checking in.

I'm here.

 

I've just been hating everything I write. It lacks something and I'm frustrated.

 

When it comes, it pours out of me and onto the page as fast as my fingers can hit the keys.

 

But when it's like it is now, a battle, it's like squeezing moisture drop by drop out of a damp washcloth to try to fill a lake. I would have said ocean, but that seemed a little dramatic.

 

Happy Wednesday, here's hoping the second half of the week will bring me words by the bucketful.

an appeal to the allocator of all things good in the world

 Hey Allocator of Everything Good in this World,

 

 

First of all, you should know that most of the asshole things I've done and said, I was mostly joking. Okay? I was mostly joking and/or I thought it would be funny. So any bad Karma I have at the expense of those things, let's just cut it in half because it probably brought joy and laughter to at least one person. Even if that person was me. Plus I barely ever do anything bad anyway.

 

 

Okay.

 

 

I just want you to know that I'm semi-short on cash, so I have, like, barely even a prayer of making this little scheme growing in my mind happen anyway, but your help and support and general tip of the scale of goodness in my direction would be ever so graciously appreciated.

 

 

I really, really, REALLY need to go to Sasquatch.

 

 

Don't fucking laugh, I'm dead serious, you dick.

 

 

Just kidding, you're totally not a dick. See what I did there? Joking. Ha. Totally not a sin.

 

 

But for realsies, the Sasquatch thing is going to happen. I mean, please? Have you seen the lineup? Take a second: sasquatchfestival.com.

 

Yeah, I had a full-out sweaty panic attack the first time I saw it too. I was at work. I almost choked on my Werther's Original, pilfered surreptitiously from my bosses candy dish. It's totally communal, though, so don't try to ding that as another bad thing on my Karma. Understand? I'm allowed a Werthers, dude.

 

Anyway, what I need you to understand is that this is a perfect storm. PERFECT STORM. In case you haven't noticed, Mr Allocator of Good Things, you haven't really shown me too much love lately. I'm getting by. I'm fine. I'm just saying, and take this as you will, that I have honestly not been happier in my lifetime than I was for the four days I spent at the Rothbury Music Festival in 2009.

 

It was pure, unadulterated, foggy, frolic-y bliss. For a complete four days. Even when I locked my keys in my car and the little guy on the golf cart had to come and find me amid the crowd and break me back in for 60 dollars. EVEN THAT PART WAS AWESOME. Seriously, how the fuck did that guy find me? I looked like every other 22 year old that was four days unbathed, sun soaked, musically satisfied, and essentially an urchin. Yet, It just worked out.

 

And then what did you do? You took Rothbury away from the entire world after that. COME ON. Come on. One more: COME. THE. FUCK. ON.

 

UGH.

 

I"m still pissed about it.

 

 

So this is what I need. I need this to just work out.

 

I'm willing to do my part. I promise. Those $1 frozen meals? Consider that an every day thing now. I promise, no more sushi for lunch during the work week. Fine, no pizza slip-ups either. Happy? I will no longer enjoy my lunch hour for the next three months of my life. For Sasquatch.

 

Not enough, you say?

 

Fine, no more frivolous beauty product purchases either. (Thank G I paid for my monthly Birchbox for the entire year already.) Because I'm for real here.  I won't even tempt myself with Ulta. Or Sephora. I'll buy the $6 shampoo. Oh my god. I swear I will buy the $6 conditioner too.

 

That's how serious I am.

 

What? More?

 

Fine.

 

I won't buy a single book. I'm getting shaky here, so bear with me. I WILL. READ. ONLY. LIBRARY. BOOKS. You know I hate it when I can't write in the margins. It literally grates against my soul. I guess this means no more movie theater trips too. No more popcorn. I can taste it's buttery goodness as I type this, that is how strong my sensory pull is to movie theater popcorn.

 

You want more than a financial sacrifice?

 

Fine.

 

I'm not even mad.

 

I've resigned myself to the idea that I will live an existence void of joy for the next three months if it means I will attend this four day festival. But more than that, I will actively attempt to do things that will make those I care about happier.

 

Yes, I will willingly watch sport events with Matt and actively engage in fanfare instead of sitting next to him on pinterest.  I will scratch that place on the back of his neck almost constantly just because I know he enjoys it. Hally will be the most-walked dog in the neighborhood. I WILL PUT AWAY MY CURLING IRON IN THE MORNING. I promise, man, I'll clean up the kitchen more.

 

I'll let more semi trucks merge in front of me. I'll refill the paper towel roll at work and replenish the plastic forks. I'll make a legit effort to stop cursing in front of my 11 year old brother. I'll make myself quit picking at my split ends. I'll stop tricking Matt into telling me I am the hottest woman he's ever met. Ok, sorry, forget the last thing. BUT, I will call people back! I'll listen to my voicemails! All 45 of them!

 

I will scrape every last cent together. I will wear my broken glasses instead of ordering a new pair. I will reaaaaaally try not to order a 4s despite the fact that I've had my current piece of shit phone for two years and the speaker blows out every time I'm midway through a conversation with someone slash when I'm trying to chill out to Pandora at work. Yes, I'm aware Spotify is the cool thing now.

 

I WILL SWITCH TO SPOTIFY. OR NOT! WHATEVER YOU WANT!

 

Just please, please. Get me to Portland on May 24th. Jessica will no longer live there in a year and so if I don't go this year the opportunity will have passed!

 

I'm not being dramatic.

 

Other than a healthy niece/nephew and an end to world hunger/fighting/disease/lack of puppies, this is literally ALL I WANT. You have no idea how hard it was for me to say that! I mean, my phone really is dying. I seriously need a new one.

 

 

So please, just this once, do me this solid.

 

Let me make it to Sasquatch. Let my mind be blown.

 

I promise I'll be a better person.

token mildly-offensive religion post.

Sometimes when I am asked, put on the spot, curiously inquired "What do you believe in?" I don't know what to say.

Partially, probably, because on any given day I am not really sure exactly what it is that I believe in.

Is this is question of faith? Of God? Of specifically what I DO to insert myself into a group of people who do the same things, which gives us an identity in this portion of our lives? Is this even about God? About finding common ground? Another manifestation of the fact that we're social creatures? Or is this all a quest for some type of serene knowledge?

Am I part of the safety that comes with numbers? Am I naive enough to claim I know the all or nothing of this great debate? Do I love freedom enough? Because don't you dare question my love of freedom.


AMIRIGHT?!

I just don't know.

Not for lack of introspective thought on the topic, let me assure you. Even when no one asks me the question, I ask it of myself.

Come on! What do you believe in, Sara?

There are obvious answers. I believe in post-it notes, for instance. I am very faithful to my relationship with them. I keep them with me almost constantly. I overuse them if possible. I utilize them to keep me on track, organized, to remind me of things too important to simply file away in my mind. I believe in post it notes because they keep things in the forefront. Because they work for me.

There are the less tangibles. I believe in saying 'I love you" every single time I hang up the phone with someone in my life that I love. Perhaps it is fear that drives this along, just like religion for some, knowing it could possibly be the last phrase I say to my loved one, the last chance I get to set the record straight. Love you. When I stop myself from saying it, it weighs on me until I talk to the person again. I believe in saying 'I love you,' even if it's based on superstition, especially if it's not at the end of a lengthy, pour-your heart out conversation, and again, especially if it is, too. I'm sentimental, I believe in sentiment, in 'I love you's.'

But it only grows from there. What else do I believe in? The power of love? The changes that come with time? Evolution? The New Testament?

Am I a Christian?

What kind?

How do I feel about Jesus?

Do I even believe in God?

Of course I believe in God.

Right?

I was raised Catholic, as were many of my friends. What a trip that was. I mean, when you roll with the Catholic crowd, you get some real crazies. Devoted folk too, but damn, crazy. I'm confirmed Catholic, which means I basically signed a blood oath to remain faithful to their ideals and do all their shit and no one else's for the rest of my life. Okay not really, and not a blood oath, but you know, at 15 they told me I was an adult in the eyes of the church and basically I didn't feel any different except that no one else was going to let me be an adult for like three more years. I jumped on that ship right quick, and since I do things all the way or not all all, I started leading youth group and doing bible study.

I loved that shit. I spent more time at church in my final two years of high school than I plan to for the rest of my life. I learned a lot in a general sense, and I learned a lot about Catholicism. And then I got to college and fell in love with my own freedom and actually being a quasi-adult and boom, all of the sudden my path wasn't on the road to righteousness... I was on the fast track to feminism and left-wing politics.

I'm not trying to bash Catholicism. I honestly feel like it's one of the least social-climby branches of Christianity out there and I love feeling like a part of something when I go back. Also, I have so much love in my heart for tradition, as nontraditional as I can be at times, and so many people I love the most in life are Catholic.

But I'm not exactly a practicing member anymore.

Religion is about more than knowing when to sit and kneel, the words of the chants, wishing those around you 'peace' mid-mass. For some, maybe that's all it is, to be a part of something bigger and feel comfort in knowing all the cues in weekly one-hour doses. It's just not enough for me. Because there are some things that I just CANNOT get on board with, and they pretty much cancel out the joy of feeling like I belong as a part of something.

 One of many of these issues (and I mean many, but for the sake of this being a blog post and not a book, we're going to talk about one very well known one) is the fact that we're not supposed to be cool with birth control or abortion. And I'm thinking to myself..... right. I guess it's the pull out and pray method then? I mean, I know that we're supposed to be forced into celibacy or a life of shame, but man, get real first of all and stop trying to scare me straight second of all.

Not really going to work to today's world.

I mean, I love you Jesus, really I do, but the whole immaculate conception story is really only going to work once and I've got living grandparents I'm trying not to shame and a bad case of the "I'm-in-no-condition-to-be-a-fit-mothers."

Don't get me wrong, I think it's wonderful when people have babies, even when they're not married first. My sister got pregnant four months before her wedding! Now we're all baby crazy! I'm going to be an aunt! I can't wait to squeeze the shit out of that little bundle of joy and teach it to say 'diahrea' before 'daddy' and spoil the everloving shit out of it! Look how accepting I am! YAY!

But I also believe in making the right choices for your body and mind to forge a path toward the happiness we're all desperately (some less desperately than others, assholes) pursuing... and damn, I don't think even I could spin a baby to my advantage right now.

This is life. It's basically the ultimate fight to the death cage match. Earth being the cage. I know, big cage, right? There are no fucking maps or strategies and we're all basically the blind and the blind leading the blind, so you know what, yes, I'm going to take any route/shortcut that will even TRY to make this journey easier. You can call me lazy, but come the fuck on, who is anyone to judge another person's choices in a fight to the death?

HOWEVER, I do believe in this idea of a higher being. Of something greater. Of a reason that we have faith. A reason for faith. Something that can't be explained with words or logic or complex equations.


Trippy, right? Damn right, it's the ultimate trip.

I also believe in an equal playing field and treating people with respect and kindness. I believe that there have been some wise, wise people in our past and even now that have had these lasting ideas that stuck and we all have so much to learn from them. But not everything- so much does not equal everything. No one is all knowing. Except God, maybe. I don't know. That's the point! No one knows! *(#&$*&#$!!!!

I also believe in making the choice that works for you. Not the easy choice, not the wahhhh-I-don't-feel-like-getting-out-of-bed-on-Sunday choice, but the decision to say, "Look, I get it, this is how you feel close to God and I respect that, I respect the validation that comes with ritual and gathering among people that hold the same beliefs and and would never try to deny you from doing what makes sense to you, what makes your soul feel peace." Because that's a beautiful thing for those that want it. And those that don't, psh, I'm cool with you too because to take a stand like that requires some guts and some heart as well. 

But I'm fully committed to finding what makes my soul feel peace. It's not comfortable, not knowing. Floating around and always kind of looking for something that makes enough sense to commit to. I haven't found it yet. I haven't found what makes sense fully and completely to my heart. When I do, I'll know, and I have faith that I will.

For now, just feeling that curiosity and desire sustains my faith that it is out there.

So maybe I don't always know what it is I believe in. But I do believe that it's different for everyone, and I will thank God for that.

stuck.

Sorry about the lack of posting and all.

 

I've just been tearing through every word Tana French has ever written (that I can feasibly get my hands on) and doing everything I possibly can to avoid tackling the ever-growing mountain of my clothes piling up on the bedroom floor since Manfriend and I kicked Hally out of the master bedroom and moved our stuff in.

 

Yeah, we were sleeping in the tiny second bedroom. It's a long story. The fact of the matter is that the closets aren't switched over yet, and hopefully I'll get a gust of energy this week that forces me to take care of it. I'm not a betting woman, either way.

 

In an effort to keep the restlessness bubbling up inside me from boiling over and scorching everything in sight, I've been a flurry of nesting and thrifting and antiquing. It's getting expensive, but I'll fill your head with another empty promise of pictures soon. Pictures, soon. I promise. I'm trying. It's just that we don't exactly have internet right now. Yes, we have satellite, but no internet. I have to go back to casa del parentals for that kind of luxury.

 

We DO have a washer and dryer now, though!!!!!!!! YAY DOMESTIC THINGS.

 

 

I don't cook.  

 

The meat and potatoes of it is that I feel weird. Yes, I always feel weird, but I guess I feel weirdly off.

 

 

Not long ago, I felt like I couldn't go one night a week without seeing one of my girlfriends for one reason or another. Impromptu cook-outs, a quick drink after work, a jog or a trip to the store- it seemed like there was always a posse around.

 

 

Not anymore.

 

 

Now, it's official.

 

 

Erin and I are the only two left in this city, including the greater outlying area, and to be honest I never imagined I'd be one of the last two standing.

 

I've got a gal pal in Korea, one in Kenya, two gone to the east coast and even more that have shipped out west. We're spreading, exactly what I always expected to happen with any group of friends I made. I've always been ready and willing to deploy the shards of my heart to all the corners of the world in the name of a grand adventure for the ones I love, and now it's happened in spades and I don't quite feel like myself.

 

I'm grateful to be able to surround myself (even at the distance) with women who aren't just unafraid to pack a bag and raise their face to the breeze and set off to wherever the destination may be, but who crave it. I wouldn't have it any other way. But for me this time, watching it all happen and knowing I'm staying here, for however long it turns out to be until it's my turn for another grand run of the adventure track, just seems however TOO long.

 

Sure I can plan trips wherever, a weekend in Chicago, a few days back in the old college town, even a week in a place I've never been, but for me there's nothing as scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs wonderful as the rush of adrenaline that comes with watching everything you built your life around fade into the scenery. Those terrifying moments where the line between 'Too late to turn back now' and 'I could totally pretend I never really planned on doing this in the first place if I wanted to' start blurring into each other and in the back of your mind you can just see yourself falling. It's the moment when you're far enough away that suddenly everything coming into focus holds the immeasurable potential to shape the whole next segment of your life. Could this be the destination for this new adventure?

 

I can just see myself at that stage. Gas-station sunglasses, friendly-fighting with Manfriend over who has to eat the orange and green gummy worms, daring him to eat all the sugar at the bottom of the bag. My hand reaches out for the volume knob and I give him a devilish grin as I crank it up much higher than he deems necessary. It doesn't matter where we're going, we're on our way. Happy.

 

I'm not sulking, really I'm not. I know my chance will come whether it takes another 200 fitful nights of sleep or 20.

 

But it doesn't change the fact that it's simply not today, and that I'm the one who's been left this time with the usual, the routine, the familiar- and they're the one's who are getting the opportunity to have their minds blown wide-open with new.

 

Be back sooner than later.

 

XO Sare

 

the way we were.

Mary, Mary, Mary.

She's the lady I can't seem to get off my mind, the long-lost friend from yesterday.

There are a precious few people I've met in my life who require absolutely zero discerning self-adjustment in the delightfully uninhibited category. As it sometimes is with important people in my life, I met Mary at the absolute. perfect. time. Just when I needed her. Everything came easily.

We met on Drama Island, Summer #1.

It looks like it wouldn't destroy your life and self-worth, but it does.

Someone I knew up on Drama Island once said in a drunken ramble that everyone who works up there during the summer is running away from something, and I think that's probably true. It works well for people like me, because it gives you the absolute best and absolute worst times of your life, and I SUCK at moderation. What was I running away from? That's perfect material for another post, at a later time.

Mary and I were dating/trying to score free meals off of/getting drunk and making out with two guys who happened to be best friends. We got thrown together and the guys eventually got thrown to the side. They were losers, we were ARE much better off.

In a resounding blast that's blurred with late night lake swims, fountains of vod, aimless road trips, and the ability to successfully create a two-person scene, Mary and I grew thisclose. Almost instantly. She kept me sane and encouraged me to get a little crazy. I never felt self conscious or bad-weird about myself with Mary. She was unabashedly non-domestic, stylistically fabulous, occasionally socially awkward, and exceptionally smart. The Betty to my Veronica.

After that first summer and the following year and the next Summer for Drama Island: Round Two,  Mary and I were thick as theives. She was genuinely my most honest and reliable sounding board at that time in my life, she always made herself available. When we weren't geographically close, we'd send greeting cards like we owned stock in Hallmark. I graduated from college, when she still had a year left. She always had something to laugh about or a reason we should slam back a few more shots, or the time to get in her car in the middle of the night to drive down to hell-Kentucky where I was working, to find me wedged between the toilet and bathtub of my hotel room, in my underwear, just staring off into space with my body all clenched up in my own arms, to force me to take a pregnancy test (NEG, WHEW) after a particularly reckless and terrible decision following the most henious post-breakup period of my life.

She was my friend. A great friend. We were there for each other. We made each other shine and helped buff out the dents and dings that life had thrown. Stories were shared and plentiful. The hard to express, less-happy moments, of the first sting of childhood disappointment and even her fear of how a future love might propose.

"Mary, Marry me?"

"Marry me, Mary!"

Bahahaha.

Every time we saw each other, we ended up at Bob Evans the next morning to suss it all out. From our issues with our mothers, to how godawfulterrible Bride Wars was, and how much our credit cards couldn't handle another trip to Nordstrom-  and we always ordered the same thing. I could still order for her: Egg white omelet with spinach, tomatos, and mushrooms. Dry wheat toast. Coffee, side of skim milk. Me: Omelet with bacon and as much cheese as you can give me. With a side of Bacon. Sour dough toast, extra butter. She is slightly more health-conscious. After the meal, whomever's turn it was to pay would buy a Pez dispenser and a rock candy. Pez for her, rock candy for me. Little traditions popped out of everything.

Until it started breaking down, little by little.

When two people grow to trust and let each other in, and then depend on each other so quickly, it's easy to miss the blurry line between 'support system' and 'enabler.' It's already a fairly fine line, in my opinion. Mary and I both went through rough stuff. Typically boy drama, post college, Drama Islands wrecking our sense of reality, normal, growing-up kind of stuff.

And we enabled each other's misery.

It's hard for me to say that because it was almost impossible for me to see when I was in it. We supported each other in the only way we knew how- it usually involved reassuring the other one that she was justified in her choices, like drinking an entire bottle of wine while reading every fbook message correspondance between she/me and the Worst Ex in History. We both had them. Calls became less frequent. We had a hard time making it out to see each other. Stuff gets in the way. I let it. She let it. I grew tired of hearing her bitch about the people closest to her and worried she was venting about me behind my back. She grew tired of my constant boy drama and busted self-confidence.

I think becoming best friends with a person virtually overnight takes its toll sometimes- even someone as kindred as Mary was to me-  Not that you grow tired of the person or the friendship, but the rest of your life eventually catches up and refuses to be ignored. That happened.

We were still close, but also incredibly stressed and caught up in the bullshit of everyday living and growing up. Things were strained. Mary went back against my protests for Drama Island: Round three. In a weird turn of events we both ended up living in Chicago in the Fall of 2009. I was coming off a job-loss and she was moving in with her boyfriend who was in grad school there. I was thrilled.

And then we didn't see each other.

Or talk.

The last time I saw her was Halloween of that year. I had incredible energy that night, I remember it clearly. As I was getting my costume together and preparing for a night on the town with a group of my favorite people, I felt better than I had in such a long time. I looked good, I knew it. Walking around I had that bounce that comes after great sex or an exceedingly good hair day. I was ready to take on the world head-first.

Mary and her beau showed up two hours later than expected and left after an hour, something about train schedules.

I was pissed and I let her know. Of course I did it tastefully, in front of a group of people on the street, sloppily drunk and dressed as a gypsy flower-child. I always like to keep it classy. I may have also taken that chance to let her know that I felt she'd been neglecting our friendship and I felt she was constantly fixating on the negative and I was willing to help her find solutions and take action, but I would no longer stew with her about things she'd done nothing to fix.

END SCENE!

I proceeded to get super drunk and have a great time after she left.

And then I got a facebook message from her a few days later. I don't even really remember what it said, although I can recall one line VERY clearly.

"I need this to be a low-maintenance friendship."

Um, what? hubbbbbababababababa? I'm sitting on the couch of my fun and adorable Chicago city apartment, pulling out my hair. Suddenly I itch. All over. My hair is still wet from the shower. I had the sudden need to go stretch my legs, get out, walk away from what I'm reading.

CONFUSION.

This was NOT how we rolled. I was blindsided by this, so I did what any mature adult woman would in that situation. I screamed "THAT BITCH!" and defriended her on facebook. And then I waited for her to call me.

Only she never did.

And neither did I.

Did I mention that we're both unbudgibly stubborn? Yes, I'm fully aware that I just made up that word. Regardless, we're both STUPID stubborn. We don't budge.

And so I guess we both moved on with our lives because we had to, but I still feel guilty, that pang when I think about a friendship that should have been fought for. That's my most failed friendship and perhaps my biggest blunder.

I guess I've got a serious question looming when I consider contacting her to make amends. We met at exactly the right time, the chemistry was just there. Now though, it's been a year and a half since we last spoke. She's gone through MAJOR changes from what I've heard. So have I.  I just don't know if lightning can strike twice in the same place on this one.

But, one can hope, because we had one hell of a time the first go-around.



Marebear and Sarebear: Vacation 2009. We have fantastic leg genes. My teeth are not always this gigantic.  



XO Sare

circumstance.

You know what's a annoying as shit? People who are all "Change your life!!!"


"Be the person you want to be!"




"YOU ARE THE MASTER OF YOUR OWN DESTINY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1111111oneoneoneoeoeneomgfuckyuou."


NO, OMG, fuck YOU.




Because life lessons are incredibly fucking easy to hand out when using other people's words and failing to take into account the circumstances in life.




Circumstances are a big damn dick in my ass.




Because they prevent a complete transformation of current life to a life that feels like riding a unicorn across a magical forest while simultaneously eating a handful of perfectly cooked bacon that actually makes you LOSE WEIGHT, from happening over night. Those circumstances, they complicate things, and make it all messy, and in all honesty, make actually seeking out change a bit more frightening.




While I've taken this new optimism, trust the universe, act like a person tripping their balls off at a Dead concert feels stance, I've come to realize something.


It's true, I've got to make the changes in order to get to the reality I want to see for myself, because not only does no one else have as much invested in my own happiness, but because no one else really has the foggiest idea what will get me there. It's a one woman shit show. I'm driving the tour bus, headlining the concert, getting rowdy in the lawn, and sneaking backstage to get baked with the band.


Which, as awesome as all of those roles sound...........work, man.


SO MUCH WORK.


One person doing all that work... takes a while. Like, more than a little while. NOT ALL AT ONCE THE WAY I LIKE THINGS BECAUSE I'M GODDAMN IMPATIENT BECAUSE WE LIVE IN A ME ME ME, NOW NOW NOW, society. 


Annoying.






Which is why I've made a not-so-startling realization that startled the shit outta me.




I'm never going to wake up one morning and have the perfect life and get that AHA moment.






...And also, I don't really want it.






I guess I always knew that happiness is more than just not hating your job and making enough  money and being loved and being healthy and shit. Which whatever, I mean it would make happiness more attainable to a lot more people there was a destination or something. 


But shit, this whole being a more content person thing, it requires that you take a different attitude about what you've got to work with NOW. Instead of taking a mental shit all over the circumstances that you feel are holding everything up, sometimes you've got to just think to yourself, "This is what I have to work with right now, I've got to do what I can RIGHT NOW and make sure I'm not letting myself be miserable RIGHT NOW and check off the little things that lead up to the big things on my to-do list."




Which, takes a WHOLE LOT of mental will-power and strength of spirit when you realize that you will turn 25 years old this summer and, wait for it, will be living with your parents again when that quarter-life crisis date rolls around.




Hopefully, for the last time. Here's the thing. I'm okay with this, promise. I mean, I do currently reside in a badass house with my badass friends and you know, enjoy certain freedoms. Like sleeping with Manfriend regularly... and stuff. However, I'm choosing to spin this to the positive for myself. It's true. I can pay for an apartment, I make enough money. But, I'll never get out of debt this way, I can't afford it. This way, with this new plan, I will pay enormous chunks of money every month and be out of debt in (let's all hope really hard) SIX MONTHS.


And you know what would make happiness so much easier for me? Not carrying around thousands in debt. In eight months, I can pay off my car, my credit cards, everything I owe to ANYONE.




FREEDOM.


Freedom, yeah, that could definitely make me happier.


So, it's a journey. And boy oh boy, I can't wait to NOT be one of those motherfuckers on facebook who's always all "I hate my job!, Is it five o'clock yet?!?!! OMG TGIF, long week!" Because, I mean, I'd like to someday value each day and not just the ones that I can get drunk on guilt-free. 


Another weekend rolls around! Cheers to rolling around! Wooohoooooo. Rave party. 




Wait, shit. There was something I wanted to do. 






OH YEAH, 


PICS!!!!!!!!

monday was the first lawn-mow of the season! admire my handy-work. 

only the strong survive. barry prevails. 

meet katherine. friend/roommate/miss fix-it. we had a fire in our backyard. in a birdbath.  spring brought the crazy, we're merely embracing it with open arms. 

stuff's growing in there!!!

we have a magnolia tree... i'm smitten. 

XO Sare.

please please please, universe.

I JUST DISCOVERED THE PERFECT JOB FOR MYSELF.

Posted on the internet, which is generally a horrible sign, but I'm not gonna let it get me down!

And I'm not saying I'm getting my hopes up, but all of my dreams will DEFINITELY be dashed if I don't get this position.


My cover letter will probably teeter on the line of "desperate" and "i'll-kick-a-kitten-if-you-do-me-this-solid-and-rescue-me-from-my-life-of-helplessness-and-boredom."

Seriously though, this opportunity was created for me.

I need it.

And yes, I'm still trying to get into grad school, but if I got this job... well, I would reconsider going. It's THAT good.

Maybe just send the universe some serious vibes. I'll be trying in earnest to make deals with a deity I'm not altogether familiar with. Thanks in advance.

XO Sara