Sunday, November 29, 2015

Take flight

I hate flying. Nothing that weighs that much should be in the air. 

BUT. My favorite flying time is after I've had a drink or three. And I'm sitting in the waiting area to board. My eyes are a bit dopey (there's a fine line between dopey and drunk), I have my earbuds in, and I'm contemplating a nap. 

I've gotten better. This last trip to San Diego, I wasn't worried about anything. The plane was taxiing and then we were picking up speed. 

I don't know what it was about the flight. But I was okay. Maybe because I didn't have a connection to rush to. Or it had been so long since I'd been in SD. Or I knew it was only an hour flight. 

Anyway. On my way back to Phx. Just paid $21 for a double vodka soda. And had a Dramamine. 

Self medication is rad. 

Thursday, November 19, 2015


I don't know why I do it to myself. I must enjoy it. I do enjoy it. This sweet pain of remembering you, remembering us. 

Looking back through the fog of time, the bad times are blurry. And I can pull the good times into focus. 

Of course, these good times can't be exactly how they happened. 

Dave always reminds me of you. Especially this album from 2001. Because we had broken up. And then gotten back together. And then broken up. I burned you a copy. And then we broke up. And then we hooked up. 

Ugh. You were terrible. And wonderful. And the worst. And I hated you and couldn't stop loving you. 

And Dave reminds me of you every time. Still. A million years later. There's no one else it reminds me of. 

Just you. Us. Those kids we were. 

It's comforting. Familiar. It's your face and hands and arms and body against mine. 

Tangled tongues and lips. 

I see your face in my newsfeed. I read your comments and see your likes. 

And I wonder at our pictures. We would be in them together. Maybe we would be married. Maybe we would have a kid or three.  

I always wonder. 

Tuesday, November 17, 2015


I had a dream my parents faked their deaths! And I was so mad at them. They didn't say why they faked their deaths. They were just alive. And I yelled at them!


11/16/15 7pm ET

What am I doing here? I'm in the hotel restaurant. People milling about. Im reading a book and listening to drunken conversations while sitting in this trendy place with strange chandeliers made of lighted bars. 

What am i doing here?

Does anyone else wonder this? What they're doing here and how they got there?

Monday, November 9, 2015

And just like that, I want to go home

I talked to Aunt last night. Talked about looking for a job in ca. Lease coming up in January. I don't know what I would do in ca. What jobs to even look for. 

Updated my resume and LinkedIn. Couldn't sleep. 

I feel so lonely and I don't know what to do with my life!!

I told my sister. She said, "so just an existential crisis?" Which is cute. And true. 

Not looking forward to travel next week. 

I feel sick. 

This too shall pass, right?

It always does. 

Friday, November 6, 2015

Meet cute

It begins like all love stories begin. With a question. 

And then figure out what the first question was. 

One of them is about Weezer. For a screenplay. Nope. That one was recent. 11/5/15

But the first one isn't. And then it becomes about the screenplay. 


Witty banter witty banter. 

Morbid jokes. 

Inside jokes....I think it started with Narp. 

Then movies. 

Super troopers. But not meow. 

Simon Pegg. Director. Writer. That was one of the first. 

But really. It's the dude's voice. 

I can't believe I'm typing this. 

I imagine him and his face. Next to mine. Having a conversation about I don't know. Prop 3. 

But our tones are low. We're saying things, but almost whispering. Sitting at a bar. Rolling a glass of vodka, a glass of whiskey. Legs crossed, knee covered by a skirt. 

Those smirky eyes knowing they can't convince me of anything. Still trying. 

Knowing he can convince me of one thing, now. 


I'm currently wondering about staying for another year. 

I know when I left Seattle I wondered what would have happened if I'd stayed. I could have stayed with friends. I could have found a job. I could have lived in Seattle. 

I wonder if I'll regret leaving here too soon? Like, if I had stayed for one more year. Would I wonder?

Being on the back end of a year here, it doesn't seem too bad. Is it because the weather cooled off? I stopped visiting San Diego so often? I'm getting used to things at work and gaining confidence there with my training and public speaking? 

Still not a fan of flying. But it's getting better. 


Sunday, November 1, 2015

Massage perspective

Talked to my aunt Noni this evening. Me hinted the massage I had and how much pain I'm in from it. She said it was expected since having the Chicago trip and workshop in October. 

I say October like it was so long ago. Two weeks ago was the end of it. 

Ramping up with more travel soon. 

I took a nap today and started waking up to the beginnings of a panic attack. Flying. Client responsibility. Being out here all alone. Making grown up decisions. Money. Car. 

I don't rant to get too into t. I had to calm myself down. Do a recheck of my "systems status", similar to that panic attack when I was flying. Ignore everything and pretend it was all fine.