Undeserving of a title, but too lazy to click all the buttons you have to click to publish a post without one.

I would like to caution those who are about to read on that this post will likely not have a cohesive theme, or a followable thought line, or make any sense what-so-ever.
Wait. That's not new.

Nevermind.

I am currently drinking chocolate raspberry flavored coffee. I thought it would be gross, but with a touch of cream and a packet of raw sugar its actually really decadent. I try not to buy coffee during the week (especially since coffee for me, non-fat latte with a touch of raw sugar, is usually not cheap) but I happened to scrounge some change from the couch this morning and grab a cup of Joe. I decided that I shouldn't be afraid of flavored coffee, lots of people like it, and maybe, since its cheaper it might be a good habit to start. At this point, I wouldn't make it a habit, but its a nice change from the usual.

It may be 9:00am but that doesn't mean I don't already want to be home snuggled next hubs, in my comfys, with a large glass of wine. In fact I would like to do this for a week straight. No, two weeks.

I've wanted to be a lot of things in my life. Florist, Pioneer woman, Broadway star, Violinist, Museum curator, Community Health educator, but the one true thing that I really wanted to be and still do to this day ,is a dancer. I would have loved to be a dancer. I actually love ballet, and dance recitals, and cheesy modern dance routines. When no one is around I pretend I am a dancer, and then I inevitably end up stubbing my toe on some inanimate object or pulling a muscle. Then I remember I'm not a dancer, I pout for about a minute, then I go back to my boring, non-dance filled life.

I think I could have been a really awesome teacher. If I had more patience.

I am deathly, horribly, paralyzingly afraid of snakes and snake like things (i.e. shoe laces on the road, large worms, eels, small worms, string, etc.)

I have a problem with food textures. I don't eat oranges or grapefruit because it makes me feel like I'm eating tiny little sacks of juice, and that's gross. I don't eat anything that bursts in my mouth like grapes, or tomatoes, or cherries. I also can't eat things that are weirdly chewy, like shellfish.

I have a new favorite color every month or so. Mostly its a shade of blue or green. Right now, its mustard yellow.

I sing. I love to sing. I'm actually pretty good at singing. I've sung to large audiences and not been nervous, but if it was just you and me, sitting in a room, I would be too nervous. 5,000 people would never make me nervous, but one will get me every time. Also, I don't take requests. If you know I sing, and most of you do, you can't tell me to "just sing something" or "sing that one song from that one show". It will make me not want to sing for you, like, um, ever. I'm a human, not a jute box, and please don't hand me quarters cause that doesn't make it better.

I am dyslexic. I can't spell because I invert letters in words, but its much worse with numbers. I would like to think this is a really good excuse for failing at math, but I know better.

I really like writing, and although sometimes its seems like I'm trying really hard to be witty, I'm not. I'm not saying this to point out that I am naturally witty, because I'm not, I am saying this because it happens by accident. This is stream of consciousness writing. What I write is that crap that just plays endlessly in my head all day. Isn't that scary?

 I would like to confirm now that this blog makes no sense, and I don't care. Yes I do.

No I don't.....




*shhhhh....Yes I do*

Fear and loathing in Portland, Oregon.

It seems lately that I am more conscious of this ever present sense of fear that hangs over my life. Now, I realize how heavy and foreboding that sounds but a healthy dose of fear is present in everything we do, or at least that is what I believe. Fear is a motivator, sometimes to make us do things, sometimes to keep us from doing things. So far, my actions seem to be focusing on the later of those two choices. I have a weakness for fear. Secretly, I think its an addiction. Being afraid keeps me safe, it keeps me from getting hurt, it keeps me in a comfortable sense of routine that won't change and won't be unexpected. As many of you know my life has been a whirlwind the last few years, and although I have crammed a healthy amount of change into this period of time, not a lot about myself has changed. Sure I got married, got a dog, changed jobs, became an auntie, moved in and out of apartments, and helped my husband through school, but what does that really mean?

It means I'm here. Looking down on a valley of uncertainty and I'm scared. Scared like I never have been in my life before because for once I have absolutely no control. If you know me, and most of you do, control is kind of my thing. You know, some people have tattoos, some people like horses or vacations, I like control. Type double, capital A organized, planned, out, listed and bullet pointed control. When I don't have that, or at least the illusion of that, I start to um, well, lose it a little (a LOT). So that's what I'm doing, being here, and not having control, and losing it at a rate of A LOT (not a little).

My fear is irrational. My need for control is irrational. Does knowing this make any of this easier? No. Not one little bit. In fact, knowing makes it all that much harder. There are a lot of days lately where all I want to do is pull the covers over my head and rock myself through the wave of tears that stings me, but doing that would mean losing control...which as I mentioned before, I do not like (with a capital N O T).

But I like the fear. I stand on the edge of this cliff and look into the aforementioned valley of uncertainty and I get a rush. Like rise in your stomach when you miss a step only it lasts for days, sometimes weeks. Even though this rush surges from fear and lack of control, I crave it, crave it like I crave chocolate or salt.

I have no idea what my/our future holds. There. I said it. I have no stinking idea. And I hate it. I want to know, like a child wants to know what they are getting for Christmas. I want to see it, touch it, be able to shout it to the world and take a large dump truck filled with life's most heavy fill dirt and fill in that deep valley of uncertainty and then plant beautiful flowers of knowing on top of it to pretend it never, ever, ever, ever existed. But no matter how many times I look on the job boards, or in the closet, or in my face as I stare at the mirror. I just don't and there is nothing, not one, single, little thing, not begging, not pleading, not screaming, not pulling the covers over my head and crying until the tears won't come, not smiling, not laughing, not paying fortune tellers or doing research. Nope. Not one thing I can do....

and I've just got to accept that.

then I have to own it.

then I have to give it a name and give it a bath and tuck it into bed every night.

whether I like it or not.

Does that make sense? No? Well I guess i'll just have to live with that too.

I really need a bigger apartment.