Final Farewell...

As I packed my belongings and bittersweet memories flooded my mind, I thought about me, my disposition, and my path.

I still see faded images walking up and down the hallway. Glancing over at me and doing the signature move of pushing the sliding eye glasses up with the side of an index finger. I hear laughter followed by the image of a scrunched up nose and a convulsing body, as though it could no longer stand the hilarity of a situation any longer. Talking to the tv as if the news correspondent could actually hear him and respond.

Hopefully my final night will be the last that I wake startled from the silence.

The time has finally come to say goodbye. To let go of certain things that I have yet to be able to. That girl, the one that would anxiously sit, straining her ear for the sound of a motorcycle entering the neighborhood so that she could run and open the garage. That girl that sat there completely in love and in complete satisfaction and content with her life. I have come to the point where it is finally time to let her go. To move on in life and to go forward on this new path and discover with lies within.

I am so proud of her though. She literally went through hell and back. Rather than let it get the best of her and lay on the couch in her sorrow, she fought back. Although her heart, in spite of her denials of actually having one, was the one thing holding her back. Her fear of finding that again. Her fear of letting something go that she had worked so hard for and sacrificed so much to maintain it, its time to let all that go. No more memories of what was, or what could have been. It is finally time to leave all that behind.

She was good to me, and perhaps she harbored and kept safe what innocence and self love I had left. I have since restored it to myself and must say my goodbyes.

A new year approaches, and I feel as though that veil, the one which shrouded my life in shadow, has finally come off. No more mourning lost loves. No more mourning what could have been. Life will and has moved on, and so will I.

Its time to embrace the uncertain and forge on.

Getting my DIY on

I was reading a blog yesterday and got this great idea. Okay, I stole it. Anyway, it totally works though with the setting of my new place. Being on the river and all.

So, I ventured over to the Dollar Store (I dream on a budget) and bought eight bags of rocks, all the super glue they had and a carpet square all... a dollar each. Who would have thunk it?

 Anyway, I got home after having heaved and hoed to get the heavy 16 pound bag of rocks into the house during an absolute down pour. In the floor I cut all the bags open and dumped them onto the floor. (Did I mention that I typically make a lot of messes when I play?) Then I grabbed my preexisting toilet mat and cut the old welcome mat that I no longer use into the same shape.

This is particularly difficult if you have already packed your good scissors and only have the little ones from your knife block that you purchased from Ikea. Lesson learned.

Then it was time for the sticky stuff. For this particular project, I went through five tubes of crazy glue. And, I haven't attempted the bath mat yet. I need to make another trip to the store for that one.

Moving on. Rock by rock, I glued them down, careful to not bump the others because it took a good couple of hours for them to get firm. I also had to watch and make sure that I wasn't inadvertently creating patterns or lining them up.

To help aid in that, I would periodically turn the rug around and start working in another corner and continue there. It was like working a giant puzzle with a million pieces, but with a little help from the Beatles, I made it through. I finished up at around midnight and placed a flatten box on top and placed a heavy piece of furniture on top to help it dry correctly and securely.

 I have to admit, I couldn't help it. This morning when I woke, I walked over and removed the items from on top and placed my bare feet on it. The rocks felt so cool and smooth. I cannot wait until I make the other one. Although I might wait a day. The super glue has a tendency to remove the top layer of your epidermis. My fingers feel a little raw right now, and I will be pulling out glue "strings" from under my nails for a week.

The final project is pretty cool though. Although very heavy. I love the variations in the colors. It makes me happy. I can't wait until they are completely finished and in the new place.

I've got a feeling...

I know that you all have been worried and yelled at advised me to go and see a doctor about the week long lung hiatus. However, I am happy to report that as of last night (which included my first solid night in a loooonng time) I feel 90% better. My voice is even starting to sound normal. So how about them apples?

This past week though, has really made me feel like a million bucks. How, you might ask? Allow me to detail the random, off beat, compliments that I have been receiving.

When I went to the gym a few weeks ago, the new guy behind the counter called after me shortly after scanning my card. At first I thought perhaps it didn't scan properly and I just needed to run it again. He said that it was obvious that I had been working my butt off here and that I needed a new photo for the system because it really didn't even look at me. With mixed emotions, I asked him if I could have a look at it before he deleted it. I was scared and thrilled all at the same time. I could  not believe that was me. The photo was taken a few weeks prior to Christmas.

Furthermore, this weekend while I was sitting out in my driveway in the sun, (1) to stay warm and (2) to get some studying done, numerous women came up and said that they shouldn't even bother looking at my clothes because I was so little. I had to explain, almost like a broken record, throughout the day that those were my old clothes and why they were for sale. One women, before she had heard the story, walked over and grabbed a shirt of mine and said that there was no possible way that I had ever worn that in my life. You should have seen her eyes when I told her. She then asked me if I lost all that weight on purpose. (Shockingly enough, that has been a lot of people's questions/comments).

Later on Sunday, I decided to go and get a pedicure. I haven't had one in forever, usually doing them myself, and felt like being pampered. At least one part of me would look and feel pretty. Well, when I walked in, the usual techs were there, with a few newbies. I got my regular girl. She and her brother have been doing my nails since I moved here back in 2007. These people are so nice, respectful and are darn good at what they do. I always recommend them to people when asked of a good place.

While I was sitting there and getting the chair to massage my poor muscles, she looked up at me and said that I looked really good and that she almost didn't recognize me. She said, "Is that why you haven't been in here for so long?" When it was time for me to pay, she grabbed my arm and said, "skinny, skinny, skinny."

As silly as it may sound. It really did make me feel so much better, in spite of the crap in my lungs.

Sleepless nights

As the war rages on in my respiratory system, my nights are progressively getting worse and worse. Either I don't notice it until then, or it really doesn't effect me until then, my nights are full of coughing. Not just weak, "a-hu" coughs, but violent, "scare the shit out of cat" coughs. I actually have to sit upright otherwise its too painful.

What is wrong with me? It has never taken me this long to get over any illness. Including the chicken pox. Each night I chug NyQuil in hopes that I will be able to quiet the unrest lying beneath, but to no avail. Furthermore, my mind is constantly running 100 miles per hour. "Did I do everything for precal that I was suppose to? Did I pack those things the other day? Did I call everyone that I needed to for that deposition?"

Why didn't my brain come equipped with a pause button? Can we fix that? I read somewhere that they have invented a bio printer for growing arteries and such. So why not?

Although it is no longer painful to talk, as I said yesterday, I do get stares when I open my mouth. Again today, during class, no one was willing to share what they had done for their land survey and legal description. So, being the insufferable know-it-all that I am, I chimed in. At first, he just looked at me as if he was astonished that I could actually speak in such conditions, then he would blink and ask me what I had just said.

Eventually this has got to stop. Right now I am in debate over whether or not I should attempt spin class tonight. Although I know that my legs could take it, I am worried about my lungs surviving the torture.

Damsel in Distress

This Saturday, after my not so fruitful garage sale, Frannie and company came up to help me with packing and really getting things done. It was a great and productive day. We cleaned out all closets, Panya got to play tetris in the garage with boxes, and even little Jai helped me in throwing clothes into space bags. Jett, well, that's another story all together. He just walked up and down the hall following Frannie while she did things that would have never crossed my mind to do, all the while crying with Buzz in his hands. Geez kid.

Finally, it came down to the bed. I stood on the mattress and carefully took down the cross beams while Panya labeled them for easier assembly and Frannie folded the curtains that were on the bed posts. After I removed the mattress, it was time to take apart the actual frame. It seems that the Allen wrench which I used for the posts of the bed is not the same size that I need for the frame. And, just to add injury to insult, all the Allen wrenches that I own had arms that were too long to fit into the actual recessed hole that the screw was in. Ikea was really messing with me, huh?

Well, I searched high and low for the stupid thing. No where to be found. Then I thought that perhaps I might have mistakenly put it in my ex's tool box and forgot to take it out. Nope. Then I called Ikea and talked to their customer service rep. I asked her if there was a tool that was comparable that I could purchase. Nope. I had to drive 90+ miles to their store so that someone could tell me what tool of theirs I could purchase. Yeah, no chance in hell of that happening.

Finally, I cracked. I got in my car with said Allen wrench in hand, and drove to the nearest hardware store. I explained the situation in my airy, high pitched voice and even drew them a diagram. The older gent that was there pretty much told me that I was SOL. The younger guy stood there for a minute, stared at the wrench and stared at the drawing. He then asked me if I cared if he "experimented" with it. I said nope.

A few seconds later, he had stuck the wrench into a device that resembled the jaws of life, told me to stand back, and then I heard a loud snap and a short piece of metal went flying through the air. He then brought it over to me and asked if that looked about right. "Fantastic! How much do I owe you?"

His reply was "nada." Out the door I ran and back to my house. There, with baited breath, I crouched down and inserted the wrench. I squealed with glee when not only it fit, but when it turned the screw and seconds later actually removed it.

Now, the bed stands in multiple pieces up against the wall in the hallway. Thank you dear sir. You saved my sanity (if there is any left).  So, the moral of this story is, if you sound like  you are dying and that all the pieces in your life have come crumbling down around you and if only you could do this one thing, life itself could start again, some guy in a red smock will be willing to assist you, for free.

Sounding a little Weezy lately?

As most of you know, I have been battling an upper respiratory infection for a little over a week now. For those of you luckly individuals, you have also heard the airy yet raspy voice that I am sporting at the moment.

Last week I wieghed myself as I usually do, and I had lost three pounds. Although normally this would be cause for celebration as that would mean only 7 more to go, this was not a joyous event. I do desparately want to lose those last pounds, but not this way. Rather than lose those pisky fat cells that somehow have lingered from my self butt kicking, I am losing all the muscle that I have managed to create in my weak attempts at weight lifting. It really pisses me off actually.

I am afraid to wiegh myself this weak. I can only imagine how much more I have lost since I was walking to class today and the combination of my bag and my belt resting on my hip bone was excruiting. Why? Because all the meat has disappeared from that area and it was like the items were resting on raw bone. No me gusta!

Although my voice sounds like I am a dying squeak toy, I actually don't feel nearly as bad as I did yesterday. So, that is a definate plus. I just wish that it wasn't so painful to listen to me speak. Someone actually called into work today and laughed at the sound of it.

The worst part, and I felt terrible for him, but no one would answer the questions that the professor was posing to the class this morning. So, rather than letting the sound of crickets fill the air, I answered. Although my answers were right, I had to repeat myself numerous times simply because he couldn't understand me... and I sit in the front row.

Hopefully the chicken pot pie stew that Jacki brought me today will help heal my throat. I really don't want to sound like this tomorrow.

Townie

The students in this town have a lovely term for those who live here and (1) lived here their whole life; (2) went to school here and never left; and (3) just moved here. I fall under number three.

I went to college in Milledgeville. Georgia College & State University, or just Georgia College or GCSU for short. Upon graduating, I learned that there was no where for me to really go in that town. No one looking to hire (or pay well) a newly graduated twenty something. So, Sarah and I decided to make the journey northward.

Although Sarah was not immediately labeled a "townie" since she was doing her internship at the hospital and was still, in fact, a student of the nursing program at GCSU, I was a loner. Singled out, and I hated it. I would yell at people who called me that. I once walked away from a cute guy because he called me that.

Well, yesterday after work, I was walking downtown to pick up my shoes that I had dropped off for some repairs. When I got there, and to no surprise, they were not even touched. He did the repairs while I waited, which wasn't bad. During those ten minutes, I stood and looked around the shop. You could tell that it had been there for a while and was always a shoe repair. Then I glanced over at the wall. The only thing that seemed in pristine condition were three frames of newspaper clippings that went back to before I was born. I found it interesting and a real feat that the business could stay... well, in business for that long.

Then I started thinking about what other places I knew in town like that. For instance, the old Hodgon's Pharmacy. Granted the moved down the block, but they have been at Five Points forever. The old Bottlework's Factory, although no longer bottling cokes, but now serves as the home of several businesses and... homes. How about my new home? Once and textile mill and now the home of several professors, young professionals, and me.

As I was walking back down towards the end of town to where my car was parked, I looked around at all the other shops, and at the people. I saw one panhandler sitting on the bench across from the bank, adjacent to her, a man playing a guitar. This town consists of all walks of life, and for that, it is a gem.

So, for now, I shall embrace the stereotype. I have thought about moving back here one day, perhaps to retire. That is, so long as I don't make my millions first and buy my NY pint house.