And true, it may seem like a stretch,
but it's thoughts like this that catch
my troubled head when you're away,
when I am missing you to death.

- The Postal Service, Such Great Heights

-+-

At this point, I knew his room like it was my own.  After all, I made those little grooves in his wood floor.  I spent so many mornings waking up to the sun peeking through the shades of his windows.

We were getting ready for dinner.  At one point, I laughed, "You're gonna miss me, huh?"

Suddenly, a glimmer of sadness shone through his smile.  He said, his voice softer than I'm accustomed to, "Don't say that. You're going to make me dread leaving."

[Beat.]

-+-

"You're probably gonna blog about how awesome I am, aren't you?"
-- "......lol prolly"

It's been exactly three weeks since I flew away from Arizona, and I flew away from Jacob.  I don't think I've been very subtle about meaning to write about the two weeks that he was in town.  I've been postponing it, trying to find the right words to say -- but I want to write it all down while the heart is still so fond.

The reality of our distance and our circumstance is that every time he leaves and every time he comes back, I never know who we've become to each other.  Sometimes we would chat over webcam every other day, sometimes we won't text each other for weeks.  Sometimes we would crave each other to the point of madness, and sometimes we would casually keep in touch as we date other people.  We have our lives to live, and time can be both kind and cruel.  In the end, we're an incredible example of playing things by ear.  All I would trust is that we care about each other, and that the rest will just come.  Whether that means we're lovers, we're friends, we're acquaintances -- as long as I know we care about each other, I let the rest just happen.

Eventually, he would tell me he's back in town, and I would agree to see him.  Yet, at this point, I never really know what we are until the moment I lay eyes on him.  I now always go through a potpourri of emotions once I start counting down to his arrival.  Nervousness.  Anticipation.  Anxiety.

While it isn't until our eyes first meet that I see the familiar warmth flicker in his gaze, it's always a few seconds beforehand that my emotions stop churning.  I would walk towards his garage door, and I would hear the distinctive sounds of him shifting into his garage -- those sounds that always make my heart skip a beat.  As the garage door lifts, the moment I look past the rising door and see his shoes is always the moment that does it for me.  I could be a trove of mixed feelings, but without fail, at that very first hint of Jacob, I instantly grow in excitement and fondness -- 'Jacob is really here.  I'm really about to see Jacob again.'  I don't know how much I glow whenever we first see each other, but if it's as much as it feels, then it must be a lot.

However, I would hope my poker face isn't a complete joke.  Like always, I tried to keep my cool when I saw him that Friday.  I learned a long time ago not to throw my eggs in this basket.  I'm always prepared to spend his time in San Diego as his bro, as nothing more than good camaraderie.  I braced myself to care for him, but to also maintain emotional distance.

Then he kissed me.  His demeanor is naturally calm and collected, but god, to see through his gaze and witness his gratefulness to see me...

I should've known better than to think I knew how to tame my fluttering heart.

Motherfucker, don't stop
spinning those idle hands.

- EXGF, Idle Hands 

-+-

"Good thing you're cute, Christa."
-- "Excuse me?  I'm fucking ADORABLE."

-+-

Rachel: "I'm thinking about dropping the Headquarters Market. ... It's just not earning enough to justify the hassle."
Me: "Im'ma be real with you, Rachel.  I'm in it for the honey.  Whatever you choose, I'll support it."
Rachel: "Ahaha, fabulous.  Thanks, Christa!"

A few days later, I received a follow-up text from my boss, Rachel.  Just like that, I was no longer a honey vendor.

A lot of people comfort me and sympathize for me when I tell them that I no longer sell honey, but I have to admit, I'm walking away from the experience with incredible satisfaction.  Part of me wonders why I don't feel defeated, but the other part of me is grateful to sleep in on Sundays again.

I think it's because my big goal was to learn more about bees and honey, and I really think that over the course of three months as a vendor, I achieved that.  I learned about the San Diego Beekeeping Society through my honey gig, and I'm now a member of that guild.  Through that leap of networking, my learning is no where close to stopping.  Just Monday, I learned about top-bar beekeeping and potential upcoming hive threats.  I learned that the Varroa mite arrived with Asian immigrants in the late 80's.  I learned that while there are hundreds of species of native bees exist in San Diego (and thousands of species across the country), 90% of San Diego pollinators are honey bees -- and no one knows why.  And there's a lot more knowledge where that comes from.

I'm saddest about no longer being "The Honey Girl."

However, no matter what happens to my love for bees and honey -- whether it takes off into my own apiary or it proves to ephemeral -- I'll always adore that for at least a glimmer of my life, I was the girl that sold honey on Sundays.

But then you found me and everything changed,
and I believe in something again.

- Sara Bareilles, I Choose You

-+-

"Look around you! These are your people. Everyone here loves bees!"

-- San Diego Beekeepers Society Monthly Meeting

-+-

A little mundane, but I wanted to just jot down summaries of my days lately.  For one, it'll help explain/justify how incredibly tired I always seem to be.  Also, there was Omer's flattering, "How do you stay so active and survive, Christa?  How do you have time for golf and honey and work and all the things you do?  You always seem like you have something going on."

6/9/14: meeting with san diego beekeeper's society
6/8/14: achieved hangover :) then stick of truth all day aww yeah
6/7/14: napped in omer's backyard! first time on golf course! comfort sad daniel via alcohol!
6/6/14: short game golf practice with omer
6/5/14: karl strauss & driving range with sad daniel
6/4/14: observatory show with omer!
6/3/14: bought my golf set! burritos and drinks with sad daniel
6/2/14: brewery w/ julie and myra
6/1/14: day 2 in vegas with the parents
5/31/14: day 1 in vegas with the parents
5/30/14: drive up to barstow after work to visit parents
5/29/14: golf lesson and shopping for golf gear!
5/28/14: dinnar with chau & her roommates
5/27/14: bar hopping with julie
5/11/14 - 5/26/14: jacob was in town, which was honestly a continuous adventure

Then before that, days were pretty slow and restful, ahaha.

Weeeee!

Enjoy your body.
Use it every way you can. Don't be afraid of it or of what other people think of it.
It's the greatest instrument you'll ever own.

-- Baz Luhrman, Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen)

-+-

"I'm very protective of you.  ...I don't know what I'd do if anything ever happened to you."

-+-

"How do you stay so positive, Christa?"

The question never stops being incredibly flattering.  The students joke about the fictional entity of "Christa in a Bad Mood" and colleagues tell me that being around me enhances the mood of the room.

I usually just giggle in reply.  If I'm fast enough on my feet (which is rarely), I'll say something cute or silly like, "It's all the honey I eat," or, "It's easy when you look this good." (I swear I say that jokingly -- I'm not actually that conceited, aha!)

In reality, a huge part of what dictates my "positive attitude" is a little morbid, so I try not to be overly earnest in answering that question.  In short, I literally try to spend everyday prepared to die.  Death is frustratingly easy.  I read it all the time on the news.  It would only take instants for a car to swerve into me, for someone to suddenly pull out a gun, for any variety of situation where I'm at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am constantly aware of it.   I'm incredibly clumsy, so I manage to accumulate a variety of scars and injuries from simple everyday tasks.  My wounds would take weeks to heal, and it'll get ruined so instantly by a slip of the wrist.  Every unexpected injury reminds me that I am fragile.  Someday, this can be how quickly it'll take for me to die.  I have no idea how my light will go out.  I constantly imagine building my life up for decades, only for it all to potentially vanish in the manner of instants.

In fact, I never used to understand that phase, "Live everyday like it's your last day on earth."  I used to think it meant that I better visit the Eiffel Tower ASAP, or go skydiving RIGHT NOW, or in some other way be incredibly ambitious towards all the things on my to-do list.

I understand it a lot more now.  I feel like that happens to everyone at some point, and I'm sure I'm not unique in this.  Every time I get into a car, or I get on a plane, or I part ways with anyone, I mentally accept that I may very well die between that moment and the next time I see anyone.  So I always think if I would be satisfied with the state of the world if in that time, my soul were to leave my body.

If I were to die in the time it takes me to drive home from work, or to fly back from the Bay Area, or to drive back from my parents' place, am I happy with the way I last said goodbye with everyone?  I'm admittedly generous with "I love you" -- I know many a soul (my past self included) that are stingy with their "I love you"s, saving them for a special occasion, or just for when they truly, truly mean it.  They let the rarity of saying it increase its value.  I hugely respect that.  However, to the eyes of a person with that attitude, I'm a huge "I love you" slut.  With the exclusion of romantic interests (b/c that of course loans a new layer of meaning), I give it away like Costco samples.  If I happen to die before the next time I see you, I got to say "I love you" to you before my candle burnt out.  I'd be happy with that.

My mindset hugely enhances the way that I handle arguments and conflicts.  If I were to die, I don't want people to regret that I died angry at them.  Or vice versa -- I don't want people to regret that the last thing they felt towards me is anger.  So I now try to let go of grudges with people important with me, and I always try to communicate issues to a quick resolution.  In doing so, I've been told that I'm low-maintenance and easy to get along with.  When we part ways, I want us to be happy with each other.  Just in case.

Every time I get on that shuttle between work and my car, I sit down with myself, and I wonder, "If I died right now, would I be satisfied with the way I left the world?"  I try to apply this to nearly everything, constantly.

In this, there have been two major exceptions in the past year.

1) My room.  My room is a mess.  If I were to depart, my room is a chaos that no creature should have to sift through.  When Jacob was in town, I practically lived with him for almost a month, so I maximally neglected my room.  Since he left, I've been too busy to clean -- I would get home at the end of the day just enough to groom, maybe blog/play Stick of Truth for half an hour, then go to sleep.

2) This is more interesting, but... my parents.

I've had a tense year with my parents.  Tense may be an understatement.  I won't go into detail, but we essentially got in a feud about money last summer.  I felt used and manipulated, but more notably, I let myself become incredibly mad at my parents.  It was a grudge that I held onto for eleven months, and I still hold onto pieces of it now.

The first time I saw my parents after the feud started, we argued until sunrise.  I didn't spend Thanksgiving with my parents.  I spent less than ten hours of Christmas vacation at my folks' place -- I got in at 11pm on Christmas Eve, and left right after breakfast.  I used to call and say hi throughout college, but this past year, I didn't reply to my dad's e-mails that my parents missed me.  I was ready to die angry at them.  I was ready for time to pass and to never stop being angry at them.  I felt like after what they did, I spent enough time being a good daughter.  The only people in my life that I'm ever short with are my parents.  It continues to be an unfortunate fact.

However, a few weekends ago, my sister and I coordinated a visit with my parents.  With the passage of time, I was feeling a little less bitter, and was at the, "OK, maybe I'll regret it if someone dies right now," phase, and we decided to say "hi" as a belated Mother's Day present.  We were going to get in Friday night late-night, and leave after breakfast Saturday morning.  We were going to say hi, and emphasize the part where we were just saying hi.

Then this happened.  I made my mom cry out of joy when I told her I was planning on naming my daughter after her.  I felt my rough edges begin to soften.

The weekend after, I attended the wedding of Jacob's sister.  As I met the extended family of this boy that isn't even my boyfriend, I realized that I had officially seen some of these people more than I've seen my own relatives.   I've seen his aunt April more than I've seen Tito Gismo.  I know his grandmother Jane more than I know my own godmother.

Then, as his parents hugged me hello and asked me about myself with incredible welcoming and warmth, I realized... they had been more parents to me in the past year than my own parents.  It was an uncomfortable revelation.  They're incredibly kind, but what does that say about my family?  Initially, I regretted the dysfunction in my family, blaming it on my parents' selfishness.  However, looking back -- way back, before this feud ever started -- I remembered how much my family... needed me.

No family is entirely at fault for its dysfunction and strangeness.  We are completely different people forced together by blood and history.  But as the youngest child of three, I grew up into a unique mix of all of my family members.  I had both the rebellious spirit of my sister, yet the docility of my brother.  I had the zaniness of my mother, yet the calmness of my father.  Effectively, I am our family's middle ground.  As hard as it can be to get the family members together, or to stop fighting, or to quell lonesomeness -- to some extent, I'm often needed as the glue for the family.  It was a responsibility that I was about to abandon over a grudge.  Was it really worth it to stay angry?

I got last Sunday off from selling honey, and plane tickets were too expensive to visit my sister.  Friday morning, on my way to work, "Everybody is Free (To Wear Sunscreen)" started playing on the radio, and a line played that struck a chord with me:

Get to know your parents. You never know when they'll be gone for good.

It was a "The Universe is Sending You a Message, Christa," kind of deal.  dammit, the garrett revelation, then the song, then the mom crying, then the... dammit.  dammit i'm a softie

So I picked up the phone, and called my dad.

"I got Sunday off. ...Do you want me to visit today when I get out of work?"

In reply, I received a clear, resounding, instantaneous yes. My parents sounded like they were literally waiting a year for that offer from me.  Within hours, I was on the road and on my way to my parents' house.

This week, I'm a little bit more ready to die than I was last week.

That makes life feel pretty good.

I didn’t know I was lonely 'til I saw your face.
I wanna get better.

- Bleachers, I Wanna Get Better

-+-

Phoenix, AZ.

"You're very special to me, boy."
"You're special to me too, girl."

Every single time, I never know if it'll be the last goodbye before we'll lose that spark between us.  A lot of things can happen in a couple of months.  And yet, here we were standing in an airport terminal, a year after we met, kissing each other goodbye.  I've always hated goodbyes with him, and I've had a lot of goodbyes with him over the past year.

Yet, there's a moment of our goodbyes that I adore, that fills me with love.  In that very last instant that he's about to turn around the corner or I'm about to turn into TSA, I'll look over my shoulder for one last glance at him...

just to see that he's looking over his shoulder to take one last glance at me, too.

-+-

"Whatever happened to Alex?"

I read over my blog a few months ago, and was like, "Shit what the fuck all I blog about are boys what the fuck," and in recent months, have honestly made some deliberate effort to stop using my Xanga as my girly gossip box.

However, I realize this is a question that I should also address here.  After all, accepting my unrequited crush on Alex was supposedly the turning point in my San Diego slump.  I'll admit, things are a lot better now.  I used to feel like I was achieving nothing, but since that post, a lot has happened.  Work has been fantastic, I got a gig selling honey, I joined the SD beekeeper's society, I've taken up golf, and I've made a lot of friends in the process.

It was a helpful revelation and a necessary jumping point, but not a lasting one.

Honestly, like in the post-script at the end of that same post, Jacob's playful, "whatever im better" ended up being true in an enlightening way.  It's uncanny how being treated well will immediately emphasize when you're being treated wrongly.  From day one, Jacob was never dishonest with his expectations with me, even if that made it hard for both of us.  Not once in the past year would I ever say that Jacob led me on.

So it was fine when Alex called it off.  Although he knew I still liked him, we decided to be friends and treat each other as friends.  We grabbed a beer or lunch together every now and then.  Then he crossed a line a few weeks ago -- he started flirting with me.  However, not only did he flirt with me, but he flirted emptily and without intent.  He didn't want to get dinner together ("Christa, I'm a very independent person.  I don't know if you picked up on that.") and he didn't want to see each other outside of work.  Yet the "hey cutie ;)" texts kept coming, and his selfishness was suddenly clear.  He had no other plans but to string me along, and I wasn't having it.  It was like I was a puppy or a plaything, and that's not okay with me.  My adoration was quickly displaced by apathy.

The last time I saw him, I was walking to the shuttle stop to return to my lab building.  In past months, I would nervously turn around, not knowing what to say to him; or, I would detour and mysteriously find ways to be next to him in line for coffee.

This time, I rolled my eyes and just kept walking.

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.

- Semisonic, Closing Time

-+-

"You see, Jacob and Christa are the epitome of an 'It's Complicated' relationship. At this point, I'm just coming along for the ride. (Turns to me.) Yeah, Christa... I don't know when I'll ever understand you two.  It won't be until you two get married that I'll finally have some idea of what you are to each other."

Julie is a true bro.

-+-

"Okay, I'm going to comfort you now.  I am about to pat you on the shoulder with an open palm.  Are you ready?"

I slowly follow through with three slow pats on his shoulder.  This is quickly ranking as one of the most awkward acts of sympathy ever.  I end with, "Are you... comforted?  Did I... do good?"

I get a laugh and a, "What...?" in reply.  He was just dumped by his fiancee a week ago.  What's the right thing to say to someone going through that?  When he first told me the news, I had no idea how to react other than, "I'm here for you.  I don't know what to say or do, but I can fill you with alcohol."

His moping was very interesting.  He sighed, "Christa, all I want is a cute white girl that likes Asian guys, that will settle down with me and will let me geek out about everything."

I replied with poetic life lessons, with a decent amount of alcohol running through my bloodstream, "Well, I gotta tell ya', the dating scene in your early 20's can kind of suck major ass.  I'm speaking from experience.  I've had guys I've really clicked with but nothing's really come out of any of it.  Other than Jacob... but even then, Jacob and I are very complex.  Oh, I like Jacob.  I miss him.  He's a cat guy... look, he made a Facebook page for his cat.  I love his cat.  He loves his cat so much.  OH, Jacob just messaged me!  Awww.  He says I'm awesome.  Aww oh my god, I miss him.  What was I saying...?  Oh, yes.  Yes, San Diego is a very single city.  So good luck.  But every step of the way, I will alcohol with you."

He replied with a smile, "Thanks, Christa."

Then I heard your heart beating.
You were in the darkness too...
so I stayed in the darkness with you.

- Florence + the Machine, Cosmic Love

-+-

Phoenix, AZ.

Heather described, "There are some people where you can be apart for months or years... you can be apart for a really long time, and when you're together, you pick up right where you left off like nothing happened."

I turned to Jacob with what I can only describe as urgency.  I knew that we were down to our final hours together before I would have to fly away to San Diego.  I could feel my heart stuck in my throat.  I couldn't pinpoint my emotions.  Dread?  Fondness?  Longing?

I told him, "I think you and I have that."

He nodded, "Every time we see each other, it's exactly the same."

-+-

"Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief."

-- Swedish Proverb

While my own mind is discombubulated, finally regaining my awareness of the people around me has been rewarding.  Not even necessarily because it's been a while since I've enjoyed their company, but because I am realizing, "My dear god, we need each other."

She broke up with her boyfriend.  He was dumped by his fiancee.  He is battling depression.  She is fighting loneliness.

I don't know how often I reassured various people throughout the week, "I'm here for you."

It's strange to see hardship as a silver lining, but our mutual tribulations give a sense of solidarity -- even if I don't necessarily tell them about the empty tummy feelings and sad french fry cravings on my side.

None of us are alone, and that's incredibly satisfying.  Maybe I should be more worried about everyone, but I'm not (although considering my history with stress-induced illnesses, that's probably a really really good thing).

That's because I know we'll stand together.

There's an awful lot of breathing room,
but I can hardly move.

- Matchbox Twenty, If You're Gone

-+-

I walked towards Price Center for some boba tea, when I noticed a distinctive wiggling amidst the debris. As I came closer, my suspicions were confirmed. It was a little honeybee, limping in a retarded waggle dance.

If it wasn't for my acute eye for bees, I probably would've mistaken her with the yellow debris and grass slowly blowing through the sidewalk, and was en route to stepping on her. I enthusiastically decided, "I'm going to save this bee!" After all, I just got negative test results for bee sting allergies from Kaiser. Nothing could possibly get in my way.

I gently coaxed the bee onto my work ID card and moved her next to a bush. Immediately, she returned to that patch of land on the sidewalk. I repeated my action, putting her next to a nearby tree. Again, she returned to that patch on the sidewalk.

I yelled at her, "BEE, you are what is WRONG with colony collapse disorder, you're all DRUGGED up on them neonicotinoids and now you SUCK and someone is going to STEP ON YOU if you won't let me help you!!"

She just continued with her retarded waggle on the sidewalk. I knew it was time to call it. I gave up, turned around, and went back to my boba journey.

We can't win it all, bee. We can't win it all.

-+-

I am not a private person.

I don't have a particularly private mind, and I'm not good at secrecy.

A lot of it is unintentional. I may very well be one of the easiest people to read. If I feel an emotion, my face probably shows it. Not on some shifty microexpression level either -- if there are classes on reading expressions, I would probably make a good intro course.

On an electronic level, I'd be lucky if my words were half as transparent as my smile, or my pout, or my furrowed brow.

I don't say that lightly. I used to hate how predictable I am. I hated how linear I seemed -- I felt boring and dull. I was jealous of people that had so many layers to them. They would have no end to their mystery, while my mystery ends the moment you make eye contact with me.

Over time, a mix of good company, tribulation, and maturity would help me grow into my own skin. My self-esteem finally fit the curves of my body, and my laugh finally fit the joy I felt internally.

With my blog being more than twelve years old, this Xanga followed me through most of this journey. I used to love that only people who read my blog really knew me -- it felt like I was adding a layer of mystery to my life. Shy on the outside, with my heart worn only on my Xanga -- "Blog like no one's reading."

Where my heart was previously only on these electronic pages, I now try to wear my heart everywhere.  Regardless, I admit that I kind of miss my online transparency.  I miss having all my cards out on the table.  Now, I know just how terrible my poker face is, and I've come to embrace it.  I could either be full of depth and layers, or I could be one hell of a snowglobe.

"Swag on, Christa."

tl;dr i know i haven't been updating much lately and hope to start blogging more lol

-+-

P.S.

Yesterday, I came into work and was very visibly out of it. It was my first day back on the job since my trip to Arizona, and my first day in almost three weeks knowing that I wouldn't see Jacob after work (which, I'm sure, actually quickly explains why I haven't been updating recently).

Chris, our Master's student, came in later that day. His mind was also obviously not focused on lab, and honestly, I was thankful for that. My state of mind gave me no room for empathy.  I simply did not care about asking him about his life.  I did not have the mental energy to ask him what was wrong, and I was glad that he also lacked the capacity to pry into my mood.

So we simply let each other mope.  We let each other have a slow start to our Tuesday, and I was grateful for it.

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind.

- John Legend, All of Me

-+-

We stood in the elevator to the airport terminal, and I rested my head on his shoulder.

He asked me, "Are you okay?"

I choked back tears and forced a smile, "Yeah, I'm okay. I'm just getting a little sentimental."

He took my shoulder and pulled me closer, "Aw, gurl."

-+-

Belated post from May 16th, 2014. Between 11pm and midnight.

MOM (Picks up a pair of heart-shaped, diamond-studded earrings.): Do you want these earrings?

DAUGHTER (Hesitantly.): Uh... how much are those worth?  I tend to lose earrings really often.  See these?  (Points to ears.) Five bucks at the mall.

MOM: Maybe two grand?  Don't worry about it, you need to wear something nice if you're attending a wedding.

DAUGHTER: Two grand?!  Mom, I'd wear those to my wedding.

(Laughter.)

DAD: So when's this wedding you're talking about?

DAUGHTER: Well, I don't even have a boyfriend yet, so not for a while! (Laughs.)

(DAUGHTER grabs a piece of paper and a pen.)

DAUGHTER: Actually... mom, sit with me!  I want to show you something. (MOM sits.) Since we're on the topic of weddings and whatnot, I know that you're really looking forward to having a grandchild someday. (MOM nods.) Well, since I don't even have a boyfriend yet, I can't give you a grandkid for a really, really long time, but here's something I can give you. (Holds up pen and paper.) Have I already told you what I want to name my daughter? (MOM shakes her head.) So I've planned it for years, maybe five years now. You know how girls are with planning their kids' names and their weddings and whatnot.

(DAUGHTER writes "Aerilyn" on the paper.)

DAUGHTER: So "Aerilyn" is originally written with a "y," but I replaced it with an "i" to spell "Aerilin."

(DAUGHTER crosses out "Aerilyn" and replaces with "Aerilin." She adds "Danielle" to write "Aerilin Danielle." She holds it up to MOM.)

DAUGHTER: Aerilin Danielle.  That's what I'm naming my daughter someday.  Do you know why I'm naming her that?

MOM (Shakes her head.): No, why?

(DAUGHTER takes the pen and underlines part of the name written on the paper.  The paper now reads "Aerilin Danielle" to highlight MOM's name, ERLINDA.)

MOM: That's beautiful.

DAUGHTER: I'm naming my daughter after you.

MOM (Chokes up.): I'm so happy.  Even after I die, my name... (Trails off.)

DAUGHTER: Even though I'm not going to be able to give you a grandchild until a long, long time from now... know that someday, your granddaughter is going to be named after you.

MOM (Crying, wiping away tears.): Thank you, sweetie.

DAUGHTER (Takes MOM's shoulder and pulls her closer.): Happy belated Mother's Day, mom.

Close your eyes and see it glisten, Barnaby.
Listen, Barnaby…

- Hello, Dolly!, Put On Your Sunday Clothes

-+-

-- "I hate everything!"
"Christa, that's the biggest lie I've EVER heard."
-- "Teehee, that's true!!" *giggles*

-+-

This week is one of those weeks where my wits are not about me. I am always tired and never hungry. I imagined myself bouncing back this week, after being sick with a nasty cold last week. But my PCR samples are almost a week old now, and I feel like I’ve achieved very little this week.

The good is very, very good. I spent this past week with friends, almost non-stop for the last several days. Life felt well-paced, but I think the best part is that never, ever do I feel lonely these days. At lab, I have amazing co-workers that I get along with really well. I have old friends from undergrad and high school in town, and we try to spend time together when possible. I have new friends from my time here in San Diego, and we also find time for beers and happy hours. Even when those people are all not around, I have my sister a Google message away, and all my old friends and loved ones are all just a text message or a webcam call away. Work is great, and life is great. I am learning how to count my blessings.

However, if something has huge weight for me, I can get stressed very easily. I am currently stressed very easily. But this is the part where I just suck it the fuck up, because that’s the kind of thing you have to do when something’s bigger than you. This is bigger than me.

I was actually supposed to have a date today. He cancelled, and while that in itself is not very promising (in conjunction with the dwindling frequency in our text messages, but that’s another deal entirely), but I am secretly incredibly thankful for the opportunity to finally have some time for myself, and just chill. To just breathe. I’m currently sitting in the main student center of UCSD, eating popcorn chicken and boba. Blogging over a passion fruit black tea. This is alright. Right? Right. Breathe in the good air. Right.

That’s right. I needed chicken.

I have my eyes on the prize for tomorrow. I will come into lab in the morning, and I will dominate my PCR samples. I will go to my on-call meeting and dominate my lab meeting. I will run into whats-his-face and he will be like omg wow christa is so so fine and I’ll be like lol noob and walk away. Then I will go to lab and dominate my mousework. And I will learn western blotting and dominate this fuuuucking webcam chat and all will be awesome. I can see it now.

This has been a hell of a week so far, and it’s only Wednesday.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu