From the archives: patience

by acousticskyy via Flickr

Sometimes, especially when I feel down, I like to go back and read things I wrote when I was a teenager. I wrote this entry in 2003 when I was starting to date my second boyfriend. He wound up breaking my heart. As I ease myself back into dating, this is a nice reminder to have patience with the process.

i haven't felt this way in such a long time, this intoxication from happiness. i keep thinking of what happened the last time, how badly i got hurt and how careless i was. am i ready for this? have the wounds healed enough for me to get involved with someone? i'm so scared, of almost everything. i just don't know what to do. i know how i feel. and i know what i'll be getting into. i don't know if i could handle another heartache in such a short amount of time from the last. the desires of my heart keep contradicting the reason in my mind and i'm left completely confused and frustrated. ugh! to be 16 and have your heart flying is not the easiest thing in the world to deal with. it's such a shame i have the past blocking something that could turn out to be wonderful. how could i have been so stupid? i was such an incompetent freshman girl. who knows, i still might be just as incompetent. this though, this is different. the situation is quite different. and i do know better, at least i hope i do. i just wish that there was some clear cut answer amongst all of this confusion. this intense attraction is not exactly helping the circumstance any, it's only making it more difficult to find a solution. i could so easily fall head over heels for him, no stopping me, completely jump into this. but i can't. if i'm going to do this, i want it to be progressive and slow, i don't want to rush into this. that would completely ruin this wonderful chance i have. the very last thing that i want to do is completely screw this up by rushing and not being patient. if this is going to be, i want to take it slow and savor every moment. i want to be content with just holding his hand and being close to him. i don't want to move on until i am entirely satisfied.

Things that I love: beach wine

Ending a super stressful week by sharing a bottle of wine on the beach with a cute boy is my new favorite thing.

Dating lately

by 23236076@N06 via Flickr

Tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall

I've been working on a jigsaw puzzle for the last few months and I find myself having some deep thinks as I shuffle through the pieces, trying to arrange them into their full, predestined picture (which is fitting considering that's what I'm trying to do with my life in general). On my more sullen days, as I turn the pieces this way and that, I tend to think about how lonely I am and how my dad is probably worrying about me being taken care of, but how I can't really imagine being in a relationship right now. At the same time, I find myself to be a little dissatisfied with the lack of depth I have with the two guys I've been seeing casually lately. Which brings me back to feeling lonely. In my really morose moments, those thoughts devolve into how I kind of want kids (clock is ticking after all), but how can I justify bringing someone into this world to only have them deal with the pain I'm dealing with right now when I die?

In the end, my dad always just wanted me to be happy. If I started talking about doing something that he couldn't quickly see would lead to my happiness or betterment, he would ask me why I was even bothering. Now that he's not here to check me on that, I've got to do it myself. 

I know that it's nearly pointless to question why I want to get married or have kids in the wake of my dad's passing. My knee jerk reaction is clearly tainted by my recent over sensitivity to mortality. I know it's senseless to think about denying myself the full range of the human experience because I'm afraid of going down this path again and wondering how the hell I could ever withstand this much pain again. But that still hasn't stopped me from thinking about how awful it would be to have a husband and to have children and then die, forcing them in my current position. It just seems so selfish. But, I mean, I already have friends and my other family members who are still alive that would have to go through that if I were to die right now, so, since I can't spare everyone, why even bother trying to spare anyone? At this point, my thoughts tend to spiral into nonsense. I think it just goes back to the happiness question. Would I be happier starting a family and setting them up for devastation or would I be happier abstaining from the whole thing?

Ultimately, I know myself well enough to know that I don't think I could remain single for that long even if I tried. I couple easily and naturally, so I don't really stand a chance dying as an old maid.

Also, I know I can take care of myself. I'm far too independent and stubborn to melt into complete worthlessness. My dad, ultimately, knew/knows that as well. But as a dad, he always worried about me. He constantly wanted reassurance that I was doing okay, that my plane didn't crash, that my boyfriend was treating me well, that work was treating me well, that I arrived at my destination. Every time I've been in an airport since his death, it takes all the strength I can muster to resist the urge to text him to update him on my travel plans. He didn't say it, but I'm sure he worried about me finding a good man to take care of me in the event that I couldn't take care of myself. 

I think it's natural, given the circumstances, that my feelings have been oscillating wildly between "I want to be alone forever" and "I want to marry the next guy who looks at me." Once I start acting on either one of those thoughts it will be time to worry about my state of mind. I've been going on dates and enjoying myself as much as I can, which is a good sign. I am incredibly wary of meeting someone entirely new and starting to date though. I think it has something to do with the fact that I feel as though something fundamental in me has changed and I haven't completely been able to wrap my head around that change yet. I think it's kind of dishonest to date without really knowing who you are and what you bring to the table, so I'm backing away from clean starts for right now. Also, I'm kind of damaged goods right now and I don't think it's fair to burden someone with all of that from the start.

While I recognize that the people who care about me the most won't view this as being burdened, I know that it's hard for my friends right now because there's really nothing that anyone can say or do to make me feel better or to make the situation better. Hardly any of my friends have had to deal with losing a parent yet, so that makes it doubly hard because barely anyone knows what this feels like. I don't know if it's insecurity or humility or insanity, but I hate to be a burden on anyone for any reason (I think the real root of this has to do with my mom and how she's treated me, as a burden, for the majority of my life). It's not that I've been keeping everything in or hidden, but I've definitely been careful not to completely unload on anyone. I think it's partially because I don't want anyone to feel this kind of pain that I've been feeling, but the awful thing is that almost everyone will at some point. I guess I'm just trying to save everyone from a sneak peek of their future. Granted, if they're lucky, they won't have to do this for at least another 20-30 years (which is insane to me and just underscores how fucking unfair this all is).

The most marked change I've noticed in how I relate to guys is that I'm only comfortable with certain kinds of vulnerability. While I usually love to cuddle and be cuddled, I've been putting up walls when it comes to signs of affection. I feel as though I will completely break down if I allow myself to be comforted in that way and I don't want to break down like that in general, but especially not around guys who aren't going to be around for a long time. I don't want to give up that part of myself easily. I don't really know what I'm afraid of. I just know that right now the thought of a man loving me and caring for me in that way is incredibly painful and uncomfortable.

The super negative side of me is telling me that I will never get over this and that I will die alone because of how deeply this will scar me. The super positive side of me is telling me that there's a man out there who will understand completely and will want me to be as happy as my dad wanted me to be, who will cry when I cry about the fact that my dad isn't there to share in our happiness. The realistic side of me is telling me that the immediate future will continue to be really hard, but that I will get through this one way or another, the pieces will fit together naturally one at a time, and that I'll be lucky to find a guy who is half the man that I'm dreaming of.

In sum, everything is a complete mess and I'm struggling to find a balance, but no matter how lonely I feel, I know I am not alone. I have far too many great people in my life for me to be neglected for too long.

How to stop worrying

by rodri555 via Flickr

If you've been following my blog for awhile, you know that I'm a fan of inspirational and motivational quotations. I tend to post at least one a week here. Reading pithy things about how happiness is a choice and how you're in charge of your own destiny is all well and good, but when the going gets tough, do you really take those things to heart or do you resort to your status quo?

If you've been reading my posts for awhile, you also know that I have suffered from depression and anxiety on and off since I was a teenager. Having a broken mother will do that to you. Up until a few years ago, when I was at a mentally low point, I would just allow all of those depressive, self-deflating, worrying, nerve-wracking thoughts to completely run ramped through my head and take over my life. I thought they just had to run their course and then I could get over it. It wasn't until I was at my lowest point that I realized that I could intentionally break the cycle myself instead of just waiting for it to burn out. I managed to do it by appealing to my strong pragmatic and logical side.

What I realized is this: when something is truly out of your control, worrying and having anxiety about it will not change the situation at all. Not even a bit. Whether you are worried sick, desperately depressed, indifferent, or exuberant, the situation is out of your hands and your emotional state will not determine the outcome. So if worrying and having anxiety is worthless, why waste your energy and sanity on allowing your thoughts to drag you though the mud? Accept that it is out of your hands, let it go, and enjoy your life.

I was reminded of this powerful logic just last week when I was starting to feel restless and anxious about a guy I've been casually dating. He's been incredibly busy these last few weeks and so we haven't been able to see each other as often. I began to fear that he's losing interest in me and my brain short-circuited. I felt like I needed to talk to him immediately and see him as soon as possible. We talked on the phone and he told me that he had to go out of town last weekend so we wouldn't be able to see each other for even longer. He was also feeling incredibly stressed from everything that's been going on in his life lately. When I got off the phone, we hadn't made any solid plans for when he got back (a big no no for my planner self) and I could feel myself getting even more agitated.

I took a deep breath and thought about the situation logically. Nothing about what he was saying indicated that he was specifically unhappy with me. Quite simply, I had to stop making the situation about me. He's dealing with a lot right now and I would be feeling the same way if I had the same things to deal with. Instead of being something extra he has to worry about, I needed to take a chill pill, be understanding, and give him the space he needs. Being clingy, desperate, and self-centered would make my fear of rejection a self-fulfilling prophecy. I also realized that there was no way we would be seeing each other until this week at the earliest. No amount of anxiety or worry could change that. Did I really want to spend all of that time feeling sad and disgruntled because a guy was honestly too busy to see me? No, of course not. I chose to let it go. Boom. Instead of sulking all night, I had a cup of tea, watched a comedy on Netflix, and checked some things off my to do list. I was happy and productive!

Short version: when I realize that I'm feeling anxious or beginning to worry excessively, I stop and ask myself why I feel that way. Once I evaluate the why, I ask myself if what I'm feeling is rational. If it's not, I talk myself out of wasting my time and energy feeling out of sorts and do something that'll make me happy instead- life is too damn short to be unhappy and a slave to self-destructive thoughts. If my anxiety and worry is rational (there's something I can do to change the situation), I decide on a course of action to make things right. I've found that the more you practice this exercise, the easier and more second nature it becomes.


What tricks do you use to keep your anxiety level low and keep from worrying excessively?

Torn

by kaderli via Flickr

If you've been keeping up with my blog lately, you know that life's kind of been kicking me in the pants the last few months. There are way too many things going on to begin with, but then add in some people who are really stressing me out and I'm just about maxed out.

One of the things that I kind of just glossed over was the fact that I broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago. I don't think this bit of news was surprising to most people in real life because there were problems from the beginning. The impending cross country move was a catalyst to figure out how things really stood and when I took an honest look at what I really want out of a life partner, he simply came up short. He's a great guy and we had good times together, but in the long run, we weren't going to make each other happy. He wasn't ready for a big commitment and my gut reaction to marrying him was a big, fat no.

I'd be remiss if I didn't tell you that, despite being bummed about ending a relationship, it has opened up opportunities that I would not have been able to pursue otherwise. Specifically, I have a guy friend whom I've known for 5 years. We had an instant connection when we met, but it's quite comical at how poor our timing has been. We managed to have a few romantic encounters a few years ago when we were both single, but living in two different states always put a damper on things. Regardless of what's been going on though, we've stayed in contact for the vast majority of the last 5 years. During my break up, we both realized that we should probably try to figure out what kind of potential we have before I move cross country. We've been making time to see each other and, let me tell you, it's been pretty great. Since we already know each other pretty well, it's like we've just naturally fallen into a rhythm.

At the end of the day, I'm still moving cross country in a little over two weeks, so I'm trying to keep my expectations in check. In this moment though, moving to California is the last thing I want to do.

Life happenings

by capecodcyclist via Flickr

I'm not going to lie: November was a rough month for me, guys. Hurricane Sandy was the catalyst for me telling my grandma the truth about my mother, her hoarding, and our relationship. I had a bad Thanksgiving break that involved a reminder that my family is incredibly screwed up and, while I think it's normal, it's far from it; some tummy trouble; and my dad's girlfriend either blatantly ignoring me or being incredibly rude (like waking me up at 3 AM rude). As if these things (and trying to prepare myself for a cross country move!) weren't enough, I broke up with my boyfriend this week after some big thinks about how what we want and where we are in life are different. It just didn't seem like we were going to make each other happy in the long run. While I know I did the right thing, I feel sad to see it end and I feel awful for hurting him.

I'm in danger of bumming you all out, so here are some entertaining links to round out this post:

Don't settle for just fine.

An amazing example of how change in a community doesn't have to be overthought. 

GoldieBlox instead of Barbies for all the young girls in your life!

There's not enough quiet in our daily lives. Defend it!

"Kiss Me Again" by Jessica Lea Mayfield is my sad jam these days.

If you like a good play on words, how about this Freudian slip mug or some Freudian slippers?


I hope November was more gentle on you than it was on me.

Whirlwind weekend

by scrobz via Flickr

I am super tired y'all, so this is going to be short, but I wanted to recount my weekend since it was largely awesome.

The boyfriend and I made reservations to stay in the Blue Ridge Mountains next weekend and I cannot wait. I've been wanting to go out there for such a long time and we're finally doing it- yay! We're going to go hiking, probably around Old Rag, the first day and visit Luray Caverns on the second day.

I went to a college friend/past roommate's bridal shower on Sunday with another friend of mine. It was out in Lynchburg, so the drive was long, but it was so great to catch up with both of them, see a new city, and have some delicious pizza while I was at it.

Monday morning I checked my email to discover that the university in California that I phone interviewed with wants me to come out and do an in-person interview! Majorly exciting, relieving, and terrifying! I'm still waiting to see what day it'll be, but I know that it'll be in September. Baby's finally going to see the west coast!

Two more of my college friends (one of whom was Jess from Animated Cardigan) passed through Richmond last night and stopped to have some Mexican food and frozen yogurt with me. We also posed for some goofy pictures which I'm sure will be posted on Jess's blog soon.

Lastly, my weekend ended on a sour note as the boyfriend and I had our first argument over my pending move. We both walked away with a lot to think about and way more questions than answers. It's hard to make any plans or say anything for certain since I don't know where I'll be getting a job (California is looking promising though), but I will be moving somewhere and we need to decide if he'll be following me eventually or if we'd be better off going our separate ways. We're leaning more on him following me and the relationship potentially leading to marriage (gulp!), but life is unpredictable and only time will tell.

I cannot wait to get home from work and go to bed. I'm going to sleep all of the hours and catch all of the Zs.

I hope you had a great weekend!

Growing pains

posted by BiblioArchives / LibraryArchives on Flickr

This weekend, my boyfriend and I are traveling up to Pennsylvania to visit my family for a few days. My little nephew has grown so much since the last time I saw him in January that I just couldn't stay away for much longer. My boyfriend has already met my brother and sister in law, but he has not met my nephew, grandma, or mother yet. I wanted him to meet my grandma because she's the sweetest thing and means a lot to me, so I told her about our visit and she invited us over for dinner one of the nights we are in town. I would have rather liked to avoid him meeting my mother, but it sounds like my grandma invited my mother over for dinner as well. I haven't had the heart to tell my grandma about the real state of affairs between my mother and me, so she didn't think it was unusual to invite her too.

If my mother's awful treatment of me and odd idiosyncrasies weren't enough to cause me to not want her to meet my boyfriend, her hypercritical tendencies are enough to bump me over the edge. My mother absolutely hated my ex-fiance even though she hardly knew him- she only met him twice. The basis for her dislike was founded on him reaching across the table for the butter the one time we had dinner together and his knowledge of guitars. I kid you not. My mother also doesn't seem to like my awesome sister in law for no good reason other than she married my brother and "took" him away from her. My mother does not like the thought of our family growing. She's perfectly content spending all of her time with a family that she visits as a social worker instead of her own biological family (that deserves a post all on its own!), but when it comes down to her own children finding partners, she turns her nose up and refuses to accept anyone for any reason. I think she feels threatened by adding more people to the family as there's a greater potential for her secret to be shared with these presumably disapproving strangers.

My boyfriend is a great person and as a person, he has flaws, just like everyone else. I don't want to have to deal with her snarling next Christmas while she talks to me about him and how he didn't cut his food properly at dinner or some other completely ridiculous judgement. I'd much rather she never meet him and can irrationally dislike him as much as she pleases from afar.

How did your hoarding parent react to meeting your past and or current significant other(s)? Do you think they feel threatened and that's what causes them to react in negative ways?

A very happy non-iversary to me

by JuditK via Flickr

3 years ago today, I was supposed to tie the knot. Instead, 6 months before, I gave my engagement ring back to my fiance and moved out of our apartment.

I've made passing references to my ex-fiance on this blog and I figured, what better day than today to address this skeleton in my closet?

The most common question I get when I divulge this bit of information is, "Why did you break it off?" My ex was not a bad person. He treated me well. He was creative, intelligent, kind, and devoted to me. We rarely fought. We had some swell times together.

As the wedding day got closer and closer; however, I didn't feel like I was making the right decision. Truth be told, I should have paid better attention to that feeling on our first date and especially on the day he proposed. There was a voice that told me no on both of those days, but I ignored it. I continued to ignore it until I made some less than wise decisions and couldn't continue to pretend like everything was okay.

Growing up in the environment that I did, I was always searching for an escape. I wanted to grow up fast so that I could finally leave. I was never happy with the present and pushed, fought tooth and nail, for the future to come now now now. This drive continued to direct me through college and into adulthood despite leaving behind the squalor. I graduated college in 3 years because I wanted to tackle the next big thing. Truth be told, I'm still running irrationally. I worked full time and went to school full time so I could get my masters as fast as possible and start my career already. The difference is, I'm not running blindly anymore.

I realized that I ran head first into a relationship with a man that I wasn't attracted to so that I could check that off my list and keep on running. If I started a home of my own, then I could erase the home that I came from, right? I could get on with it and be "normal." In reality, I felt incredibly, incredibly old. Honeymooners are supposed to be full of romance. I was struggling to reciprocate a kiss. I was settling for a man who loved me whom I didn't romantically love back. I couldn't do that to me. I couldn't do that to him. We both deserved better.

I made the difficult, right decision and ended the relationship. I vowed to live my young life as a young person and to not settle anymore. Life is not a race. No amount of running will free me from my past anyway.

So today I'm raising a glass in honor of my decision to continue to grow and respect the youth in my veins.

Cheers! Prost! Na zdraví!

Insomnia and food memories

via vforvelociraptors on Flickr

Right after I got off of work last night, I started getting a migraine. I get aural migraines about every six months to a year (I used to get them more often when I was younger, but that's another story), so the warning signs afford me a small window of time to take some Excedrin and squash the migraine before the real pain starts. Thankfully, I was able to do just that and got the symptoms under control within half an hour or so. I had little pain and was able to make dinner for the beau and me as well as read and watch TV. I was feeling quite nauseous as the night wore on though, so T offered to get me a Coke Slurpee to calm my stomach. Our evening passed rather uneventfully and we turned out the light at midnight. I was incredibly tired and thought that falling asleep would be a snap until I realized I had been awake for half an hour and couldn't make my mind slow down and my body get comfortable. I took a melatonin pill around 2 out of desperation, but to no avail. It might as well have been a sugar pill for all the good it did. This tossing and turning lasted until 4 am when I finally managed to sleep for about 2 hours before having to get up for work.

As I laid there for hours, I thought of many, many things. Once I started feeling hungry, I naturally started to think about food. Last night, I had made boxed macaroni and cheese for the two of us because it was quick and that's what I had. T offered to help me, but I kind of laughed and said there really wasn't much to do, boxed mac and cheese is easy. He looked a little uncomfortable and said that it always took him forever to make because he wasn't a good cook. I smiled and said that I've been doing it for so long that it has just become easy for me. As I laid awake, I thought back on this conversation and it struck me that 3 years ago, I would never had shrugged off boxed mac and cheese as being easy. I would have stood anxiously by the stove, waiting for the water to boil and the pasta to soften.

Partially, it's any wonder that I started to cook at all since my mother didn't teach me anything, I had rare opportunities living in squalor to cook, and I was discouraged by my ex-fiance (yes, I said ex-fiance. I'm pretty sure this is the first time I brought him up in this blog, but that's a whole nother story that will have to wait). On the other hand though, it's not surprising at all that I started to cook as both my grandmothers are excellent cooks and I got to see them in action, especially my maternal grandmother. I feel like being able to cook is at least a little bit genetic (it must have skipped over my mother though) and I was lucky to get it from both sides of my family.

Despite my limitations, I remember a few times when I stayed home sick from school as a preteen and teenager that I wanted something to eat, but nothing that was available seemed appealing. I would unearth my mother's tattered red cookbook, I think it was a Good Housekeeping that she got as a bridal shower gift, and find recipes that I could make with what was on hand and that weren't too difficult. I remember I made chocolate chip cookies once and pasta in a cream sauce another time. Both times I had to fumble around the kitchen, taking the crusted pots and pans and garbage off the burners, using the ironing board as a counter, and scrambling to find utensils and dishes that were both clean and functional in order to even make a simple dish. I had to gather up all of the cups and bowls of water to come up with enough to boil pasta as my mother had the water line turned off during the day. Miraculously, I had the foresight to check the oven before I turned it on to make the cookies as it was stuffed full of more wrappers and garbage that would have caused the kitchen to have gone up like tinder if I had turned the oven on to preheat without looking. My mother always came home stunned when I made these ventures into culinary arts, a mingling of pleasant surprise and annoyance on her face.

My mother rarely cooked, especially when we acquired a microwave and it was just the two of us. We survived off of frozen dinners, fast food, and leftovers from my grandma. When I was lucky, she would either stop by on her way home from work or send me down the three blocks to the local Italian market to buy us a few slices of tomato pie.

Now, I have to back up and first explain the market and then pie (seriously, this was all stuff I was thinking about while I was suffering from insomnia. I was craving this tomato pie that I hadn't thought about in ages). I predominately grew up in a tiny, Italian town. My mother and I moved there, which was just the next town over from where my family was living, after my parents got divorced. Prior to moving there, my brother and I attended preschool at their Christian school (the one Christian school in the sea of Catholic ones). My brother is three years older than me, so my mom used to take me along when she dropped him off in the morning for preschool. Often, we would stop at this Italian market for deli meat, hoagies, or ground beef after depositing my brother. My mother always claimed that they were all the best in the area. I remember thinking how high and how steep the front cement stairs were and how scared I was of falling down them. Once inside, there was a constant, permeating smell of drying meat as they made their own sausages and other Italian meats on site. I could barely see over the meat counter, even on my tip toes, but the younger of the two men who worked behind it would always lean his head over so he could see me and talk to me. His name was Pete and he was tall and thin and sported a giant, bushy, black mustache and shaggy, black eyebrows (very Italian, think Luigi in real life). Funnily enough, a few years after my mother and I moved to this small town, Pete and his family moved into the house across the street from us. Like I said- small, small town. I was a very shy child, but Pete was incredibly nice and I knew that my mother really liked him, so I usually didn't hide behind my mom's legs from him.

The woman who ran the register was the matriarch of the family that owned the market. She was elderly even then and I was a little scared of her because, even though I couldn't articulate it at that age, she had been a bit hardened by business and lacked the complete grandma aura that I was used to from my own. Despite my unnecessary uneasiness about approaching the register, she always fished out two lollipops from one of the many candy jars that lined the counter and gave them to me, telling me to share the second one with my brother when he got out of school. They were the pastel, two toned, chalky suckers that always dried out your mouth and tasted, no matter which colors you got, of sugar and a vague fruit you couldn't quite put your finger on. I was too scared of her to contradict her and I always nodded, wide eyed at her and gave my brother that second lollipop as though she would know if I kept it for myself and punish me for being greedy.

It wasn't until my mother and I moved to this town, only a few blocks away from the market, that we started to eat their tomato pie on a regular basis. I honestly don't remember if the tomato pie was made in house, if a local Italian bakery made it, or if some Italian woman in the town made a couple of batches and sold it at the store. I do remember that it was originally only available a few days a week and in limited quantities. If you wanted some, you had to get there shortly after they put it out or you'd be out of luck or worse- get stuck with an edge or corner piece (I know some people who didn't mind the edges, but I'm all about the center pieces). They always had the tomato pie in an upturned rectangular cardboard box lid sitting on top of the glass sliding doors of the ice cream freezer, directly in front of you as you walked into the store. There were always piles of parchment paper and white, paper lunch bags sitting right beside it so you could help yourself to as many slices as you'd like.

The first couple of times I had tried tomato pie when I was younger, I didn't care for it. For those unaccustomed to the taste and texture, tomato pie can seem like room temperature or cold pizza without the mozzarella cheese- I know that's what I thought the first couple of times I ate it. I missed the delicious, melty cheese on top of a regular slice of pizza too much to appreciate tomato pie's unique contribution to the culinary world (if I remember correctly, some people do top off their tomato pie with a slice of cheese to make a cold, quasi-pizza slice). I remember the first couple of times I had tomato pie, when I took a bite of the pie, I would push the thick tomato sauce away from my mouth with my upper lip so that I wouldn't have to eat so much of it. Eventually I would have a substantial heap of tomato sauce that would fall off the edge of the slice and I was free to eat the rest without the offensive sauce. I have to say though, over time, the tomato pie really reels you in.

The look and shape of tomato pie is similar to Sicilian style pizza. It's not round, it's rectangular. The crust is thick, but not greasy. The difference is that the pie is not covered in mozzarella cheese before it bakes. It just has a thick coating of tomato sauce that winds up resembling, in look, texture, and taste, seasoned tomato paste after it's baked and the tomatoes' natural sugars are allowed to intensify and bring a sweetness to the dish. A slight sprinkling of Parmesan or Romano cheese tops off the pie when it's taken out of the oven and soaks up some of the tomatoes' liquid so that it appears orange when looked at closely, similar to the orange you see on a white napkin when you wipe your mouth after you've eaten tomato sauce. The pie is served room temperature or cold. I have not even seen tomato pie, let alone had a slice, since I moved away from Pennsylvania.

Somehow, in my sleep deprived state early this morning, I connected these strong memories of tomato pie and that little Italian town with the fact that, after I had broken off my marriage with the ex-fiance (I promise, I'll give details later) and moved into a one bedroom apartment, I took up cooking along with pesc-vegetarianism as a way to prove myself. I had a feeling that my problem wasn't that I couldn't cook, it was simply that I didn't know how to cook. So, I started small with boxed macaroni and cheese and the like and worked my way up to making full home cooked meals. Genetics worked in my favor and I made many successful attempts and was happy with the results. Cooking helped me build confidence, keep my mind and hands busy, and cure the depression that had bubbled up in the wake of the break up and subsequent major life change. I discovered that it was deeply satisfying for me to sit down to a meal that I had made by myself for myself and reap the rewards of the time and effort that I had put into creating something nourishing for my own body. This satisfaction is what calls me back to the kitchen, eggs me on while I search for new recipes, causes me to share my cooking with the people that I truly care about, and, apparently, keeps me up all night.

Lovers' quarrel

I'll be the first to admit that I haven't been the sunniest person lately. Having to deal with school again, after such a short break, and making myself read until my eyes bleed so that I fulfill a silly goal I set for myself, are taking their toll. I feel like I haven't been able to fully enjoy my summer thus far and I'm becoming frustrated. When I want to write about my past, I have to write a paper for school. When I want to lie in the grass and read, I have to sit inside and read off a screen for school. When I get painful wanderlust, I remember I don't have the time nor the money to travel and won't for another year or so when I'll be done with school and can get a better position at work. When I just want to relax and have a nice evening with my beau, we wind up fighting over seemingly nothing.

Last night, my beau said that I was quiet and asked me what was wrong. Nothing was wrong. It was finally Friday and I just wanted to wipe my mind clean and have a quiet evening of being lazy. I didn't really have anything to talk about as nothing newsworthy had really happened this week. I've just kind of been keeping my head down, dealing with things I've been procrastinating for awhile. Thinking that my quietness and seeming inability to talk about anything meant that something was wrong and that I was mad at him about something, he kept asking me what was wrong. Well, nothing was wrong until I had to answer the same question over and over with the same answer. Asking me, practically pleading with me, to talk to him made my brain lock up further and I could think of nothing to talk about. He did find something to talk about and I joined in, but my voice betrayed my building, hidden frustration and he took offense at the way I had corrected him. I sunk back into silence, afraid of hurting him again. He then stopped talking to me because I wasn't talking to him. I asked him what was wrong and he said that nothing was wrong despite all body language clearly answering in the affirmative. I told him that when he felt like being honest with me and telling me what was really wrong, I'd be right there, checking my email. At that point, the argument really started.

Around and around we went on this sickening cyclical argument based on nothing. Nothing was wrong to begin with and now we're arguing about transgressions based on that nothingness. It made my head hurt just thinking about it and made me increasingly frustrated. If I'm going to argue with someone, I want to argue about something, not nothing. Despite my desire to keep my annoyance at bay and to speak rationally, my attitude reared its ugly head and made snide, snapping remarks to him. He called me out on it and I felt awful, biting my tongue and sinking back into silence. My guilt overcame me and I apologized, knowing that loved ones do not deserve to be spoken to like that- no one deserves to be spoken to like that. We had had this conversation before and knowing that we had reached this point again made me feel sick.

My mother hates me because of my attitude. She can get nasty when she argues and years of arguing with her coupled with teenage cockiness conditioned me well to have a quick tongue and biting words whenever I enter a disagreement, especially with her. It's a hard instinct to break and her incessant harping did little to change my ways as I had lost what little respect I had for her when she drug me through her hoarding hellhole for a decade. I honestly cared little if I hurt her feelings. Now that I'm in a relationship with a sensitive man, I find my words coming back to bite me in the ass after I have a fleeting moment of relief when they bite him in the heat of an argument. I need to rewire my brain to speak calmly and rationally, lovingly and full of understanding. The last thing I ever want to do is hurt him and yet my tone of voice is the exact opposite. How can I break this callousness that is such an unwelcome part of my personality?

Tid bits

Well, folks, it looks like I'm off the market. It's even Facebook official! It's going to take awhile for me to get used to being in a relationship again.

In other news: "Maturity begins on the day we accept responsibility for our own actions." –Robert Allen

Mom, you've got a hell of a long way to go. Stop blaming others for the situation you put yourself in and actually do something to change the path you've set for yourself by your inaction. At least you've been a prime example of how not to live and have been motivation for me to improve my life tenfold.

Also, I'm finally on spring break!!! I'm taking Tuesday off to spend with my new bf and soak in the brief freedom.

Sweetheart, bitter heart

He told his mom about me and she's excited that he found a decent girl for once. Apparently, being in grad school is impressive to parents.

My mom is a man hater and will probably find a reason to dislike any man I'll ever date, no matter how good of a person he is. She hated my exfiance with a bitterness I still cannot understand. The only guy I dated that she ever liked was my first boyfriend who turned out to be gay. Figures.

Happy Sunday

Not getting out of bed until well past noon even though you've been up for hours talking and cuddling. Walking through the Fan, hand in hand, on a warm, sunny February Sunday. Getting unexpectedly kissed on the cheek while browsing through books and buying an old art book for your dad's birthday. Eating an incredibly late brunch at a delicious, cramped, buzzing restaurant that he's never been to before but instantly loves. Spending the rest of your evening writing about AACR2.

Almost perfect.

Link love

I have gotten very little sleep over the last week or so thanks to a new boo in my life. I would like nothing more than to be lazy and lie in bed with him for hours, but school and work are making that fantasy utterly laughable. I have an ungodly amount of assignments to take care of before my spring break starts in two weeks. Sigh. Life's unfair, I tell you.

For all those Angry Birds fans out there, enjoy this playable cake.

So sad, but so true (but hoping it's wrong this time around).

Recreating old pictures by mimicking them today. Brilliant.

A very harsh, but hilarious article on why you're not married yet.

Y'all have a great weekend. I'll be spending mine immersed in libraries, catching up on sleep, and maybe, if I'm lucky, spending a few spare hours with the boy.

By golly

"You're absolutely beautiful and I've always wanted to tell you that."

I think hearing that alone makes my severe sleep deprivation today worth it.

Absence

I had a bad week.

I felt barfy and feverish.
I got the "let's just be friends" speech from dude.
My schoolwork is reaching epic proportions.
My mother called me to apologize and raked my heart and mind back through the smoldering ashes of the past for the umpteenth time.

I've got a bad case of wanderlust. I dragged my feet too long to sign up for a study abroad program in London and now I'm on the waiting list. I'm waiting for more information on a program in Salzburg. In the meantime, I'm drooling over these:

Aptly described as "travel porn" (I've been to two of these places which seems to make my longing worse)
The world in a bubble

Luckily, I've got good friends, Harry Potter, The Office, and my cat to give me some buoyancy.

Smooch

I have two bits by ee cummings to share with you today, which I think are rather telling of how the second date went last night.


"And the coolness of your smile is
stirringofbirds between my arms;but
i should rather than anything
have(almost when hugeness will shut
quietly)almost,
your kiss"



"up into the silence the green
silence with a white earth in it

you will(kiss me)go

out into the morning the young
morning with a warm world in it

(kiss me)you will go

on into the sunlight the fine
sunlight with a firm day in it

you will go(kiss me

down into your memory and
a memory and memory

i)kiss me,(will go)"


I'm quite tired, but happy this morning. My first class of the semester starts tonight and even that cannot stop me from smiling.

Bits and pieces

I was diagnosed with alopecia areata. Not the end of the world. The half dozen injections to my scalp did have me in tears though.

I'm going to be an aunt! Weird, but totally awesome.

I haven't gotten a call from dude yet. I did, however, get two wrong number calls yesterday. Way to rub it in, stranger from Indiana.

Spring classes start next week and I'm not happy.

I hope I have a good last weekend of freedom or, at least, don't spend the majority of it lying in bed, watching The Office for hours.

My mother is turning into quite the liar.

My coworker keeps flirting with me and I don't know how to feel about it.

Patience

I have a date with him tonight! To keep the butterflies at bay, I've been trying to focus on work and to remember these very timely words:

"You are so young, so much before all beginning, and I would like to beg you, dear Sir, as well as I can, to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books written in a very foreign language. Don't search for the answers, which could not be given to you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer."

-Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet