Decision

I am going to culinary school.

I don't know exactly when yet, but very soon.

I don't know how I am going to pay for it.

I don't know how I am going to work and go to school full time and still pay the mortgage.

I am terrified to commit to working nights and weekends for the rest of my life and what that means to the relationships I can't live without.

I know I have their support, no matter what hours I work.

I have never been so scared and so excited in my entire life.

I start looking for part time jobs tomorrow.

This has been in the back of my mind my entire life and it feels right. It feels right.

I am smiling and crying at the same time.

I am going to culinary school.

Holy Fuck. I put it out there. Now I can't take it back. For once in my life, I am going to follow through on something, because this is what I am meant to do, no matter how absolutely terrified I am.

Now if I can just make myself click publish post...

Hello? Is anyone out there?

Its me! Erratic! You know, Erratic? Ugh. Really? You don't remember? Sigh. I will start from the beginning...

Please forgive me, for I have been an asshole. (Although, I have to say, when proofreading, that originally said "Please forgive me, for I have an asshole. I laughed for like 10 minutes. You can't make this shit up.)

Things have been crazy lately. My personal crisis of "what do I want to be when I grow up" is subsiding, for the most part. I know it is a decision I have to make, but it no longer feels like it is standing over me saying "do it now" until I break. Work has been the bane of my existence, as per usual.

There was a slight falling out with the boy, which brought us that much closer. I have a hard time trusting people's intentions. I believe that the entire world hates me and wants to fuck me over in some way or another. OK, maybe it is less dramatic than that, but, you know, trust issues. They suck. Moving on. I guess that we needed to have this great big 3-day long fight in order for me to see how silly that is. To realize that he wants me and that the rest we will figure out along the way. I know he is the person I am meant to spend the rest of my life with and I need to realize that I am that to him too. But, even as I typed that, I was thinking, do you really want to put that in writing because what if it is not true and he leaves you and you have to tell all 30 of your readers that you were wrong because OMG YOU PUT IT OUT THERE THAT HE IS THE ONE. Sigh. Baby steps. The crazy will never go away.

We also have started "integrating." Cleaning out all of my crap, some of his crap, and making room for OUR crap. When people say that he with the most stuff dies happy? (I think I made that up.) Well, they are wrong. I found, MY HIGH SCHOOL ID. True story. And as soon as I take the time to blur out a bunch of crap, I am posting it here. The Internet needs to know that I was once ridiculously tan, ridiculously skinny, and ridiculously without curly hair. The best part about the high school ID? I remember that shirt. It is a navy blue polo and one time, this boy (Andy something) told me that color made me look beautiful. To this day, I own a blue polo shirt. I probably always will.

So, that is what is going on with me, in the most random way I could think of. I live to serve and we all know well composed, sane posts just aren't my thing.

Edge

I am on the edge. Something is changing, not right. I want nothing more than to scream at the top of my lungs, to cry, to break something. To let this frustration flow out of me, to just let it all go. To know what is coming, what to expect. To plan. To control.

I come home and make dinner, writing this in my mind. Finding the words to tell everyone this impatience inside of me. This turmoil. To make someone understand. I feel that edge ebbing at the surface and I stop to take a breath. Two. Three.

The future is so uncertain right now, my path invisible. I have to take a step, I have to fight this edge. I have to do this.

Fuck.

I see the school call, day after day. I see it on the caller id, my cell phone. I let it ring...not wanting to know my options. Not wanting to hear the decision I have to make. And that edge creeps in again, making me unsteady and clumsy. Anxious. Nauseated.

My mind is cloudy and I forget day to day things. I am always distracted. Angry at myself for waiting this long. Angry at everyone else for knowing. Grateful to those who don't. Knowing that I can fix this, this edge, this loss of control that is tearing me apart.

Fuck.

I have to do something.

Fork Lift = Bad

**How the conversation went in my head:**

Boy: We should get a DVR for the bedroom.

Erratic: We already have two. Don't you think that is a bit excessive?

Boy: We could record stuff to watch together in bed.

Erratic: Or we could talk or, you know, not watch T.V.

Boy: I think it is a good idea.

Erratic: We are going to end up like those people on Jerry Springer where they spend all of their time in bed watching T.V. eating fast food and chips and drinking beer and all of a sudden, fuck, they are like 700 lbs and can't get out of bed and Jerry comes in and fork lifts them out. And I am not really sure what happens after that, because I am too grossed out, so I turn the channel. But I bet it is not good.

Boy: You're right. You're always right. It is TOTALLY unnecessary. You know what we should do instead? Get an otter.

Erratic: I knew you would see it my way.

**How the conversation actually went:**

Boy: We should get a DVR for the bedroom.

Erratic: We already have two. Don't you think that is a bit excessive?

Boy: We could record stuff to watch together in bed.

Erratic: Or we could talk or, you know, not watch T.V.

Boy: I think it is a good idea.

Erratic: Fine. I'll call tomorrow and get prices.

Life really is a lot more interesting in my head. You should try it sometime.

Oliver

I was 15, my sister 13, when my mom finally let us get more dogs. We decided on a Shih tzu, Fred, and a Shih Poo, Oliver.

The first time I ever drove in the snow was to take Oliver to the vet. He ate Christmas potpourri and we all thought he was throwing up blood.

He would spend hours in the backyard, trying to catch Voles and Squirrels. The day he caught a squirrel, he pranced around like king of the yard.

When I would go home to visit my mom, she put him to bed with me after she got up. I woke up to him tapping me with his paw until I rubbed his ears, and eventually scratched his belly.

He had so many nicknames. Omis, Odie Burger, The Tank, Deedle-Doo.

5 years ago he was diagnosed with diabetes. Two shots a day and a very serious weight loss plan.

4 days ago his kidneys started to fail. He wouldn't eat or drink. Today my mom decided he was suffering too much and put him down. She called me sobbing, saying he is with Mickey and Charlie in heaven. I hope he finds Willie and Mylo too. Who knew dog deaths came in threes?

We will miss you, sweet boy.

Things I hate right this minute.

Traffic. Rehab is across town and rush hour traffic blew. Mostly going the other way. I felt REALLY bad for them, but every time someone hit the breaks a string of obscenities leaked out. Then traffic would move and I would go back to feeling sorry for the other people.

****

Jeeps. "It's a Jeep Thing" "If you can read this roll me over" "Only in a jeep" with a picture of a smiley face wearing some sort of headband? Seriously people, it is a car, not a cult. Stop being such a bag of douches.

OMG. I am totally going to make a bumper sticker that just says douche and start randomly putting it over the word Jeep every time I see that bumper sticker. BEST. IDEA. EVER.

****

White Zombie's "More Human Than Human." That song starts of all kinds of awesome and I am subtly head banging and thinking, wow, I love this song. Then the chorus comes and he says More Human Than Human like 7 billion times and I am thinking, wow, this song is annoying. Then the next verse comes and I love it. Chorus, hate it. Love. Hate. And then my eye starts twitching.

So, fuck you Rob Zombie. Also? I love you.

****

Work.

****

Those commercials for the new Hanes underwear that doesn't ride up. Is this seriously THAT much of a problem? I don't have an ass, so I really don't know. My underwear problem? Poopy Pants Butt. Because unless pants have some kind of stretchy material or fit no where else, my ass is not filling them out. And every time I lose weight, the ass is the first thing to go. But, no, giant boobs, you can't get smaller. Sigh. What was I mad about? Oh, right. Well, the woman is in the produce section and she has the biggest wedgie in the history of man and is contorting her body to try to get it out, when somebody busts her. And then the commercial is like "don't let his happen to you."

It felt very after school special. About underwear.

****

The boy will not let me have completely unreasonable wild animals. Every time someone sends me a forward with cute animals, he gets an email that says something like; "I WANT A KOALA." He responds with 101 reasons why a Koala in a condo is a VERY bad idea, and, oh, isn't it illegal?So, I respond, logically, with "I WANT AN OTTER." And he is all NO OTTER and now I am just sad. I really do want an otter.

****

The Brat and Craft festival at the church down the street. Coupled with the worst planned construction project in the history of the world, I am locking myself in the house and not leaving until all the crazy, crafty, brat-loving, God fearing people go back to where they came from. Or I'll just walk to a bar.

I think I have anger issues today. I am going to remedy it with a big girl glass of wine and take out.

Instincts

Everything important in my life has felt right, from the start. I saw both of my dogs and knew they were mine. I saw my condo and put in an offer the next day. I met the boy and gave him my number, without being asked, for the first time in my life. Every single person who is important to me I have become very close to, very fast. People rarely go from acquaintances to good friends in my life and remain that way. In almost all of those cases, I have had a bad feeling about the person and overlooked it. I trust my instincts, they are rarely wrong. I don't have an explanation as to why I can do this - why I have these feelings about the path my life needs to go down, but I do. I always have.

There is one exception. My career. I stumbled into my current job after being fired and out of work for 3 months. I was a pot-smoking 20 year old with no ambition and no desire for a career. My roommate (Krackle) already had a job there and recommended me. I have remained at that company since then. I have worked my way through 5 different positions and have created a career for myself. But I don't want it. It doesn't feel right, it never has. I don't fit there. I am reasonably good at my job. I give it 110%, just like everyone says you should. I come home angry, exhausted, and bitter every single day. I fight back tears my whole way home because I am so frustrated. It doesn't feel right.

That would be OK if something else did. If there was something else calling to me, if I knew what it was I was supposed to be doing with my life. But, I don't. I am so jealous of people who say they love their jobs. Or even like. I am even jealous of people who dislike their jobs, but still believe their souls to be their own.

I used to talk about it all the time, to complain to anyone who would listen. I can't even find the words anymore. I know the boy doesn't really have any idea how bad it is. I know that few people do.

I spend my days now thinking of how I am going to reinvent myself. What I can do that feels right, what career I am meant to do? What do I love to do today, that I could do everyday for the rest of my life? I do not have a college degree. I have tried, I really have. It just never feels right, it never holds my attention or interest. I start and I am so excited because, maybe this is it! Maybe this is finally the time that I get that feeling I have been looking for since I was 17. I never have. I inevitably lose interest, get bored, the classes don't challenge me, I guess the typical excuses you get from the typical college dropout.

I don't know how typical I am, but I know that I love to learn when I am learning something I care about. I know that I am terrified of being wrong too. I don't want to spend 4 years getting a degree to be where I am now. I know that I am lost.

Late twenties crisis? Does that happen? Or just a new beginning that has been a long time coming? No matter what it is, it feels like change is coming. It feels like it is time. It has felt like this before, so let's hope this time I find what I am supposed to.

P.S. I didn't say fuck once in this whole post. See how grown up I can be? There may be hope for me after all.

Random Lies and a Picture

So, that beer is almost gone. In our defense, we had a friend over Sunday night and he totally has a drinking problem. That is a lie. But, seriously, how the fuck did we drink all that beer? It was probably all my fault too. I am not going to fall for it if someone approaches me about doing a documentary on addiction. I know your ploy, Intervention. And I, for one, am not buying it.

I also tried to kill my left arm this weekend. I managed to burn my forearm on the oven, get a blister on my thumb and pinky, get said blisters infected, and I am probably going to have to amputate. That is also totally a lie.

I rescheduled the cabin trip. The last time we scheduled this trip, I ended up in the hospital for five days. Is it weird that I am ridiculously nervous? I am doing so well with all this back bull shit. I am learning basic mechanics and retraining my body how to function without causing further damage. I have not had this positive of an outlook in years. I am still nervous. It is almost like there is a taboo around this trip. This trip I am so excited for. I love the idea of the two of us in the middle of nowhere with a cooler full of food and beer, the dogs, and each other. I already took off the WHOLE day, instead of working from home in the morning. The woman who owns the cabin is putting the deposit we lost towards this stay. We are going on my birthday. I mean, I changed the Karma, right? RIGHT? Oye.

I have nothing else of interest going on...I know, I know, I AM SO FUCKING BORING. I promise to do something completely fucking crazy in the next few days that will either make you stop reading or laugh your ass off. Or I may just work a lot, and become bitter and angry at corporate America until I go completely off the grid and you all can say, "You know, I used to read her blog. She was very disturbed." That may or may not be a lie.

This is the most random post in the history of ever. So, I leave you with the dry erase board that the boy and I use to keep track of what we need to pick up from the store. I am not very good at following instructions. Or rules. Or not swearing. I am a giant pain in the ass. (You may have to click on it to read my writing in blue)

Update: I couldn't click on the picture and it feels like a lot of work to figure it out. I am the worst blogger ever. So, it says:

The Boy: Dishwasher Soap

Erratic: You're Dishwasher Soap

The Boy: No I'm Not You Are (double exclamation point smiley)

Erratic: I'm made of rubber and you're made of glue, bitch.

Yes, I wonder why he loves me too.