I'm in Charge of Me.

Once upon a time there was a girl who happened to be an oldest child.

End of story, right? That explains it all? Ha.

Sometimes when you're an oldest child, it's natural to take charge. Isn't it cute how I think I'm in charge of so many things? Goodness. How did I ever make it through this far in life?

Life happens and sometimes it freaks me out when I'm not in charge. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed trying to be in charge of what I'm in charge of. What do I let go of? What do I hold on to? When do I let go? Who? What? When? Where? Why? How? Blah. Blah. Blah.

One thing I know I'm for sure in charge of, is that how I write my own story is my choice. That's why I like this blog. If I can't be in charge of everything in life, I'll at least be in charge of how I tell the story. I can't choose what happens all the time, but I definitely choose what I'll say about it.  I guess that's why journal writing is so important. It tangibly allows me an outlet for fidelity of thought and idea. It makes things more concrete. I make the Happily Ever After. Erica? Girl, you write in your journal... or on this blog.

The End.

Wait. End of story?

Never.

Tomorrow always comes and so does the telling of the story.

*The pic from above is from the movie Neverending Story. Yeah, the movie was great, but the book? A definite adventure worth reading if you take to the fantasy type. If you're more of a thinker, it's a perfect book too. See HERE.

Sometimes When You're Crazy

Sometimes when you're crazy, you experience the most wonderful moments of life. Terror. Delight. Ecstasy, Sadness, Peace, Joy, Anger, Violence, Compassion, etc. You feel them unexpectedly and with intensity. Maybe I'm not crazy but its just life that's crazy and I'm experiencing it... on drugs (the prescription kind, Grandma). Well, nope. I'm pretty sure its me that's the crazy. I used to think that crazy people were "evil" or "bad". Now I know. We're just like the rest of you, but with some extra Sriracha in the mix. That's right. My life has spice (Sriracha kind, not the street drug).

I can experience a variety of emotions so intensely. Like playfulness, sadness, creative flow, humorous comebacks, etc. And yet most of the time, I feel a general affect of anxiety. Even on intense amounts of anti anxiety medication. Is it crazy that I can't get simple tasks done like laundry or grocery shopping? When I do, it takes an intense amount of energy and focus. I can't even get fun things done like read books or sew or embroider. I feel like I have about 100 different thoughts that zip around in the confines of my cluttered brain and while they dart around, I hop up and down trying to catch one that I might take hold and act upon it and yet, as my fingertips brush upon the tip of an idea, it dashes away.

Need a visual? Think Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Think of when the heroic trio (Harry, Ron, Hermoine) get to the locked door after escaping from the three-headed dog Fluffy. There's those billions of keys flying around above their heads in the rafters. Harry successfully nabs one while swirling around on a broom. Holy smokes. I just figured out the solution to my problem. I need a Nimbus 2000. Now where's a girl to get one? Diagon Alley. Anyone have the directions (and funding) to get there? Road trip!

What it's like to be Brave

Nailed it. 

My gas (heat) doesn't get turned on until Monday so my apartment is freezing.

I felt bad for leaving my little 3.5 lb. dog at home so I toted her around in my jacket while I ran errands.

Took this friendly picture to send to my mom. It was snowing/raining a little with wind so, yeah. 

Now you can see my brave face.

Dear Abby

I think that Dear Abby girl is dead and gone. That's okay. I'd much prefer to hear what you'd have to say.

Points for consideration:

1. Felt a push to come to SLC. A serious push. So I'm here. Job hunting.

2. Got a job that, on paper, should be a hands-down, no questions asked, a dang good deal for me. It's a 40 hour a week job, including benefits, with a salary close enough to match my last one. All I'd have to do is arrange entertainment for old people, tease them, talk to them, and have fun. Director of Activities? Who'd turn that down?

3. I did, and didn't even feel regret about it. Hm. Just not feelin it.

4. Flyin home tomorrow to pack my stuff in a hertz truck and drive it up to an apartment I rented. I payed six months with my retirement savings. Unwise? I'd probably say so.

5. I'm moving up with no job, a tad bit of money, and no definite plan, but you know what? I'm bringing my dog so it's all good. It feels right despite the serious lack of logic and planning that my inside keeps fighting to come to terms with.

6. Good news? Salt Lake, I'm here for you baby.

So after typing it all out, I guess I didn't come up with questions for advice. Okay. Here's one. Do you know where any good nut-houses are at? Cause I jut may call you and ask you for a number before too long. Just kidding. I'm sure more exciting updates will come. It seems that there always are.

End note: Maren, and all other cousins. Come to SLC. Let's get this cousins' house started.

... In a Strange Land

Onto adventures in a strange land. Driving is a completely new experience. People run red lights in the left hand turn lane EVERY time I'm idle at the intersection. Pull that junk in Mesa and you have a photo snapped and a ticket mailed to your home. I guess that game doesn't get played in the SLC.

There are laws and especially unwritten laws I need to learn. Even the traffic flow, parking... everything is so different.

For example

There was a sign that said no parking on a whole street. It's not the widest street so, makes sense, right? Then why were there 50 cars parked along there? So I parked. An hour later I came outside and found this...

How come my car was the only one with a ticket? Bleh.



Later on, I was backing out of a busy parking lot and some lady did so at the same time too (I wasn't in a hurry so don't blame bad driving skills). We barely tapped and she gets out all in a huff. There wasn't a dent on her car, just a tad bit of white on her bumper. I had to look real hard for a mark. This is what my side looked like:

Well, that's what a picture of it looks like in the dark. My cheap phone doesn't have a flash.

Okay. This is what it looks like in the light. Can't really see right? It's just to the right of the white streak of light. A little gray dash. Minimal.

So I say to the lady who's all in a huff, "I'm good if you're good". She's was all "Eh (attitude). This is my husband's car so I don't know. Can I have your phone number so he can call you if he has a problem with it?"

Um, I didn't ask if her husband was going to be good with it and, NO you can't have my number for that reason. Please. That would solve absolutely nothing. Then there was some additional attitude on her part as she tried to explain how she stopped and I was the one that backed into her. I'm prettty sure that's not what happened since I was the one who was 3/4 of the way out and she was still 3/4 of the way still in her spot.

There was barely a mark and there were clearly visible marks from other "incidents". Girl. Don't give me attitude and try to explain to me it's all my fault. We were both at fault, if it was mine at all. Pahlease. Okay. I'll give her a little sympathy. Maybe her husband is a jerk about stuff like that so she was scared, but really. I wish I would have taken a picture so you could see that her husband would never have even noticed. Maybe he would have, but I highly doubt it.

At any rate. She goes on "I wish there was someone here who had seen it".

I reply, "Well there are two guys who are standing there watching us and I'm pretty sure they saw it all. You can go ask them if you're that concerned".

"Huh," she huffed then went and talked to them. When she came back she was sulky but also a little resigned, "The guy is an insurance agent and said it wouldn't even be worth it to go to all the trouble of exchanging numbers, so I guess, whatever."

That's right. Don't mess with me. I have a job to obtain and dwelling to secure and anxiety medication to take tonight, so as my dear wise aunt loves to say, Carry on.

Good news shortly to come.