looking forward to...

...a family reunion camping trip! i will depart right after i meet with lawyers, probation officers, support counselors, and lovely law-obeying clients. teenagers. gotta love 'em.

this process totally sucks. let's be honest.

tonight, my dearest friend said, "emily. you don't have to respond. you don't have to know the answer. and you certainly don't have to know why you feel that way." essentially she was giving me the freedom to sit in my pain and not know the answers. for an enfj, that's REALLY hard. but i'm trying.

it's all about the process. instead of making this about you or you or you, the reality is the only person i can control is me. i can only do something about my response, my behaviors, my thoughts, my feelings.

i really want to blame you or you or you. [because that will make me feel better!]
i really want you or you or you to go away. [because this will never happen again if you're gone!]
i really want to trust you or you or you again. [because that will mean you changed!]

so here i am. feeling this big (imagine i'm pinching my thumb and pointer finger together). and hoping just a little bit, that by not avoiding, not being passive aggressive and not running from the pain, there is wisdom and growth on the other side.

please, oh please God, let there be wisdom and growth.

why sean and doggie are good friends.

"SEAN! SEAN! bon iver is coming! let's get tickets?"
"em. i already got them."
"aww. damn. oh well."
"but i have an extra. you can have it."
"HOLY COW. I MIGHT HAVE JUST GIVEN BIRTH TO BON IVER'S ILLEGITMATE CHILD."

oh yah, AND he and kyle graciously helped me move a very large item LOCATED IN SAN JOSE into my house and made me dinner on saturday night to celebrate my being done with grad school. mmmm. kebabs.

all i'm sayin' is: you must not have been thinking with your smart cap on if you ever broke up with one of these guys. fantastic friends, really. givers.

july is over in my mind.

move. check.
finish at the ioa. check.
finish my very last class of my masters. check. (two hours ago.)

finally. i don't have to say, "no. i can't. i have to write a paper." or "i can't go to your wedding because i have class on saturday." or "i have to go to bed now. i have class tomorrow."

yes, i'll miss it... knowledgeable professors, my cohort, academic learning, all of it. being in the classroom is such a valuable experience and i don't deny that i'll be back, but i'm ready for a break.

here's to reading for pleasure. check.

my twin sized bed.

You look so defeated lying there in your new twin size bed.
With a single pillow underneath your single head.
I guess you decided that that old queen was more space than you would need.
Now it's in the alley behind your apartment with a sign that says it's free.

And I hope you have more luck with this than me....
You look so defeated lying there in your new twin size bed.

-death cab for cutie

it's been on my mind for a while.

and i haven't come up with the answer. i'm struggling with this now, and i imagine i'll struggle with it for the rest of my life. here's the question: what does it mean to be good enough?

to buy a parking sticker?

mostly settled into the new apartment. feeling good about the change. feeling good about my cubbyhole. shortest post ever.

one of the things i hate most in life.

the process of moving.
everything about it just sucks.
however.
there are things that make it better:
julie(s), nathan, chad and nick helping.
YAY!

side note: i'm moving into a closet.
(think: armington ra room)
more details to come.

ps. thanks for the calls, hugs and emails
regarding my work tears.

he knows my name.

he's always been one of my favorites even though he's never taken a liking toward me. and he always does the same exact thing: stands in line, smirks and asks for the plain (no brown sugar, no raisins) stuff, with a heaping pile, two scoops please. and a plate underneath. and please don't touch it.

once he arrives back at his seat he spoons the oatmeal onto his plate and folds his napkin just so. the oatmeal gets spread out and he slowly takes a bite just after cleaning off his spoon. everything is very precise. very very precise. he has never been friendly: no smile, no small talk, nothing. i was never offended, always intrigued.

and then he disapeared. for six months. there was nothing i could do except hope for him to come back.

and finally about a month ago he showed up again and he's like a whole new person. (or has a new set of medications.) lately i've been brainstorming with the crew: "what can i ask him today? help me think of something open ended? i want a conversation!" they just laugh at me as i get nervous. today i told him to "take care" as he left. he responded, "you too, emily." i about wet my pants right then and there. HE KNOWS MY NAME?! i think i just died and went to oatmeal heaven. i love thursdays.

**side note: my brother just emailed me and explained that this post makes me sound like i want a date with this guy. FALSE. this is a man who is probably in his forties and most likely has ocd personality disorder. two things i'm not really interested in. at all.

i was wondering how long this would take.

it was only the sixth day at work and it finally happened: i broke down in the bathroom. why the bathroom? because no one can see me in the bathroom. i just started crying as i stared at myself in the mirror, helpless. the whole ordeal lasted about four minutes and i finally wiped off my smudged liner and tried to just breathe. what i was crying about is going to be a consistent issue for me, at least for the first six months of this job: i feel so inadequate. i am overwhelmed by what i have to learn that it's paralyzing me. i don't know what i'm doing.

self care is a huge topic at work. as i left last night, my supervisor said, "emily, what are you going to do to take care of yourself tonight?" i paused. i had no idea. i told him i'd get back to him.

as i got on my scooter, (which had a nail in the tire. bad, bad news.) i knew what i was going to do to take care of myself: purchase an eight dollar pint (yes, i said pint) of my favorite ice cream from bi-rite. half a pint later, i felt better.

here's to FAKING IT 'TIL I MAKE IT.