So far, so... whatever

New Year's Resolutions.

They can kiss my ass.

Not really... but there's always a couple that I put on there knowing that it will never happen. Like this journal thing. It used to be such a joy. Such a necessity. Now... whatever.

After an incident with boyfriend, though, I know the reason why I find writing here more of a chore. I've been looking for this reason for years now and we had our first major blowout after vacation and it became abundantly clear. HE is the reason. HE is why I don't write. Because there we were in this awful place and I felt like this vulnerable, over-emotional, out-of-control creature who'd been cornered and couldn't find a way out. And HE was the problem. And so all the processing, talking it out, venting and everything it is that I do to stay sane in this world and figure out my way was stripped from me in an instant. Because HE is my partner in all of that. He's my sounding board. He's my voice of reason.

And he shut me down and told me he didn't want to hear what I had to say.

And I felt this wall going up between us. And I started to withdraw and retreat away from him. I just went completely internal. And the first thing I thought about how to handle it was, "I have to process this. I have to figure this out. Why am I feeling all this emotion? Why am I feeling so overwhelmed? Why am I flipping out? I don't do this."

And I realized that I couldn't tell him any of the stuff I was feeling because he was the target of it all. And so the next thing I thought was, "Fine, then I will write about it if you don't want to hear it."

And then I realized that HE is why I don't write. Because he is to me everything that my journal always was. This space was all the things I would have said to someone very close to me, very intimate. It's the space where I always worked out my deepest thoughts and emotions. It's where everything in its most raw form could be chunked out and mulled over. He is who I share that with now. And I don't have to think as hard as I used to. And I don't have to worry as much. And I don't have to over-analyze everything anymore. Because it's so complete... more complete, of course, than ever it was when I was writing in paper books to just myself in the echo chamber... but even more complete than it was when I was writing to an audience who sort of knew me.

Because he really knows me. He sees it all. There's scarcely anything that I hide from him and the sort of vulnerability that I feel when I reveal some raw part of myself is a safe sort. I don't worry about it because I'm comfortable that he's not going to reject me due to anything I think or feel. It's okay that I'm strange and different and that I don't do things in expected ways and that I think odd thoughts.

Until the other day... then it was scary because I felt rejected and abandoned. And my emotional fight-or-flight response kicked into overdrive and in my mind I was packing my bags and cauterizing my wounds and steeling myself for the road ahead. And I was fully ready to come back here with guns blazing and spill my guts and do the hard work of picking up the pieces.

But, alas, it was a gross overreaction to frayed nerves and sleep deprivation and after some time and tears and some well-chosen and well-timed words, all is well again. Like it never happened.

Truly, like it never happened. Which is also such a strange thing for me. I have been wronged in the past quite severely and though I've moved past those things, I still hold grudges. In relationships, I slowly build a database of wrongs and have instant recall of every record at all times. At some point, there are just too many records for me to carry on and the relationship has to end. At some point, there are so many records that my face just contorts into a look of disgust that can't be hidden any more.

But there are no records here in this relationship. The first argument that we had, I remember what happened. I remember being upset and driving down the street to be alone with my thoughts and keep him from seeing me cry and be angry. I remember this. But I do not remember what it was about at all. I have tried before to remember... we both have. We laugh about how pissed I was and how it was all some misunderstanding, but neither of us can pinpoint the exact thing that was said or done. This flies in the face of every other argument or fight I've had with anyone... because I can remember everything. Minute details like what the weather was like, what I ate that day and what people were wearing, as well as every single thing that was said and done.

And this thing, while bigger than that thing, I will probably remember because of so many context clues that exist, but the crazy part of it is that I am not holding onto it. I did not make a record of it for future recall. I am not angry about it any more. I do not feel the alarm that I felt then as I began to analyze what I thought was taking place between us.

Crazy and wonderful.

In another way, though, when it comes to journal stuff... I feel like it's great that I'm having this awesome relationship with another person who I'm so connected to, but then I realize that I'm not having the same relationship with myself any more... I'm not taking care of myself in the same way. I'm letting him do that for me. Which feels great now, but then if something ever happened I'd be devastated, wouldn't I?

But what kind of relationships was I having before where I was always reserved and guarded and never gave of myself fully so that I could always protect myself? Or even those where I gave a lot of myself but only the worst bits... Ugly, no? Why did I even bother with all that?

--

I meant to write about resolutions and how I'm always screwing them up before the first week of the new year is over... Guess I will do that later. Time to make dinner.

Whilst I was away voting...

Okay, so while I was out voting, I left Jacob here at the house. Here is where I vote, (and I was the only person there) and what Google says about how to get there just so you know how long it took:

"Driving directions to Fort Worth Fire Station 24
0.8 mi – about 3 mins"

When I got back, I was greeted with a startled look and, "That was sure fast."

Upon walking into the kitchen, I noticed that the door to my baking cabinet (where I keep stuff like sugar, flour, vanilla, baking soda and whatnot) was slightly ajar despite the fact that I have not been baking today.

And then I was hit with the very strong smell of vinegar.

Knowing what I know about our science experiment today (Newton's third law of motion) and its inclusion of balloons, it doesn't take me long to conclude that in the very short time it took me to vote, my son was making baking soda and vinegar grenades.

He must have heard me pull up in the driveway and rushed to clean everything up because there was vinegar all over the counter.

And now I know why children lack the capacity to pay attention to very small details like closing a cabinet or wiping a counter completely or neutralizing strong smells. It's so that parents can catch them when they're up to no good.

So, I asked him what he'd been doing while I was gone. He was all, "You know, just my history lesson and stuff." And stuff... Yeah, that's his way of pretending he's not lying to me. Later if I press him, he can say something like, "But I said 'and stuff' so I wasn't really lying, I just didn't tell you what the stuff was." He has a deep love for the loophole, that kid.

But not so fast, little man. You turned 14 on Sunday which means two things: You've been around long enough to know better and it's been at least that long since I fell off the turnip truck (and apparently turned into my mother, nay, my grandmother with that line).

So, I ask him... "What stuff?"

Blink. Blink. Blink. BlinkBlinkBlink.

I can see his wheels turning, deciding whether or not to out himself and face the consequences of his actions... He's like a deer in headlights, so I give him an indication of how bad things will be if he decides to lie (hoping I have no evidence against him)... "What's that smell?"

He knows I have him dead to rights and he tells me what he did.

A lecture on trust, truth, chemical reactions in the absence of goggles / an adult and stuff ensues... I leave it at that for now.

All I can say is at least I was down at the fire station in case he tried anything hefty... but don't worry, I keep the thermite and matches locked up. Ha.

Worm Bin: Soldier Fly Larvae

How on earth did I get so lucky?

I've been noticing these big black things that look like a little wasp or yellowjacket -- except all black -- flying around my worm bin when I go to add their ice and scraps. I'm allergic to all manner of biting and stinging bugs, so it's been freaking me out.

A few days ago after I added some old strawberry tops, I noticed an bunch of grubs in the bin. And I was thinking, how on earth do I have grubs in here because I started with a completely clean bin and have added no yard waste to the mix. At any rate, these grubs were going insane on the strawberries. I started to think that maybe this was the end of my worm bin...

But alas, what I've got are soldier fly larvae. And they are used to do their own bio-composting and some say they are even more effective than the red wigglers.

Some bonuses:

• Soldier flies don't bite or sting
  
• They aren't carriers of pathogens
  
• They only live a few days in order to breed and lay eggs
  
• They generate heat (so my worries of having a freezing ass bin in the winter, thus killing the wigglers, are over)
  
• They take months to hatch in winter (thus ensuring a heat source all winter long) instead of the normal weeks
  
• They won't kill the red wigglers
  
• They will eat all the excess food the wigglers can't handle so I can continue to load the bin
  
• They eat the things that the wigglers don't like as much (citrus rinds, avocado peels, jalapeno seeds, garlic and onion peels) and they do it very quickly
  
  

This is just the jam.

Stuff That's Always with Me

These are the things that are pretty much always on my person.

Pictured: Natural Chapstick, Burt's Bees Chapstick for color (only makeup I wear), piece of crap phone, keys, library card, visa, amex, gamestop card, drivers license, Nintendo DS, glasses, hair tie.

For the first time in my life

I ate an apple. I have never done this. I am no fan of the apple, my friend.

My kid, on the other hand, loves them. So, I buy them for him.

I don't know what it is about the apple that bugs me so much. The texture is definitely part of it. But even when I try to swallow apple juice it makes me hurl. Literally hurl. It's the same reaction that you see when someone on a reality show is trying to eat a live scorpion or something. It's just NOT going down.

I haven't the foggiest what possessed me to suddenly want an apple today. I've been sick lately. Yesterday evening I started to feel like I was on the mend, but this morning brought more nausea. So you wouldn't think I'd want to eat something that's been proven to make me sick in the past. And yet, there it was: a completely undeniable craving for an apple.

It wasn't bad, either. I almost couldn't taste it at all. Weird, but at least I can say I've done something new today, no?

Now that that's overwith, I'm going to lay back down. This illness thing is strangely like an on-again, off-again hangover complete with weakness and headache. Except minus vodka fun time.

Which reminds me... did I mention that I had an asthma attack the last time I drank vodka. We'd been drinking Dripping Springs, since it's local and all but then their plant blew up and we can't find it around here. So we decided to try Tito's a few weeks ago, which is also local (and a great price at Costco) and I took one sip of my drink (using the same ingredients I always use) and all of a sudden I couldn't breathe and had to use a rescue inhaler.

Crazy. So, boyfriend has been drinking it and I've just been staring at it apprehensively in the freezer. I'd like to have a little cocktail this weekend if I'm feeling better since the boy is at camp but I'm not going to chance it with the Tito's.

What on earth would it be in there that would cause that?

Sickly

Ugh. I'm feeling so weak today.

Yesterday I was puking all day. Slept for hours and hours. Just stayed on the couch for the most part, dozing. I'd start a show on the Tivo and would watch for about 5 minutes before I fell back asleep.

Then the cat would get on me. And then I would have to get up to throw up. And she'd look at me like, "How dare you take my warm and comfy spot away!"

I am not feeling as sick to my stomach today, but it's an effort to just move around. I feel like my muscles are operating at about 10 percent of their normal capacity.

So much for enjoying a little bit of a break while my kiddo is at camp.