And that was enough to make me happy for the rest of the week.
So for my birthday, my wonderful Mike bought me foundation and a pore refiner that I asked for, and this:
I am excited. I think I’m so excited because this shirt says how I’ve always felt. I’ve never really wanted to be anywhere but Ohio. As I told Chris this morning, even the word Ohio looks like a comfy couch – all wonderful and overstuffed and with a dotted ‘i” pillow.
But Ohio is more than just a word. If you’ll remember back to this post, you’ll see why I didn’t fit in North Carolina. And as much as I loved the beauty of Pennsylvania, all those hills make me incredibly carsick.
No matter where I’ve been, or where I’ll go,
I’d rather be in Ohio.
Why? Why why why?
There’s so much more. So much.
There are a certain number of things that are falling into place, coming to fruition, or that I am learning to accept.
Friendships (that I thought were too damaged to reconcile or too far lost to find again) are coming back.
Chances are being given where it seemed there were no chances left.
I am trying not to be so cheap…and to enjoy my life rather than “miser” it into a bank account.
I’m making time for the really important things/people/activities.
There are major things to look forward to, like going back into time on Memorial Day weekend with the girls I went to college with.
My eye finally quit twitching (as much).
I have friends that I go out with and have fun with and that truly make me feel like Brunswick is becoming my home.
There are plans for the weekends.
My jeans are getting bigger (read: I am getting smaller).
My relationship is stronger than ever…and there are chances that we could be together soon.
It all just feels good. Let’s hope this keeps up. It’s all rather harmonious.
(PS, I used to wear a ying-yang necklace every day in elementary school. I thought I was so cool.)
Last night, I went out to Panini’s in Brunswick to celebrate my friend Greg‘s birthday. As we were sitting around the fire pit on the patio, I got into a conversation about how I wanted out of my apartment and into…and how some of the guys around me wanted out of their houses and back into apartments.
Let’s get the facts down first: I hate living in apartments. I hate the people around me. I hate the noise. I hate shared walls. I hate having to unlock two doors to get to my place (even though that makes me feel safe). My first apartment in Brunswick was pretty much underground…full of spiders…dark…damp. I felt like a mushroom.
My second apartment is bigger–still on the first floor–but nonetheless, it is still an apartment. It’s a two-bedroom, but I can honestly count the times I’ve opened the door to that second bedroom on one hand.
Now back to the bar conversation–the guys have houses-nice big houses-that I would kill for. They have driveways and garages and yards. They have a home–a reason to decorate and actually make it feel like a home.
Now me–I don’t have a yard. I can’t even hang a bird-feeder for the cardinals. I don’t have a balcony (1st floor), and I can’t open my windows because the fucking (white trash) smokers at the front door (who have awesome grammar and language skills, by the way) stand there and bitch and blow smoke into my windows. I don’t normally judge–but seriously. I am alone in my apartment. I have all the time and space to myself. And I hate it.
Now, the guys I was talking to–the ones with their nice houses and their yards–sometimes long to be back in the one-bedroom apartment stage of their lives. WHY?!
Simplicity–yes, I understand that. And that’s pretty much it. I mean, I don’t get it.
But maybe it’s a gender roles thing. Maybe men want to go back to that primitive way, and women want to move forward? Maybe… Or maybe it’s because I am alone and long for Mike to be with me in my living arrangement, and once you’re older and have been with someone for awhile, you want to go back to solitude. I don’t know. I don’t get it.
All I know is that I can’t be bothered to decorate my apartment to make it feel like home because it isn’t home. It’s a temporary place that will hold me until I can find a place with Mike to call home.
Maybe the grass is just never greener out of your current window.
It never fails. As soon as I get a taste of warm weather, I want to go home.
I want to drive the back roads to Fremont with my windows down, with country music on the radio and a bottle of Diet Pepsi next to me.
I want flip-flops and jeans that are too long.
I want brown skin and messy hair tamed only by a bandana.
I want to smell Heinz ketchup in the air from the factory on 6th and sugar beets from the hill by the fairgrounds.
I want to hear sprint cars revving and beer cans cracking.
I want the cloud spewing from the top of Davis-Besse to be visible on the horizon from Cole Road.
I want to hear my footfalls on the familiar block I run in the sun.
I want Root’s chicken sandwiches and Depot Pizza.
I want to end up at a bonfire and to watch the smoke disappear into the stars.
Mostly, though, I just want to drive.
We did it! Mom and I have almost every single present bought for Christmas. And wrapped! The tree looks awesome. I’ll get a picture of it when I go home next weekend. I had so much fun with her, and with my poppa. They’re the best. Plus an unbeatable sale at the Gap.
I have a lot on my mind today.
I’m thankful that something worked out in my favor, and that an honest mistake was understood.
I’m excited to see Mike tonight.
I’m nervous for tomorrow.
I’m exhausted and ready for Christmas.
I’m high on carpet glue from the remodel ha ha.
And I’m hungry, so I’m going for sushi.