My Mumbling Thoughts

There's a cricket that lives right outside of my bedroom window and it makes that annoying chirping noise from 10pm every night until I wake up at 4am. Little fucker. He never shuts up. The first thing I think of whenever I wake up now is, "will he ever die?" The second thing I think of is, "doesn't he get tired?"

**

Today is Momma's birthday but we celebrated yesterday since she's a freakish workaholic who decided to come in and go to meetings instead of sleep in and eat birthday cake for breakfast. She celebrated in style by buying a new car. Yeah, it was about time that she got rid of The Boat. Mel and I hated that fucking car. It was far too big and, in my opinion, hideous.

It was a really good experience all around. The salesman who we worked with was awesome and looked just like Tommy Chong off of That 70's Show. It was as if he had walked out of the television and straight on to the car lot. Mel and I called him Leo, even though his name is Bruce, but he didn't mind too much. He even knew who we were talking about when we said that he looked like someone famous.

Leo: "Yeah, I get that a lot. Tommy Chong and I are like brothers, you know?"

I test drove the Passat with everyone in the car, but the second time when I drove the Jetta, Leo let Mel and I go out by ourselves. Unfortunately it was running extremely low on gas, so we didn't get to go out as far as we'd like to, but it was still pretty cool. I think I know what my next car is going to be after I pay off the car that I have now.

Since they didn't have the car that Momma wanted on the lot, they have to ship it in and we'll pick it up this weekend. Until then, the manager said that if we wanted, we could drive a Jetta until it arrived. How cool are they?! We'll be trading Momma's car in this afternoon and for the entire week we'll get to drive around in a rental until the new baby arrives. They are my new best friends.

**

I have a sick addiction to The Hills. Yes, I'll admit it. Yesterday I watched the marathon that was playing and cannot wait until Wednesday for the season finale. Will she stay with Jason? Will she go to Paris? I'm telling you now, she better pick Paris. If she decides to stay just so she can be treated like shit by Jason in their little beach house, I'm going to be pissed. Boys will come and go, but an internship in Paris is a once in a lifetime thing.

If you have no idea what I'm babbling on about, that's okay. It's really not that important, but I just thought I'd share how much I love "reality" TV. Kids who live the fancy life but still have real situational problems Just. Like. Me. I can relate on a certain level when it comes to a few things. There are, however, moments when I want to throw something at the TV screen because I'm green with envy. Things like when Heidi gets a new puppy for Christmas. I want a puppy.

**

On Saturday, after I woke up from a five hour nap, I hopped in my car, bought some KFC and peanut butter M&Ms. For twenty whole minutues, my life was complete.

Posted by Sam at 08:46 AM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

"Okay, Emily. I think we know each other well enough to where I can be perfectly blunt with you."

We were sitting at our regular table at Longhorn, enjoying our last lunch together for a while.

"Should I be frightened?" she took a sip from her Diet Coke.

"I should hope not. So. Tell me, dear. Are you and Brett planning on getting married?"

"What?! No! Goodness no."

A wave of relief rinsed over me.

"Thank you, lord."

**

These days, whenever I turn around, it seems like I'm bumping into a new bride-to-be. They're everywhere! And if it's not a newly engaged woman, it's another woman who is unhappy in her marriage, or is in the middle of a long and drawn out divorce. I'm not sure if it's all the heat that has been getting to everyone's heads, but lately marriage, or the break downs of marriages, have been a hot topic for me for the past couple of weeks.

It's no secret that I'm not a fan of marriage. I don't think that there's anything wrong with it, and perhaps in a perfect world it would be ideal for everyone to be married, but as we all know, nothing is perfect and sometimes, shit happens.

I was taught at a very young age that marriage is one of the holiest unions between two people. When you get married, you get married for life and that’s it. There will be no divorce. Ever. The person that you say those vows to is the person that you’re going to be living with until you die, so you better make damn sure that you really love them and mean every single word that comes out of your mouth with every fiber of your being. If you have any doubts whatsoever, you might want to reconsider who it is that’s standing next to you at the alter.

What people never really took into consideration when teaching me all of this is, people change. It’s plain and simple. I know for a fact that I’m still not the same person I was five years ago. I also know that I’ve still got TONS of changing to do in the future. People grow, things change, life moves forward. It’s just how things are.

Momma divorced our dad, and after that we were taught that it’s okay to live with someone and not be married. You can still have a healthy, caring, normal and loving relationship without taking that trip down the aisle dressed all in white. Why tie yourself down when you aren’t guaranteed a happily ever after?

Now that I'm older, I've formed my own views on marriage, and my take on it is any man who can wrestle me down to the alter deserves a medal. It's not going to be an easy trip, that's for sure.

When I look at today's statistics and the average divorce rate, I wonder why people decide to jump so quickly at tying the knot. Whatever happened to romance? What about simply enjoying someone's company? What about smelling the roses and savoring life? These days marriage seems to be so commercial, what with all of the reality TV shows that are cashing in on holy matrimony. It seems like something for people to do on a weekend when they're bored and have nothing else better to do.

"Mmm...I'm bored. What do you want to do?"

"I don't know. What do you want to do?"

"Wanna get married?"

"Sure!"

Call me old fashioned, but if I ever do make that walk down the aisle, I'm going to be 100% sure that I want to be with that person forever. And it won't be an easy cake walk. Marriage a very serious thing to me and I won't get married to just anyone, you know? I know how shitty (and pricey) divorces can be. I never want to go through that.

I like to look at it as an obstacle course, with me as the prize at the end. Every guy that I've been with has been a contestant and I'm constantly throwing one obstacle after another at him. If he passes all of the tests then he wins. Well, we both win. I like to think that I'm doing each of us a huge favor too. I know for a fact that I'm not one of the easiest people to get along with, let alone live with around the clock. I want to make sure that he's not only kind hearted and romantic, but that he'll also be able to stand me when I get into one of My Moods. Sometimes it can seem like I've got multiple personalities and he'll have to understand that I'm not always psychotic. It's just a phase.

It's not only my concerns about actually living with another person for the rest of my life and, MY GOD, will he still think the same of me when he first sees me without my make-up? I want to be sure, inside and out that we'll be able to withstand the test of time. We'll both be equals who walks together and can make any needed adjustments whenever there are growing pains. I know eventually I can handle the fact that there will be a time when I'll have to break down and show that yes, even I clip my toenails, but for the most part, I don't want there to be any question marks floating around when it comes to the person that I'll be sharing my life with. I think that gives me a damn good reason to be as picky as I need to be.

**

"Twenty-five is the earliest I'll even consider marriage," Emily told me after we had paid for our food.

"That seems like a reasonable age. I'm not sure if I have a specific number. If it happens, it happens. I'm leaving my options open."

"There are just so many things that I want to do before I settle down in a house to raise kids."

"Exactly. We're young women who are just now beginning our lives. Why deal with all of the additional stress of marriage? We should be having fun first."

"Here's to not being married," she raised her glass.

"To not being married."

We tapped our glasses and left to go back to work.

Posted by Sam at 10:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

Momma: "Did you hear on the news about that guy who was out jogging one morning and got hit by a dear?"

Me: "See, that's precisely why I don't exercise."

Posted by Sam at 08:30 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

This weekend was a nice mini vacation for me. Mendy and I had some much needed girl therapy Saturday afternoon right on into Sunday. It was time that was spent getting giggly-tipsy off of bitch drinks and then relaxing on Sunday at Lake Anna. Nothing gets better than that. Nothing.

As I was lying on the sand, roasting under the sun and getting ready to doze off into my first nap of the day, I overheard these two lifeguards talking about random shit that people talk about when they're on the job and waiting for their eight hours to finish up so they could clock out.

Lifeguard 1: "So like, I was watching this thing online, right, about this six-year-old boy who was at the zoo and fell into the thing that they keep the gorillas in, you know? Not the cage, but like, the thing that looks like where they would really live if they were out in the wild. Anyway, he falls in right before they let the gorillas outside and everyone's freaking out because he hit his head and was knocked unconscious. So like, the gorillas are out, walking around, his mom's crying and screaming, and everyone's freaked because they don't know how the gorillas are going to react. I mean, you just don't know how animals are going to react. - Screaming at kids in the lake - GET OFF THE ROPES!! Anyway, so like, the big, main gorilla walks up to the little boy and sits down next to him when the little boy finally wakes up and starts crying, because, hello, there's a giant gorilla looking down at him. I mean, shit, you'd start crying too if that was the first thing you saw when you woke up. Anyway, the parents are freaking, the zoo keepers are freaking, everyone's freaking. That's when the gorilla starts petting the little boy. Like, really petting him on the back. Once the little boy stops crying, the gorilla scoops him up and cradles him like a baby. I shit you not. I totally saw it on tape. It was crazy."

Lifeguard 2: "Oh my god. Animals totally have souls."

Lifeguard 1: "I know, right?"

This is who we'd depend on heaven forbid somebody needed CPR.

Aside from that, the lake was beautiful, the weather was beautiful, the hotdog I ate for lunch was beautiful. It was all so nice and comfortable that it made me want to buy a beach house even more. There's something about all of the sand and the sound of the water washing up onto land that makes me slip into a trance of complete nothing-ness. My mind shuts off and I no longer have any worries. Work? What work? I don't remember anything about work. It was just what the doctor ordered for my mental state. Even though I'm refreshed though, I could still do with another trip down there, probably on a random week day. Just because. No other reason is required.

Now that I'm out of my mind numbing state (damn), work and reality have resurfaced and sunk their claws in my back again. Although, now that my days here are quickly fading away, I've been making sure that I make myself scarce around the office. I was told to start delegating my work out to Jackie so she can get the hang of things before I leave and so that people aren't so shocked once I'm gone. It was strange to hear our PM say that, but I thought it was a good idea. Not only that, I haven't been as motivated to do my regular tasks like usual. These days my thoughts are primarily consumed with what I should and shouldn't pack in my suitcase and will I be allowed to bring two cartons of cigarettes with me? Everything else I could really care less about.

The countdown has begun and I'm looking at five weeks until I don't have to work anymore. It's exactly 50 days until I get on the airplane though, since I'm taking some time off to go to North Carolina. Last night as I was about to fall asleep, my mind started over thinking (as usual) and it was like something creeped up on me and bit me from behind. Now I realize that I'm on a clock and I've got limited time left here. Five weeks? Five weeks! Do you know what happens at five weeks? Five weeks turns into four weeks. And then four turns into three. Three obviously turns into two and before you know it there's only one week left.

One week left.

I was glad that I was laying down because it felt like I could have fainted if I were standing.

I'm doing much better today though. After a couple of deep breaths and cigarettes, I calmed myself down and decided that I'll have to take things one step at a time, just like how I've been doing all along. I'll be fine, there's no need to panic, and if things do get too crazy for me, I can always go back down to Lake Anna where I forget that I even have a life. All that matters is the sun, sand and water.

Posted by Sam at 12:55 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I come from a family who likes to talk. A lot. About everything. Not only do we talk a lot about everything, but we enjoy all of those nitty gritty details that most would find offensive or repulsing. It doesn't matter if we're in the middle of watching a TV program or eating dinner, nothing seems to bother us and we've never come across a line that shouldn't be crossed. Our problems, our thoughts, our feelings, our ideas, our troubles, our worries, our highs and lows - it's all out there to be viewed, analyzed and probed until there's nothing but dust leftover.

The thing that I've never really understood or have gotten used to, is that sometimes things just need to be left unsaid. I never take into consideration that some people simply Don't Want To Hear It. They would prefer not knowing and remain in the dark on certain subjects or events that are going on. So whenever I'm talking about something and I cross that line of Too Much Information and the person doesn't respond in the same way that the rest of my family does, I'm not sure how to handle it. I can't process or fathom that certain things or topics make people uncomfortable.

"What? You don't want to know about this? You don't want to talk about it with me for hours on end until we can no longer talk or hold our eyes open? But why?"

This past week, I did just that. I let my mouth run away with me, yet again, and gave too many details to someone who simply Did Not Want To Hear It. They ended up not talking to me for two days and then asked me why I felt so compelled to tell them this. Why?

And it's a very reasonable question. One that I feel deserves an answer. One, however, that I'm not even entirely sure how to answer, considering I don't know the answer myself. All I know, all I can figure out, all that I'm assuming what the answer might be, is it's just how I am.

Now for some that might be an acceptable answer to give. "Hey, man, it's just how I am. Deal with it, alright?" But for me and my brain that never shuts off and likes to spin things around until I'm so dizzy my eyes swirl around like those characters in crazy cartoons, it's not an acceptable answer. There has to be more. There needs to be more in order for me to feel like I have a better understanding of myself and give a proper answer to that who is asking.

If I dig way back into the Files That Are Sam's Past, then I can go back to a time when I wasn't so open with people, when I wasn't entirely honest, and when I basically lead a double life. When I was in high school, I did things that I knew Momma wouldn't approve of, but that I still wanted to experience and try out. Drugs? Did it. Smoking? Still do it. Drinking? Whenever I get around to it and find a person who is over the age of twenty-one and willing to buy for me. I skipped school, got in fights with other students, talked back to teachers and gave off this persona that was nothing but Miss Attitude. When I went back home though, it was an entirely different story. I was the perfect angel that Momma knew and loved who was a young, bright and stuidous lady that never had any interest in doing things that were "bad".

After four years of the constant pretending and the never ending lying, it became too much and I eventually had an emotional breakdown in my neighbor's dining room late one fateful Saturday evening.

As I was packing my things up and preparing to move my entire life up to Virginia, I vowed that I would never tell another lie to anyone. I would never allow myself to ever get this low, for things to get to this bad. I never wanted to look into another person's face and see the disappointment and hurt in their eyes like I saw in Momma's through my tears of guilt. It was, and still is, the worst feeling that I've ever felt my entire life.

Now in the present day, I make it a point to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Well, okay, I rationalize a lot and live on the "need to know" lifestyle, but life is a million times easier if you just tell it how it is and not have to worry about coming up with another story to cover up a story. I don't have that guilt constantly eating away at my insides leaving my wounds exposed, ready for anyone to stab. I also feel like if I tell you every single detail about my life, then I'm not lying. You can never tell me that I tried to keep information from you, because here I am, volunteering it all for everyone. It's not that I walk around with a newsletter every day informing everybody that I pass on the street on the current updates of my life, but if you want to know, I'll tell you. And not only will I tell you, but I'll actually sit you down, describe the play-by-play and say, "no, I'm not finished talking yet!" when you want to get up and walk away.

Occasionally I will bring things up in conversation though, just because I want to talk about it. I'll want to get something off of my chest and share my thoughts with you, because to me, that's how people bond and get closer. You share the good times and the bad times, you trust others with your feelings, you let them get a closer look and you allow them to feel the same things that you're feeling. It's not because I intentionally like putting my life on display and being the attention whore that I am, but it's because I want you to get a better understanding of what lies beneath my every day exterior.

And not only do I want to share everything that is me with you, but I want you to do the same with me.

Posted by Sam at 02:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

"Wait, so the green dots mean what?"

"The regular size green ones mean that it's already been touched by our team. The little dots mean that it's already been looked over and the big green dots mean that it's questionable and needs to be looked at again."

"Does it matter what color the little dots are? Because they have a lot of different colors."

"I don't think it matters."

"You don't think?"

"I don't think."

"And the red check marks?"

"That means that it has already been entered into the database."

"What about the black check marks?"

"Oh, it's the same as the red ones, her pen just ran out of ink halfway through."

"And the stuff highlighted in yellow?"

"Um, I'm not really sure. Maybe that was a different team from a couple of weeks ago."

"What do those squiggly lines mean? Wait, what do the dots mean again? Can you repeat it?"

"This sucks. Maybe we should just get new sheets."

Posted by Sam at 10:52 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

As I walked back to my car from a full day of walking (five miles) doing inventory, going over four other people's work and touching things that made me want to carry an anitbacterial lotion in my back pocket just to keep my hands feeling clean, I thought, "there has to be a better way of doing all this."

Two full days of inventory and data entry. You come out on the other end looking like you've just been mangled by a bear and I didn't understand how some people have been doing this for months. Months. Last night I gave our company fifteen hours of my life and don't have anything to show for it. My eye kept twitching and I felt like stabbing a freshly sharpened pencil straight into my eyes. Frustration level? Through the roof. Energy level? Running on fumes. Hunger? Painful.

I suppose if there's any advice that I could give anyone who wanted to run a company it would be, first you've got to hire people that you can communicate well with. If you don't have any communication then you might as well grab your jacket and head for the door because everything else will be completely pointless. The second thing would be to make sure that these people you can communicate with actually DO THEIR JOB and do it correctly the first time. If you don't do these two important and (to me) obvious things, then prepare yourself for long hours and multiple headaches.

For the first time in my short Corporate Life, I was sent over to the Customer's Site. Of course it had to also be on the two hottest days of the century when the humidity was so thick you could slice it with a knife. It was so unbearable that it was almost too hot to smoke. Almost. It didn't help any that you had to walk an entire mile just to get outside where the smoking area was and heaven forbid you light up too soon. They're very strict about where smokers are allowed to linger while on their premises. I walked around smelling like sweat, smoke and rice krispy treats, since that was the only thing that I was living off of.

By hour twelve yesterday I was on the verge of having a mental breakdown. Things weren't working properly, instructions were vague, the system was extremely sensitive and I had never done any of these things on this scale. I just wanted to go home, curl up in bed with my zero maintenance laptop and call it a fucking day.

WHO WORKS LIKE THIS?

So yeah, work has been Hell recently. I've been waking up around 3:45am, checking my regular things online quickly (having the internet sleep next to me probably isn't the healthiest thing in my life at the moment) and then proceeding to get ready to continue on slushing my way through work. If you've checked your stats and seen that some crazy person is checking your blog at 4am and lives in Virginia, that would be me. It's the only space of "free time" that I have before I have to figure out what new problems I must deal with and help assist on.

Hopefully things will resume to some kind of normal status here within the next couple of days. I really dislike being so scattered and unorganized about things. I also really dislike being around people who think that they know everything and like bossing other people around. Missy described it best yesterday when she said that we've got "too many chiefs and not enough indians." If these people would work half as much as they bitched and moaned then I'm sure our problems would be cut in half.

But that's just my opinion and I can feel that I'm beginning to slant down into a work rant which is SO not what I need to be doing right now. On my afternoon off, I think I'm going to plan on laying here in bed, eating double stuf oreos with milk and letting my ankles rest while I let the bruises from my tennis shoes that I got from walking too much start healing.

Um, yeah. I've got bruises from TENNIS SHOES. Aren't those supposed to be the most comfortable shoes for everyone? Well I can tell you now that they weren't comfortable for me and wearing socks was far too constricting. If there's one thing that I learned during this horrible ordeal, it's that I'm clearly meant to only live in high heels and flip flops.

Posted by Sam at 05:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

On Friday afternoon I began my journey and it has ended on this Saturday afternoon. I've been to Barcelona, Paris, London, Russia and back. Needless to say I'm rather tired, but even after all of the planes, trains and automobiles, part of me just wants to call up the new friends that I've made and ask, "so, where are we going next? What's in store for us now?"

I'm sure you're wondering how is this all possible? How can one travel to so many places in so little time? And the answer is quite simple. There's two reasons actually. The first one is this nifty little thing called Netflix and the second is the ancient building called the Avalon.

After Mel and I arrived home on Friday, she introduced me to l'auberge espagnole, translated to The Spanish Apartment. It's this fantastic film about a man named, Xaiver, who moves from France to Barcelona to work on his master's degree. At least I'm pretty sure it's his master's degree. Anyway, when he arrives, he soon discovers that his accomodation has fallen through and he needs another place to stay. From there we walk side-by-side with him as he learns about his new surroundings, sweeps his new lover clear off her feet, tries to deal with his old girlfriend and their new long distance relationship, lives with his flatmates who each have their own colorful personality and swim through his tormented mind as he tries to figure out what he wants to do with his life, what he wants to get out of it.

Ten minutes into the film and I was already hooked. I fell in love with every aspect of the movie; the music, the camera angles, the amazing shots of each city and even the subtitles, since the majority of the movie is in French and Spanish. It made me want to learn a new language and flip the calendar to September that much faster.

So when Mel told me that there was a sequel and it was still playing in theaters, I knew I had to go.

A couple of clicks on the laptop and we were in business. We found out that it was only being shown in select cities and that the only theater that was nearby was in Washington D.C. at the Avalon. Luckily for us they were showing the second one, Russian Dolls, the very next day. My plans for Saturday were sealed that quickly.

I was slightly nervous seeing the sequel since usually they end up being complete shit. Directors and writers try so desperately to recreate the magic of the first movie that they get lost in what they're doing and it comes off as being cheesy and forced. Thankfully this was not the case with Russian Dolls. It all flowed perfectly and it didn't even seem like a sequel. It seemed like an extension from where the first film left off, like the cameras never stopped recording. Life just continued and moved forward like normal.

I won't divulge into any of the details and gush about this one scene, or a certain line that I thought was brilliant. All I'll say is that you should do yourself a favor and watch these movies. I think that they might have been placed at the top of my Favorite Movies List, and that's pretty hard since I've been in love with Almost Famous and Breakfast At Tiffany's even before I sat down and watched them. The one thing that I love most about these movies though, is that no matter what language it's in, love and life, are all the same.

Posted by Sam at 06:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

I may just be a little too restless for a hammock. I don't know why but as much as I love the mental picture of hanging about in the backyard doing absolutely nothing, it never seems to work out like that. The first instinct I get is to hang it out in the sun: might as well get something that resembles a tan while I'm outside, right? I followed the same line of thought this past Tuesday. Of course it was too fuming hot so I had to relocate to the shade, a procedure that usually takes at least 30 minutes because finding poles, angles, boards, pins, trees, pipes or anything else of which there are two strategically located relatively close to each other in such positions that you can tie each end of your hammock to them is such a daunting navigational task General Napoleon himself would've struggled with it. About two hours after I initially went outside, after tying it up, climbing into the damn thing, climbing out of the damn thing, relocating, tying it up, climbing into the damn thing, fighting bees, spraying ants, stretching for the lemonade, urging the cat to 'no please don't come jump on here because it's too unstable' and wondering how long it would take for the thunderclouds at the horizon to come over, I was actually comfortable. And it's moments like those that trigger thoughts along the lines of: "Did I fill out my tax form yet?" The only real way to chase those thoughts away (at least for me) is by replacing them with something in the same category that's a whole lot more fun: "I still have to write that guest blog for Sam..!"

So a one year blogaversary. That's impressive. I might have one coming up myself, or I might have already had one: it depends on whether you choose to look solely at the date I started blogging, or whether you choose to add up the weeks I was actually actively blogging. There is a world of difference and it leads me to the first thing I love about Sam's blog: the consistency. There's always something new when you need to get your mind off of something or when you just feel like reading another one of her entertaining stories.

Secondly (or firstly in importance, just that it didn't fit the pattern of this entry to post it first) is the content. I relate, and I image thousands of people would if they knew the address to the blog. Which doesn't directly make sense, because I live a very different life, in a different country, a different culture, and so on. That means the only reason I relate to her entries is because her style of writing is very open, accessible, relatable. Sam; if you're doing it on purpose, kudos. If not; you have a talent, girl!

Thirdly comes the writer herself, of course. I'm not going to bother putting too many words in this paragraph because all the readers here know exactly what I'm talking about! That, and because these things are as difficult to define as the term "sex-appeal" or the average DVD-recorder remote control.

On that note: what is the point of the "eject" button on a remote control? Don't you have to walk over there to remove the disc to put it back in the box anyway?

So one year. Something tells me she's only just getting started. There is an amazing path folding itself out into the future, announcing things that have yet to happen in places that have yet to be travelled to.

Sam, congratulations. And whatever may come, I hope we will read about it right here, on mymumblingthoughts.com.

-Erik.

Posted by Sam at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

It's Monday morning and I've decided to actually dress up for work instead of wearing my usual jeans, t-shirt and flip flops attire. I slip on my skirt and slide comfortably into my high heels. I certainly do feel at home three inches higher toward the sky. I figure I might as well go all the way and slather on some lipstick instead of the simple, yet effective, chap stick.

It's going to be a good day. I can feel it. I'm going to catch up on the work that I've been neglecting the past couple of weeks, I'm going to take charge, I'm going to impress everyone, I'm going to give 110%, I'm going to...stop into Starbucks real quick for a grande ice green tea first. I must be properly hydrated if I'm getting ready to tackle all of this work.

I make it into work roughly around 6:30am. I stop in to see Amy, my favorite smoking buddy, and chat with her for a while. She catches me up on the latest work drama that happened on Friday after I called it an early day. So much high school bullshit. When will these people ever learn?

In this moment of chatting with Amy, learning about these new developments, I wonder why I'm everyone's confidante. When did I become the Go To Gal to hold everyone's secrets? I've got a little bit of dirt on practically everyone in the building. I've also got a lot of dirt on a select few who should be worried. I then wonder who has dirt on me? What's floating around here on this fifth floor that has my name attached?

I shove it aside. Not important. I'm here to work today. I shall deal with the juvenile dramatic events after I've caught up on my work.

Work flows on nice and smooth. "It's like riding a bicycle," I think to myself. "This is cake."

Lunch comes and goes. Three o'clock soon rolls around and I'm quickly out the door to go and pick up Mel. I need another green tea. I need it in my blood stream. I hate Starbucks and their crack addicting beverages.

Once I pick Mel up and have inhaled my second ice green tea, she surprises me with two new CDs; Guster's new album and a band that I've heard of, just haven't listened to yet. Blue October. I'm excited, smile and clap my hands. I've had an itch for some new music so it was good to finally have that scratched. We listen to Guster on the way home. The album rocks my socks.

Mel randomly brings up a dream that she had last night.

"So like, you were with this dude named, Andrew, right? And he was signed to England's football team."

"Shut up. Was I a footballer's wife?"

"Yeah, you had the breast implants and everything."

"Really?"

"No. I was just kidding about that part. Anyway, you guys do get married and after y'all are married, you turn into this crazy person."

"Just like the chicks off of Footballers Wives?"

"Yeah, exactly like them. You're like - "

"Tanya Turner?"

"No."

"Hazel?"

"No."

"Amb-"

"No! Would you let me talk."

"Oh right. Sorry."

"You're like Bruno."

"Eh? I'm like that abusive asshole?"

"Yeah, you're a wife beater. Well, I guess husband beater. You shove your husband around and everything. Then there's this one part where you're yelling at him about sleeping around, and you're like, 'gosh, Andrew. Why do you have to be sleeping around all the time? I've got chlamydia now!' So he's sitting on the floor and crying."

*Laughing* "Mel, that's awful."

"Yeah, I know. So then he goes and calls Momma because you're so mean to him."

"What?! He fucking tells on me?"

"Yeah, but Momma doesn't really do anything. Instead, fucking Dr. Phil comes out of nowhere and he's like (she puts on her best Dr. Phil voice) 'now Sam, you need to reassess your marriage. It's one thing for a wife to be afraid of her husband; but a husband to be afraid of his wife...now that's crazy.'"

"You're the one who's fucking crazy."

"Shut up. It's my dream."

We continue to ride on home, listening to Guster, talking about more random subjects and watching the scenery fly by. It's good to go home early when there isn't that much traffic.

When we arrive at home, I quickly add the new CDs to my iTunes, update Mini and change into my jammies. It has indeed been a very good day. I plan for the same thing tomorrow.

Posted by Sam at 04:59 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

It started yesterday when I couldn't find my Yeah Yeah Yeahs CD.

Well, actually it started a couple of days ago, I just didn't deal with it immediately. Instead I do what I always do whenever things like this happen and pushed it aside. Just normal, typical behavior for me.

The first real day was when it was raining outside and actually chilly in our house for a change. I decided to turn the AC up a little bit and pull out my blue robe from the closet and wrap myself up in it. I whipped it out, put it on and instantly smelled it. Or rather, smelled him.

I thought I had gotten rid of everything that reminded me of him. I had put everything away in boxes, stored them high up in my closet or far underneath my bed. I washed everything, hid all of his things in the bottom drawers and made sure that it was all out of sight, out of mind. How could I have forgotten my robe? How had it saved all of those familiar, luring scents? It didn't take very long until I was reminded of those brief days when we were together. I was laughing. He sat back and smiled at me. I was wearing my blue robe.

I tossed it in the washing machine. I never wanted to be caught off guard like that again.

The next day I was looking for my passport. I needed to apply for my visa but first needed a number off of my passport for the application. I had saved it online for too long and I wanted to get it in the mail and sent off. I knew it was somewhere in my room. Somewhere in a shoe box, which is how I keep things underneath my bed organized. I have old notes from high school from when my friends and I wrote to each other during class, pictures that have yet to be filed away in my photo albums and other small momentos that I keep. I probably should have kept it somewhere safer, but at the time it made sense to keep it in my Travel Box.

I flipped open the lide of a box that revealed random pictures, plane ticket stubs, information I had printed off of the internet about travelling, my passport and a couple of letters.

"Don't read the letters," I told myself. "Get the passport, close the lid and slide the box back under your bed."

But I couldn't ignore them. Not when they were right here in front of my eyes begging to be unfolded so they could unleash even more memories upon me. More feelings, more reminders of something that I've been trying to move on from. Maybe one day I'll be able to freely take trips down memory lane with these letters, but not now.

I opened one of them anyway. Only one. Even that was one too many for me though. It sparked something inside of me, and when I was finished reading, I folded it back up, replaced the lid back on top of the box where it belonged and opened my laptop.

"Perhaps I could send a friendly email? Just to say 'hi, how's it going? I hope you're well.' No harm in that."

However, as the cursor blinked, waiting for me to compose my friendly email, my fingers cramped and my brain swirled. I couldn't do it. I couldn't form one single sentence that made sense or came out sounding semi-normal. I didn't know where to begin, how to begin, why to begin. Nothing worked, it all sounded forced and fake.

Instead I quickly closed my laptop and watched Lassie on TCM.

And then, last night as I was searching for my Yeah Yeah Yeahs CD, something came out of nowhere and punched me right in the chest. Suddenly I got so frustrated and annoyed with myself. Not because I couldn't find my CD, but because I just let things slide. It doesn't bother me to turn a blind eye and ignore something for long periods of time. Why do I do that? Why do I accept that fact about myself? When did I say that that was okay? I don't understand why I can't just be one of those people who deals with their emotions as they come instead of locking them away all the time.

So I lost it and did the only thing that I know how to do which makes me feel like I'm back in control; I cleaned.

It started with my bedroom where I washed my sheets, vaccuumed, organized my closet, worked on laundry and hung up pictures that have been collecting dust for almost a year. I then worked my way down to the kitchen and on to my bathroom where I scrubbed the bathtub and WASHED MY SHOWER CURTAIN.

It was insane, but I felt a lot better afterwards.

In the morning, I awoke to my room looking fantastic. The smell of granny smith apples still lingered in the air from when I left my candle on the night before, hiding all traces of the past few days, few weeks, few months. I sat up in bed and looked around. The feeling that I was carrying around with me for the last couple of days was still there, it just wasn't as prominent as before. Had I supressed it again? Would it ever go away? I didn't really know. I got up though and continued on with my morning like every other day.

And I still haven't found my damn Yeah Yeah Yeahs CD.

Posted by Sam at 01:22 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

These past two weeks have been spent taking my time, going slow, slipping back and avoiding others. There's no real reason for it other than I'm tired. I have no motivation to come into work, to cater to other people's problems or care about them either. I suppose my four day weekend off of work was a minor tease to remind me what it's like to not have to work all the time, to really enjoy your day and heaven forbid get some proper rest.

So now when people come up to me and ask about overtime preauthorization or expense reports, they're shocked when I say I haven't even given it a thought. Perhaps that isn't the right response to give, but it's the truth. I've just been meandering through our hallways, running errands when I should be thinking about timecard errors and getting lost in my ice green tea from Starbucks when the thermometer claims that it's 100 degrees outside. Who wants to work when there are pools that need to be used and beds to rest in after you soak up all of the sun? Not me.

I boil it all down to the loan. I'm secure with money for school now. What's the point in working?

And then I must remind myself that the point is I've still got a car that has a monthly payment, that requires gas in order to get me from point A to point B, a cell phone that I enjoy using and a shopping habit for the World's Most Expensive Things that won't quit. Not only that, it's good to save money so that when I finally do arrive in London, I've got some spare cash to go out and eat, buy a new hair dryer and go out if the mood strikes me. That's why I must continue working.

That, and I know that after two weeks of sitting at home, my vaction mood would have left me only to be replaced by cabin fever.

I force myself into our building if only to make an appearance and pretend that I'm actually doing my job. "It'll pass," I think to myself while sitting in my cube surrounded by silence. It's only a phase and before I know it I'll be back to full steam ahead cursing myself for being so lazy and allowing all of the mail to continue to collect at the bottom of my feet under my desk.

Until that moment arrives though I will remain in my Slacker Mode. Now if you'll excuse me, I've got more Starbucks to drink and long luches to attend.

Posted by Sam at 08:33 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

I went on my blind date this past Saturday with Lora and Mel. I know what you're thinking; "It's not much of a blind date, Sam, if you go with your sister and best gal pal." But it was a date, I promise.

Here, I should back up a little bit so you get the whole bit.

Friday was the actual day that I was supposed to go out and meet Robin during happy hour, but since I had to take Mel home and I wasn't even technically invited to go to this particular happy hour, I really wasn't in the greatest mood to begin with. Mostly I just wanted to go home, get in my jammies and then spend the rest of the afternoon in bed watching Vh1. Sad, but true.

As I was laying in bed, my cell phone began to ring. Lora's name popped up on the caller ID and I figured she was calling to tell me how lame happy hour was because of all the losers that were there and she was extremely bored because I wasn't there. I was halfway right.

It wasn't Lora's voice on the other end when I answered. It was Robin, who apparently didn't know either that Lora had called me. She had simply dialed my number and handed the phone to him saying, "here, talk."

We did talk briefly and he asked when was the next time I'd be going out with Lora and perhaps we could hang out then. So of course I had to tell him that we'd be hanging out the next day when we would be doing some serious hardcore shopping at Tyson's Corner and the Galleria. He could come if he wanted, but we were going to all girl stores, except for the Apple store. The "girl stores" part didn't really excite him, but then I could hear Lora in the background talking about lunch. At the Olive Garden. Before we go shopping. He could meet us there.

After that it was pretty much final. If I dug him, then maybe we could extend the day into a shopping date, but if not then a little shopping therapy afterwards would be perfect.

Fast forward to the next day around lunch time. The three of us girls were hanging out at our usual table in the smoking section at the Olive Garden, talking about our "code words" we would use if I thought he was cute, annoying or alright. He was running a little late, but it was fine. We were sitting comfortably sipping our peach tea and eating every last bread stick that they were giving us.

Eventually he did arrive though and we ordered our food.

We made small talk which grew into a conversation which then turned into story telling and only had one or two minor silences. It was nice. Easy going.

There definitely weren't any shooting stars in my eyes though. Right off the bat I got the "friend vibe" and doubted that we would/could be anything more. I'm sure that doesn't really sound fair considering I barely know the guy, but it's true. I don't know about other women, but I know for me, I can tell almost immediatey whether or not I can have a romantic relationship with a guy. That doesn't mean I don't like them, it just means I wouldn't want anything more then friendship.

He was sweet. Almost too sweet. He was also extremely nice and made me feel like he could be a really good influence. Not just with me, but with anyone. He also seemed like one of those people I could randomly call up and say, "hey, lets go to Croatia" and he'd say yes without hesitation or asking why. That is a beautiful quality to have.

The thing that really put me off though was his goal with children. I'm not sure if any of you know this, but I'm not a big fan of children. Really. I think some kind of Mother Gene is missing from me because I don't like them. Okay, some of them are really cute, make gurgling baby noises and are the most precious things on the planet, but when I think of babies (preferably my hypothetical babies) I begin to freak out and become all jittery.

Maybe it's because I'm so young, but even if I look ahead in the future ten years, I still don't like the idea of me with two chaps swinging off of my hips, crying and screaming for cookies. It's not appealing.

Now, you take my fear of procreating with Robin's Children Goal.

He wants to start a new family tradition and have six in six.

That's six kids in six years.

Did you get that? SIX. KIDS. IN. SIX. FUCKING. YEARS.

Conflict.

So, considering I see myself with zero kids in six years, I thought that we would probably be better off as friends. Travelling comrads. It's for the best in the long run.

At the end of lunch, we parted ways but said that we should definitely get together again to hang out. And we should. He's awesome company and I love his positive energy. We just won't be having kids on the side in our spare time, which is perfectly fine with me.

Posted by Sam at 04:43 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

Sometimes life just doesn't get any better than wiping watermelon juice off your chin with the back of your hand, which is what Mel and I did last night before we headed upstairs for bed.

Our 4th of July was spent inside where we didn't have to wrestle with the mosquitoes who have somehow grown to the size of tennis balls, fight with the traffic or cover our ears from screaming children who didn't like the boom(!) of the fireworks. One of the perks from living three miles down from the Nissan Pavillion is that you can see the fireworks high up in the sky above the trees. We all sat in Momma's room with her blinds pulled all the way up as the fireworks exploded in the distance and our faces were illuminated briefly with each different light spectacle.

Earlier in the day we watched football as we grilled steaks on our George, made potato salad and drank lemonade. It was calm and laid back just like every other holiday that we celebrate which allows us to take a paid day off of work. We used to go out on the 4th of July with family members down to the mall to get up close and personal for the show, but as time went on and we got older, we found that things were so much more comfortable from our own livingroom couch. We could get the exact same show while in our pj's, and as we all know, if I can do anything and remain in my jammies, then I'm a happy camper.

Momma went upstairs after she ate because she can only handle so much of our profanity when we watch football and took a four hour nap, while Mel and I hung downstairs, cleaned the kitchen, cut up the beautifully red, sweet, seedless watermelon that we had bought a couple of days prior and sang Hall and Oates songs.

Life seemed so simple.

However, after all of our relaxing excitement we decided to call it an early evening around 10pm since it was back to the rat race in the morning. I was ready for it though. I had taken my nice four day break off of work and I was feeling a lot more refreshed. I suppose the only real downside to the evening was all of our neighbor's little kids who wanted to set off fireworks until the late evening in the middle of our street. It was as if my brain was a big bowl of Rice Krispies and they were pouring the cold milk. It was nothing but SNAP! CRACKLE! and POP!

I hope that y'all had a nice 4th of July as well. At least all of the Americans who read My Mumbling Thoughts, anyway. For everyone else, I hope you had a nice Tuesday.

Posted by Sam at 06:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

For as long as I can remember I've been living with Bill Gates. I've known nothing else other than Windows and everything that goes along with it. I have to say, it was nice. In general I don't exactly have a lot of complaints, but then again it was all that I knew. Of course there were a couple of times that I got severe migraines because something wasn't working properly and I got so damn frustrated that I just shut the computer down and gave up going to sleep fuming.

Today, however, all of that came to end and I've been united with the most beautiful thing that I've ever seen. Mr. Macintosh invented a little something call the MacBook. If this isn't the greatest thing in the entire world, then I'm not sure what is. It's FAN-FUCKING-TASTIC.

Right now, as I type this up, I'm in my room, lying in bed and listening to my iTunes. I've already got all of the files that I wanted transferred off of our old Dell laptop on here because the good people at the Apple store moved them all for me for FREE. All I had to do was create a folder last night called "Transfer" on my desktop with everything that I wanted in there. It all made too much sense. I have no clue how I'm even accessing the internet right now since technically I don't really have an internet service provider, but I'm not asking any questions. I'm just enjoying the fact that I have a beautiful new best friend who is magical and does everything that I ever wanted.

I'm in love y'all. I'm in love and probably won't be leaving my bedroom for the next couple of days. There are so many new things to learn and become familiar with and so little time!

Posted by Sam at 06:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)