One phone call can change your life

Just two weeks ago, I could have told you exactly where I would be and what I would be doing in my life for the next two years, but today I have no idea where I will be in a month.

All because of one phone call.

I got the call I had been waiting for - THE CALL. The job I really, truly feel I would be great in/at/for.

BUT

Oh yes, there is a caveat. Isn't there always?

The job resides in another city. One not too far from where I live now, but far enough it would change my life. Same state, different city.

And I am scared. Simply petrified. Every time I really allow myself to think about it, I feel sick. I want this. Don't I?

I don't want to lose Saint. Hell, we were planning on moving in together next month and now, I don't even know if we will be living together next year. He is very supportive and very excited for me. He says he will look for a job in that city, to move and live with me. BUT . . . . what if he can't? What if he changes his mind? Now I know rationally, this could happen regardless of me moving. I just was counting on having him in my life more regularly and now, I will see him even less than I do now. We are very lucky. In our relationship, we are very independent and very fine with living our own lives. We are not codependent nor needy. And when we do need something, we aren't afraid to speak up and let the other know. He himself, says we have a very solid relationship. What is good for me, may not be good for us. I don't know. I know I would miss him greatly.

My parents and my niece - it is incredibly sad. No more once a week family nights. No more picking up my niece from school and having her run full speed to my car when she sees it's me. No more stopping by for breakfast, anytime of the day. No more mother/daughter shopping trips. I have no idea how they really feel. They want to make sure I make a good decision for me. Haha, how very parental of them. I will be able to come home. It could be a day trip, if necessary, but more likely a couple day trip. It had to happen. I am 31 years old and have only lived on my own once in my life without being within 15 minutes or less of my parents.

I will have real seasons with snow. I will live in a small town.

There are so many things to list on a pro and con list, but the fact is, I have wanted this for quite some time. An opportunity to grow up. To be on my own. To start out brand new and begin a life of my very own. To etch out my career in a place I feel I can grow.

Life is about creating opportunity.

So here it is.

I will hear back from them Friday or Monday. Until then . . .

(Single) guy mentality

After work one night I venture over to Saint's place to pick him and his roomie, Montana, up to designated-drive them to a bar. As I am walking in, Saint texts me that he is in the pool. Being that the music was reverberating throughout the complex, I figured it was a small get together.

I saunter up, but the pool gate was locked. (really? locked for a freakin' apartment function?)

"Oh, hey. I won't leave you hanging out there," some random guy runs up to let me in.

"Thanks," I say, searching the faces.

I walk in. It is dark and the lights from the pool actually make it harder to see who is whom. There are people in the pool tossing balls and screaming. A few couples sit beside the pool drinking and talking. There is a guy at the grill and a pool table to my right as I walk in the gate. A DJ is playing crappy, loud music by the doors of the great room. Basically, a chaotic apartment function as usual. No organization. Just random people doing random things.

After about five minutes I realize that I don't see Saint or Montana. I sit on the nearest sofa and text him.

"Where are you?"

"At the pool."

"Duh. Where in the pool?"

pause

pause

"Hello????? Saint, where in the pool are you?"

no response

Now, I gotta admit I am getting a bit peeved at this point. I came here to see my man and have a beer. Not sit at a pool waiting for the nearest creep to hit on me. (oh did I mention there is some insanely drunk guy oogling me? ew, gross.)

After about sixteen uninformative texts, I gather that he is at the poker table. The one that I walked right by twenty freaking minutes ago. I walk up and there are six people sitting at the table. All have cards, but only a few are sober.

I walk right up to Saint and say, "Hey stranger, how did you not see me walk in?"

He looks up, fuzzily and says, "Huh?"

Oh right, he's a little toasted. Hmmm, should be interesting.

But what's really interesting to me is that some girl is totally hitting on Montana, my boy's roommate. I am immediately protective because not just any girl can have him. He deserves to be happy. Y'know? He just got his heart broken and I won't let some other skuzzie girl do that.

Side note: Being drunk, Montana has NO GAME. Seriously. None. But obviously this girl has no idea because she is totally in to him.

They flirt back and forth. He calls her "Spiky hair" because she has short hair and it sticks out a bit. She is cute, but when I walked up she gave me the once over as if to wonder who am I, but what she didn't realize was I have been in for awhile now. It is she who must get approved.

Later, much later, I walk by the pool area to get to Saint's place and Montana and Spikey hair are the only ones sitting there. Instantly I think, "could it be?" But because of the alcohol they have consumed, I brush it aside.

Next day, I stop by. Saint informs me that Montana got mad because he was locked out. All night. I ask where he slept and am told on a box in the laundry room. Well, well I would have thought he would have "got some" last night.

"Oh he did," replies Saint.

"WHAT?!?! He got laid and he still slept in the laundry room? Why didn't he just stay at her house?"

Now here is the conundrum, peeps. Why is it that guys leave? He could have stayed, slept on a bed and probably got laid a few more times.

Here is the conundrum for men - Saint and Montana want to know if I got Spikey hair's real name.

"Me? Nope. I didn't catch it."

Dead silence between the two of them.

Immediately I am suspicious.

"Why?"

pause

very, long pause

"I can't remember her name."

feeling like a real life

I'm sitting here on my new couch. Brand new. Delivered today. The matching piece to the love seat I've had for a couple of years. The sofa replaces the tattered lazy boy a friend offered me when I moved out of my ex-husband's house (our house, whatever).

It feels good. Like a new life.

The continuation of a new life.

It saddens me a bit to realize that getting this couch makes me feel like my life is continuing on in a good direction. But being that it was so hard with my ex, it's also so incredibly understandable.

Evidence.

It's a new start. A fresh beginning.

It's why I needed to delete my old blog.

It's why I needed to upgrade to an apartment I felt worth of.

It's why I decided to accept the full time position at my second job that exemplifies what I want in life - living in the moment.

It's why I decided a half a year ago to love unconditionally, no matter if he chose not to return the love.

Moments are so precious and so few and far between that if I don't stop and enjoy each and every one as if it were my last, I'm missing the point of living.

So here I am. Sitting on my sofa that is so big if I stretch out I won't reach both sides.

:)

Reflecting.

Pondering my past. My here and now. My future.

I'm happy things worked out the way they did. It's sad that it's reality, but I am old enough to know that I am such a better person for it all. I'm not sure I would be so full of life had it not all happened.

I wouldn't know that the best way I can treat myself is to breath; to stop looking at the clock and breath. Love exactly who I am. Laugh at myself.

I wouldn't know that the best way I can love Saint is to remember he is his own person. Allow him his space and allow him to choose. And to not rely on him to comfort me. I feel the way I do because of my choices and how I choose to react. I can comfort myself because I am know how to make myself happy and what to do when I'm not. Not to be afraid to tell him how I feel and what I need.

I wouldn't know the best way to communicate with my parent's is to realize their love language. And to remind myself I don't need their approval because I already have it.

I am so lucky.

I am surrounded by loving people. It is evident in our family dinner this evening. We ate. We laughed. We discussed. We just lived. With each other. We loved.

If only the rest of the world were so lucky.