Archive for June, 2010

Ok, so it appears that I will have a good 45 minutes of blog time today because my one boss left early and my other boss is on a conference call. Thank bajeebus because I’m going to go ahead and write a post so I can post something now for yall to feast on, since I’ve only been posting scraps.

Five days until the Swede arrives in DC. Five itty bitty days. He’s just over a dollars worth of quarters away. I am LOSING MY MIND. I have no idea how to feel,  only that I’m just doggy paddling around in a bottomless sea of murky unnnamed emotions. It’s like my emotions are the Potomac, I know its water-ish but I can’t tell you what the fuck is in it, just that its thick and a little gross and unpleasant swimming conditions. I’d rather be safe in a kayak or on a dock drinking an ice cold brew thinking “gee I’m so glad that I’m not immersed in that shit-water right now.”

Ugh I just took a break and sent him three different bus options from NYC  to DC. I can’t get this off my brain. And I’ve also failed you, my dear reader. Because I promised myself and you that I would detail the entire Swedish love tale before he arrives, so you could be completely up to speed about what’s happened between him and myself. Since it appears I won’t have the time at work (and let’s face it, my social life is standing room only so I won’t be blogging from home), I’m going to try to condense it.

I left off after our magical first two visits, one of which being my epic journey around Scandinavia until finally landing into his muscley arms on a freezing cold night whilst he was was in his tidy whities in public.

It was another three months before I saw him. I flew to Stockholm to spend three weeks with him and his family. It was weird having spent so much time apart, and it had been an incredibly painful process of missing and missing more and questioning God and the Universe as to why I had to be so far from the other half of my soul. But that summer visit was wonderful. I got to know some of his friends, we had a wonderful Midsommar, and I was beaming from head to toe. We slow danced in his kitchen. We went on long walks. We fed each other los godis while we watched movies.  We were just incredibly, incredibly happy.

A couple more months passed, he came to visit me. Happiness again. A couple more months passed, I visited him. Happiness again. A couple more months passed, he came for Christmas. Seeing him with my family on Christmas morning felt incredibly right. Still no doubts that I would marry him and have Christmas morning with him and our children. That he and I would be up in the middle of the night putting together toys that have a million miniscule pieces and eating the crumbly cookies our kids put out for Santa, leaving just one with a bite taken out for proof. Just a sip of milk left. I still want to have his babies. I’m fighting the thought of getting down on one knee while he’s here and begging him to marry me.

Back to the timeline, another couple months and I visited him. Another couple months and I visited him again, right after my college graduation. Then two months and he moved to Greenville, NC to study a semester at ECU. He didn’t get to pick the school, but rather he chose the NC network of public schools to study abroad at so that he could be close to me, so that we would have a time period to hold onto that we knew we would be close together. Greenville is a funny town for a European to inhabit, but we made the best of it and had a wonderful fall. I spent my weeks substitute teaching and my weekends with him in Greenville, or I’d drive to pick him up and bring him back to Wilmington, then I’d drop him off on Sundays. It was A LOT OF DRIVING but I wouldn’t give back any of those seconds we spent lost in Bumfuck, NC looking for a Taco Bell halfway through the drive, or getting a flat and laying on a blanket on the side of the interstate waiting for AAA. We always have fun together.

At the end of this semester, we flew to Milan, spent a night there, then went to Lausanne, Switzerland to visit his Aunt and Uncle. That was a really magical trip and still probably the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen. AND THE CHEESE. GOD THE CHEESE. Old stanky Swiss Gruyere is my favorite cheese, hands down, by far, shut the case I found it. Heaven. We ended up at some fancy ritzy pinky out tea party with his Aunt, and he and I were both incredibly out of our element. It’s a hysterically odd memory that we share.  We have a lot of those out of place memories that no one else could possibly understand. I’ve shared an entire lifetime with him, already.

Anywho, after that I was waiting for my Swedish residence permit to go through in January, still subbing (and hating it). Finally, I got the go-ahead and packed up my whole life to drag it over the ocean to him. I was so sure of our love that I knew I could start a life over there, and that he’d spread out and take up all the relationship-room that my friends and family had been taking up. That all the things I’d known I could just sit down and walk away from because I’d finally be with the man of my dreams for goodsies. The abso-absolute best of intentions. Turns out I was niave about my needs as a human being. Turns out that apparently you have to love and be happy with yourself before you can be happy and content with someone else. And here I had thought that was some self-help mantra bullshit.

We couldn’t find an apartment.

I was working an enormously, incredibly shitty job.

I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life.

I missed my language.

I missed my friends.
I missed my family.

I missed my culture.

I missed my mobility/freedom through knowledge of my surroundings.

I felt isolated.

The only deep bond I felt I could put weight on was with the Swede, and heaven help him all my needneedneeds were more than I was willing to ask him to shoulder. I was too quiet about my doubts and concerns. There were many times that I started to glimpse how miserable I was when I was alone, and I tried very hard to shake them off. I put on a smiley face because after all, I was with him. I spiraled into an existential crisis when I started to fully realize how unhappy I was. I started having panic attacks on the metro. I was trying very hard to hide my own truth from myself. Do you know how painful that is? To know something is true about yourself, to have it appear again and again, but think you can’t handle it and lie to yourself because you don’t think you have the balls to change it? My life had become unauthentic, a fraud, a ruse.

I didn’t think I could survive without him. He was my breath. He was my heartbeat. He was my heart itself. I felt like our vital signs were forever linked, that our souls intertwined and our bodies were one. It felt physically and emotionally impossible that we could be apart, and yet I started having a panic “FLIGHT FLIGHT FLIGHT FLIGHT” reflex to this impending depression. It was a gradual onset. I started out very hopeful, dutifully contacting people about apartments every day. Trotting my happy ass down gibberishly named streets with my homemade maps trying to find these apartments. Getting rejection after rejection. Waking up at 4 to get to work at 6am. Running my ass off for 8 hours straight, exhausted to the core by the time I could leave. CONSTANTLY struggling to try to translate, always feeling like I’d lost something in the mix. Back up at 4 the next morning, and the morning after that, and the morning after that. Looking at facebook pictures of my friends, all together in DC, laughing and laughing. Missing them until my heart hurt. Missing my family. Being so so far from them. And still feeling that I can’t leave, because I’m finally with my best friend and the love of my life, and we’ve worked so hard and waited so long, how could I fail him like that????? How could I bare to hurt him that bad???? How would I ever live with myself if I caused that man pain? I felt sure that my heart would explode. I felt that this pain would kill me.

I hit a breaking point. I slammed into a wall. I could no longer carry around these two realities, I buckled under the weight. I felt I couldn’t change Sweden, that that life just wasn’t fitting me. I needed the freedom to chart my course personally and professionally, and that would take opportunities in English, and customs that I was familiar with. I don’t think I really needed freedom from him, because it was never the romantic part of my life that I felt liberated from. I only hurt that we were apart. I’ve never met a man in my whole life like him. I’ve never met a person that I’ve loved that hard, that all encompassingly. When I hear parents talk about how much they love their kids, how it’s an astronomical, eternal, deep, inexplicable, natural, and overpowering need to love them and take care of them… that’s the love I have for this man. I feel as though we are eternally linked. We’re magnets. We belong together. I need him. I need him. I need him.

My mom helped me move. As soon as she arrived at the airport in Stockholm I literally collapsed into her arms and sobbed til I couldn’t breathe. I physically couldn’t stand. She had to hold me up for a good ten minutes while all the emotions I’d been carrying around flooded through my eyes, down her blouse, all over our shoes, all over her luggage. I had no insides, no spine, no bones. I was a pulsating mass of hurt. I rode those tears back to America, and felt nothing but dark abyss for weeks. I can’t explain that pain. That deep deep deep pain. I actually thought I was going to die. I saw what the depths of depression looked like, where you actually don’t understand why you should even be alive. That it would be too hard to keep breathing, to keep being aware of how bad things are. I felt so worthless and empty. Empty. I had lost the most valuable thing in my life. The one thing that made me feel purpose.

I was sure that I was going to need to be committed. I lost fifteen pounds. I read self help books. I cried and cried and cried. I felt dead. I felt crazy. I never thought I’d survive.

Somehow I lived through it, but it was like a Pet Cemetary version of me. I died when I left him, and then I came back different. I’d lost a part of my conscience and soul, and I learned to live without it. Live in a way, but not really live. I felt so numb. My feelings weren’t as vibrant. I didn’t feel that the warmth of the sun or the rush of a hot shower were magical anymore. I’ve been going through the motions since I left his arms at that train station the last time I saw him, a dark early morning in September. I held his face, wet faced, disbelieving, and said my last words to him, “I love you a thousand times.” And I still love him. And I always always always will.

And now I will see him in five days.


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Ok first off, did anyone else ride the red line this morning? What the flippityfuckinflip was going on with that? I waited for a train for 35 minutes, because the few trains that did go by in that time were unbelievably packed or “No Passenger.” No Passenger trains are like a swift kick in the nuts from Metro, saying, hey lookie here at this big train with noooo people moving at the speed of sound towards your job that you’re late for. My rage was UNNERVING. I had to apologize to my boss AGAIN for being late because of the train, and she said “you’ll figure it out.”

No lady. I’ve figured it out. I got there ten minutes early this morning so that I wouldn’t have this problem. Who needs to get a fucking CLUE is Metro. Especially since I’m paying extra for these trains that aren’t getting me to work. I’m paying EXTRA to have HIGH BLOOD PRESSURE and eventually I may be paying EXTRA TO BE SENT TO JAIL FOR EITHER ASSAULT OR MANSLAUGHTER BECAUSE OF MY ENSUING METRO RAGE.

Ok deep breath. Deep breath.

In other news, I brought some healthy food to eat at work today (remember one of the things on my “to do” was to lose 20 pounds in the next week). So I’m all la-te-da putting my groceries up this morning…. some hours later I get a hankerin’ for a puddin’ snack. So I mosey on over to the fridge… WHAT THE FUCK. Someone ate my goddamn puddin’ snack?!?! So now I will be eyeing all my co-workers, wondering who enjoyed my delicious 60 calorie Boston Cream Pie puddin’ snack this morning. WHO DID IT?!!??! WHO THE FUCK DID IT?!?!?!

Again with the blood pressure, breathe. Breathe. Jussssst Breeeeathe, ooooh breathhhhhe. Just breaatthe. Sarah Barielles just lowered my blood pressure.

Whitman wanted me to come over tonight. I still havent responded to Andy’s “lets do dinner this week.” However I am going to watch ET with The Mayor of Admo in some park thats doing the summer movie series thing. I’m looking forward to sprawling out on a blanket, sipping wine, and watching a young Drew Barrymore with her cutesy pigtails have a close encounter of the adorable kind (in my head I picture doing this alone, because The Mayor knows everygoddamnbody so I’m sure he’ll be shmoozing).

5 days til the Swede. 5. Thats one hand worth of fingers!!! (Unless you’re Anne Boleyn ((myth??))).

Once I get trained they’ll probably give me some extra space so I can actually blog rather than producing the blog equivalent to a barf. Do forgive me.

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…..is gonna be short because, hey, I’m starting a new job.

After getting internet and accomplishing my first order of business (checking to see if I have Gchat- AFFIRMATIVE), now I am giving yall a super quick update.

Job: still havent reached a verdict. The office is a huge downgrade, but when balanced with Gchat…. it comes out about even. Its also promising to be super fast paced, which may cut down on my posting time but will make the day go faster.


Whitman- Had a flaming shot of 151 accidentally poured over his head during the US World Cup game Saturday… and is burned pretty bad.  Hes asked me to hang out every day since then… I’ve declined. Also continuously rescheduling with the paleoclimatologist…. I mean really the only thing I can focus on is

THE SWEDE WILL BE HERE IN SIX DAYS. In this time I need to

lose 20 pounds

whiten my teeth

get new clothes

get a pedicure

bikini wax? presumptious?

make a ton of restaurant reservations

get a tan

breast implants wouldn’t hurt (figuratively)

clean room

redye hair

get rid of that-time-of-month acne


….so you know, the usual.

I’m just fluctuating between Im-gonna-piddle excited and what-the-fuck-am-i-gonna-do-my-hearts-going-to-get-broken terrified. And all this while starting a brand new job.


Love yall.

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Waiting is painful. Forgetting is painful. But not knowing which to do is the worst kind of suffering. -paulo coelho

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It’s my last day at this job. Cue bittersweet symphony. I’ve been here since I moved to DC in November… god that was so long ago. I was still wrecked from the Swede breakup. I had no idea how to navigate the Metro. I’d never been in a blizzard (or blogged). While this job may have been a bit soul sucking, I worked with some really rad people that I adore and will miss terribly (minus one probably-serial-killer). Work friendships are so odd, because you didn’t pick the people around you but you’re forced to spend more time with them than you do your real friends and family. If you’re very lucky, they do become your real friends, and then work is infinitely more bearable because you’re actively helping each other get through the day through gossip and laughs and secrets. And clearly they know me well, because look at this card I got:

I’ll fuckin’ miss you kids, you hear me?

Other than the missing people, I feel like this:

Tadaaaa. Hallelujah! Hallelujah! Halleeeeeluuuuujahhhhhh!

Stay tuned to hear about my new job. I hope the people don’t suck.

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i’m afraid of losing my obscurity. genuineness only thrives in the dark. like celery. -aldous huxley

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I went out last night with Becca and Grace. UNCALLED FOR. Becca is temporarily dating the bartender, so one might say he got us all liquored up. The place was pretty empty, so we were essentially screaming Beastie Boys lyrics at each other, head banging, dancing, playing air guitar, etc. While I did get home at a pretty respectable hour last night, the night before I did not. I stayed at Whitmans. We didn’t do anything more than kiss, which is muy interesante, but I got very little sleep because of the massive volume of kisses. I’d say I slept 4 hours. So

4 hrs of sleep two nights ago+ 7 hours of drunken sleep last night+ no naps+ plus I exercised = FUCK I DON’T WANT TO BE HERE.

I want to be here:


In a comfortable bed with a puppy cuddling next to me and a jug of water by the bed. And maybe also a Sonic bag filled with smothered tots and hot dogs and milkshakes. And a Buffy the Vampire Slayer Marathon on TV.

Yes, do pass the cheese with that whine.

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