art is emotional.




Nan and Papa in front of their soon-to-be home.

 

Friday afternoon I cut out of work early and drove the five hours Northeast to my grandparent's house, because even at twenty five, when given the option of this or nearly anything else, I'll still choose a visit to grandmother's.

We've always been close, although there have been times where a lag between us speaking grows too long and uncomfortable and requires repair.  Still, we reach out to each other to bridge the gap. Because we're family, and we have to, yes, but also because we choose each other.

When, a few years ago, they sold the lake cottage where I spent all of my childhood summers getting sunburned and running wild, I was sure I could never forgive them; I cried myself to sleep for months mourning the place that held so many of my happiest memories. Yet there I was on the day they moved into their new home, helping carry boxes down the perilous stairs and holding a hand for morale and support.

They mean so much that even the fleeting thought of them one day being taken away from me brings involuntary tears to my eyes before I squelch it and move on with my day. A reaction too powerful to really ignore despite the refusal of my stubborn mind to acknowledge the thought.

This weekend, we had a great visit. We dined and cocktailed and chatted and heart-to-hearted. It was everything I needed it to be and it always is. I didn't want to leave, but then again, I've never wanted to leave. They're my biggest fans, so interested in everything I have to say, I feel like a celebrity in their midst. They're equally as fascinating to me. I've grown fixated on asking any question that pops into my mind, determined to learn as much of them and their lives as I can. I attempt to memorize everything so that nothing will ever be lost, no matter the way time and change try to erase things.

After dinner on Friday night we wandered the eclectic downtown area of Ann Arbor, on our way to the ice cream shop as has become our tradition. They're spoiling me, but I think secretly they're partly glad for my visits as a way to excuse generous ice cream consumption. Either way, we're all winning.

We were chatting as we passed a frame shop and I mentioned a map I bought several years ago of the lake that fed my childhood, and how I'd been meaning to have it framed, but it keeps getting lost in the shuffle of life.  Try as I might not to, I always end up bring up the lake when we're together, pushing the tender place we all have on our hearts. What happened next was odd, and heartwrenching.

My papa looked down at my nan and they had a short conversation as if I wasn't even there, and then seamlessly incorporated me back in.

Papa: Nance, I think Sara should get the painting of the cottage, she's always been the one that loved it the most.

Nan: Yes, that sounds right.

Papa: How does that sound, Sara?

Me: I love the painting, of course I'd love to have it. But that's so far away, I've never even thought of it.

Papa: Well it won't be for a while, we're hanging it in the new house. We've still got some life left in us. Just, you know, when the time comes.

Me: I can't really think about that without crying.

Papa: Well, okay. Enough then.

As I am literally choking back tears. I'm just not ready for them to start divvying up their things.

The painting in question is one they had commissioned several years ago, of the cottage and my Nan's garden there in peak form, a reminder they had created for when they were spending winter or fall in their homes in Florida or Ohio.

It's a large picture and it hangs over the fireplace of their sole remaining home in a suburb of Ann Arbor, which they're now selling to move into a smaller home in a retirement community this summer, a fact that equally breaks my heart and infuriates me. I can't stand to think of them getting older and older until they'll eventually leave me.

I just can't even consider it.

They're downsizing for the move to their new, considerably smaller house, and things are being sold and claimed by my dad and his brothers. They're purging their things, and I can't help but think it one of the saddest things a person will ever do in their lives. After a lifetime of continuously, and often accidentally, accumulating all the stuff that makes a life, getting rid of it, putting it into younger hands. Letting things go.

While I'm thrilled at the prospect of having the beautiful painting, a reminder of my favorite place and of my favorite people hanging in my own home someday, I genuinely hope the day never, ever comes when it actually becomes mine.

It was an emotional weekend.

my happiest place.

things i'd like on facebook if liking things on facebook wasn't so damn uncool

-The line 'you are the smell before rain, you are the blood in my veins' from that one Brand New song that reminds me of early college. Like, before I even had an ipod, which isn't really saying much because I jumped on that train a little late, I think.


-The way Rachel Ries' voice make me want to cry and laugh and howl at the moon all at the same time when she's singing Valentine, NE.


-Really good gchat conversations that go down when my boss is basically looking over my shoulder but I'm too fast and superior at minimizing my shit for him to catch on. Oh, I'm typing fast? Must be responding to a pressing work issue.


-Driving without talking on the phone.


-Actually, not knowing where my phone is for extended periods of time. Not in the way that it's lost because I'm careless or negligent and I've dropped it or left it somewhere, but in the way that I don't need to be connected to anyone that way right now. And that's totally fine.


-Seeing my parents hold hands.


-Sliding my feet into flip flops for the drive home from work. Better yet, taking off my shoes completely and walking on grass that's still a little cooler than the air temperature because it hasn't been warmed by the sun yet. Even better yet, not wearing shoes. Period.


-The knowledge that summer is so much closer ahead of us than further behind us.


-The way it feels when I'm holding my niece and talking to her about all the stuff I'm going to teach her and all the things we're going to do and she stops crying and opens her eyes a little bit and just looks at me. Like, "Okay, tell me more."


-Planning long car rides and concert trips and canoeing adventures over glasses of bourbon.


-The excitement of realizing you have enough coins on DrawSomething to buy more colors. I swear sometimes I think the only reason I'm still playing it is the draw to get more colors.


-Mashed potatoes.


-The moment when you could easily let yourself fall down the endless hole of worry and despair about something and everything being uncertain and not having a time line about All The Important Life Events and why at 25 you're still more worried about scheduling a hair cut than going to the dentist and then you suddenly merge onto the highway and put on your sunglasses and look around and don't let yourself go there today. Because in all reality, there's not a whole lot you'd do differently. And fuck 'em if they can't take a joke.


-Noticing when I get home that my plants have grown so much since the last time I saw them. And feeling so proud.



-The routine that goes along with spending my evening reading at the park. The acquisition of a drink before I leave. The spreading of the blanket. The leaning against a tree to get into just the right position. The finding of my page. The settling in. The getting lost. The realizing it's almost dark and packing up.


-Preparing play lists for each new season.


-The building anticipation at work all day, every Friday.

I'm not always a little emo bitch.




NYE 2012

 ... really, I'm not.


Although lately you'd never know it based on all the sad-sackery I've been throwing around.


So let's bring it up a couple of notches, eh?


By the way, while writing this I'm listening to "You Shook Me All Night Long," which should make for an interesting mindset.


IT'S FRIDAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


I would add a few more exclamation points, but I think you get the point. On another side note, I was taught as a wee pup that the correct term is 'exclamation point,' yet I see people throwing around 'exclamation mark,' like, all the fucking time. I mean not all the time all the time, but you know, when it's brought up conversationally. For some reason this really chaps my ass. I'm too lazy to google the correct answer... plus I don't want to be wrong today... so fuck it. I'm just saying.


Matt's on call this weekend until next Friday morning at eight, which in reality happens every six weeks, but it feels like every other stupid weekend... so we'll be laying low. Which is fine with me because I've got a surplus of energy and four blank recently-purchased canvases sitting in my house just waiting to be made into beautiful wall-hangings. Also, at least three bottles of champagne in the crisper waiting to stimulate the creative juices, or really, just be the creative juices.


Did I mention that I paint?


Oh, sometimes I paint. Nothing spectacular. But you know, it's another expensive hobby I can't really afford, so why not?


HOLY MOLY, update on the song (ipod is on shuffle)-BEWITCHED, Cest La Vie!!!!!!! Hot DAMN things are look up. Does anyone else claim this as their one-time JAM, I personally do.


Zing!


Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, I'm tired of being miserable and lamenting the fact that I don't have as much figured out as I want to or thought I would at this point. Confusion is just another adventure, and I personally love adventure.


So come Monday, I'll maybe post something whiny and pathetic that makes you want to slap me. But you won't be able to... because this is the internet. Boom.


Enjoy the weekend, there is SO much to smile about.

going places.

Time for a break from my tawdry dating past because it's not really all that exciting and it makes me feel like a cold hearted bitch. Also thinking about it makes me realize how long I just kind of swept myself through life on the tails of everyone else's expectations. I'll probably come back to it at some point.

Instead I present you with some news.

In two weeks, I'M GOING TO MONTANA. To look at two schools and meet with some current students and professors so I can see if I think I'll be a good fit... also my best friend may live out there sooooo, win-win. I just booked my flight on Wednesday. Actually I just decided on Wednesday that I should check out these schools before I spent another 10 hours a piece on their applications.

So, thanks to the fact that my father travels four days a week, I benefit with a free flight ala frequent flyer miles.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL.

Next weekend I'm going to check out two schools in Michigan, my favorite state in the nation despite the fact that my college football allegiance will of course always remain deeply faithful to The Ohio State University. I'm allowed to love both. My heart is big enough. As I've mentioned before, I spent every summer in Northern Michigan growing up, so getting my next degree in Michgan would mean probably praciticing in Michigan and since I want to live there, it's kind of logical.

I'll actually be in Michigan anyway since my grandparents live in Ann Arbor and so my family will flock there like we're migrating toward a food source. Which, we kind of are.

All I can think about now is mashed potatos.

In conclusion, I'm finally attempting to take a step foward in my life and better my future.

Please hold your applause.

Happy weekending!

Sara

GREETINGS FROM MY COUCH

HELLO BLOGOPHERE!


So, I think I can for real for real finally say that I'm up and running with the home internet connection. 






IT IS AWESOME. 






I MAY NEVER NEED SLEEP AGAIN. 




I have so much to do. 




But really, the internet viewed not from the scope of mostly restricted websites on internet explorer is basically a vast wonderland. 




And I'm about to fall deep into the rabbit hole with my unlimited access wireless connection. 




ZING. 




I even tried to have a photo shoot with Hally for your viewing pleasure. I fully realize photos of my dog will get old, but for now the novelty hasn't worn off, so enjoy! 

She almost doesn't look like a monster and I almost don't look like it's 11pm, two hours past my bedtime, and I'm basically cracked out on internet euphoria. 

she's obsessed with me. Jesus Hally, enough on the PDA. 

Happy Weekending, I know what I'll be doing. And come Monday, when I wake up with my skin glued to the leather couch from sweat and inactivity, riddled with bed sores and my eye balls have fallen out of my face, please be gentle. 




XO Sare

sorry about the window.

So, I've got some news on the couch front!


...Which we'll go into tomorrow because today is for TODAY THINGS. Today, let me give you a little glimpse of what it is like to live in my world of mortification and awkward moments.




On Saturday, my friend Mel drove into town so that myself and another of her bridesmaids, Hannah, could pinpoint and execute the whole purchasing of the bridesmaids dress portion of the wedding. 


Originally, we were all going to take a swatch and go crazy in our own favorite shops and boutiques so our dresses would reflect our own personal style and preference. Cute, I know. However, do you know how difficult it is to find a pewter-hued dress in the middle of summer? Nearly fucking impossible. This was the second attempt at this mission for that very reason.


David's Bridal it is!


Hannah and I stroll into the store with Mel in tow and the place is teeming with people. So naturally, I grab one of every dress and make for the dressing rooms, in attack mode. We snag rooms next to each other and start throwing on dresses left and right. out of pure fate Hannah and I select the same dress and BOOM we learn that Mel's sister is also wearing that dress. OMG NOW WE ALL MATCH, PSHAWWW.


 Hannah buys a size down from her normal size and I buy a size up, even though in some strange turn of events, I tried on a size down and it fit. David's Bridal, I think I love you. Anyway, let's face it, this is a winter wedding and that's when I pack on the excess lbs, no matter how hard I'll to try to the contrary. In fact, we're talking the dreaded danger zone- the time between Thanksgiving feasting and Christmas feasting = nonstop cookies and feasting.






TA DA.... Squats forever until December!


Yeah, I really played that one well.


Anyway, we buy our dresses and scamper off to the mall to look at shoes, jewelry, etc. Lots of looking and no finding. Worst game of hide-and-seek ever. EVER.


Anyway, we're driving back to Hannah's after the mall/much needed cocktail break and we hop into Mel's car and IT IS HOT. Devil producing baby devil spawn HOT. HEAT OF A THOUSAND SUNS HOT... okay just one sun, but seriously, hot. So I roll down my window.


Harmless move, really. Just rolling down the window for some air that hasn't been trapped in a stationery heat-box for four hours while we trolled the mall.


Really bad move.


The instant I roll down my window, only about six inches, Mel whips her head in my direction, completely panic stricken, and yells "Roll that up RIGHT NOW."


Melissa doesn't panic or get upset. She calls everyone 'Punkin,' uses excessive <3's, and can make even the most tense conversations feel light and breezy.

This was panic. AND I should have known better, I'd been cautioned months ago when I drove out to visit her and rested my hand a little too close to the window control button. Uh durrrrrrr...I forgot?


So I immediately try to roll up the window. To no avail, of course. I can hear the motor working as I press the button, but the window isn't fucking moving. So naturally I try to push it up as I press the button. Again, nothing. Damn you feeble arms! Maybe I'm not trying hard enough.  I get out of the car, straddle the door, and force the window up with all of my strength.


Finally, it goes up and stays. We all give tense half-laugh of relief.


"The driver's side cost us $500 dollars to fix, so that would have been awful. Plus with the wedding and me needing a new laptop... That just would have been really bad."


Tee hee hee. Fuck. Me. I'm sweaty, my feet hurt, and I just broke something expensive that isn't mine.


After a couple of minutes the frightening window debacle is mostly forgotten and "Say My Name" comes on the radio. Oh, hello eighth grade, I've missed you. Not really, but our rendition was truly moving. And all remnants of panic and awkward are forgotten.


Say my name, SAY MY NAME! If no one is around you, say 'Baby I love you!"


Goddamn it. I look over and the window has slipped almost an inch. I don't think anyone else has noticed, so I try to shield view of it with my body and start dancing really erratically. Destiny's Child goes off and I'm now the only one dancing to some random rap song, which actually makes erratic dancing pretty natural. So far, no more slippage and we're almost back to Hannah's, where I can pull the hands-on-either-side-of-the-window bit and force it up again. This time, with more UMPH so it won't fall back down.


And then everything starts moving in slow motion. We're rounding LITERALLY the final curve before Hannah's apartment. I'm dancing with the window behind me, hoping the girls haven't noticed. We're cheers-ing our rings together like Captain Planet. I'm thisclose to cocktail hour. Smiles all around.


All of the sudden there's a huge crashing sound and I look behind me, and there is no longer a window. It has fallen COMPLETELY into the door. All of it. Bye bye window.


Obviously I start hysterically laughing because that's what I do when I don't know what else to do.

SIDENOTE: I just spilled an entire unsipped cup of coffee all over my person and my cubicle. ENTIRE CUP. Everything is sticky. My life, a comedy of errors.

Back on track, I look over a Mel, and thank the heavens, she's CRACKING UP. Turns out we both panic laugh.

The bad thing is that her fiance, Adam, (Who consequently hosted my very first college party on my very first night in the dorms) is somewhere in the mountains of New York doing fieldwork for his PHD program all summer and she doesn't have a man around to help her. He'll be back in 18 days.

I know that's pretty sexist, but I'm not trying to fix a car window, are you?

Mel was pretty cool about it, despite the fact that I've ruined her dreams of a new laptop and possibly her wedding, which means probably her whole life.  We had the wind in our hair on the way back to my house.

The next day was the first time it rained in over a month.

Insult to injury? Sorry Mel.

Awkwardly yours,

XO Sare

the art of cramming A LOT into a weekend.

Whew.






I feel battered.


Remember how I was all amped up and ready to fall out of my desk chair on Thursday because I was going camping with my friends for Memorial Day and we were going to braid each other's hair and tell spooky ghost stories around the campfire and rage on the river like total banshees?


That happened, and it was worth the stress breakouts, and we'll get to it later or tomorrow or something.




What I failed  to mention was the fact that when I got back from said camping trip with a car of damp everything, hair reeking of some inexplicable river-campfire smoke combo, and a collective good times-hangover, I had to move.




As in change address, completely pack up my possessions in their entirety and peace out.




And THAT is how I spent my free Monday off of work.


You'd think that the extensive practice I've had lugging my crap from one corner of the country to another would improve my skill and ability to move successfully, but that would be false. Alas, I am virtually inept at such things.


The truth of the matter is that I make it not a very big deal in my head so that I don't FREAK OUT and then when I'm faced with the monstrosity of the task, completely unprepared mind you, I go into warrior mode and start throwing shit into boxes, unceremoniously throwing things away, lifting and lugging things much too heavy for me, and banging my body into things in the process.


I"m strained, bruised, and so, SO sore.




Don't get me wrong, this weekend was the best kind of wonderful. I got to spend time with the ladies living off the land and preparing food over open flames. We blared music and had cocktails and all slept in the same tent. I fucking love sleepovers. I caught some sun on my shoulders and my cheeks have finally reunited with that rosy glow that only true summer sun can bring out. I got to be pampered by my ever-impressive Manfriend with a culinary masterpiece topped off with homemade dessert and a thoughtfully DVRed few episodes of Mob Wives. He even bought my favorite champagne. And willingly gave me a back rub. WITH OIL. I couldn't make this stuff up, I swear. Either that or it was an awesome and incredibly vivid sun-induced fantasy.


But, I also may or may not have forgotten which bra I was wearing when we set up camp on Friday afternoon and collapsed into my cubicle this morning only to realize I was rampant with the odor of sweat and campfire.
SICK.

Um, I moved yesterday? I have NO idea where anything is because once again I've failed to commit to living in one place and thus all my stuff is pretty much scattered anywhere I could see myself spending an odd night or two? I don't know what the word HOME even means?!!


Thankfully I was able to jet over to Meijer and purchase myself a fresh brassiere during lunch. I changed into it in the store restroom and I can safely say that I've never felt a sense of urgency to willingly place myself into a public restroom environment so strongly.

I feel better and have an entirely different outlook on life now that I don't smell like I cooked in sweat juices over a camp fire all weekend. Although, I'm now questioning the likelihood of me ever becoming an adult. You know, since I show up to work in dirty clothes now and all.

I've got one more carload to go on the moving front and I honestly will not rest until it is finished now, 95 degree record highs BE DAMNED. I'm not letting this take up any more time than is humanly possible.


I think a nice, loooooong, swim will be in order this eve. Yahtzeeeeeee.

Xo Sara










**Side note, I've recently launched a new blog. Buttttttttt, I'll probably still be writing mostly on this one. Blah blah blah- privacy and stuff. Email if you're interested and we'll get you hooked up with some underbelly that leaves my identity feeling a little more safely anonymous.

lessons learned.

WHEW.


This weekend was all sorts chalk-full with internal dramafests. I probably don't convey this accurately when I'm slinging down words for the broad expanse of internet anonymity, but I'm actually not a very emotionally expressive person in real life. Specifically regarding insecurities, sadness, disappointment, or the hug or no-hug confusion/mess when greeting/saying goodbye to most people. (Anger is one thing I DO convey well.)However, usually I'll be going through a space mountain ride of tumultuous feelings in my mind, but the external shell is pretty much impenetrable.


It's how I like it.


This weekend, not so much. What's even better, I'm having an especially tough time finding the words to express to people what I'm thinking/feeling- probably from years of practice NOT doing that very thing. So I'm working on it.

This weekend was a seemingly never-ending series of 'Let's teach Sara a life lesson!' moments.
AKA the Universe took the past few days to fuck me up with some knowledge. It was intense. Here's what I got out of it:


1. Not all things that are broken can be fixed.


I sent Mary an email on Friday morning and got a less-than-cuddly response. My expectations were low, but it was still a bitter disappointment. Mary and I have always been good about expressing ourselves to one another and this short correspondence was no exception. Her response cut me to the core and I was glad I had time for a long and punishing run to bang out some of my feelings directly following my reading of her response. Too much time has passed for her, we're too different of people and I've missed too many important events in her life. Point taken. I had this knowledge clinging to my psyche for the whole damn weekend and decided I wasn't going to tell a soul about it. Yikes.

Bottling everything up so tightly causes things to seep out in weird ways... such as:

2. Country music, even though it's not my usual musical selection, will make me involuntarily weep like none other.


It's irritating too, because it's really the only music Manfriend and I can settle on, and if I'm having a bad day, those voices and words just make my eyeballs leak. Even Elliott Smith and Bright Eyes never get me that way. Plus, I don't exactly make the hall-of-fame for graceful weepers. I don't know how, I don't cry often enough.  It's ugly and messy and mostly I get so worked up that I can't breathe, which I try to control, so my throat starts to ache and my face gets all contorted. I hate it. I've actually pondered and wished that I could expel a lone crocodile tear from one eye and let it run down my cheek perfectly until it reaches my chin and begs to be wiped off tenderly with a loving touch- but it's just not me.

Instead I get embarrassed and bitchy and all "I don't want to talk about it." And decide to go for another long and punishing run, which leads to these little knowledge bombs.

3. Don't look down!

I went to an old, familiar park about ten minutes away from my hometown Saturday afternoon to bang out some more feelings and be by myself for a while. I didn't wear a watch or let myself fixate on my shin splints. I pondered my future and my friendships and what I want. I started feeling tired and kind of shitty like someone was pulling a Tonya Harding on me, and ready to just call it good for the day. 

And then something happened.


I realized I was looking down at my blasted feet. It's Spring! The sun was making its second and final appearance of the week, and there I was. Lost in thought and watching my feet hit the ground in front of me. Worrying about getting my knees up, improving my stride. Over thinking the shit out of it.

I know how to run, I've been doing it on and off for longer than I haven't at this point. But for whatever reason, I wasn't trusting myself not to trip over my own two feet, keep a good stride. I'm like that with my feelings, too. I micro-manage every little thing and don't just trust the process. I've concentrated on growing up and maturing for so long and so desperately and vigorously that I'm almost certain I've stunted myself and my own personal growth in the meantime. There is no instruction manual for growing up, 'adult' looks different on everyone, depending on what makes you happy.

When I looked up and started noticing the trees flowering, the other people walking their dogs, the birds flying overhead, I was almost overwhelmed by it all. Running became so much easier because I wasn't fixating on it and letting it control my psyche. I looked up and trusted my own legs and admired the beauty around me, feeling a visible lift in my stride.

I brought that run in hard and almost collapsed onto the ground to stretch at the end, and then this happened:


4. Serendipity is real and people will touch your life and change you whether or not you give them permission to do so.

 I had a great run and I got done and sat beneath an old familiar tree to stretch my legs and catch my breath and down some water. As I get up to leave... my high school cross country coach rolls up on his bike. I almost shit myself. We never got along, but on Saturday, we'd both gravitated to the spot where we'd met as a team for practice once a week ten years ago.

He and I never got along because I'm me and I didn't like bed-times and rules put in place by people other than my parents... and really, even them. I was outspoken about my distaste for the way he treated us and played favorites and how much he expected of us. He once told my team of high school runners on a ride back home after a meet that we'd make terrible parents. It was a frustrating four years for both of us, we knocked heads on everything. But I'm still running. He almost forced me to join the team as a freshman and the new kid and I now realize that it saved my life. I was part of a team, I learned healthy habits, I made the best friends that I still have and currently share a home with. That man gave me an outlet for my feelings and a lifelong hobby. Up until Saturday, I never would have given him credit for any of those things. But the truth is, I still gravitate to that spot when I'm feeling weak to remind me that I'M NOT, and he helped me realize how strong I can really be.

So that man that I never really got along with is still influencing me and making an impact in my life. I hadn't seen him in seven years at least, have never run into him around town, but wouldn't it happen that I see him at the most significant place to link us on that particular day. Weirdballs. We talked for a few minutes and it was so strange for me, all of those realizations dawning that I started shaking. I cut our conversation short and drove away and thought about the person I'd be if he'd never ushered me in to that world, that community and family that comes with being part of something bigger than you can realize at the time.

And then I burst into tears like a little emo bitch, because damn, that's RAW.


Plus, I'd like to add, I was already fucking raw. So cut me some slack.

The rest of Saturday passed. Manfriend and I drove down to visit an old friend and her husband. We got back to his house late and crashed. Sunday was rainy, and perfect for moving languidly, making breakfast together and laying in bed as long as possible. I felt spent and emotionally exhausted. We drove over to visit my family for a few hours and I checked my facebook for the first time all week to discover a second message from Mary. 

DOUBLE FUCKING BONUS. 


5. You'll never get the things you want most in life until you learn how to ask for them.
6. Sometimes when people have time to think and reflect, their perception of things shifts.

Mary's second message expressed that now that she'd had time to think back on our friendship for a few days and really ruminate in the memories of how fucking fabulous we were as best friends that she decided maybe it wasn't too late for us to forge a newer friendship on top of the rubble from one we'd broken together. I say party on.

I guess I'm realizing that you have to learn how to ask for what you most want, because the worst that can happen is nothing, which is exactly where I was to start. It takes time to think rationally after emotional whiplash, people change their minds. Being rash is easy, especially for those with sharp tongues and quick minds, but letting your heart catch up to your head... that's a real challenge.

I'm glad I asked Mary to be my friend again. I'm glad I'm taking time to figure out what I want the most in every aspect and figuring out how to ask for it effectively.

So yeah, I learned a shit-ton this weekend. And as much as I appreciate it, Universe, maybe take it easy on the feelings this coming weekend.

XO Sare