Post Break-Up Update. News + Drama + Top 20 List.

I think this could be the messiest my life has ever been. But, in regards to messes, I've seen others that have been much worse (*cough* gossip girl). Thus, I don't want to complain because I know it's all going to work out. The major problem is that I am not comfortable being in the in-between. The space of unanswered questions, where I seem to be waiting, wondering, wandering, basically floating.

I've never been a floater.

Here's the story in case you've been out of town. . . when my ex and I broke up, the founder of the non-profit I work for offered her home to me to live and work in--I accepted as it worked out best for both of us--I got away from the toxic "ex" space and she got to live with me... or better yet she no longer had to pay me a salary as I got paid in room and board.

All of this was fine and dandy until OK Cupid came into our lives.

(Can I just say OK Cupid has created a lot of recent drama in my life.)

She fell in love.

Fast.

I am not one to judge the speed at which others fall in love--though I will admit to being rather bitter about "love" right now anyway, considering--but now, she is moving out of the house we were roomies in and into his house.

Leaving me in purgatory.

I don't know how long I can stay or where I should go when I am forced to leave.

So.

I quit roller derby.

I know, it's sad. I only made it to three practices, which just goes to show my commitment level to life right now is just not very high. Probably because my number one priority is not playing a game, but figuring out my reality.

Instead of actually sitting down and figuring out my reality I've been choosing distraction, usually in the form of food and television. I'm pretty sure I've finally gained back all the weight I lost during the break-up, which is rather sad considering I could fit into skinny jeans rather well. (I'll fast after the holiday.)

Anyhoo, so at this point in my life I could essentially go anywhere and do (almost) anything. This has never happened. I have always had a plan. Life without a plan is frightening. Debilitating. Long and short at the same time.

Here are some of my options:

1) Move to Denver and stay working for the non-profit/ find a supplemental job.

2) Move somewhere in Boulder and keep on keeping on.

3) Search the entire country for new jobs and move to one of those.

4) Put all my shit in storage and couch-surf around the country.

5) Move to South America.

6) Find a sugar daddy (mommy).

7) Occupy

8) No, mom, I will not move back in with you.

9) Find a witch and have her turn me into a cat.

10) Find a witch and have her put a wealth spell on me so I win the lottery (yeah, even if I don't buy a ticket)

11) Buy a lottery ticket.

12) Find someone driving somewhere, catch a ride and disappear.

13) Rent a room from someone.

14) Eat more pie.

15) Start doing lots of drugs.

16) Become a prostitute.

17) Ride a horse off into the sunset.

18) Find a psychic and have her tell me what's in store.

19) Pretend I have some sort of addiction and go to rehab.

20) Jump trains for days.

Having a Chat With My High School Self.

Sometimes I wonder if I was intuitively smarter or more honest with myself, and life in general, when I was younger. Or if I just didn’t get it.

For example, while packing up my stuff I came across this picture of me back in high school. I was wearing a shirt that on the front said, “Boy Troubles?” and on the back said, “Just Dump Him.” Now, that seems easy enough right? It seems like a smart solution.

Trouble. Solved.

But I’m pretty sure I bought that shirt before “love” entered the picture. And love just completely fucks things up now doesn’t it?

Not that it’s bad—all the time—just that it changes one’s perceptions of reality.

I woke up this morning, not too long ago, and realized that last night was the last time I’d sleep in my bed in this apartment. (And the last time I’d sleep in my own bed for a few months too).

I realized how much work lay ahead of me—not just the general packing up of all my shit (and there is a lot of shit), but emotional work. The working of “getting over it.”

And it is rather annoying—all of it.

I’m tired of being nice about it. I’m tired of being P.C. I’m tired of doing all the work.

But, I guess that’s just the way it will be. Soon I won’t be tired anymore because it will all be over. Yay!

A part of me does wish for those youthful simple solutions. Non-complications. But I wouldn't have really grown much as a human if that's how I approached life (and men); and acting like a 16 year old when I'm 26 doesn't seem fair to anyone including myself.

Sandra Cisneros says something like, when you're five you're still four, you're still three, two, one. You are all of those experiences. So maybe having a little bit of my 16-year-old self shine through occasionally isn't so bad--as long as it's the carefree, strong-headed part.

(I'll throw in a bit of my 5-year-old self too cause dancing in costume is always fun)

To troubles solved and new beginnings.