Stage 700-and...something....

I go through stages in my life. I get totally, completely fixated on a new thing; it consumes my life; and somewhere down the road I find myself thinking, "Wow, it's been awhile since I....".

My latest obsession (besides the elliptical machine at my gym) is Fox's Monday night show "Prison Break". I'm hooked. Just when I thought there was no room left in my head for an all-consuming addiction like "24", I found myself rabidly burning through a season's worth of DVDs, in mouth-watering anticipation for last Monday's season premiere. And I must say, YET AGAIN Fox has managed to air a program with a shock-value so high, that I found myself in a moment of true, unadulterated awe. Not since Edgar's death at CTU have I literally spent the last four minutes of the show, and a good six-and-a-half minutes after the show, with my jaw hanging on the floor, eyes wide open, making audible noises of shock. Now that's damn good TV...

My first post

I wrote the following last February, thinking I would start a blog, so here's the cliffs-notes version of my life...so far....

"I’ve decided to write. About anything—everything. Maybe it’ll turn into a book…or a blog…or another lost file on yet another crashed hard drive. Doesn’t matter, it’ll give me a chance to release pent-up emotions, feelings, anger, excitement, whatever. I’ve discovered in recent months that we all need releases in our life: stress releases-like a spa day or a krav maga class, personal releases-like quitting a bad habit or dumping a loser, or life releases-like stepping away from reality in favor of the unknown. I’ve done all of the above.

Four months ago, I was backed into a corner and quit my first real job after only 15 months. I followed in my sister’s career-footsteps, made decent money, and walked blindly into my first real broken heart. It was all peachy for awhile. Last summer was one of the best of my life. I finally got my first apartment to myself when my roommates returned to outer oblivion, otherwise known as Idaho. I was dating a good guy and spending the days of perfect blue skies, sunshine, and climate-controlled splendor on a blanket under a big acorn tree for hours on end, snuggling with said guy. Life... Was... Good.

Oh, except for my boss’ occasional lectures and endless questioning (Him: “How many people did you talk to today?? Did you sell anything???” Me: “Um, definitely some good things in the funnel…don’t worry”). Oh, and the regular occurrence of a break-up/reconcile with said ‘good man’. ( Aforementioned A-hole: “I just don’t know if this is a good idea.” Or “But I missed you like crazy!”) Gag.

So I left it all behind. I quit my job. I sent the jerk packing. I escaped my reality. It was like starting over again. Alone this time…no fam (close by, anyway), no friends, no guy, no job, no money…you get the idea. And even though I left it all behind, it is somehow still following me around. The melancholy of true heartache. And it’s not just because of the man. I feel like a failure. I failed at my job. I failed at making other good friends in a new town. I failed at succeeding on my own terms. So now I’m left to pick up the pieces…I cry a lot lately……

I know true heartache now (which only comes from a major heart break, hand-delivered by someone you truly loved). I know true boredom (which only comes from 120 straight days of TV movies, paperback books, Friday night pizzas, and way too much chocolate). And I know true desperation (which only comes when you would give absolutely anything to get your life back to the worry-free perfect blue skies, sunshine, and climate-controlled splendor).

So here I sit....typing...... "

It is now six months later, ten months after I turned my life upside-down. I have another job now, a new apartment, and for all practical purposes, a new life.

And...a new blog.....