I’ve been on a bit of a hiatus obviously.  But I think I’ll call it a sabatical because that sounds better.  Like I’ve been productively writing the “Great American Novel” for the last month and a half.  Which I haven’t.  Details.

But now I’m back.  Better than ever.  Or at least with a refreshed desire to create with beautiful words.  And to at least make myself giggle as I type sentences laced with irony and subtext.  That’s what it boils down to really.  I write to amuse myself.  Hello self, it’s time to be amused again.

Softball, basketball, long-distance running, crew (rowing), soccer.  I have done all of these.  And I have done them quite well if I’m inclined to brag…and I am this morning.  So it would probably be a fair assumption that I am relatively coordinated.  I thought the exact same thing.  Until my recent foray into yoga.

I have yoga-related injuries people.  Who gets hurt from yoga?

I have a bit of an addiction, or maybe obsession is a better word for it.  It is absolutely impossible for me to satisfy my overwhelming need for words.  My word obsession is why I’ll never be a book snob; I will read anything with words.  It’s also why I would read dictionaries and phone books and encyclopedias as a child.  I have spent entire weeks of my life reading book after book without any need for a break.  There have been countless nights where I have chosen reading over sleeping.  And for me, that’s truly saying something.  My secret desire is to own a bookstore where I can be completely surrounded by books all day every day.

I accidentally locked one of my cats in the closet while I was at work today.

This is approximately the millionth time this has happened.

I heart surprises.  Well, I suppose that I should qualify that statement.  I love GOOD surprises.  The kind that make you smile because they just plop themselves in your lap and lick you in the face like your favorite furry friend.  Yep, those are the surprises that keep life interesting.

I am a recovering compulsive planner.  For most of my life, I’ve been the person who plans out every minute of her day, making lists and sublists and printing out maps to all necessary destinations.  Kind of like a camp counselor on crack really.  Everyone wanted to be in my company, let me tell you!

But then I discovered that life is so much more enjoyable if you take it as it comes.  You really don’t need to know what you’re going to eat for breakfast twenty days from now.  I think this is referred to as relaxing.  I’m a big fan of it.  It’s not like I don’t have long-term goals anymore.  I’m just focusing on the big picture and refusing to micro-manage all of the wee little details associated with daily living.

And really, who knew?  This approach is wonderful.  It’s exciting.  There are no limits and no constraints.  The possibility of the unexpected isn’t at all scary.  It’s an adventure.  Bring on the adventures, I say.

If you had asked me ten years ago where I would be at this point in my life, I can pretty much guarantee you that I would have been about 100% wrong.  Because there is no way in hell that I ever could have imagined being here.  Right here.  Where I am now.  Nope.  Because I had these grand plans and these big dreams.  I was going to move far away to the “bright lights, big city.”  I was never getting married and I was going to make a name for myself.

Oh my word, I was an idiot ten years ago!!!  But we shall refer to that period of time as the decade of learning.  And oh did I learn so many things.  And I spent so much time trying to be perfect, trying not to make any mistakes.  But I learned the most from the biggest mistakes.  Life is funny that way.

I let go of my big dreams.  Because I found “love.”  Oh, I was so in love with him…I would do anything for him.  I heard the warnings of my friends.  I saw the look in my Mom’s eyes when she met him.  But somehow I pretended not to see those things.  It’s not like I had any benchmark for comparison.  This was my first true love.  And what I now know, is that I’m too damned persistent for my own good.  Give this girl a challenge and she just won’t quit.  Well, that’s not true.  It will just take her a long time…about EIGHT YEARS…to throw in the towel.

You’ll have to excuse the introspection folks.  My ten year high school reunion is this weekend and it’s amazing to me that an entire decade has passed since I went out into the world as an “adult.”  But that eighteen-year-old girl was nowhere close to being an adult.  She hadn’t experienced heartbreak or betrayal or cynicism.  In so many ways she was innocent.  But she was so eager to grow up.  She was so anxious to prove herself, to be on her own, to live her life.

What I’ve recently discovered though, is that I had to have that decade of learning to be anywhere near adulthood.  I’m not there yet, but I’m getting close I think.  I suppose you could say that I still haven’t truly experienced love, but that’s okay…because I’ve been experiencing life.

It’s easy to feel anonymous living in a large city .  Other than my co-workers, I could easily go for weeks without seeing a single soul that I know.  For the most part, I enjoy this private existence.  But sometimes, it’s nice to be reminded that there are people who truly care for me.

This past weekend I took a trip to see my grandmother in the nursing home.  Granny and I have always been extremely close and I still enjoy spending time with her.  As I pushed her down the halls of the nursing home in her wheelchair, we had to make stops every few feet to greet each resident.  And my wonderful, sweet grandmother introduced me to her neighbors like I was visiting royalty. 

“This is my granddaughter.  She is my pride and joy.  Isn’t she pretty?”

And each person would smile and give a little nod of their head.  My grandmother’s face was awash with pride and love and even a certain sense of smugness.  Because I had taken the time to come and visit her.

I realized that I may be absolutely nothing to every person in my big city, but at home, to my family, I am treasured.  And that day, to my grandmother, I was priceless.  I was youth, and possibility, and dreams, and laughter.  And I was “hers.”  All I had to do was be me.  And I was loved completely.

My body has always reacted to stress in the following manner: I switch into hibernation mode.  It is absolutely impossible for me to get enough sleep.  It’s almost like all of the mental and emotional pressure saps my physical energy to the point of exhaustion.  Or maybe it’s because my brain can come to terms with the stress better when I’m asleep.  Who knows?

I remember my first semester at college, when I felt so completely out of place and overwhelmed by the ridiculous amount of work.  I happened to have the bottom bunk in my dorm room and it became my own personal cave for a month or two.  I would sleep for days and still feel tired.  I was too tired to eat…and if you know me, that’s seriously saying something.

This week has been reminiscent of that time in college.  I’ve gone to work, but have been so sluggish that typing seems to exhaust me.  I’ve crawled into bed immediately upon arriving home and have slept until the following morning.  Emotional stress, meet my queen-sized mattress.  Great, now we’re all friends here.  But this morning I woke up refreshed.  I think that means that I’m getting through the stress.  I don’t need to hibernate anymore.  It’s all going to work out just fine in the end.

So I take this little white pill called Ambien.  It’s pretty much the only way I can get any sleep at night.  I’ve had insomnia, well, since birth probably.  I distinctly remember being in first or second grade and being wide awake in the middle of the night while the rest of my family was soundly sleeping.  It’s a wonder my parents were ever able to pull off that whole Santa Claus ruse without a snag.  Before a very kind doctor doled out the magic of Ambien, I had tried everything.  Eliminating caffeine, not exercising, exercising, warm milk, not eating too close to bedtime, relaxing music, not watching TV right before bed.  Still no sleep.

When the Ambien first came to live with me in it’s little orange bottle, I was doubtful.  And the doctor’s warning about making SURE that I was physically lying in bed within twenty minutes of taking it elicited a “sure, whatever” response because really, 4 years of medical school…what did he know?!?!  Apparently a whole freaking lot.

Last night, I took my daily dose of Ambien like a good little girl and settled into bed with my laptop and the Internet.  I was getting a little foggy when my Dad called, but I remember most of the conversation.  I had the good sense to request the new Coldplay album for a birthday present and included homemade mashed potatoes in the menu for my birthday dinner.

But everything after that is pretty hazy.  When I woke up this morning, I remembered a dream from last night about all these beautiful dresses and how excited I was looking at them.  And then it hit me…crap.  I turned on my laptop and logged into my Overstock.com account.  And now I know why you shouldn’t attempt to do ANYTHING twenty minutes after taking Ambien.  I am the proud owner of 4 new dresses.  That I honestly don’t remember buying.  How lovely.  Well, at least I’ll be well-rested and quite snazzy looking at work.

Oh sweet caffeinated beverages

Without you I have such an empty space in my mornings.

The decaf vanilla chai tea is a mere imitation

in my stainless steel travel coffee mug.

My head has lodged a pounding protest of your absence.

Only nineteen more days until we are reunited.