San Diego (Part 1): Single, Sad and Sorry

The biggest gag about having moved to San Diego is that I never wanted to move there in the first place.

Yes, yes, I totally realize that I may sound like a complete weirdo for having felt this way. I mean, who wouldn’t want to live in San Diego? The sun, the surf, the sand… San Diego is one of the many locales that people dream of moving to.

But just in case you’ve never seen the real estate prices for the area, a dream is often all that comes from their desires. The fact that I had the opportunity to move into a brand new apartment (with an attached private garage!) in one of the city’s most sought after neighborhoods is hard for me to comprehend even now.

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Cold, Cold Porcelain

It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.

In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.

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Self Control… What’s That?

Before I jump into today’s throwback post, I’d like to wish all of the fathers out there a very happy Father’s Day.

It has always seemed as though mothers get so much more recognition for their half of the parenting. I mean, retail stores practically cram Mother’s Day gifts down our throats a month in advance. By the time we hit Father’s Day, stores are like, “Here, just get him another tie. It doesn’t really matter.” That’s not true though; it does matter. Fathers matter.

Fathers are just as important as mothers. They have a responsibility to show their sons how to properly conduct themselves as true men. Likewise, they have a duty to display the kinds of qualities their daughters should look for in a mate. Fathers should be there to guide, provide and nurture their children to the very best of their abilities.

As for my father, he has served as an excellent role model. I’m not saying he is perfect, but he’s done such an exemplary job of being the kind of father many people wish they could have had. I truthfully cannot name anyone who has worked as diligently or hard as my father has throughout the years. He’s been such an inspiration to me. It is from him that I inherited my two favorite traits: (1) the ability to dream bigger than big and (2) a wild taste for adventure. Thank you for everything, Dad ❤

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Temporarily Indebted, Forever Regretted

The entire process of revisiting the written events of my past has been surprisingly cathartic. In the very short time that I’ve been doing this I have been struck by a handful of profoundly beneficial epiphanies, all of which have helped me to make significant strides in my present day life. I’m having great fun over here…hopefully you guys are too.

Today’s post is reasonably lackluster on the surface (my apologies, guys); I was just a college student painting her nails the night before starting a new job. As seemingly benign as this post is, it was actually interesting for me to look over it because I could actually recognize this period of time as being a sort of “jump-off point” for a number of issues that would later prove to be quite problematic for me.

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Grad School Or Bust: Test Anxiety and Armpits (Part 2)

Some people are simply born to do or be something. Singers sing, writers write, bakers bake. For those who have an undeniable talent in a particular area, their life purpose is usually obvious from a young age. To do anything else would seem quite unnatural.

Well, I think this is how it was for me. I’d spent the vast majority of my life saying I wanted to study psychology and contribute something notable to the field. If I didn’t grow up to be a psychiatrist, what else on God’s green Earth could I do? More importantly, who would I be? Be it wrong or be it right, my entire identity was soundly wrapped up in the notion of me becoming a therapist one day. It was the pillar of all my other life goals. I truly believed it was who I was.

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Grad School Or Bust: History, Please Don’t Repeat Yourself (Part 1)

For some reason, just thinking about the topic I am going to talk about today turns me into a full-blown nervous wreck. Perhaps it is because this particular life goal of mine means the entire world to me. Or maybe it is due to the fact that the mere pursuit of it will present definite challenges. Could it be that I am afraid of another potential failure? Am I concerned about what Plan B will be if this all goes to shit in the end?

I don’t know what it is about graduate school that renders me so anxiety stricken, but I am going to have to learn how to talk about this without wanting to retreat into the nearest corner, curl up into the fetal position and incessantly rock like a rocking chair. Why? Because I want to apply for grad school—for the third time.

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