::Let Me Clear My Throat::

With a fresh coat of paint also comes a much needed fresh start. Tomorrow is the jump start of me being back in the world on my own two legs. This has been a long, intense year, and being back on my own has been a long time coming. I've lost count of how many times I've wished for this, and now it's finally in front of me. I think I might have an anxiety attack. I literally can't get out of this town and this situation quick enough. This town feels like a prison to me now, and I can't wait to bust through the other side and taste that freedom, to run to it and never glance back over my shoulder at what I'm finally able to leave behind. I can leave all the bad memories and vibes and reminders right here, and I finally get to start over, clean slate. I can't think of a greater reward than that.

  Yesterday, through the wonders of social media, I stumbled upon the "wonderful news" I have been dreading for the past 9 months.  I was left with a sick feeling in my gut and a sort of weird numbness for the rest of the day, not really sure what my reaction to the news was.  I went on autopilot, and I think I even mumbled out a half-hearted congratulatory email to the new dad.  My brain was in a complete fog. Now that the news has really sunk in, the fog is gone and I have that caved in, kicked in the chest feeling that is far too familiar for my liking.  Logically speaking, yes, I knew this was an impending doom and have had nearly a year to get used to the idea, but it was never "real"...now it is.  There is no avoiding it now, or pretending it's not happening, and that in itself is gut wrenching.  I have to force myself to not think about it, not wonder about his reaction upon seeing his little boy for the first time and then naturally compa...

It's crazy how one day I can be waxing philosophical about karma and anger and how much better life has gotten, and the next day, all that luck seems to crumble and I'm left feeling violently homicidal. It seems to be just my luck that when I take two steps forward, I get knocked back at least three, like some Higher Power is determined to keep me in my predetermined "place".  Did I inadvertently piss someone off in this life or another?  Because I can't for the life of me figure out why I have to claw my way out of a hole everytime I turn around.  It's exhausting and damn frustrating. Whatever transgressions I've committed in whatever life, I truly feel as if my repentance has been paid, and then some.  Given that, why the hell am I still getting bombs dropped on me just as I'm starting to get ahead?  Can a girl ever just catch a break and be able to gain some footing, or am I destined to go through life always watching my step?

Ah, Karma. It's a word that seems to be thrown around a lot, most often used loosely to describe common bad luck; "Oh man, a flat tire, I must have lousy karma.." No, you probably were just too dumb to check the tread on your tire- that's not karma, it's neglect.  But I digress.  Karma, by it's simplest definition, is the Universe's way of giving you back everything you put into it, which is to say can be good or bad.  It's the Golden Rule on the largest scale imaginable.  I, personally, have a deep rooted belief in this system, and try to be conscious of everything I do in life, knowing in the back of my mind that sooner or later, it would come back to me in some form.  Being human, of course I've slipped up.  I've been cruel, I've made huge mistakes, I've been selfish and self-centered.  And I believe that I've paid dearly for all of this--you can see it for yourself in my early posts.  I was a fuck up for a long time, and Karma ...

: contented sigh : I'm seeing a pattern. Last night was another lovely night with Flaco. We lounged in my bed, all comfy cozy like, watching The Notebook (HIS request~ whaaa?!) and talking about life, love, and parenthood. My yummy smelling rose candle flickered softly on the dresser, and my iPod shuffled thru the most perfect tunes, somehow finding the ones that fit the mood just right. Our conversation flowed seamlessly and naturally, as did his fingers as he absentmindedly stroked my hair. With all this in mind, it sounds very anti climactic to refer to it as "nice", but that's exactly what it was. Nice...easy....peaceful. And I felt more content than I have in a very long time. I'm noticing how comfortable I'm becoming, spending time with Flaco. Being with him doesn't stir up any romance novel-style feelings in me; I don't find myself doodling his name on my folders or picturing some amazing future with him, but I am enjoying our time together...

::sigh::   I'm having another 'I miss The Ex' episode today.   It's not as impossible-feeling as the last one, when it felt like  if I didn't see him I would tear my skin off, but it's making me anxious nonetheless. I've been thinking about him lately, more so than usual.  Sometimes the strangest things become a trigger, and he's taking up every last corner of my mind-it's an odd sensation.  Last night it was a quote from a movie...I was plugging along just fine, not a care in the world, in a happy mood, and BAM!   It was waterworks, like someone reached inside me and opened the tap. It's going on two years now, and just when I think I have it licked, I get blindsided with one more lashing and my progress goes back two steps.  I wonder how long this is supposed to last.   I decided today that I would just drop over at his house and pay him a visit.  I never wanted to do this before and I told him so, but he always stressed how I was...

Flaco: (FLAH-ko) n., adj. Spanish slang for "skinny".  See also: Ms. Jaded's Weakness Ah, Flaco.  Allow me to give you some backstory:   Flaco*, who is a real person and not just a conglomeration of many, nor a figment of my very vivid imagination, is a longtime friend of mine. (tho I suppose it's a loose interpretation of "friend", but I digress)  When I met him through my neighbor back in 2005, I was knocked nearly breathless with his sexy, dimpled grin.  The instant I met him, I sized him up: I saw this very well groomed, charming, charismatic, muscled up, confident guy who was so fine he made me sweat. (He's a carpenter, y'all..mmm)  Immediately I deduced that this guy must have a stable of chicks in the cut, one for every day (and night) of the week.  He had to be a typical playboy, running around busting up hearts left and right, with women just sweating him.  He must have a babymama, and the drama that goes with it. ...