Laid up

Okay, so I am suffering from (here it comes, the official medical term) a subluxation of the patella. (Translation: I fucked up my kneecap.) It slid way out of place, pulling the muscle with it. Apparently everyone's kneecaps (that's right....ALL OF 'EM!) fit into a groove, and mine is shallow. Something I did knocked it out of place RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE OF THE DANCE FLOOR at Modjeska. I fell to the floor, although I am under the assumption that someone either helped me down or my ginormous ass cushioned my fall so nicely I didn't even notice. While I was writhing on the floor and trying to convince the nice bouncers not to call an ambulance, one of the friends I was with slipped me back into place, making it okay for me to get up and hobble out. And I wasn't even drunk!
After quite a bit of crying and utter embarrassment, I made it home and then to an urgent care facility, where a doctor told me it was just pulled, and that the worst thing that could have happened was a few torn fibers. I can't work until mid-next week, and I have to stay with it elevated, with occasional exercise until I can walk decently. So here I am, with nothing to do but read, watch TV, and check my MySpace until I have to use the bathroom or get hungry. Fortunately, I am making it without crutches around the house. However, both Heidi and my parents think I am "rushing it." I just don't like not being in control.

Exhaustion

After showering before work this morning, I noticed a little extra curve starting to make its way around my midsection and there and then I made a decision: ENOUGH! I wasn't about to let myself get any bigger. I always tend to procrastinate and find a reason not to exercise, but now I really have nothing to do but work. So, here we go. I worked and busted my ass for 8 hours today at work, and ate well. I didn't know what I was going to do about exercise, but opportunity presented itself in a friendly form. As I was getting a pedicure with my friend Randa, she mentioned she was going to the gym and to her bellydance class after she left the salon. She has been trying to get me to go with her for months now, and since I had school I never had time. I thought to myself, "What's stopping me?" I went to the class with her and had a great time! I'll be joining the gym tomorrow and going to that class regularly, as well as one of the other classes they offer. Aside from that, it's a 24-hour facility, so I can go anytime. I sweated and danced like crazy, and I can't remember when I've had a better time. The only thing is, the walls are lined with mirrors, so I have to look at my fat ass jiggling all over that place. (Bonus: I do look extremely TAN!) But, that I can deal with. Maybe I'll see myself getting smaller. Here we go! Feel free to encourage me, lord knows I'll need it...

S.O.L.

My brother is a less-than-productive individual, and hardly your average law-abiding citizen. He is a high school dropout, and a three-time tech school dropout. He's on his second strike with the state of Georgia, can't get a job, and is in EXTREME debt. He has had problems with certain substances for as long as I can remember. He is currently living at my parents' home, doing just short of nothing (he helps my father with outdoor work on occasion). My parents not only supply him with food and shelter in a rent-free environment, but they also finance his pack-a-day nicotine habit. I live at home as well, but have been gainfully employed (more or less) since I was 15 years old, and I have a college degree. I don't need to go into the job search. Anyways, here's what I'm leading up to. My mother calls me as I'm finishing up at work and tells me that Eric is out of cigarettes. She asks me to pick up a pack for him on the ay home. Here's the deal: I told my brother from day one when he was at the Mission, I would buy him food, books, soap, etc., but never cigarettes or alcohol. After thinking about it, I told my mom he was just S.O.L. and that I was not going to buy cigarettes for him. Did I do the right thing here? My mother lays a subtle guilt trip on me, like I should just have bought the cigarettes, but I'm sorry. I'm not going to do it. Ever.

Growing...out

Growing...not up, but out. I have to get out. I'm still looking for a job, but somehow I can't seem to find one. I don't think it's responsible to just up and leave without having some sort of plan, but I am this close to just packing and going. I want to be able to sit in on a Sunday afternoon and read without feeling like I'm neglecting something. I don't like feeling guilty for needing time to relax. I need to be on my own, and it's about time.
I'm jealous of those who can spend their time exactly like they want. I would like to be able to ration out my time the way I want to, rather than how my mother wants it, which usually allows for 15 minutes per menopause joke she gets from her emails. Does this make me a bad person? Maybe I'm just PMSing.

Home...

So I'm home now from Mexico, after an amazing trip. Nothing happened on a grand scale, but I felt so comfortable there. The people were so warm and nice, and the area was beautiful. I think I spoke Spanish about 98% of the time. I'm so proud that Heidi was starting to understand. I feel bad speaking in a language others don't understand. Most of the time I translated for her. I never expected to like - no - love Mexico as much as I did. The beauty of the culture and traditions amazed me. I almost don't see Georgia the same anymore. I feel out of place, like there is really nothing for me her anymore. I can't wait to go back. I think this trip was just what I needed.

Thus far....

What I have learned....
...Spend the entire day on a boat, and chances are you will also spend the night there too.
...Make plans, but expect nothing. You will ALWAYS be surprised, and always have a good time.
...Dancing and not caring who is watching only makes people watch more.
...It's ok not to wear a bra.
....A cotton sundress can do wonders.
...It doesn't take much.

Fear...

I'm afraid I've become a cynic. I've become someone I've never wanted to be. When I broke up with Phillip, I told myself I didn't want to become this embittered woman. But honestly, I think I give up. After being with him for so long, and putting everything I had into that relationship, trusting in him, then finding out that everything might as well be a lie, it left a mark. And the guys I gave a chance to (after much deliberation) only turned out to be major disappointments. And now, I don't want a boyfriend. I don't even want to get married. I don't want children. Everything I thought I wanted, now I don't.
Maybe it's not that I don't think I won't find someone. I'm just afraid of being let down...again. It seems that every time I get a little excited about someone, I get disappointed. Say whatever you want: I'm "meeting the wrong guys"; There's "someone out there somewhere"; blah blah blah...You know, I'm even finding that when I am asked out for a date, I just DON'T WANT TO GO. It's not that the guys aren't nice or whatever, and I am not turning them down either. I'll say yes, but when it all comes down to it, I just have no desire to go.
I'm ok being alone, really I am. But then I'm around my two best friends, both of which have serious boyfriends. My VERY best friend, Cindy, is even getting married next year, and guess who is the maid of honor? I see them together, and how happy they are, and the only thing I feel is that feeling that I will never have that. When I went to get my palms read on my last birthday, the woman said my love line was long, but that I "should have found" my soul mate already. Does that mean I already met him and let him go, or maybe that now I won't find him since I already "should have?" I get lonely, but in the end, it's really just me. I enjoy being alone. I can think, and I don't have to answer to anyone. I can go out and have fun and do whatever I want. But once in a while I wouldn't mind having someone to hug me. Then maybe they could just go back home. I don't want a "friend with benefits." It just makes me feel used. If I am going to enter into that kind of relationship again, I'd rather there be something more between me and the other person besides some lust and a few shots of vodka.
Cindy tells my mom that she thinks I have high standards as far as guys go. And maybe I do. I just don't want to be let down. I'm scared.
What's wrong with me?