San Diego (Part 2): The New Kid

It seems as though transferring to a new university as a bright-eyed undergraduate student would be a pretty important event in someone’s life… Important enough to remember with vivid clarity, I mean. Unfortunately, I don’t remember too much about transferring colleges.

Normally, I would blame this inability to remember on my shoddy memory. It has been an entire decade, after all. The problem with this excuse is that I have an impeccable memory—photographic even. And as if that wasn’t impressive enough, my selective memory is second to none. This may be a far, far more accurate reason as to why I no longer recall the early days studying at my alma mater. 😀

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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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What The $#!+*@?- A Breakup Story

It seems as though 2007 came and went without any written record of my whereabouts.

Though I am confident that I would have scribbled my feelings into a notebook from time to time, I have been unable to locate such an article. If a diary from this period of my life ever surfaces, I will have to skim it for particularly telling tidbits of information. But until that day, the explanations that follow will have to suffice.

Adam and I broke up soon after the New Year. When I say “break up” I actually mean detonated.

By this point in time, I had just quit my job in preparation for my move to San Diego. Up until our demise, we had still planned to move in together. However, I had a swift change of heart about two weeks before signing the lease. Something in my spirit told me that moving in with him would prove to be the biggest mistake of my life, so I ended up planning to move down there on my own. As I’m sure you could guess, Adam wasn’t the slightest bit blessed by my decision.

The actual breakup was rather dramatic and abrupt. I remember trying to reach him by phone quite late one evening. When my calls went unanswered for several hours, I grew worried about his whereabouts. By the time he finally answered, I was met by all manners of noise in the background. His salutation was slurred and sloppy— he was undeniably intoxicated. I knew how the call would end the moment I heard his voice. I had had enough of his buffoonery.

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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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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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Only Chicken Scratch: A Disclaimer

When I was a small child growing up in Southern California I would ride in the backseat of my parents’ car.

Quite often we’d drive the 50-60 miles through the valley to visit my grandparents in the LA suburbs. All along the way I’d press my bored little nose up against my window with “Are we there yet?” on my mind, but pure vapor on my lips.

On and on we’d drive, whizzing past buildings, signs, cars and towns. It was all so dull to me then. I mean, if you’ve seen one scraggly palm tree, you’ve seen a dozen. Though I loved visiting my grandparents, I greatly disliked having to seemingly trek halfway across the galaxy to reach them. If it weren’t for the graffiti scribbled across the trains, I don’t know what I would have done.

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I Nell. Me Was Caveman.

There once was a time when I handled my romantic relationships like a caveman. Not even a cavewoman. A caveman.

Despite having grown up in a family full of (questionably) happily married couples, I never had any formal training when it came to learning how to form my own relationships. Did any of you? Hmm. Perhaps I mistook the Dating 101 seminar invitation for junk mail… or bills. *Shudder* I always make sure to throw my bills into the recycling bin straight away. It’s good for the environment, you know.

Anyhow, unlike the whole birds and the bees thing (from which I naively took away the message, “Never, ever, ever touch boys”), my mother never sat me down and explained what I should and should not do if I hoped to maintain a successful partnership with a member of the opposite sex.

I didn’t have any siblings to ask, and although I’d grow to have friends who also dated, I wasn’t about to pick their brains about something so serious. Besides, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know what they were doing either. It seemed like a much better idea to wing it. And so, I did.

Turns out I was a relational caveman. No contemplation. No patience. No decorum. No idea what the heck I was doing. It was simply, “Me like. Me want. Me take. Me bored. Me throw away. Me like new thing now. You go away.” And the cycle would repeat itself.

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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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I Never Forgot

I may never come to understand why he meant so much to me…why this one night meant so much.

When I recall this particular memory there is such a rush of raw, poignant emotion. It has been twelve years. You have no idea how hard it is for me to believe this to be true. For me, it still feels like yesterday. It’s almost as though everything about the world has changed in those years except for my feelings for him. Sure, the details are fuzzy at best, but there is something about that man that never left me. “It” will never leave me.

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Office Gossip & Grey Goose

Hey, everyone! Today’s post details my first few days working at the job that ended up being my favorite of all time. Somehow, someway I got lucky enough to score a position working for a major title company when I was still a lowly college student. Just thinking back to my time working for them makes my innards feel all warm and fuzzy…like a cashmere sweater or a newborn kitten.

Thinking back, it is easy to see how I came to love working there. Between the good pay and frequent (aka. weekly) in-office cocktail parties, the general nature of the job made very good use of my natural abilities. My co-workers were (mostly) amazing and best of all, I loved my boss (the feeling was actually quite mutual). I’d give anything to work for her again.

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