camp jamboree

I went to the third or fourth or five hundrenth outdoor camping party thing of the summer this weekend. I had an okay time. I ended up getting indigestion really badly, so badly that I ended up throwing up...inside of my tent...again. I am slowly becoming THAT GIRL, the "Hey isn't that the girl who always throws up?" girl. At least is feels that way since I've thrown up publically twice in the space of eight days, though this latest time having nothing to do with telling my bartender friend to mix me drinks strong enough to make my future children stillborn and there was definitely a lot less fanfare this time around. One of the most obvious indications that my body is aging and my maturity level is not is the fact that I cannot hold my liquor anymore but I still try drinking too much too quickly. Somewhere between my first drink and my third or fourth drink, I get really messed up. The happy buzzed period no longer exists in my world of alcohol induced revelry.

one step forward, two steps back, jump to the left, stumble in a circle

The past two years have been really good for me in terms of personal growth. When I moved back to Washington, I decided that I needed to work on my ways of communicating with the world and people and most imporatantly myself. I knew that I had to do this work in order to be happier and to find more happiness. For the most part, I think I've done a lot of good things in those areas. For the most part, I'm proud of myself for having done so. But there is also a lot of stuff lingering in the corners and half-emptied boxes of my internal world. And I forget about them until they surprise me by making themselves all too visible. Then I remember how far from being done with working on myself I actually am. And I get sad because my ability to work on myself may not be as fast as is needed to be make certain things in my life work. But I guess I just need to wait-and-see, an attitude I'm still working on...

rocky mountain high

One of my favorite scenes in Parenthood is the one in which Grandma starts talking about rollercoasters vs. ferris wheels as a metaphor for life. Some people like the constant predictable revolutions of a ferris wheel and some people prefer the exciting ups and downs of a rollercoaster. I often think that I prefer the rollercoaster but that's clearly all very situational.
In my love life, the rollercoaster isn't quite the thrill that it is in other aspects of my life. And the past few days have been a rollercoaster. Over the weekend I started feeling the chuggy steady climb into an area of my relationship that creates a feeling of incredible vulnerability and true to a real rollercoaster I started to anticipate the drop ahead. But instead of waiting for the dip, waiting to see if it was going to be big or small, I preemptively started screaming and flailing around. And the consequences of my premature action to an expected reaction have been severe.
The boy and I almost broke up. I said some terrible things to him because I let myself feel more hurt about a situation than the situation actually warranted, a monster from the past that resurfaced with a great roar, an open mouth full of jagged but razor sharp teeth. I hurt him to vindicate the hurt in myself. As he correctly pointed out, I used my monster to try to re-exert some semblance of control when I felt that my feelings of security were not in my control.
But the insane thing is that because of my actions, I created an even worse situation. I tried to grab control and then ended up having almost none.

thank heaven for little boys

As I was walking past the Garfield Community Center, the wee-ones were outside playing. Most of the children were running amuck, sliding and swinging and twirling about. Except for one very adorable pair, a beautiful little girl and her little friend who I only saw from behind. And then I saw his behind. As he was standing there talking to his little friend, he pulled down his pants. All the way down to his ankles. And then he looked to be grabbing his wee crotch. His little cutie friend didn't seem the slightest bit concerned and kept talking to him while one of the adults yells over, "Nathan...what are you doing?" As I walked past, he still hadn't pulled his pants up and I smiled at the caretaker who had the look of somebody trying to be stern while holding in a big big laugh.