It…is….ALIVE

Hey all,

Still alive. Made it out of nursing school with a degree, and am now in the midst of studying for the National Exam.

But to motivate myself, and because I found an insanely cheap flight, I am going to Northern Europe for two weeks after my exam!

Yes, there shall be Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Poland, the Czech Republic, and possibly Germany/Amsterdam on this trek. And yes, I know going up north in January is not the most idyllic and it will be cold. I am prepared to freeze what little buns I have off.

Also I stocked up on Omni-heat gear like a hoarder because I found the outlet store and it was on sale….I REGRET NOTHING.

I promise to update more, not while on the trip, but definitely more. There is much to tell.

With love and renewed promises of not abandoning the blog,
Aurora

Words and Lent

As my mother always says, the downside of being good with words, is that you’re good with words.

When I need to articulate what it is I need or what I’m feeling, being articulate is wonderful. I can convey what it is I need and how to get it. And a result, I usually get it while building good relationships with those around me.

But when I’m angry, God help me if I cannot control my tongue. Because since I am good with words, I can slice you to pieces within seconds, shred self-esteem into pieces too tiny to put into an actual shredder, size you up and pick your deepest, darkest insecurity out of a line up and coat you in it, and I do it within five seconds.

I can destroy you. I can build you.
It all depends on the words I pick out of a line-up.
It depends on how gracious I feel.
It depends where I am when I choose my words. If you are a certain airline I am currently irritated with, you are screwed. If you are my patient, I will be the kindest, most gentle being on the planet who will sit with you while you cry and just need to not be alone.

I don’t like hurting people. Everyone has silent battles.

For Lent, I’m giving up cursing, procrastination, and using my words for evil.

Words are my superpower, but letting yourself be controlled by a superpower is a weakness.

Officially A New Year and Word

Well, hello there 2014! Aren’t you a lovely, tall drink of water. So much potential, and I’m sure you’ll see me in some embarrassing situations. That’s okay, hopefully cameras won’t be around. At the same time, hopefully they will be, I can always use the laughs.

 

Well, as of about 3 minutes ago, I have officially booked all my travel details for Italy! To be fair, all the Italian ones were booked for me, but everything about my side excursions to London and Paris and back to Milan before I come home are booked. By everything, I mean the answers to “how are you getting there?” and “where are you staying?”

Other than that, my time is mine. Considering how I’ve been working three jobs and going to school full time, this feels like a huge, creepy luxury. I’m thrilled. And guilty. Feeling even more guilty to be thinking of a road trip for Spring Break and possibly a summer one.

My mother’s friend came up with the idea to not have resolutions for the new year and to instead have a word that encompasses what we want for the year. At first I chose “go”. Go everywhere, see everything, go study, go workout.

And then I realized how ragged I ran myself this semester. Multiple all nighters, multiple wake up at 4am days after falling asleep at 2am, never seeing friends because I was always working or studying or in class or trying to sleep. I constantly forgot to eat because I was so busy and ended up choosing junk food so I wouldn’t miss as many calories when I forgot to eat.

That’s no way to live.

Finally it hit me: this year, I’m going to learn how to live. To live well, and happily, and be a good student and worker, while still being a good daughter and sister and friend, allwhile being true to myself.

I figure there’s no better way to learn than through travel.

What would your word be?

You Should Date An Illiterate Girl

I read.

A Horrifically Short Update and the Difference between being Alone and Lonely

So first off, there was a couple of guy adventures this summer.

We’ll categorize them as He Who Almost Was. The Mistake, and The He Who Could Have Been Great.

 

He Who Almost Was is my type of paper. Exceedingly tall, masculine, athletic, witty, and clever. However, something was just always…off. He smoked ( a no for me) and although he was quitting for me, he wasn’t quitting fast enough. I just didn’t feel it. Which is terribly frustrating, because I am sssssuuuuuuuuuper picky and  meeting someone who met the qualifications physically is always tricky. 

 

 

He was clever but acerbic. He was fun but damaging. I loved being around him but didn’t want to really kiss him. One day I realized I wasn’t happy. I just liked having him around because he liked me. And one day, I realized I wasn’t happy. I thought about how best to go about ending things. He had managed to mental ninja me into official girlfriend position (legitimately, I had gone into that conversation about to tell him that since I was moving for the summer, I wasn’t going to be able to keep seeing him. I came out of it his girlfriend. It was a total WTF moment for me), so I was unwilling to try any more serious conversations in private. I set up a meeting in a public place and called him to verify it (on the 4th of July). I had begged off spending it with him because of work and not seeing my family and three of my best guy friends for ages. After we got off the phone, he sent me a follow up text saying “Have a nice life.”

Not fun, to say the least.

The other two were exactly as described and I entered this semester boy-free, and ready to engage in a semester of self-love, work, and school.Except then I met the Ranger. He was nerdy, fun, athletic, and wonderful. I felt completely at ease with him. And then when we’d been seeing each other for a while, he said he just wanted to be friends because our schedules were so hectic and he was considering reenlisting. I agreed, because frankly three jobs and school full time aren’t exactly condusive to a relationship. We agreed t be friends. And then he vanished. Just out of the blue. I still haven’t heard from him. I miss him some days, but for the most part am just angry. Who just vanishes?

And now to the current scenario: I actually met Guitar guy while Ranger and I were agreeing to be friends. He was friend of a friend and we were both out of our element in this country bar and so had a conversation-filled night. He asked for my number and then left. We talked off and on for a month, and finally I got fed up with not knowing if he actually liked me and asked if he wanted to get coffee. Surprisingly, he did. So we did. And then he asked if I wanted to go see a movie. I’ll detail it later, but it was a picturesque first date. And when he kissed me, I felt butterflies. He said we should definitely do this again soon and I told him to call me when he got back into town. More texting. I asked if he was free for a week after our first dates, in a “hey, do you have plans?” type way. He ended up being busy, but asked if I was free for this upcoming Thursday. So date 2 is scheduled. But I feel like I’m putting in the effort and I want someone who wants me.

Also my little sister’s incredibly attractive British substitute teacher is going to inform me of what not to miss when I’m in London for a few days in February. Did I mention that? Yeah. Italy, London, and Paris for me starting in January. I’m probably going to remake the blog so it can be legitimately me posting updates for when I leave. Oh and a random charming man I met at said country bar another night I was dragged out wants to take me shooting. He found the way to my heart: offer me a weapon of destruction, and I’m yours. Ah, evil genius problems.

I’ve realized what’s missing in my life though. I am tired of not feeling emotionally “plugged in” in a relationship. I got close to that with Ranger, but I haven’t felt fully emotionally into someone almost four years. I am miss being loved and adored and cherished, but mostly, I miss loving, adoring and cherishing someone besides my cat. I love my family and friends, but it’s different in a relationship. I miss having someone I can say “I’m so tired honey, can we just watch the game and I can just sit with you?” or “Hey, want to have a book date? You read, I read, and we’re just together.” or even sitting on the bluff watching the skyline and just existing. Most of all, when I am scared, I want someone I can turn to, and say softly, without fear of being judged for being weak, that “I am afraid” and have them hold me. I don’t even want him to say anything, just the holding and a look of confidence in me will suffice.

Let me clarify: there is a difference between being alone and being lonely. I love being alone. You learn to appreciate and become acquainted with yourself and start to love yourself. You get to just be and that’s perfectly wonderful. Being lonely is accepting that you have such a wonderful life, but it would be even more wonderful if you had someone wonderful to share it with, both the good times and bad.

I am so very tired of being lonely. But I’m not going to settle for less than butterflies and wonderful adventures because settling for less…that is even more lonely than being alone.

I love myself. And my journey to Italy, England and France is going to be incredible. I’m venturing to the latter places alone and I am excited to get to know me as myself in foreign lands.

I’m also considering not bringing anything skype capable. I want this trip to be spent fully in the present and not constantly wondering what my friends are up to. I need a break from my whirlwind. If I just blog it, people can keep up with me and my adventures, it’s an instant post card. I am so very tired of being plugged into our society.

So yeah. I am lonely. But I don’t mind being alone. I want someone wonderful, not just some one.

I’m heading into finals, so posts should be more frequent after finals.

With love to all,
Aurora

Once more with a Flourish

So. I vanished again. My sincerest apologies. I happen to be in a moving vehicle at the moment, but I shall update you all by the end of this week. I have several amusing anecdotes, one involving Brad Pitt (yes, him again), the return of the Belgian, a whole summer of work stories, and the brief appearence of some male figure we’ll call “The Man Who Almost Was”.

The moral of my summer.

Also this.

Aaand this one.

More stories soon my loves. Italy in 5 months.
Aurora

When the Supporting Cast Ends Up Okay.

So anyways, I was furious. Like white-hot level of rage, flipping tables level of rage and I wasn’t getting any level of support from A. So I tried to articulate to this to A. But she was busy and I’d already taken my problem to the All Knowing Mom. So I had calmed down a bit by the time I actually talked to A, who now understood exactly why I was so upset. It was A who broached the idea that maybe Brad never realized that I didn’t want to rehash the past and that I wanted to pretend nothing ever happened. I was pretty sure I’d already told him such things, but with the Wise Momma and A’s help, crafted a straightforward message clarifying that I didn’t want to tall about it, it wasn’t a big deal, and I didn’t want things to be weird because a) we have a lot of mutual friends and b) I still want to be friendly with him because regardless how douchey he behaved, I think he is a genuinely decent guy.

And for the first time since February, I got a reply:

“Fair enough.”

So slightly irked, I replied “Glad we got that squared away, I’m going to be down this weekend and wouldn’t want things to be awkward.”

I didn’t get a response to that. But Friday night, we went over to their house and chilled and Brad was friendly. It was miraculous. And before I left I asked if I could go to his party the next night. AND GUESS WHAT.

HE APOLOGIZED. For making things weird and uncomfortable and said that I was welcome any time. It was amazing. And I couldn’t help myself. I may have decided to toy with him a little.

Just a little! Just to make him slightly unsure. Just a littttttle bit. Not mean.

I shrugged and said “It’s okay, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

And then I left. Like walked out the door left. And laughed the whole way back. Because I startled him and I knew he’d be confused. Which okay, probably not the greatest call, but it was funny.

So the next night, he kinda ignored me more than the previous night, but he said bye to me when I left and it’s fine now. But I just wanted to throw him a bit. Which is malicious and petty but since I’ll be living in the same city as him all summer with our best friends/roommates dating each other, everything’s all smoothed out now. I’m happy with how this is working. I’m not going back down til summer, but at least the dust will be settled.

Anyways, thus the story of Brad Pitt.comes to a close. He’s too commitment phobic/douchey/too fun to mess with to actually date. But he’s going to be a wonderful friend. Provided he doesn’t change his mind again. If he does…well, I guess it would entirely depend on how long it would take for me to slap him.

I’ll update soon, I ventured into Tinder (ohhh the stories), more nursing school anecdotes, and aaall the blunders that come woth living.
Love,
Aurora

When the Supporting Cast Falls Through (Part 1)

So I believe that I haven’t blogged in a while. My apologies. You’ll find out why in my venting.

So firstly an update: I hadn’t seen or heard from Brad in short centuries (ah, the agonies of a limited attention span). But I was planning to go down to the former college to visit the weekend of his birthday. There was going to be a party and frankly, it’d been a couple of weeks from hell and I really and truly needed a break. A wonderful, mind-numbing chance for me to sit down and drink some Hornsby’s hard ciders (it’s brilliant, and now naturally gluten free which honestly made me the happiest girl in the world), spend some time with friends, establish with Brad that I just want to be friends, and since Vince since he’d be up from a town that is honestly, a drive that is longer than some labor experiences.

This was part of what kept me going through the week. I was exhausted, had had multiple exams, <a

a job interview in a town an hour away, and was just exhausted due to personal troubles as well. Usually I blog about them, but frankly, this is such a giant post already and the personal troubles aren’t exactly mine to share. So in summary, I seriously was in need of some girl time with friends, some time with guys that I knew wouldn’t drunkenly leer at me, and frankly, if Brad and I could work things out again to the point of being friends, I could count at least one thing as a win. And so I was excited, as excited as an exhausted, frazzled, sleep-deprived, mess can be.

And then Thursday, when we were on site at our clinical facility, right before we went out onto the floor, I get a text from Vince. Uninviting me to Brad’s party. To say I was unamused would be an understatement. A massive, massive understatement, akin to the comment of saying that the Titanic sank because the ice cube in the water looked at it funny. Honestly, if Price Charming himself had dropped out of the sky and given me all the money and travel I’d ever dream of, I would’ve gone all marine drill sergeant on his ass for taking so damn long. I was in Natural Disaster level of anger. Not eve really mad at Vince, more mad at the fact that Brad wouldn’t have the decency to do this himself and instead put our mutual friends in such an awkward position. I was so furious that my professor and fellow students could tell I was angry and I needed 10 minutes to calm down before I could trust myself to go on the floor. Even after trying to stimulate the Vagal nerve to get my body to calm down, my heart rate never dipped below 90. FOR SIX HOURS. THAT ANGRY.

So I was furious. I’d been robbed of my one possible win, spending time with my friends, the relaxation I needed, and in all honesty, I hadn’t even thought that Brad could be this immature. I was also really mad that no one was calling him out on his shit. Because seriously, I could never get away with behaving like that. All of my friends would’ve been like “Uh, Aurora? YOU ARE BEHAVING LIKE A COLOSSAL BITCH.”

That’s because I have great friends, but whatever, they all know that. We the best bitches. And the only reason I am calling us bitches is because, to quote the wonderful and brilliant and girl-crush worthy Tina Fey and Amy Poehler: ”

BITCHES GET SHIT DONE.

So I wait. Text A, let her know what’s up. And get a lackluster response. Actually, her response made me mad even. She said “Why are you this mad?”

…..excuse me?

WHY ARE YOU ASKING QUESTIONS AND NOT IMMEDIATELY TAKING MY SIDE.

Because what I was really and truly upset with was me being punished for Brad’s not being socially competent. He was also being a dick and no one called him out on it. I had textbook perfect behavior, and he was being the spoiled brat who suddenly never got punished and who got excluded? the little quiet nerd.

I am scared of being rejected. I want people to like me. At least, the people I like, I want them to like me. And I’m scared of being left out. Because I’m already lonely. I usually hide this fear fairly well, but this, and without people reassuring Brad that I’m a kickass person and would never do anything to make his big, blow out party awkward or uncomfortable? People who knew me and who I would’ve vouched for in a heartbeat if the situation were reversed?

It hurt. It hurt a lot.

To be continued. (It does get better and SPOILERS: I do end up invited to the party)

The Quilt That Came Home

This is me holding the quilt. I don’t usually look like a vampira, I promise it was just overdone lipstick. But I’ll give you all my exact thoughts and such when I am not drowning in homework so I can have tomorrow free.

Words & Stitches

I may have mentioned once or twice that I’m a “trial and error” kind of girl. Sometimes I just don’t get it right the first time and then it’s try, try again. In the case of marriage, I only needed a second try. The first one was, well, not quite a disaster as I got my beautiful older daughter out of the deal which made it worthwhile. The overall experience was, however, less than desirable.
In the course of the back and forth that occurred in the whole unpleasant and convoluted divorce proceedings, he-who-must-not-be-named came over to our house and took a few things. Most of them made sense like his mother’s diamond earrings. Some were confusing like ½ of our silverware. The one that made the least sense to me, though, was a quilt I had made to celebrate our dog, Naughty. Now, I never protested him taking the…

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