NaBloPoMo – A Late Start

Hello, November!

Once again, I’ve made the impulsive decision to participate in NaBloPoMo and write every day.  It’s an ambitious goal, but I think it’s one that I can accomplish.  Unfortunately, I’m getting off to a late start.  Time to play a little bit of catch up.

I’ve been feeling very naked on this blog as of late, and there is reason for that.  I’ve been baring my soul recently, digging deep and talking about a lot of stuff that really hurts.  I’m dredging up a lot of painful, embarrassing, and sad moments, and writing about them on this blog for the ultimate purpose of healing myself (For those of you curious, you can check out the ongoing emotional purge series conveniently linked here: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, and part 6).

So it’s been an exercise in self-flagellation thus far.  I feel like I’m resolving a lot of things from my past that have been plaguing me for years.  But there’s more work to be done.  So, dammit, I’m going to do it.

In other news, life is going well enough.  I focus on work, I come home, and I either draw or write before bed.  It’s simple, and to be completely honest, I’m enjoying how uncomplicated life is right now.  I’m not actively dating, nor am I hooking up.  I’m just living, trying new things and seeking out meaningful experiences.  I’ve been going to paint nites with my best friend recently.  I honestly didn’t think I’d get much out of them, but they’ve been fun.  Here’s my most recent creation!


It’s about 1 AM and I’m going to retire for the evening.  Luckily I have tomorrow off and I can sleep in.  Goodnight, folks.  Sweet dreams.


Aaaand, we’re back.

A lot has happened since I updated last.  My doctor thought I had cancer.  I don’t have cancer.  I got a job the same day my doctor told me I needed to remove my ovary.  The mass in my ovary grew.  On operation day, there was no mass to be found, indicating that the mass burst between my last MRI and the date of surgery.  I was opened up for nothing, but my reproductive organs are in tact.  Recovery was difficult because I had to rely on others to do things.  My friends reminded me why they’re my friends.  My grandfather passed away a week after my surgery.  I managed to squeak out A’s in two classes.  I received an incomplete in my manual drafting class, and I have 3 months to complete the assignments.  It’s Friday and I’m on the clock until 4 PM.

I’ve been tired. I’ve been incredibly sad. I’ve been uncomfortable. I’ve been happy. I’ve been thankful. I’ve been angry. I feel a lot of things at once.

I’d like to get back into maintaining my blog.  I’d like to partake in June’s NaBloPoMo, but I don’t think I can commit to writing every day with all that is going on.  I need to draw.  I need to work.  I need to find time to do restorative things for myself.  My body and mind need restoration desperately.

This man came into the shop to try on glasses just now.  He flirted with me, which was interesting.  I flirted back in an attempt to make a sale.  He said I have a pretty name.

That made the day a touch easier to get through.  I blushed a little.

And that’s me in a nutshell.  How are y’all doing?


I miss you, old man.

Turn that frown upside down.


It’s Thursday.  Let’s change the tone of the week around.

I’ve been with my boyfriend since April, I think.  I say “I think” because there was no discussion or ceremony around us becoming a couple.  It just kind of happened, I guess.  Our first date was mid-to-late April.  Within a week, we were seeing each other at least once a week, increasing in frequency every week or so.  By late May or early June, everyone assumed we were in a relationship based on how much time we were spending with each other.  We didn’t bother correcting them.  It was a natural progression of things.  By the first week of July we were living together.

Our living conditions were quite comical in the beginning.  We went from an air mattress to a mattress and box spring on the floor, to a mattress in a small child’s bedroom (as a result of “The Great Bathroom Flood of 2014”), to a queen-sized bed.  An actual bed WITH a frame, courtesy of his mother.  I guess it was the first time in our lives we had actual bedroom furniture.  It was pretty neat.  I made the bed every day and took pride in it.

After moving things around and hanging paintings and color-coordinating things and buying area rugs and throw pillows and all that nonsense, our place is finally something we can call a home.  I do the cooking 95% of the time, he does the dishes 95% of the time, we take turns tackling messes, and we take turns buying groceries.  We have a system that works pretty well.  We argue about stuff.  We unintentionally hurt each others’ feelings.  We neglect each others’ needs sometimes.  These things happen.  We talk about it.  We move on.  It’s a good system, I think.

I was a tad impulsive and I bought our Christmas tree today; it’s a 4-foot tall, pre-lit artificial tree.  It was a first for me.  “Our tree” for our first Christmas together.  I take holidays pretty seriously, I guess (because everything between Halloween and New Years day makes up my absolute favorite time of year). I’ve overcome with anxiety and excitement all at once.  That anxiety is coming from a place of not knowing what to get him for Christmas, especially on limited funds.  We’ve talked about it.  He gave me the “I’ll be happy with whatever” stump speech that most men give.  Still anxious.

Tomorrow we head west to spend the weekend with my boyfriend’s mother and her boyfriend.  We’ll have an early Thanksgiving there.  I’m kind of excited.

Ah, life is just happening. I get bogged down by the negative, sure.  But there is so much good stuff happening every day.  I guess I should open my eyes to it a little more.