didn't want this to be mean and nasty, and that I really like and care for him, but that it just wasn't working for me anymore. Then I asked him if he had anything he wanted to say or ask and he said no. We hung up and I went about my evening. Honestly it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be, five minutes of tough conversation and then a lot of relief.

It always sucks to be the person telling your partner that they no longer make you happy, which is probably why I live in denial and delay it most of the time.

But I did it, and I'm proud of myself. I said everything I needed to say. And I didn't attack him with my laundry list of his indiscretions.

Fast forward to now, two weeks later.

This guy is now harassing me via text and gchat. The two means of communication that I opted out of when deciding to break up. He's saying nasty things and trying to make me commit to plans to 'meet up and talk' and then failing to follow up on these plans, even when I agree. I have no interest in meeting up, I'm good with how things ended, so if he wants to meet up, he's going to work pretty hard to make that happen. As in, not expect me to seek it out, ever, because I am in no way interested in doing that.

At this point, I've asked him not to contact me anymore multiple times. It looks like things are getting nasty, which is exactly what I was trying to avoid, because I do actually care for him. Apparently the feeling is not mutual. Which is fine, because I'm fucking free. I get that we can't control other people's reactions to things, and I know that he's hurt and upset, but for crying out loud, I'm not a mean person or a monster or a coward- which for the record, were all labels I was attempting to avoid.

What would a responsible adult do now? My maturity has a limit. Halp.

Sunday, August 17, 2014

butter is the true hero here.

I'm on the move again dudes and dudettes. 

I can't believe that I've lived in my current domicile for over a year, it truly boggles my mind how fast the time has gone. It seems like just yesterday we were dancing around to Paul Simon and drinking beers on the back deck. Okay, that was yesterday, but still. 

 Which brings me to my next point, why do I keep doing this to myself? Packing is the worst thing in the world. Worse than doing dishes, getting a root canal, and cooking for one combined. I'm moving less than a half a mile away, into my own place, but I still can't really conceive how all of my crap is going to get from point A to point B. And lets not even go into how I have like 20 dollars for the next two weeks thanks to putting down a deposit and signing a lease in the middle of the month. Woof. (I'm trying the 'woof' thing out because my much cooler friends have been saying it lately to express distaste. Or at least I think it's to express distaste. They're so much cooler, sometimes I don't know for sure.)

Despite the hassle of carting my shit around, I'm pretty excited about my new apartment. It's in an old historical building and, not to brag, but Teddy fucking Roosevelt stayed there once. At least I think that's what my landlord said. He said a lot of things. And I had to sign both mold and lead paint waivers. Plus it's called the Sacajawea Lodge, or just The Sac, which I find hilarious because I'm obviously still in seventh grade. 

More importantly though, how appropriate is it for me to sneak back into my old yard to harvest the vegetables I've slaved over for the past four to five months? Is that allowed? Because I clearly did all the work and I'm not about to let some rando eat all my peppers, carrots, lettuce, melons, tomatoes and broccoli. Though really, they can have the kale, beets, and zucchini, I've had my fill. Probably forever. Kale, if you're such a super food, why don't you taste better? In my opinion, butter and bacon are the true food superheroes. And whatever sauce they put in Taco Bell quesadillas. That shit is amazing.

Not that I frequent Taco Bell.  I'm an adult. Clearly. 

I pick up my keys tomorrow. Send 'you can do this' vibes. Please and thank you. 

Friday, August 15, 2014

returned from..... wherever

For the last two years, I haven't written on this blog consistently. 'Patchy' probably describes my writing, at best. This place doesn't feel as safe and private as it once did, and so part of my candid speech is gone, which makes it feel a little inauthentic, which makes it hard to write.
So, I've gone back and forth about what to do. Not writing or continuing to not write very much is not an option. I need to be writing, it feeds my soul. The way I see it, either I can pack it in and call it a day here and start a new blog that will give me more anonymity like Landlocked & Loaded used to do, or I can just say 'fuck it' and be unapologetically me.

Sadly, this was a tougher choice than it should have been. Of course I want to just be me and say 'screw the haters' or whatever people say now to their haters. But I have a career, and strong opinions, and a family that I don't want to disappoint with some of my more wild actions.

Ultimately though, I just can't imagine deserting Landlocked & Loaded. She's been with me for so long,  doesn't deserve to be abandoned and left for dead. Besides, the title is still accurate, I am indeed landlocked. Though the mountains all around do mostly make up for it.

I guess what I'm saying, is I know there will be more backlash offline than online for the choice I've made here, but it's a risk I've got to take. I'm back, and it's time to make some changes. I hope you'll join me.

Love and the like,