The Lost Plum…

A while back I wrote about qualities that my next ex-boyfriend should process. All these were good things; I just have to find him right?!  Well like everyone I’m sure my next ex-boyfriend has a list of qualities his next ex-girlfriend should have. So I thought I’d make it alittle easier for him.

13 reasons why I’ll make a great next ex-girlfriend.

1. I love to bake. And I need someone to eat my creations. Baking relives stress for me. I think because it’s so methodical and precise, and my life tends not to be that way. So if a boy loves pie and pudding, I’m his girl.

2. I’m a terrible liar. I turn red, I fumble my words, and if asked in a serious tone I’ve been known to tell secrets. I’ve never spilled anything people have told me in confidence, but if it’s about someone I maybe when confronted tell. I’ve been to many a surprise party I didn’t even know where parties because I can’t lie if confronted.

3. I shower daily, if not more, and brush and floss more then I should. How is that not a desirable quality?

4. I’m exotic. And if you don’t think that is true you’ve never experienced a Canadian Shield winter or summer mosquitoes that can suck a baby dry.

5. I am close to my family (ok sometimes alittle too close, but not in a creepy Morgan Freeman way) and they mean the world to me.

6. I’ve had the emotional abusive, verbally abusive, and sometimes physically abusive boyfriends. If you’re nice to me I’m pretty much head over heels already.

7. I love sex. Nough said.

8. I have so many amazing groups of friends. You can’t not love at least 10 of them, and no matter what happens with us, they are all great at being diplomatic and guarantee they’ll still love you after I don’t.

9. I love watching sports, on TV and from the stands. And if throw wings and beer into that mix I’m even more fun.

10. I have a nice rack. There I said it.

11. I believe in equality for all. And if you don’t you can just move on RIGHT now. (me and my blog don’t want you here)

12. I’m always up for an adventure. Name it, I’m probably game!

13. I make lists. They will make your life more productive, and if nothing less interesting and they create things to discuss.

I’ve been surrounded by boxes and piles of junk lately, more so piles then boxes. I am doing a major clean and purge of my life “things” (I’m moving)

SIDEBAR: I love my stuff, and my junk but it’s just “junk” and it has had a great life with me, and will make someone else very happy, and stylish “to-boot”

As I’ve been in awe of my collection of things I have noticed something very different than in any other move I have ever made.  I don’t have any relationship outcasts. No boy leftovers, no guy junk, or man tokens.

Last time I went “home home” my closet was still filled with boy leftovers: teddybears, pictures, and all sorts of crap. And it seems like every time I have moved I have had lots of guy-junk to purge from my life, and this time: nothing.

Ok, that is a lie. I have three things.

I have a pile of CD’s from “bandboy”s band. Some are even unopened and by some I pretty much mean all of them.  I count this as one thing, although it’s more like 8 things. I don’t know why I have them, why I even keep them, and why on earth I’ve moved them to different apartments (even a different country).  Although, when he mailed me the latest CD I had a nice little pile to add it to.

And I have two shirts.

Now I know what you are thinking, that I must be one of those girls who takes things from guys. You know the ones who take sweatshirts and t-shirts: the girl who collects t-shirts from guys to sleep in.

FACT:  I’d rather not sleep in a t-shirt.

But thing is I don’t really do that. Why would I want someone’s dirty clothes when I have my own perfectly clean (and even dirty) clothes? But I sat the other night staring at two: a hoddie and a sweater.  Such ‘girl’ things to take from guys I know, right.

But the fact is, I didn’t really take them. I kept them.  I didn’t let them go when everything else went.  Last time I really sat down and cleaned out my life’s ‘junk’ I did it for two. It was mine, and it was his, and I cleaned out and flushed so much away.

Just like my giveaway pile now, I got ride of so much that was drenched in memories.

Now it sounds strange but I can recall memories with everything I have, unless I really have no clue where it came from. I know where “we” have been together: my stuff and me.

I remember the time I got my heel stuck in a sidewalk grate and walked almost a block without a shoe(the pretty black with purple top Prada ones). Or the green and pink Jacob solder bag I trekked allover France. Everything has a memory, a place, and a story.

And then I have these two shirts. I have no idea why I kept these shirts. It is a plain grey cotton sweater that even though I have grown in size I still swim in it, and a black (but really looks navy) hoodie with nothing on it, warnout cuffs and missing drawstring.

I have no memories attached to these items. I have no idea where they were purchased, or even when they were worn. Yet, these were the two things I decided would help me remember someone: the person who owned them.

Sometimes it isn’t “things” that we remember.  We remember an experience, a feeling, and even a sensation.

I remember France, and that trip, and the friends I was with, how much I laughed, and all the things we did. The bag didn’t give me that. I remember the great night out I had with an amazing friend when I happen to lose my shoe.

It’s never been about the shoes, the bags, the coats, and even the glasses.

And then…

I remember a boy that I loved, not the clothes that he owned.

This isn’t the post that was supposed to go out today. I have the next two weeks already set (preposted) which is exciting, yes? I mean I find it exciting, although more convenient so I can do work and move (I’m moving…down the street!)

So, about 1 ½ years ago I found myself in the hospital. I guess what happened is my heart rate dropped so low (it runs really low in general, but that’s another story) that I passed out and had a seizure. The seizure part I don’t know about, but all I know was I woke up on the ground with the ambulance guys already around me and my foot hurt. Then I sorta remember being at the hospital and my foot still hurt. My mom showed up two days later to find me hooked up to a million wires in the hospital still crying about how much my foot hurt.

SIDEBAR: I was talking to my roommate when I passed out. I was in the doorway to my room and was holding onto the handle…what we think happened is I pulled the door shut on my way down closing it on my foot.

Mama Plum convinced them to x-ray my foot, which was the size of a baseball, and I couldn’t stand up on, so I would one-legged hop to the bathroom along with all my machines (cause no way in hell is this Plum is using a bed pan!)

X-rays back: They tell me it’s nothing, I just hit it and the swelling will go down in a few days. I spent about 2 months not being able to wear anything but flat shoes (and if you know me that is a travesty) and limping every once and awhile.

Fast-forward about 4 months. I went to the doctors for a check up (a new doctor) and I happen to mention my foot still bothered me now and again. He asked if I wanted to get an x-ray, I said yes.

SIDEBAR: This is the one thing I love about the American health care system. If you’re willing to pay for it you can have it. You can literally walk in be fine and say “ I want a EKG and an MRI done” and as long as you pay they do it.

X-rays back and there plain as day are 3 count them 3 hairline fractures in my right foot, and one which has healed it’s self in a not so hot kind of way!

Now my foot is pretty much better, sorta, well not really. But I get around fine on it, but every once and awhile it hurts. This I notice the most when it is cold outside. Really cold weather, or damp weather affects our joints and bones, and I’m sure if you have any type of injury such as mine you know what I’m talking about (don’t get me started on my knee when it’s raining)

So last night I wake up in pain. I’m alone, cold, and feel like my foot is broken!

My point is broken bones are kind of like broken hearts. They heal sure, but every once and awhile they pop up out of nowhere and cause you alittle pain. And it’s usually those times when you’re all alone in the dark cold room.

Then there are broken hearts like my foot. Little tiny fractures that go un reported because you don’t want to admit that maybe you are really broken hearted. Those heartbreaks that you push off as “meh it just didn’t work out” but really those breaks are the ones that maybe stay with you the most, that cut you the deepest. The ones you are silent about, that eat at you while you lay in bed, cold and alone. (with your foot propped up on a pillow)

Yeah, ok, I’m falling down on my knees (or at my keyboard) and doing the whole New Year Post.  Here we go….

So it’s 2010. Or better known as twenty-ten. So here is the thing, I think these years should be known as “the 20s”  (ie. just like the 1920, maybe better, maybe worse, but with skimpier swimwear)

So this is the dawn of our 20s! I mean who didn’t like (or is still liking) their 20s?  Come on! I think this is the best way for us to be excited about the years to come. Maybe it’s me not wanting to get older, and maybe sometimes forgetting I’m not 23 anymore. Or maybe it’s me just being crazy as usual.  But the 20s, my 20s (which technically I’m still working my way through) were pretty good. Pretty exciting, and thus, why not look at 20-10 as 2-0, aka 20! Year 20!

SIDEBAR: 2011 will be 21, 2012 will be 22, and so on…. Get it? You sure? Ok, good!

So as I look into 2010, I hope it is half as good as when I was 20.

WHEN I WAS 20:

-       I was just over 40 pounds lighter then I am now.

-       I was in love. (or thought I was)

-       I traveled Europe.

-       I had my first Gin & Tonic.

-       I was working hard, studying hard, and parting hard.

-       I got my first real ‘grown up’ job.

-       I pulled my first 4nighter (no sleep for 4 days)

-       I danced all the time.

-       I discovered avocado.

-       I got to see my dad almost every month, as he would travel to conferences near where I went to school.

-       I had great friends that I knew know matter what were there for me.

-       I laughed really hard.

-       I experimented in all sorts of maybe not so good things.

-       I drove ½ way across country on my own.

-       I started to explore and feed my love of cheese.

-       I was smoking (NOT good, but at the time it was oh soo good)

-       I saved a friends life.

I write about people here. In fact I write about people I might not know deep down (aka boys I meet) and most of these people aren’t people you know either. So who really cares right? Right!

I got a letter yesterday. A letter that has made me rethink a few things.

I used to have a blog with a friend about our job (we did the same thing but for different people) and it was completely anonymous. Problem being it started to get some attention, and we had to shut it down. Legally we may or may not have been telling stories we shouldn’t have…. even if we changed names and such.

So I get this letter from a law office representing a client and publisher.  I need to waive over my likeness for a book. Wait what?! Are you serious?

It made me think about this blog. (well it made me think of alot of things, but the blog is one) Is one day down the line one of my PULL buddies going to sue me because I shared his “genius” pickup line with the world to steal? Is that guy, or the person I thought was a friend going to one day get angry and mean. Or what is someone steals my likeness (another legal issue) I mean I am pretty hilarious; maybe someone wants to steal what I have written? (With the spelling and grammar cleaned up of course!)

I also have been thinking about people who touch my life, how everyone has shaped me in a different way. Some have made me scared, others have given me the ability to trust, some have taught me skills, and some have made me grow older. So in the huge melting pot of people who have ‘touched’ me there are those that really stand out. One of these being “mystalker”.

FACT: A full fledge real stalker! We are talking restraining order, used to break in and watch me sleep, tried to kill himself, documented my day to day with telephoto lenses, tried to kill an ex boyfriend capital S stalker!  I use the term stalker seriously and don’t throw it around like almost every girl out there.

And now he has written a book! A book that I am featured in and the character draws so much to my “likeness” that I need to sign over a waver.

We all know he’s crazy, so I’ll say this: His publisher is fucking crazy if he thinks I am signing this shit, and even crazier if he thinks this isn’t going to be a legal issue!

SIDEBAR: This is the last thing I need right now! Merry Christmas to me.