back to flat.

Last night just shy of 10 pm, my plane touched down from Montana, marking the end of my whirlwind vacation. Well, really Minneapolis, and before that was Salt Lake city, before that came Montana.

It was a long fucking day of travel feeling like death warmed over, so when I finally hauled my heavy-ass carry-on with the non-functioning extendable handle to the curb where Matt was waiting to see my smiling face, I was very, VERY relieved to be home. And dead tired. And someplace that didn't smell like airport. And you know, within actual arms-length of my boyfriend.

But today, I'm not quite as thrilled to be back in the Midwest.

Actually, I'm pretty pissed about it.

I miss the mountains.

I had an exceptional visit, despite a bit of altitude sickness and it being winter in one of the coldest places in the country.

So today, I'm back in corn country. Where it's flat. And there are no mountains in ANY direction, let alone EVERY- at any distance my eyes see. And it's kind of a drag. 

Here's to hoping the mountains are part of my future again real soon.

debbie downer's got nothing on me

Tomorrow is Monday. 

Which means I'll be forced back to the grind. Which means an abrupt halt to blowing off my responsibilities and pretending like I don't have a real life with real problems.

God, I'm dreading it. 

Conversely, though, I'm craving it. 

I think I may have learned something this week. 

It's simple, but it's taken me so long to acknowledge.

None of those problems or responsibilities go away just because I do. 

So, it's really, finally, time to do something about it 

I've given myself a month to find a new job. And I'll do anything. Probably, almost. What I mean is that I can genuinely see myself getting more satisfaction out of digging ditches than what I'm doing now. I just HATE it. As I type this and the time grows smaller to the moment I will have to force myself back inside those glass doors, up that dim stairwell, and across the floor to my dingy cubicle, my stomach is tightening and churning with dread. 

I hope this is my breaking point.

What the fuck am I so afraid of? 

Everything, I guess. Sometimes I feel like I'm afraid of everything, which is not the mood I was going for upon my transition from vacation life back to real life. I don't feel relaxed, rested, at peace in any sense.

Home, the lake, was home. The lake. It was a right place to be. 

But I'm not right. I'm all wrong. Everything about me right now is all wrong.

And that was the way I felt all week, despite being in my favorite place on earth- An underlining sense of unease. 

There's just so much to sort through rolling around in my mind. 

I  turn 25 in three weeks. 

ugh ugh ugh ugh gahhhhhhh. 

Sara

going home

I've been so busy chugging crazy juice, composing Negative Nancy posts, and having meltdowns about my life this week that I'd kind of lost sight of what happens tomorrow.

VACATION.


Vacation happens TOMORROW. Where will I be traversing for the next ten or so days? Well it's funny you should ask. I'm actually going home. No, this isn't one of those forced "Staycation" dealios where I just marinate in a combination of synthetic air, couch lines on my skin, and six hours a day of whatever Bravo has to offer me because I'm too poor to leave the house. I'm actually heading North to where I spent every summer as a child, Torch Lake.

makes all other lakes look like mud puddles. sorry other lakes.

Since in my impressionable years, my family spent their time moving around like a band of gypsies, this sunny spot provided a constant. Summer = lake = safety= home? Maybe. Yes.  In fact, as a young girl I would sometimes ask to be excused from class to go to the bathroom and whilst sitting on the loo, I'd close my eyes and pretend like I was actually at our cottage, quickly running in the house to the bathroom,  and when I was done I'd just run back out to the dock and straight off the end until I hit water. I was an overly imaginative child.

So, tomorrow I head back up and I couldn't be happier. It's been a few years and maybe something mystical and magical and life-changing will become clear and I'll all of the sudden know what to do with my life. Or maybe I'll just read a shit-ton of books, catch some sunburn on my shoulders and the tip of my nose, kayak every morning, run some hills, and constantly be stocked with a cocktail during every waking hour. That sounds good enough.

I'll spend tomorrow night in Ann Arbor, picking up my Nan. Saturday morning we will reach the lake and I'll probably lose my breath, feel my heart drop out of my chest, and get all emotional when I catch sight of the brilliant blue.

If that's not home, then I don't know what is.

Cheers to your home, wherever it may be.

XO Sara

stress, man.

I've got stress out the yin-yang right now.


Last night in a move rather unorthodox for me, I ran without a watch or ipod. Mostly because I arrived at the park and realized I had failed to bring EITHER of these important items. Smooth. I was pissed.


Anyway, I decided to tough it out because I've been seriously busy and haven't gotten the number of runs in lately that I'd like to. It's annoying. I'm cranky.  I'm a moody ball of emotions when I don't run. It's pathetic.


Anyway, I'm run, run, running and whatnot and it really does kind of suck because I'm apparently a creature of gadgets and I didn't have my gear. But whatever, I'm doing it and I'm fucking HITTING that pavement. I passed kids on rollerblades. Probably like 9 year olds, but still. ROLLERBLADES. It's like that POWERTHIRST video. I had ENERGY LEGS.


It's kind of amazing slash alarming where I will take things with myself when I don't have the ample distraction of Jay-Z spitting street lyrics straight into my conscious mind.


To say that I'm stressed is quite frankly the fucking understatement of the millenium. I feel overextended. I'm carrying around a giant and growing heap of frustration and general pissed-offedness about my current living situation.  I don't know how to surge forward or even the next step toward some of my main goals. I'm scared, just so terrified that I'm not physcially going to have enough hours in the day to truly honor my commitments to the very best of my abilities. I'm an asshole, which isn't helping matters. And two of my oldest and best friends are moving to South Korea aka Good Korea, and Arizona. In the next two weeks.


While I was running last night in the dusk air and light, it was almost okay. Dusk in Summer is the shit which is pretty much self explanatory, but in case it's not: DUSK- AWESOME. SUMMER- THE GREATEST. Together - THE ULTIMATE STATE OF BEING. So I'm running, and there it is. All of that worry and stress, just there for me to process and work through and not ignore because I don't have MUSIC. It got real.  It was like a stream flowing behind my legs as they hit the pavement, I was untangling it as I ran, holding the ball up around my chest, watching it shrink as my mind sorted it. All of the sudden it was like my problems were completely managable and solvable again.


But then, of course,  I had to stop running at some point. Resume suckidy suck time. Get gas. Clean out my car. Organize my clothes. Follow up on emails. Take a shower. Tedious bullshit that can't be ignored, but alone isn't worth mentioning. Pick up the now-untangled strand of worry and wad it back up so I don't forget anything or leave it lying around for someone to trip on.


Sitting here, confined to my cubicle, it's tangled again. A knotted wad of everything I'm worried about, all that STUFF I've got to do. And the bastard is GROWING.


I keep telling myself that Friday, FRIDAY I leave for vacation. I wish I was looking forward to it the way I should be.  Instead I'm fretting about the fact that there may not be enough hours between now and then to untangle and work through that ever-growing, tangled-up ball of stress. 


XO Sara