Every time someone tells me they're proud of me...

...in my head, I hear, "Wow, I totally thought of you as a loser who wouldn't ever be able to that."

Good to know you think so highly of me, thanks!

Beginnings

My birthday just ended.

A lot has changed in the past year. I got out of a five year long relationship, spent six months simply not knowing where my life was headed, then got back with The Li'l Lady. Job scene was tense, then looked better, then got questionable again (more on that later).

And just yesterday, I moved. Packed up my stuff and left the house. Just so I can know what it's like to grow up, to run a house by myself. Here's what I'm going to be calling home for the foreseeable future:


(If you don't see a pic there, leave me a comment; I don't yet know how this blogger app works)

This is scaring the shit out of me (not to mention burning a supermassive hole through my pocket), but that's the point. I want to be scared witless. I want to get to a point where I'm terrified and hungry (possibly sick), wondering what the hell I was smoking when I thought I could survive on my own and wanting nothing more to run back home and let Mommy keep house for me.

And then I want to endure. I want to entertain the possibility that I will crumble, fall apart and then I want to rebuild myself.

So hello, Andheri E. Be nice to me, okay? I promise I will bitch less about you. Okay, maybe not. But I will try. And I will do this. No matter what. So, Universe, Murphy, I know you're reading this. Do. Your. Worst.

This post was written after a 4am cleaning session. Also, discovery of a new species: Ninja Ants.



Yes, that's a sealed, airtight bag of sugar.