My Mumbling Thoughts

I'm blogging from work because I sat in two hours of traffic today.

Ugh, traffic.

So long.

Anyway, because of that, I won't be leaving the office until 6p.m., and since everyone generally leaves by 4:30p.m. around here, I've got some time to kill. Like, an hour's worth of time. I mean, yes, there are things I could be doing, but don't you prefer me being here with you?

Yeah, you do.

Tomorrow I'm taking the day off so I can drive over to my boss' house and help him set up for the department picnic that we're having. That means tonight I'll be up cooking the chili I said I'd bring (thank you for crockpots), and putting the gingerale on chill so my Pimm's is nice and cold for tomorrow.

Yeah, I'm drinking sweet booze while I'm at his house. I'll be surrounded by coworkers in my manager's house. Booze is definitely a must.

After the department picnic, I'll head home, pass out, and hope that I've not done anything too embarrassing in front of all my Inappropriate Work Crushes, Work Crushes, and my should-be father.

Saturday will be nice since I believe I'm going to have the entire house to myself. HELLO EARLY BIRTHDAY PRESENT. That will be so perfect, since that's all I've been asking for since August. I just want to be alone! Like, for real alone. For more than two hours. I plan on giving myself a pedicure, breaking out my yoga mat, writing a short story, drinking multiple mugs of hot tea, and watching porn without my ear buds. Oh yes. It will be a grand day.

But right now I'm in the office.

My office currently is.....

Quiet.

I have my iPod playing Snow Patrol on low while I type this up. It's rainy and grey outside, but I wouldn't know since I don't have a window nearby that I can look out of. The only way I know what it's like outside is by asking those who have recently come inside, or checking the local weather report.

I can hear the air conditioning blow air out from the ceiling, and it makes me wonder how much longer we have until that air is no longer cold, but warm and toasty for the colder months.

Someone's keys just spun around their fingers. I guess they're getting ready to leave for the day.

One of my favorite's is still here and just walked by my desk. I don't like saying I have favorite's, because it doesn't seem nice or fair, but I totally have favorite's. This particular favorite that just walked by my desk likes to leave pens lying around the office because he has too many in the mug in his office that he keeps on his desk. He told me that maybe someone else will find it who needs it, and it can be their new pen. It's endearing and pulls on the strings of my heart. Bless his cotton socks.

Otherwise, it's quiet.

Bot of my manager's office lights are off.

The lights on the telephone are flashing red, indicating that the admins have left for the day. I'm a late stayer it seems.

Tomorrow's October 1st. Make a wish.

Posted by Sam at 05:23 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I can't believe I've been blogging for twenty-eight days straight. I mean, yes, there have been a couple of shit posts where I only wrote five lines, but still... it counts.

Tonight isn't going to be any better, since I'm tired, yet again. I let Humphrey sleep in my room last night (because sometimes I need puppy cuddles), and he woke me up two times. The first time he jerked me awake because he was barking at some kind of imaginary intruder, the second time I thought he was having a heart attack, and the third time I finally was awoken by my stupid alarm clock that I hate with so much fiery passion, I have to physically restrain myself from smashing it against the wall every day.

So I'm not going to make that much effort with this post this evening. I am, however, going to keep up with blogging every day after BEDS. I've realized that I need to write every day, even if it is truly shit, because I simply need to. No more excuses, and no more letting it slide for three months without a word. I'm going to blog every day, and if I don't blog one day for whatever reason, then I owe the next day 250 words, and the 250 will continue for each day gone by without any word.

I'm going to start writing short stories as well, and post them up here whenever I get the wild hair. I've always got a lot of shit running around in this brain of mine, and I need to do myself a favor and get them out of my head so they're not always running circles with no end in sight. I've already thought of two teeny tiny micro short stories that I want to post, so hopefully I can get those up within the next few days.

Anyway, this was a nothing post to let you know....nothing. I'm going to clean the kitchen and hit the hay. Later days.

Posted by Sam at 08:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today was such a long day.

A long, rainy day.

And you want to know what's not fair? I had to go to work on this long, rainy day, when I blatantly should have been inside, under my covers, sleeping.

But no, I was at work, wishing I had a big bowl of mashed potatoes and fluffy slippers on my feet.

I was still really tired as well. I'm not sure if it's because I'm old and still recovering from Saturday (ah, Saturday), but I just didn't want to move in general.

Saturday was pretty awesome. I made some new friends with super awesome names (Amaranth is just so cool), witnessed a pretty intense fight (look at the police run!), and found a tavern that sells Magners for $5. I mean, if that's not a great night, then I don't know what is!

It had all the elements of old times out, but the main difference I felt was in myself. Yes, I was wasted (did I mention the $5 Magners?), but I wasn't Angry Drunk Sam, like how I can easily get. No, I was Happy Drunk Sam that was up until 4a.m.

We drove into DC in a 1987 Odsmobile that had the ashtrays connected to the seats in the back. Proper old school. It felt like I was riding around in someone's living room. We played James Brown, left the windows rolled down, and I watched as we passed the Washington Monument, the Treasury Department, and felt a familiar feeling of anticipation in my gut.

What would happen now that the sun sank low into the horizon? Who would we meet? What would we do? All of nighttime's promises were awakened inside of me again, and I thought, "I need to get out more. For real."

It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was just nice to be out, drinking, hanging out with strangers, and not thinking for a little while. I didn't want to think about work, my lame adult responsibilities, and stupid Big Girl Pants. I just wanted to dance, eat french fries from a brown paper bag, and huddle close with friends as the temperature dropped.

My final words for the evening were, "So, about Adams Morgan....."

Next thing I knew, it was 11a.m., I sounded like a man who smoked three packs of cigarettes a day, and smelled like something evil.

That's all I wanted. At least just for one night.

Posted by Sam at 07:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Fuck me I almost forgot to blog today.

Let me just tell you, though, that I'm tired, hung-over, and yeah, just really fucking tired.

I"ll update properly tomorrow when my brain doesn't feel like it's sloshing against the walls of my skull. Ouch.

So yeah, another short, crap entry. But whatevs. I got drizzunk last night, and now I'm recovering.

Until tomorrow, watch this.

Posted by Sam at 08:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'M RUNNING LATE.

I WAS SUPPOSED TO LEAVE AGES AGO, BUT I'M LATE.

SO I DON'T HAVE TIME TO BLOG.

JUST KNOW I'M GOING OUT TONIGHT AND I PLAN TO HAVE A WICKED TIME.

SORRY FOR THE ALL CAPS.

Posted by Sam at 06:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Oh my god I don't get out enough.

I only had one drink! And, okay, granite the drink was the size of my face, but like, still.....I've been tired all day. I don't think I've done one productive thing, other than show up, which is generally required, so I guess it doesn't count at all.

But, god, I'm so tired. So. Tired.

Okay, you get it. I'm tired.

But, really. Tired.

Last night I went out with Trish and some of my lady coworkers who are awesome and make me chuckle in my belly. It was pretty small and low key, but still really good. I didn't want to get wasted, so I just got one GIANT SUPERMUG, for like, $7 (bargain), and nursed that bad boy all night. Of course I stayed out past my regular bedtime, too, so by the time I woke up this morning I was sluggish and wondering where my other three hours of sleep had gone.

I don't do these things regularly, so my body gets thrown into a spiral and starts shouting, "Hey! Old Lady! You don't do these things anymore, remember? YOU'RE OLD NOW."

And I'm like, thanks, Body, for reminding me how old I am. Now take a another shot and shut up. I'm young, dammit. Y-O-U-N-G.

I'm going out again tomorrow night, because I figure one night out isn't enough for me. LET'S BE REALLY CRAZY AND GO OUT TWICE IN ONE WEEK.

Young.

I'm going to dress up proper, where my cute little heels, do my hair and make-up real nice like how I've not done in months, and hit the town. I don't know where in town exactly we're hitting yet, but when we do hit it, HOO BOY. They'd better be ready is all I'm saying. I've already been out once this week. SHIT IS GOING TO GET INSANE.

I'll probably pass out in the bathrooms around 11 o'clock, because that's how Old Lady Sam rolls these days. Two drinks and I'm a goner. A cheap goner.

So yeah, today I've been very unproductive and I can't wait until 3p.m. I'll head on home, crawl under my covers and sleep until tomorrow's crazy night. I mean, I won't be able to function unless I get my full eight hours of rest.

SO HARDCORE.

Anyway, this post is poo. I'm blogging from work again, since I plan on going straight to sleep and definitely don't want to miss the last few days in BEDS.

I hope y'all had a lovely week. I'm going to go find a quiet, dark corner to doze off into for a while until it's time for me to leave. 'Til tomorrow.

Posted by Sam at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today was my last session with my counselor, Dale. Well, it'll be my last at least for the next couple of months. I'll check in with her at the beginning of December to see how I'm doing, and let her know if I would like a referral through my insurance so I can continue with regular counseling.

I told her I'd like her to stay, and let me always have the option of coming back if I needed to, which she said would be fine. I don't think I need regular counseling. At least not anymore. I'd always like to keep her close, though, in case it all goes tits up again and I need to come see her. She is a security blanket in a lot of ways for me.

I cried a little bit today during my session, which is normal. It wasn't for a long period of time, and crying in front of Dale is no longer a big deal for me. I cry, I talk through it, I wipe the tears away, and we continue on. Our conversations in the beginning were quite deep and emotional, whereas towards the end I was giving her more updates on how much I've been improving.

And I have been improving in my own small ways. Just blogging every day for me has been an improvement. The fact that I decided to enter a contest is an improvement. My train of thought is no longer doom and gloom all the time, and now I try to look on the bright side of things. And if I do have a shit day, I know it's not the end of the world. The sun will rise the next day, and I'll have another chance to give it a go again. And I need to be grateful for all of it.

Still, I'm a bit sad that I won't be seeing her regularly. It's nice talking things out with her, and having her remind me to not always be so hard on myself, and make sense of all the craziness in my head. She has one of those soothing therapist voices as well that calms me when I feel the all too familiar lump rise in my throat before the waterworks start.

What will I do without her?

I'll do it on my own I suppose. I'll repeat everything she has taught me to myself whenever I feel blue, whenever I don't feel like doing something, or whenever I feel like my life is the bottom of a shit bucket, I'll remember Dale's words and remind myself, "hey, it's going to be okay." That's what grown-ups do right? They're able to handle themselves when things get a little rocky.

But I'm not completely alone of course. Momma is always here, and has been a tremendous support for me during this past year, and of course my friends are there for me as well. I'm never really alone. It's just being able to manage everything on a daily basis, and not randomly cry in public when shit starts to hit the fan.

It was a defining session for me in a couple of ways. I made Dale laugh a couple of times, which was oddly nice for me, and I think I saw a hint of proudness in her eyes when I left her office. Like, "yes, she will be alright. She will do good things. I'm glad she found her way out of the dark."

Me too, Dale. Me too. And I couldn't have done it without your help.

Posted by Sam at 07:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I really don't like blogging from work.

See, when I started this whole BEDS project, I thought I'd just take some time for lunch (I'm so busy, I need to start taking a real, proper lunch), and I'd just blog during my lunch breaks, but it seems like the way this has turned out for me is I blog mostly at night after I get home. Which is totally fine, I have no qualms about blogging at home; I just thought I'd be able to finally get some kind of break at work.

I hardly leave my desk, which is a very hard habit to break, and a bad habit to have. When it's busy, it's sooooo busy. And when it's not busy? I'm usually catching up on something from when I was originally busy.

So the "blogging during my lunch" plan didn't work out too well.

Today was a rare day when I sat behind my monitor and did very little work. I listened to my music, cruised photos from space, and watched as everyone ran around me worrying about their work.

I just don't feel it today. It's not happening. I don't want to do this right now. I sat in two hours of traffic, and decided halfway through that that I'm done with the day. I don't even really feel like typing up this blog right now, but I am, and I'm typing a bunch of shit just so I can fill space, because I don't want to skip a day "just because I don't feel like it."

So blah.

There's my crap post for Tuesday.

Saturday I plan on going out in DC. It'll be the first time I've gone out in any kind of social form (that's not considered a happy hour) in....well....a long fucking time. I will be donning my fancy high heels, a sexual dress, and hope to meet someone who is SINGLE with a well-groomed beard. "Well-groomed beard" being the key words.

Ugh, I'll be back tomorrow, hopefully when I care a bit more.

Posted by Sam at 04:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

All I want is a little quiet every now and again. Is that too much to ask for?

I suppose it is.

You know its been a while since I've been alone.

Alone.

I thought about it, and the only time I'm alone is when I'm in traffic. And really, I'm not alone, because I'm surrounded by other poor saps who are stuck in traffic as well. We all want to kill ourselves, too, so it's not the greatest bunch to be alone with.

When I'm at the house, Momma is always somewhere near, and obviously Humphrey is here with me. When I'm at work I'm always with coworkers. When the fuck can I just be alone?

This is the complete total opposite of my time spent at uni when I thought I was alone too much. You just can never please me it seems. First she complains because she's alone all the time, and now she complains about never having any alone time. Make up your mind!

It is annoying being a Libra sometimes. If you believe in astrology mumbo jumbo (and I totally do), then we Librans are always struggling to find the balance in life. If we're off kilter, even by a smidgen, then we get thrown out of whack and usually need an entire week to get back on track.

My birthday will be coming up on the 7th of October, and I think the only thing I want is to be alone. I don't want to have to think about taking Humphrey outside for his daily walks, I don't want to sit and have a three hour long conversation with Momma (which, don't get me wrong, are nice to have from time to time), and I want to sit in a room all by myself and do absolutely nothing.

Well, maybe I'll watch some TV, but otherwise I don't want to do a goddamn thing.

I've spoken to Dale about my need for quiet, alone time in a couple of our counseling sessions, and she asked me if I'd be satisfied after I got my peace alone, or would I worry about Humphrey, think about Momma, or wonder what they were doing at work.

Fuck no.

I wouldn't worry about a fucking thing. All I'd need is one day (if I could be greedy, I'd ask for two days). Just one day! Out of all 365 days in the year, just give me one to be alone. Let me have the house to myself. Let me go to a nice hotel and wrap up in the terry cloth robes. Let me waste an entire day on the internet guilt-free. Let me read a book without interruptions. Let me lay.

All that time at uni I was alone. For the majority of my time unemployed I was alone. And I hated it.

But I need it again. Just for one day. Just for one day. Please.

Posted by Sam at 08:00 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Today we cleaned, ran errands, blah, blah, blah.

It was a productive Saturday for us, and that's so strange, because usually we spend our Saturdays on the sofa talking about what we'd like to do, but never actually get around to doing it. So yes, very successful for Momma and myself.

Although I don't really have much to say today (surprise!), and I'm pretty tired from all of the productiveness, so I'm going to keep this one short and sweet (like myself, yo).

This morning when I was being productive on the internet, I found a yoga class in my local area that I was so ready to sign up for. It wasn't too pricey, it was only about 15 minutes away from the house, and I thought it'd be a nice way to meet some new people out of my daily social circle. Instead I went to Target and found a nice Yoga beginner's kit with a free yoga mat included. It was much cheaper than the classes, so I thought I'd start off with that, and eventually work my way into a class.

That should be my exercise taken care of.

I also found a writing contest that I'm going to enter. I plan on posting the first draft tomorrow here, working out some of the kinks, and then submitting it sometime this coming week. The prizes are pretty sexual, and I'm not saying that I'm a definite shoe-in, but there's no harm in giving it a whirl. My low self-esteem, and judgmental voices automatically kicked in, letting me know how shit I am and to not even bother, but like I mentioned earlier, fuck the fear. The fear can kiss my ass. The fear can shut the fuck up and leave me alone. I'm doing this yo.

So yeah, not much to really say, but I'll be back tomorrow. I hope your Saturday was fit.

Posted by Sam at 08:18 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

35 minutes until I'm allowed to go home for the weekend.

Yesssss.

This has been one of the longest days ever. I kind of did work, and then I kind of didn't. I spent half of my day talking to people, and one of those people just happened to be one of the many crushes I have here at work that I probably will never talk about in detail, because what's the point really? He has a girlfriend (they all bloody do!), and even though he's fit with a well-groomed beard, doesn't mean anything. Except it is distracting, and after I spoke with him about many musical topics, my brain decided to take a detour from Work Thoughts, and moved onto Never Gonna Happen, But Doesn't Hurt To Think About And Torture Myself With thoughts.

So yeah, it's Friday. Got any plans? I plan on going home, popping a muscle relaxer, and not thinking about work. Well, not thinking about anything. I'm tired of thinking y'all. I think all the bloody time, and it's fucking exhausting. I can't believe people go years without taking a vacation. I think I need at least three in one year.

Next week I plan on putting together a little happy hour, inviting my friend, Trish along, and having a couple of drinks; without the muscle relaxers, of course, but I sure could do for a drink. I think my counselor, Dale, would tell me that's not a healthy way to unwind, but I need a cider. I need a vodka. I need a something that will make me sink in my chair a little lower, and wash over me.

For the record, blogging at work is poo. I dislike it.

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

It's late.

Actually it's only 8:15p.m. It's late? Ha!

Well, I took my muscle relaxer before I started blogging, so it feels late. Or I just feel extra sleepy. This post should be fun!

I'm going to keep it simple today folks. Sammi Jo won't be in the building for very long, and before you know it, my typing will look like zslkadfj;aweirfadslkfjosiadjfmcj/

zzzzzzzzz..............................

So today wasn't really anything special. I woke up late (muscle relaxers are fun!), and didn't roll into work until 9a.m. or so. Yeah! I'm on top of it. My back does feel better, though, and I did have one of the best sleeps I've had in a long time. Otherwise the rest of the day was just me fussing with expense vouchers, setting up more meetings, coordinating interviews....

zzzzzzzzzz...........................

Fascinating stuff y'all.

It was a long day. I had to make up my time today since I've been getting off work early to tend to my achy breaky back. I didn't leave until 6p.m., and it's always a bitch trying to battle traffic IN THE RAIN. People lose their senses.

Since I don't really have anything interesting to say, I'll leave you with some of my observations I've made in the past day or so.

- While most of the people I work with tend to be socially awkward outside of work, I'm socially awkward inside of work.
- Everyone knows someone who has injured their back in the last five years, or they themselves have injured their own back, and have advice they'd like to share.
- I don't like sugar cookies as much as I thought I did (where are all of the chocolate chips?).
- Just because she's young and holding an infant, it doesn't necessarily mean it's her child. Not everyone is off of Teen Mom.

That's my Thursday. See y'all tomorrow.

Posted by Sam at 08:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I'm getting ready to take a muscle relaxer, but before I throw back 500mg of CHILLAX, I thought I should write up Ye Old Blog first.

Yes, I went back to the doctor for the millionth time this year. I've actually lost count on how many times I've gone to see good 'ol Dr. Chana. He's the greatest doctor in the whole world (in my humble opinion), and has no problems prescribing things to me. I have a sinus headache? Here, take some of this nose spray. I am depressed and tired? Go have some blood work, and then we'll prescribe you something. Vertigo? Here, have some nausea medication. And he always tells me to come back if it's not gone within a week. If it's still there, then we'll take the next step (which generally involves an X-Ray, further blood work, or an MRI for hidden tumors).

Today it was the muscle relaxer, anti-inflammatory medication, and then an acid reflux pill that's unrelated to my messed up back, but I asked him about it anyway since I was already there and it has been bothering me for the past couple of days. I'm such a case.

He asked me how I hurt my back, and I had to tell him it was caused by me trying to sort my posture. I'll be sure not to make THAT mistake again. The man I hopefully meet will have to learn to love my humpback, and apply suntan lotion on the hard-to-reach places. That's when I'll know we're meant to be.

Anyway, Doc Chana said that I'm too young to be having these kinds of back issues (well, yeah!), told me that I need to start exercising.

Um, what? Exercising? I don't know what that is. Isn't that when I go to open the refrigerator door for more food?

The repercussion for not exercising? Effing. Physical. Therapy.

God! That'd be well embarrassing! Even more embarrassing than having to take a muscle relaxer because I threw my back out. Ugh. Fine, you win Doc Chana. Exercising it is.

I've decided to do yoga. Yeah, I figure it's probably the best way to go for me, and shouldn't result in too much sweating. I hate sweating, and yet I'm sure I'm the sweatiest woman on the planet. We have that yoga program on the Wii (we never use the bloody thing), so I thought I'll start with that, see how long it takes me to get frustrated with it, and eventually sign up for a class in my local area.

Physical therapy. Pffft.

Posted by Sam at 07:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Don't you hate it when you forget what you're wearing halfway through the day? That's never happened to you? It happens quite a lot to me, and sometimes I'll look down at myself and think, "shit, I forgot I was wearing this. What a crap outfit."

Anyway, my back is still out of commission. I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to see if he can hook me up with some pills, and then I'm probably going to start working out, because I'm disgusting. Plan.

I don't want to talk about my back, though. Instead I want to share a conversation that I had in my head the other morning with two other voices that started talking to me while I was in traffic. Yes, I have a lot of voices in my head. These two just happened to be agent-type voices kicking around some potential writing ideas.

Agent 1: So you've come to us why?

Me: Because I've been writing some things recently, and I wanted to see what you guys think. I mean, nothing is set in stone at the moment, but I'm trying some stuff, reworking some things, have some stuff in the pipeline....

Agent 1: Basically you want us to tell you if it's crap?

Me: Well, um, yes. Please.

A 2: Okay. Shoot.

Me: Well, I thought maybe I could write a short story. I used to love writ -

A 1: A short story! That'd be great. A love story? No, those are shit. There are tons of love stories out there.

A 2: Um, yeah, but love stories are classic. People never get tired of those. Just switch some things up, update it a bit, and voilà! Instant hit.

Me: Actually, I thought more along the lines of -

A 1: You're right. I suppose it could be a love story. Maybe a thriller love story?

A 2: That might work. I like the sounds of it.

Me: Guys! I'm not writing a thriller love story. Or a love story for that matter.

A 1: Okay, well if you're not writing the next classic thriller love story, then what are you writing?

Me: Well, I've not exactly worked out the details, but I was thinking I should start with some kind of short story. You know, keep it small at first, and not dive head first into a novel or anything.

A 1: Fuck novels.

Me: Excuse me?

A 1: Fuck novels. They're overrated. What YOU need to write is a screenplay.

A 2: Yes! A screenplay! Television, movies. It is ALL about film these days.

Me: It is?

A 1: Of course it is. Avatar, Weeds, Modern Family. THAT is what you need to go for.

Me: But I went to like, two screenplay writing lectures. I hated the lecturer with his lazy eye and curly hair. It was off-putting. I wouldn't even know where to start.

A 2: Google! Everything's on google. And you're friend, Alex, did Screenplay Writing. Your one lecturer did say that your stories are dialogue heavy. And didn't your friend Melissa say that she did that one time, too? Lemons? Lemonade!

Me: Mmm....I suppose I could try. That still leaves me with the question of what to write about.

A1: Who would we cast in the movie?

A2: Not sure. They're are so many hot stars out there right now. We could stay classic with Brad or George. Lady-wise there's that blond woman from Grey's Anatomy who's everywhere these days.

A 1: Katherine Heigl.

A 2: Yeah, her. She'd be good to get! A fortune though.

Me: Guys.

A 1: Fuck Katherine Heigl.

A 2: Okay, what about Natalie Portman?

Me: Guys....

A 1: She's intense. Hot though.

Me: GUYS!!

A 1 & 2: What?!

Me: We can't start casting random people! I've not even come up with an idea of what to write yet! And you're already casting characters?!! Geez. You're no bloody help.

A 1: Fuck you, then.

A 2: Wait, can the screenplay be a thriller love story still? We could get Jennifer Love Hewitt.

**

So I guess I'm writing a thriller love story screenplay starring J'Love.....

Posted by Sam at 08:52 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I just aged fifty years.

I'm sitting on the couch with Momma's heating pad from the early 1980's ("its always smelled like that, Samantha"). Why? Because I pulled a muscle earlier today and it hurts to sit/stand/blink.

I'll tell you how I pulled the muscle as well.

I was trying to sit up straight.

Yes. I was trying to improve my posture since my manager (my should-be father) has commented on a few occasions that I need to sit up straight. Don''t I know it's bad for my back? It's not healthy to stay in a slumped over position all the time (that's what she said. Zing!).

WELL, since I've been a lot more conscious about how I sit at my desk, today I was trying to maneuver in a way that would help my hunchback of Notre Dame physique, and pulled a muscle that I had no idea existed in my left lower back. It was like one second I sitting, and one wrong turn later I was doubled-over at a 90 degree angle commenting on how nice everyone's shoes were.

So yeah, that just made my Monday awesome. Minus the awesome.

I wanted to have a different topic for today's post, but since all I can think about is which pretzel move is most comfortable for me, I thought I'd just blab on about this instead. Isn't that so interesting?

No? I'll try again tomorrow.

Posted by Sam at 08:19 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I clearly remember my lecturer standing at the front of the room, pacing back and forth with the end of her blue ink pen in between her lips and said to our group in a matter-of-fact voice: "Over half of you in this room will fail to become a successful writer."

Just like that, she killed the eight-year-old Sam inside of me.

It was my final year at uni, and already I had failed without even truly starting. That's it? Those are the words of wisdom you want to leave us with? We're going to fail? Gee, thanks. I'm glad I just wasted over $50,000 to hear you say that, dream killer.

I understand that they wanted to prepare us for the future, to not get our hopes up about instant fame and fortune. Writing is not an occupation that one pursues in order to become the next billionaire. There is a reason why the cliché is, "starving artist". What I didn't understand is why they had to be so brutal about it. We're writers. Our fragile emotions can't handle such harshness.

Now that I've let some time pass by, and have worked through my anger issues in counseling, I've come to the conclusion it's because they wanted to instill The Fear in us all, and weed out the true writers who are strong enough to handle the future of a writer, and those that simply want to do something that seems easy. I tell ya, that day I felt the motherfucking Fear. The Fear still lives inside of me and tells me every single day that I am shit, and I should give up now, because look at all of this shit that I spew out every day. Shit piled on top of more shit.

The Fear sits right next to Judgement and Self-Loathing on my shoulders. The three of them occasionally get together and think of new ways to make me cry. I see them sometimes playing a game of cards, smoking, drinking cheap beer and chatting about how shit I am.

"Did you see that you guys? She got an award for being outstanding at work and hosting that conference. Let's tell her the only reason why she got the award in the first place is because she was the only one left in the department who had yet to receive a spot award, and the only reason why she got it is because they felt bad for her." Judgement is a cruel, cruel thing.

The other two agree, and next thing you know I'm crying, yet again, about how shit I am.

They're right. Why would they want to give me something to appreciate my work? It's obviously a scam.

The Fear. I am scared of The Fear. I feel The Fear, and that's why I do things that are safe and never try do anything outside of my comfort zone. It's because The Fear scares the crap out of me.

Back when I was a lot younger, though, more innocent and less susceptible to The Fear, I was so brave. I believed I could do anything. I can write stories, I can tell people what I believe through the words that I write. See these words? Aren't they inspiring? Don't they make you want to sing, cry, and laugh all at the same time? I wrote these words that move you so much. I told this life-changing story. I have people writing me to tell me how much my words helped them through a tough time in their life, and because of my story they are doing better now.

These are my words.

I let The Fear and my depression consume me for so long. I'm still recovering from the years of blackness that covered my skin, that sank into my blood, and poisoned my mind. But I am recovering. That's the important thing.

I remember one evening I was sitting on Momma's bathroom floor with my school notebooks scattered all around me. Momma was washing the day off her face, and I had a pencil in my hand half talking to her and half talking to myself about a mystery story that I was writing.

"They'll find her, lying on the floor, covered in her own blood. She's been shot, wait, no, she's been knocked in the head. The bruises would have already formed on her arms, and the detective will know that she had been tied up before she died. She was tortured! But he's not sure for how long...."

Momma looked at me and wiped the water off her face with a washcloth.

"That's a bit brutal, Samantha."

"I know, Momma, but it's part of the story. If she's not dead, then it won't make sense."

I couldn't have been any older than eleven, and I was writing about some poor blond woman who had died a horrific death. I was busy telling a story, and doing so with a passion that I wish I still had today.

I'm still taking baby steps, but one day, I hope to make the passionate little girl who would sit on the bathroom floor proud.

Fuck The Fear.

Posted by Sam at 08:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

It's time for my first cup of tea for the season.

It tastes like autumn, smells like London, and as I hold the mug in my hand I can hear one of my flatmate's voices as they ask me again how many sugars I'd like.

Two please. Three if you're using the bigger mug. And green milk.

England's weather allows for hot tea all year round, however, since I've moved back to Virginia, and Mother Nature has had a Summer Death Grip on us, I've switched my steaming mugs for tall glasses with ice cubes and sweet iced-tea. So this first mug of hot Tetley is, in a small way, special for me.

Each year when the seasons change, I always make it a point to stop and look around. Look at the trees changing. Feel the cool air prick against your cheeks. Smell the wood fires. Pack away the summer shorts for fluffy hoodies. And, of course, start drinking hot tea again.

The other day I was sitting at long dining table for a coworker's farewell lunch, when he randomly asked me if I missed England. I responded with a quick, polite nod and let other people talk about their past experiences in the country, and wash over my answer. Chris had stayed on Mayfair one time when he went over. Simon visited frequently with his wife. Wasn't their public transportation so great? Europeans are much more relaxed than Americans, and take more time off work. We should adopt this kind of mindset into our own daily living.

The conversation shifted onto sleep apnea, and I continued to eat the bowl of chips that were sitting in front of me.

Yes, I do miss London. I don't like to talk about it too much, because it starts to feel like I may never go back. After I first returned, people would ask if I had plans to move back, and I would answer firmly, "in two years." I was so sure that it would only take me two years, and then I'd return, pick up right where I left off, and that would be that. End of story.

Of course I'm already a year and a half in, and there are no solid plans for me to return permanently. Only brief visits every eight or so months, but nothing like how I was before. I think one of the main reasons why I was so sad over the past year (especially after my visit in April), is because I was mourning the loss of that life. It was such a huge thing. It was the first, real time I had ever felt like I belonged, like I was a part of something, like I finally fit in somewhere.

Coming back home wiped all of my uni time clean. I was back in a state that I never really liked to begin with (although I'm growing to see that it's not all fire and brimstone), back in a house that is so far out it takes me nearly thirty minutes to get anywhere that's partially interesting, and work with a group of smarty pants scientists that unintentionally make me feel inadequate. It's not exactly the life I hoped I'd fall into after I finished.

There are things I still want to do, places I still want to travel to, new people I don't know yet, but desperately want to meet. I'm still waiting for something to happen, and part of me knows it won't happen with me just thinking about it all the time.

Then again, there are also things holding me back, like my SSL's (Scary Student Loans). Those put a huge limit on my present life. I definitely can't run away from those, and until I can get rid of at least two of them, I'm pretty limited on Life Options to choose from.

But it's not just money holding me back. I hold myself back as well, and don't take daring chances. I'm all about playing it safe now, sticking to the rules, and living a straight-laced life. I wear what I like to call, my "big girl pants" and every day they get tighter in the waist. New bills start showing up at the house with my name on it. New situations come up where I can't react like a grumbling teenager, but instead have to act appropriate as according to Human Resources. And old things are sacrificed in order to better accommodate this new Big Girl Role.

It's so tiring.

My manager, who I truly believe was meant to be my father, said to me the other day, "don't just work for money. If you only get up every day for the money, then you're not doing it right. If you do something you love, then it's not really work."

Every day I wake up so I can get paid. Plain and simple.

And so I come back and think about my recent, straight-laced life choices. Sure, they've gotten me this far, but they've not given me what I truly want. I think it's time I start doing something a little crazier with my choices, a little more off-the-beaten-path. It's time I do something more than "just for the money."

I think it's time to put those business cards I won months ago to good use. I do have 500 of them after all.

Posted by Sam at 07:21 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I got off work early today because I felt like it.

There was work I could have done, but my forty hours were up for the week, and I thought, fuck it. It's Friday, the weather is cooling off, and quite frankly, I didn't feel like sitting there anymore. So I left at 3:30 with specific instructions not to call me if they needed anything. It can wait until Monday, understood?

I got home at 4:30p.m., which for most people is a normal time to arrive at home after work. Normally I'd still have about an hour or so of sitting behind my desk, and I generally don't make it to the house until 7p.m. Did I mention I wake up at 4a.m.? Yeah, it's pretty shit. I love my coworkers, and the work isn't strenuous, it's just the commute that weighs down on me. But whatever. Not much I can do about it now.

The windows are open in the house, and I'm sitting in my blue fluffy robe to keep myself warm from the evening chill. Recently I've been taking the time to blog at the end of the day on the couch, and when I crack open my laptop and start clicking away, Humphrey hops up next to me and falls asleep like those perfect little dogs that you see in movies. It's like he knows I'm trying to put my thoughts together, and he decides to be a picturesque puppy. My sweet boy.

I thought earlier that I'd have something to talk about or write about when it finally came time for me to sit down and churn one of these suckers out, but alas, I am at a loss for words. I don't know what to talk about. What do you want me to talk about? Any suggestions? That'd be really helpful right about now.

Sometimes I really want to blog about work, but I'm so scared of getting dooced that I do my best to stay away from the topic altogether. Besides, it's not like there's anything super exciting to talk about. My work is pretty standard, and there's always the day-to-day office politics. Blah, blah, blah. I do work with some hilarious people, although I'm not sure if they know they're being hilarious. They're just funny to me, and I reckon they'd more than likely be offended if I told them so. I mostly support engineers, though, that get paid a large sum of money (in comparison to my meager wage) to sit and work on computer codes. They're big fans of video games, motorcycles, and geocaching, and most of them are polite gentlemen that any lady would be proud to bring home to the parents. They're big geeks, and sometimes I get an overwhelming feeling to just squish them.

But I don't talk about it here, because my overwhelming feeling of fear is greater than my feeling to squish them.

Since my work does consume about 80% of my life, though, and I won't allow myself to write about work, it kind of limits me on daily topics to choose from. So if any of the four readers out there have a topic suggestion (a big shout out to my reader in Singapore!), please, feel free to let me know.

Posted by Sam at 08:44 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

There used to be a time when I was a fun gal to hang out with. I used to go out, have drinks with my friends, dress up and just do general crazy ass shit with them. We'd get dressed up for all of the different university activities, and it didn't matter how much of a fool we looked like, we'd still go out and have a ball.

These days I feel lame. I feel very unsocial. I feel like my life only consists of going to work, coming home, barely recharging my battery and then waking up the next morning to do it all over again. And that's it. That's all I do. I used up all of my Fun Chips when I was at uni, and now I must resign myself to complete and utter dullness 24/7. I guess you could say I'm in a rut. A very boring rut.

For a while I thought that I deserved the boring life, and that my days of doing crazy ass shit was over. It was time for me to cross over into Adulthood now, and adults don't do crazy ass shit. Ever. They look back fondly at their funny antics and retell their story to youngsters who probably own fake IDs.

Yes, I'm in a quarter-life crisis. I'm very much aware of this. I'll be turning twenty-five this year, and fuck me if that isn't a scary achievement that everyone eventually goes through.

I'm turning twenty-fucking-five.

The past year has mostly been spent crying and reflecting back on every bad decision I ever made, and turning that into yet another reason to hate myself. I was mourning my university life and trying to figure out where I fit in this new Adult World. Now what the fuck was I going to do? I can no longer wake up at noon and go to the bar at 2p.m. anymore? This is not acceptable? Well, fuck you then! Oh, saying "fuck you" is no longer acceptable either? Well this just fucking sucks.

It was a vicious cycle to say the least, but I'm okay now. Remember, I realized this while I was in traffic and it was raining outside.

Now that my Dark Cloud has broken up for the most part, and I can see things a bit clearer, I'm still pressed with the same questions I had before, but without the crippling effects. Where do I fit in this new Adult World? Who am I really? Who is Sam and what does she want to do?

I want to write y'all. For real, I want to write. I still don't know exactly what I want to write just yet, but that has always been the answer for as long as I can remember. Y'all all know this. It's only the thing consistent in my entire life, other than my mother and sister. I want to write.

Hence my participation in BEDS. I figure there's no better way to get started than to get back to the basics. Strip it like Christina Auiglera. Write something every single day, even if it's shit, even if no one reads it, even if it makes absolutely no sense whatsoever. Write. It. Down.

Because I can't stay in this rut forever. I can't continue barely living. Barely living. I don't have a social life. I have my job, traffic, and my dog. I don't do crazy ass things anymore because my schedule and my new life does not allow it.

But it doesn't have to be like that. The nice thing about free will is that you have the power to change things to a certain extent in order to make your life more accommodating for yourself. It's one of the simplest things that everyone is always talking about, but didn't finally make sense to me until a couple of weeks ago. I have the power to change, and by god I will. It may not happen overnight, but it will happen. You know, so long as I don't get hit by a bus or anything.

One day, I want to be fun again. One day I want to have a great balance between work, family, and friends. I don't want things in bits and pieces. I want it all. All it takes is one step. And the dedication to do what you want every. single. day.

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

While I sit in traffic I watch the sun rise in the east. The sky goes from deep blue, to purple, to pink swirled with orange, and eventually to light blue. By the time I leave work, I watch the opposite effect as I'm sitting in the same traffic to go home. My days are truly long, and honestly, I don't see how I'm doing it. Gotta get paid somehow, though, right?

Now that the kids are officially all back in school, I have to wake up at 4a.m. to be out of the house on time. During the summer months, I could get away with sleeping in a little bit after my alarm clock started shouting at me, but now I can no longer hit the snooze button. It's only the first week, and I'm afraid I'm going to start slacking as the days get colder, and my willpower grows thinner.

So yes, a very long day for this blogger that's trying to keep a steady pace for Blog Every Day in September. However, on this particularly long day I'm going to have to make this another short post. Right now I'd much rather wash my face and then take my sweet Humphrey out for his evening walk before we have cuddles. Tomorrow I'll write a little more.

Posted by Sam at 08:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I love long weekends. What I hate is when they end and I have to go back to work and deal with everything I didn't feel like doing the week before. It's bad after Labor Day as well, since that's when all the kids go back to school and we have to deal with Terrible Traffic Tuesday. Ugh, it's the worst.

I thought it'd be a relatively quiet Tuesday (at least that's how it started out), and then WHAM! Everyone decided that they needed something at 10a.m. Can you get me a pager? Can you reserve three conference rooms for these three days at this certain level? Can you reserve me an auditorium that can hold at least 85 people? Why isn't my clock working? Can you schedule this meeting ASAP? Can you write the new hire's welcome email? Can you resend me that email you sent two weeks ago? Where's all the candy? Can you, Sam?

Grrrr.....

I love my job. I love my job. I love my job.

I do love my job really. And it is my job to take care of these things, but good lord, when you hear it all the time, sometimes you feel less like an admin and more like their mother.

I don't want to complain about work, though, because regardless of how annoying it can be from time to time, I am very grateful that I have a place that I can go to every day, and they give me a paycheck every two weeks. Everyone is really lovely, and sometimes when I'm walking around, I can't help but laugh. I work with some of the kookiest people. There are quiet some characters.

Recently (mainly when I'm sitting in traffic), I get flashbacks of London. I sure do miss my city. When I miss it these days, though, it's different from when I used to miss it, and long for it at the same time. I used to obsess and wish with every part of myself that I could go back. I wanted so much to be back there. These days, however, I miss it and then I let it go. I can remember and smile, rather than remember and get depressed for a week. Maybe it's all of my counseling, or maybe it's because I've been keeping up with my vitamin D (I am such a firm believer in those supplements), but I feel like I'm growing out of London Town, and finally starting to appreciate my Virginia life. I appreciate it so much now, I've decided to do my masters degree here in about two years.

Yes, y'all, I have decided to go back to school. Only this time I'm not going to fuck it up. I'm going to give it an actual go. As my good friend Jon said to me, "nothing like a year in a job you really don't wanna be doing to put your wasted education in perspective."

Word.

This is my new Life Plan that I've decided on. I'm aiming to get into a masters program in about two years (damn those student loans), and then I'll give a real try at Creative Writing with English. Again. And hopefully the second time round (and no drugs) will be a much more positive experience for me.

I decided this a couple of weeks ago, when the beginning of my counseling epiphany began to reveal itself, and the Old Sammi Jo started coming out of the dark. I remember I was sitting in my car, in the normal every day traffic, and somewhere from the deep recesses of my mind, a voice came out of nowhere and said, "you're going to be okay." I can't remember exactly what I was thinking about at the time, but I remember those words, and I remember the voice sounding gentle, caring, and so honest. It was the first positive thing I had thought to myself in months. I almost started crying right there in my car.

Ever since that day, I just keep building on the positivity around me. Sometimes I wonder if people are annoyed with my newfound optimism, but I don't care. I still get annoyed with work, and when I'm sitting in traffic I wish I could be doing other social things with my time, but I stay in a generally good mood. Because now I have an idea of where I want to go and it's something to work with. Now I can plan for a future that doesn't involve me answering phones for people, and making sure that the supply cabinet stays consistently full.

I'm going to be okay.

It's good to finally know that.

Posted by Sam at 09:08 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I drove back from North Carolina today, and I am sleepy. I don't really have much to say today, but I wanted to blog something before I went upstairs to pass out, so I came up with this little haiku:

I know this is half-
assed, but I am too tired
to make an effort.

Not exactly what I had in mind when I decided to participate in BEDS, but sometimes a gal just needs some sleep in her cushion bed. Until tomorrow!

Posted by Sam at 07:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Crap, I almost forgot to blog tonight.

Mel and I have been hanging out, shopping, making dinner, and watching movies, and right before I was about to crawl under the covers and close my eyes for the end of today, it shot straight into my brain. So I've made myself a cup of a tea, which is balancing nicely on Mel's seventh edition Western Civilization school book, and I have propped myself upright to blog about my Sunday.

One day I hope to be able to move on from blogging simply about my day-to-day activities, but since I've not blogged regularly in so long, I feel really out of practice. I figure it's only best that I keep it simple in the start, and maybe down the line I'll regain my blogging feet and can add a bit more style; but until then I'll just keep them short, sweet, and to the point.

Tomorrow I'm driving back up to Virginia. I'm a bit sad to leave Mel behind, since I know she does tend to get quite lonely. Earlier this evening she made a really nice large meal for the two of us, and said that she wished she was able to make more big meals like this more often. Nowadays she only cooks for one, and it's really depressing for her. The fact that she used the word "depressing" was like a punch in my heart. I know depression all too well, and I definitely don't want her being depressed over anything, ever.

I took her to the mall today so she could exchange some shirts that Momma had bought for her online (American Eagle had sent her the wrong color), and decided I'd go ahead and buy her some new clothes. I was having a poke around in her wardrobe, and to say that it's empty would be a slight understatement. She has nothing but khaki trousers and red shirts (classic Target uniform), and a few summer dresses. So I bought her a new pair of jeans, and some tops that she can wear when the weather turns cooler. We also went to Costco where I bought her some of her favorite foods in bulk. I didn't have to do these things, but I thought it'd be nice since she helped me out so many times when I was in London and had pissed all my money away. Sisters help each other out when they can.

Mel and I had some nice chats as well during my short visit. The two of us aren't really the mushy kind that like to express our feelings, and you'll never hear us saying that we love each other. Obviously we do love each other very much, but we don't have to say it. It's uncomfortable for us. We don't have long, in-depth chats about life, we rarely speak of our personal lives in great length, but the way we know each other, and understand each other is uncanny. So the fact that we had some "nice chats" was new, and yes, very nice. She talked about her new friends that she's meeting, and I gave her advice about money ("don't piss it all away like I did").

Since I came back home, and since Mel has left home, a new kind of overprotective feeling has come over me for her. I try not to always sound overbearing and like I know better than her, but it's hard for me to hear sometimes what she shares with me (which isn't anything terrible at all, especially when you compare it to half of the things I used to do). All I keep wanting to say is, "god, please don't make the same mistakes I did." I can only imagine what it must feel like for Momma.

My little sister. She's not so little anymore. And if we were the kind of sisters that were comfortable with sharing our feelings with one another, I'd tell her how proud I am of what she's doing, and how she's doing. She's a very smart person. A lot smarter than me in so many ways. And when I tell Momma that she's doing fine, and that she will be fine, I know it's true.

And here I thought I'd keep this post short, sweet, and to the point.

Posted by Sam at 10:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Ah, Labor Day weekend. So blissful. So sweet. So needed for my poor body that hasn't had a proper rest in months. Mel and I are getting ready to go to the pool, and I'm waiting for her to get out of the shower, which I'm sure will take her about another thirty minutes since she is one of the hairiest women on earth. I say that with nothing but love. But it's true, she is one hairy lady.

(She's going to kill me for writing that on here. Ah well.)

So I'm taking this brief moment of quiet to blog properly since my dear little sister kept distracting me last night with her incessant chatting. Bless her cotton socks.

Mel lives four hours south from our house in Virginia, so it's relatively easy for us to visit her whenever we need to, or when she asks us to because she's lonely. Her living quarters are a lot nicer than my old university flat. It's a brand spanking new apartment complex with a sweet pool area, a gym with TV's lodged in the treadmills, and a twenty-four Harris Teeter connected to the building about three floors down. What I would have done to have a grocery store only an elevator ride away! Whenever I tell anyone about where she lives, I always make sure to call her a lucky bitch, because she is.

We cleaned her apartment this morning, which took us all of an hour. It's so new, and small enough you can't even really try to get the place dirty. Things may look a little out of place or disorganized, but it stays consistently clean. I don't like to admit my jealousy, because I am grateful for the university experience I had, but there's still a small part of me that wishes I could have lived in some place like this during my years in London.

Whenever I visit North Carolina, I can't help but remember back to the seven years when we used to live here. I grew up all over the United States (Momma was in the Air Force), but I consider myself to be from North Carolina since that's where our family lives, it's where Momma was born and raised, and where I grew up during the moulding teenage years. My southern drawl works it way out as soon as I cross the state line and I get a hankering for some pulled pork barbecue and sweet tea.

Life is slower down here, but I believe the state is growing up a lot more these days. After I left I swore I'd never go back. I was so afraid of getting stuck in the small town mindset again that I jumped at the first chance I got to move to a big city. There is something about country living that agrees with me though, and always has, so I love these little trips away from the DMV area. It's always a nice break from the daily routine I have going on in VA. I just wonder if it's nice enough for me to ever reconsider coming back down here permanently.

Meh, maybe not just yet.

Posted by Sam at 11:40 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Currently I'm sitting in Mel's apartment with half a coconut cupcake from Cake Love sitting next to me. I already ate half of a raspberry vanilla cupcake, and am feeling slightly ashamed of myself. Why not go the full distance and utterly hate myself by finishing off the other half of the chocolate coconut? Oh yeah, I will.

Mel keeps trying to make conversation with me while she unfolds her pull-out couch bed for me, and I've told her four times that I'm in the process of blogging.

"How long does it take you to blog?"

"I don't know."

"What do you want to do tonight?"

"I want to try and blog right now."

"Dude, so I was having this sandwich at school the other day."

"Dude, really, trying to blog here."

"Okay, sorry."

......

"What are you typing?"

"OH MY GOD."

"You should have known this was going to happen. I don't have anyone to generally talk to."

***

The ride down was nice, although I was expecting it to be raining with Hurricane Earl around. It was sunny, and the temperature gauge in my car reached 101 degrees at one point. I left work early so I could fill up my car with gas, ran to the mall to pick up our Cake Love cupcakes, and some more make-up, and wound up leaving with three extra things that I don't need, but bought anyway to get the sales attendants away from me. I'm always a sucker with those desperate looking sales girls that look me in the eyes like they need to sell this product, otherwise their children will go another night without dinner and it'll be all my fault, because I can afford overpriced sugary goodness cupcakes at $3.25 each, but can't shell out $79.00 for a face-wash that came from the Dead Sea.

Aaaand I'm going to try and write something a little more detailed tomorrow. Mel is proving to be a major distraction. So I'm going to eat my death cupcake, have a conversation with my sister since she's obviously dying to talk to someone, and then crash out.

I'll be back tomorrow. See you then.

Posted by Sam at 08:24 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Let's keep this one short and simple, shall we?

Today was a fairly easy day. It's right before Labor Day weekend, so a lot of people have already started heading home and don't plan on turning on their BlackBerry's or laptops until next week. I wish I was so lucky, however, as an admin (well, an admin with little vacation time saved up), I will be here until tomorrow afternoon when I jump into my newsed (new/used) car and drive down to North Carolina.

Mel attends school down there, by the way. She's just now starting her first year of college, and I couldn't be happier for her. It's nice to see your little sister who has been working at a dead end Target job, to go back to school and take those first steps into independent adulthood. She has a cute little apartment with a neighborhood pool/gym, and I plan to utilize both places while I'm down for my extended weekend visit.

It'll be nice to get out of the office.

I do spend a frightening amount of time within these business walls. My coworker, Ellen, heard about this socializing group here in the DMV (DC/Maryland/Virginia) area, and signed herself up for an entire year. They have around forty-five social activities every month, and it's meant to be a fun/safe/easy way for singletons to meet new people while participating in things that they may not usually do.

I think it sounds like a nice idea, but I reckon I'm too much of an anti-social wallflower to go to these events and meet random people. Oh, and I'm cheap. The monthly fees/yearly submission is WAY too much for my teeny tiny pockets. I think I'll stick with meeting new people the old fashion way: going to bars. Not that that way has proven to be successful in the past. Ellen does have some free passes for guests, though, so maybe I'll tag along to one of the free events and see how it goes.

I also had a follow up appointment today for my root canal. I have a whole slew of dental issues going on, which is what I get for not going to the dentist for FOUR YEARS. Yeah, I know, I'm gross. But when I was at uni, I didn't have insurance, nor could I afford to go regularly, so my teeth were left unattended by any kind of dental professional until I finally got that handy dandy insurance. For the record, root canals are a piece of cake. I don't know why people think that they're so horrible. They give you some awesome novocain that's on steroids and you can't feel half of your face for like, four hours. It's great.

So yeah, that's my Thursday. Bring on the long weekend. God knows I could do with an extra day of doing nothing.

P.S.....Happy 90210 day.

Posted by Sam at 05:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

I don't know why I've decided to do this. It's not like I have the time. Really, I don't. My work takes up 80% of my life (how sad), and the other 20% is consumed by eating, sleeping, sitting in traffic, or taking care of my dog. Oh, my sweet dog.

I've decided to participate in BEDS: Blog Every Day in September. BEDA (Blog Every Day in August) just passed, and I was so upset when I missed it, although I'm not sure why I was so upset, because like I mentioned a second ago: it's not like I have the time.

I started taking my vitamin D supplements because, you know, I've got a vitamin D deficiency, and ever since I've been taking them, I feel a lot more balanced, a lot more level, a lot less suicidal (which is an obvious pro). Now that I'm all balanced out, one of my very "balanced" thoughts has been, "you should really start blogging again. Writing again. Taking time to do something that you love." And so here I am, diving in head first into something that I miss doing regularly, and never take the time to actually do.

I really hope I don't forget and miss one day. It doesn't take much time at all (in fact, I plan on blogging Monday through Friday at work on my lunch breaks), and yet I still never manage to sit down, crack my knuckles, and do it. But something inside of me has changed (probably all that vitamin D I've been taking). I have been so goddamn depressed for the past year, and I feel like I'm just now starting to crawl out of that hole I've been in. I don't want to be the girl who got depressed and gave up. I want to be the girl that got depressed, worked on her issues, and came out on the other side a little bit smarter, a little more mature, a lot stronger, and didn't let the darkness consume her.

So I'll be here every day until the 30th at least. I hope you're here with me.

Posted by Sam at 05:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)