Come sit beside me in the dying light

This morning I had a nice chat with my new pet scorpion, Artie. Artie lives in the light cover in my closet. Hunter hypothosises that Artie crawled in through the attic. Poor little fella has been there since Saturday, and can't struggle his way out, no matter how much he tries (Artie out of the light, as opposed to Hunter in the closet). At first, having him there creeped me out, but I'm kind of getting used to him (not that I need clarification for this one, but I guess you could say the same for Hunter, actually).
Anyway, this morning I sat in my Mr. Bubble-infused bath, watching Artie scamper across the light cover in his futile attempts to escape. I've thought to let him out on several occasions, but he IS still a scorpion and chances are that he'll bite me or touch me or run off to some other location where he isn't as easily monitored. I don't know how long he's going to last up there against the flourescent light, but when I'm quite sure he's Artie's remains, then I can take the light down.
Artie's given me a couple of good fake-outs, though. He can stand very still, pretending to be dead. If I weren't more vigilent, he could have fooled me. There's even something loveable about him. As creepy as he is, he has a gorgeous silhouette. Sometimes when I'm chatting with him, it feels like he's listening, empathizing. But if I'm honest with myself, he's really just planning his next move. I've seen it a hundred times by now and everyone tells me how awful he is. I chose to let him stay. I chose to justify our attachment as filler until I get another pet, though, phasing him out, revisiting him each time I need some personal fulfillment, and fooling myself into thinking our friendship is more than one-sided is making things difficult. I knew precisely who he was the moment he came into my life, but I let him win over the smallest piece of my heart and even though I know I can bounce back, the whole thing is making me a little sick. I would have thrown up this morning, but I haven't eaten anything. So Artie scampers, and I watch. Artie wants to leave, but I haven't let him. And the sad thing is, if Artie were to leave and come back to the light, I imagine I'd let him stay a while again.
When you live, as Kerouac said, like "fabulous roman candles exploding" you eventually burn out. This month has been wonderful, productive, record-breaking and dramatic, full of possibilities and I've basically put on a good fireworks show (seven of you in particular know what I'm talking about). But I'm tired. I can only hope some of those embers start a bigger fire somewhere on the ground.

What storms the morning brings, we’ll weather all right

Today I'm feeling pretty grateful-- especially for all those friends who have been my personal sounding boards for the last couple of days. I'm pretty sure I'm not having a breakdown, and I'm almost positive everything is going to work out exactly the way it should. ? I mean, of course it will. I'm the all-powerful 26-year-old. Remember? I get whatever I want. Right? Right? The question now is whether I want the consequences that come with whatever I want. Or maybe the baggage. We'll see. I don't have to decide now. I'm going to be 26 for another 8 months, and I'll probably just be even more powerful when I'm 27.

When she was good, she was very, very good

Hmm. Am I changing as much as everyone says? I honestly feel the same as always.
Last night I was on the phone with a friend who kind of gave me what I think he thought was a personality-intervention speech. It was weird to have someone tell me how different I am now, when I never really thought he knew me well to begin with. Anyway, it gave me pause. It also made me feel a little weird when a new girl from church jokingly said something about me "not having as high standards" as most. She also doesn't know me. She met me three days ago, but on the three occasions we've hung out, I think somehow I (and my well-meaning, joking friends) have painted a picture of a scarlet woman. But at the end of the day, I practice what I preach. I'm a good girl. Granted, a good girl who does have a slight kissing addiction, but a very good girl nonetheless. I guess that's enough to give me a "reputation." I'm just trying to figure out if I care about that or not.

Getting to know you...

Props to Terry for filling in the Albuquerque University Branch on several of my deep, dark secrets. It's cool, though. I own it.
Life is good. I'm happy.

Man has no choice when he wants everything

Here's another side-benefit of being 26 years old:
When you are 26, you are suddenly beautiful and confident and you can have whatever you want. It's absolutely true. You just have to decide when you want what, and on what terms.
No one told me that I'd have this magical birthday and that I'd find myself three months into it and not only have everything I'd ever dreamed of (almost), but I'd have it all at once (almost).
No, I haven't won the lottery and I haven't found the perfect way to solve the world's problems. I'm happy in my job, though it's not what I'd planned, and I certainly haven't ended up with the man of my dreams... yet. I haven't even met him (probably). But I do have it all. I have a great family. They drive me crazy occasionally. Sometimes they make me cry. But I wouldn't trade them for the world.
I have a beautiful place to live. Yes, I have to make the payments and pay the taxes and fix things from time to time, and deal with scary stuff like black widows and lizards (incidentally, there was a LIZARD stuck in a spider web in my garage... SICK!), but I come home to a serene place, and when I entertain, people are comfortable there.
I travel the world. If not by airplane (which I do frequently), I do it through reading. I'm a lifelong learner.
I'm getting to do the things I want. Help plan my friends' wedding reception. Being adventurous and hiking and biking and rafting and running. Taking jetted bubble baths every day. Making the world a better place. Kissing the boys I like, and then-- because it's me who gets to decide it all-- being the one who decides what shape a relationship is going to take.
Now I'm brave. Now I'm fierce. Now I go out and do what I want. And it's not reckless because even though I'm not invincible, I'm resilient.

Life as a domesticated gypsy

I'm officially back from my latest nomadic adventure-- visiting the great state of Utah for my friend Vanessa's wedding. The wedding itself was beautiful and wonderful and I wouldn't have missed it for the world. The excellent side benefits were getting to see all the Utah peeps I'd missed so much, eating lunch at Big City Soup (next to Sweet Tomatoes, I'm not sure there's a better place in the world-- oh, except maybed Kneaders... you Utah folk know what I'm sayin'), and reuniting (and it felt so good) with some of the bfs and pbfs (platonic boyfriends). With a full canteen, I'm now armed to exist happily in the land of social desolation a bit longer (with no offense to all those I love dearly here in the Land of Enchantment, of course, but you know what I mean). Wow. I speak paranthetically quite often, yes?
The other highlights from the trip included a three-night stop at my friend Andrew's condo. He is crazy. He has a wonderful place and has yet to stay there. I've never slept in such a comfortable bed. I reccomend he move in right away. Also, as evidence that I may actually be slowing down in my old age, I put forth a rather snazzy business proposition to him-- that, if we're both not married in two years, we sell our homes (which, if Andrew would ever move into and use as his primary residence he'd not have to pay taxes on any capital gains after the minimum-two year period), get married, and use our combined equity to move to Poland. We could raise bi-lingual children and have a dog named Talbot, in honor of the literature professor in whose class we met several years ago. I personally think it's brilliant. Who needs true love anyway? Practicality is the thing. Plus also, he's a wonderful person, and I don't really think he'd be getting a raw deal either. But anyway...
I also got to see my friend Sharon and her family. It was her dad's birthday, and as such we had a wonderful dinner. Italians really have it down, don't they? We also had a very interesting discussion on immigration reform. Very interesting to hear an immigrant's point of view.
Hmm... what else? It's the little things that are so thrilling. Like on my way out of town Monday morning, stopping for a bagel on Provo Center Street. Who did I run into but the homeless man who looks EXACTLY like Willie Nelson! It was great seeing him again. Even though we've been apart these many years, it was like coming home.
And I love traveling (even if it is just to Utah) for all the tchotchkes I manage to collect. That's why my house looks like I raided every yard sale from here to Warsaw. This time I came home with IKEA lanterns, a wall hanging with a witch flying in front of a harvest moon for Halloween, a black candelabra for my guest room and a book on Colin Cowie event planning. I feel rich!
But the problem with traveling is the urge to run hits nearly immediately after I get home. I went by my parents' house and found a brochure for European cruises. I've NEVER been on a cruise! What a fantastic idea! There's one that sounds awesome-- similar to one my friend Melissa went on with stops in Instanbul, Ephesus, Athens, Dubrovnik (where I've wanted to go since Matt Lauer recommended it on the Today Show a few years back), Venice, Naples, Rome and Barcelona. OR there's one that's super appealing because it's going all places I've never been-- Berlin, Tallinn, St. Petersburg, Helsinki, Stockholm and Copenhagen. Anyone wanna go? Don't get me wrong-- sleeping on couches/floors/at people's houses I don't know is awesome, but unpacking once sounds appealing. Wow. I really AM getting old.