Oh my Jeeze.

I moved in.  I don’t have all of my items here, but they will be next weekend.  But I am here with the intention of staying. Looking for a job.  Ugh, I hate the interview process.  I hate making myself sound important or just fluffed up.  Last night I took the dog out, then came right back in because I wanted Bf to look at the clouds.  I called to him and he came out looking all worried and expecting trouble. Then he saw the clouds and I went on with the dog and he finished up dinner.  When I got back inside he apologized.  He said he didn’t mean to make that face and I just startled him.  He went on to explain that he hasn’t lived with anyone since his brothers so if he is out of control or not sharing well or over reacting to just let him know.  Bf has a tendency to over explain himself.  I suppose I would rather deal with that than someone who doesn’t take the time to explain at all. So I simply accepted his apology and encouraged him to just keep the communication lines open and flowing.

Even though he is the second Bf I will be living with it feel more like the first due to the maturity level.  I was just 18 the first time and since he had lived with my family for about a year the transition was easy and it was more like a sibling relationship.  Because so much has changed since then and because I love this man so much everything feels like taking the first step.

Bonus points; since I have consistent internets now I can possibly start back on my prompt writings and hone my creative writing skills back up.



When I was little I was very destructive. I liked to mash stuff together and make potions. I would strip plants of their leaves just because they were in reach. I threw rocks around to watch them burst into tiny fragments. I would never maliciously squash bugs. I left most living things alone. I did however get the strangest satisfaction out of tearing into spider eggs and seed pods. For some reason it was very satisfying to my seven year old brain. The egg sacks fell apart like sticky cotton candy and the way it gripped at itself, today reminds me of the way the fascia grips the muscles. The seed pods pretty much burst everywhere and the tiny seeds would go flying. It was just satisfyingly destructive. The best part was I couldn’t get into trouble for these acts (unlike the time I took a pocket knife to the downstairs couch).
One fine day I was wandering around the back yard and found a seed pod dangling from a vine. I popped it off without thinking and started tearing into it. I used my nail to cut a seam into it. Then I began to pull it apart. But there was something different about this seed pod. It was a little gooey and had pieces of something in it. Not like the burst of flat or round seeds I was used to. It took me a minute to see it, but soon my eyes saw what I had done. I had pulled apart a caterpillar’s cocoon. Horrified I threw it on the ground and ran inside to wash the gooey bug “blood” of my fingers. Used the hottest water I could stand and half the soap bottle. I ran to my room and hid under the covers. I prayed to God to forgive me. I promised I would never ever do it again. I was a mess the rest of the day. I was pretty sure God was going to punish me with bad dreams (my nightmares were horrible as a kid).
I pretty much stopped all seed pod bursting after that day. Occasionally I would pop one after I made ABSOLUTE sure it was a plant and not a bug, but for the most part I was done. I was traumatized and I never wanted that to happen ever again.


I am packing.  Holy jeeze I am packing my things!!!  I’m also trying to seriously cut down on my possessions. (That word looks wrong spelled out..)  I’m moving into a one bedroom condo with Bf and a dog, I seriously don’t need all of the things I have.  Last night I packed up books and DVDs.  I found a notebook that M and I used to write all of our stoner thoughts in and read through that for a good half hour.  I guess it’s not really packing unless you deviate somewhere.  I filled one box and a basket up with Goodwill things.  Then I packed up my “office” stuff.  Still want to go through that box and really consider whether I need those woodless coloring pencils or not.  I have a lot of art supplies because I want to be artsy but the truth is I lack discipline to hone that skill in.  So I just do weird things on small note cards and mail them to my friends.  It works.  I’m not going to be working for a whole week and that freaks me out so much!!  But that time will be needed to play with my friends and say goodbye to family.  Jeeze.Can I just be living there now?