I just got off the phone with a friend of mine from Italy (Hi Anna Banana!)who had been surfing my site at work. She said she had been looking at my pictures from last summer and she got extremely emotional and just wanted to hear my voice. I could only talk for a few moments (work calls unfortunately), but I understood exactly where she was coming from.
It’s strange to live in a place where reality is really a fantasy. Where you’re living a life that will only be yours for a short time. Time seems to stand quietly, letting you believe that this fantasy life is truly yours. Only to sneak up on you and snatch it all away in one quick (well, not exactly quick) plane ride. Then your dropped back into whatever mess you’ve left behind. All of the problems and fears you had run off to escape are right in your face again, and it’s a test to see if you’re strong enough to handle them.
When I returned from Italy, I didn’t think I was strong enough. In fact, I thought my life was over. I wasn’t sure I could fix all of the things I’d screwed up. I wanted to go back to Italy, where things were ‘easy.’ I was depressed, lonely and deeply afraid that my life was crashing down around me.
Today, one year after my Italian summer, things are very different. I’ve gone through so many changes resulting from that trip and my subsequent return to life as I know it. But yesterday, I realized something. It hit me several times during the day. As I ordered Mexican food to feed my hangover. As I snuggled up to Trent to take an early afternoon nap. As I was covered from head to toe in 4-year-olds who felt I was a human jungle gym. As I went to a movie I’d been wanting to see with a group of friends. And as I drove home from that movie with a cool summer storm enveloping my car. Steam rising from the roads. A new CD blared. And I thought, “Holy shit, I’m happy. I’m truly, deeply, strangely happy.”
That’s what came from all of that fear. I faced it. I was actually strong enough. I still can’t believe it. I have no idea how I got here. But I’m here. That’s what counts. Now I can look back at those pictures from last summer and smile. And miss those times. Those people. That life. But I’m not sad. And I don’t have regrets. I’m happy right where I am. So. Very. Strange.
So, there was obviously no late-night, drunken blogging last night. Truly, we would have, but we felt like such losers we had to come home and drink more before stuffing our faces with PB&J sandwiches and Easy Mac. Oh, and fruit snacks.
After several hours of attempting to pre-drink (Abbie barely drank and Mara was getting a bit annoyed with my lack of drunken behavior) we headed out to swanky bar central, The Plaza. After hearing Abbie bitch the whole way because her feet hurt, we stopped at a certain swanky bar with a swanky Red Room where we went to order swanky drinks. $20 freaking dollars!!!! Love of GOD!!!
At this bar, the long held mystery of woman was finally revealed. Though when boys are caught staring at us and trying to pick us up, we get extremely pissed, we get much more irritated when we are not picked up. AT ALL. NOT. BY. ONE. FUCKING. GUY.
And it’s not that we are looking to pick up guys (Luke and Trent, don’t fret), but damnit, if I’m going to get all pimped out for a night of swanky barness, there better be some glancing in my direction. At the end of the night, we finally realized we were either the biggest lame-o’s on the planet (or quite possibly, the universe) or we are just so fucking hot and gorgeous and awsome and funny and exciting and intriguing that we are unapproachable. I’m going with option number 2. Because I am that vain.
http://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.png00Meganhttp://www.crazybananas.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Crazy_Banans_Logo_WebsiteBanner.pngMegan2005-06-12 09:55:002005-06-12 09:55:00$20 Drinks and Being Rejected.
The dancing of the belly was today. The belly did OK, it was me that wanted to vomit and/or jump in my car and run the other direction. I promised to post some pics to prove to those who believe I am a liar that I really am taking belly dance and now I am officially part of a belly dance company.
That’s me, in the back center. I’m the one who looks like she’s about to blow chunks all over the stage.
After the dancing of the belly, Mara and Abbie came up for some KC fun. We are now attempting to destroy some soberness and then go out and act like swanky (not skanky) bitches. We are the shit.
Thinking.
/1 Comment/in Study Abroad /by MeganI just got off the phone with a friend of mine from Italy (Hi Anna Banana!)who had been surfing my site at work. She said she had been looking at my pictures from last summer and she got extremely emotional and just wanted to hear my voice. I could only talk for a few moments (work calls unfortunately), but I understood exactly where she was coming from.
It’s strange to live in a place where reality is really a fantasy. Where you’re living a life that will only be yours for a short time. Time seems to stand quietly, letting you believe that this fantasy life is truly yours. Only to sneak up on you and snatch it all away in one quick (well, not exactly quick) plane ride. Then your dropped back into whatever mess you’ve left behind. All of the problems and fears you had run off to escape are right in your face again, and it’s a test to see if you’re strong enough to handle them.
When I returned from Italy, I didn’t think I was strong enough. In fact, I thought my life was over. I wasn’t sure I could fix all of the things I’d screwed up. I wanted to go back to Italy, where things were ‘easy.’ I was depressed, lonely and deeply afraid that my life was crashing down around me.
Today, one year after my Italian summer, things are very different. I’ve gone through so many changes resulting from that trip and my subsequent return to life as I know it. But yesterday, I realized something. It hit me several times during the day. As I ordered Mexican food to feed my hangover. As I snuggled up to Trent to take an early afternoon nap. As I was covered from head to toe in 4-year-olds who felt I was a human jungle gym. As I went to a movie I’d been wanting to see with a group of friends. And as I drove home from that movie with a cool summer storm enveloping my car. Steam rising from the roads. A new CD blared. And I thought, “Holy shit, I’m happy. I’m truly, deeply, strangely happy.”
That’s what came from all of that fear. I faced it. I was actually strong enough. I still can’t believe it. I have no idea how I got here. But I’m here. That’s what counts. Now I can look back at those pictures from last summer and smile. And miss those times. Those people. That life. But I’m not sad. And I don’t have regrets. I’m happy right where I am. So. Very. Strange.
$20 Drinks and Being Rejected.
/0 Comments/in Blond, Grumples, Photos /by MeganSo, there was obviously no late-night, drunken blogging last night. Truly, we would have, but we felt like such losers we had to come home and drink more before stuffing our faces with PB&J sandwiches and Easy Mac. Oh, and fruit snacks.
After several hours of attempting to pre-drink (Abbie barely drank and Mara was getting a bit annoyed with my lack of drunken behavior) we headed out to swanky bar central, The Plaza. After hearing Abbie bitch the whole way because her feet hurt, we stopped at a certain swanky bar with a swanky Red Room where we went to order swanky drinks. $20 freaking dollars!!!! Love of GOD!!!
At this bar, the long held mystery of woman was finally revealed. Though when boys are caught staring at us and trying to pick us up, we get extremely pissed, we get much more irritated when we are not picked up. AT ALL. NOT. BY. ONE. FUCKING. GUY.
And it’s not that we are looking to pick up guys (Luke and Trent, don’t fret), but damnit, if I’m going to get all pimped out for a night of swanky barness, there better be some glancing in my direction. At the end of the night, we finally realized we were either the biggest lame-o’s on the planet (or quite possibly, the universe) or we are just so fucking hot and gorgeous and awsome and funny and exciting and intriguing that we are unapproachable. I’m going with option number 2. Because I am that vain.
Warmup.
/1 Comment/in Fun, Photos /by MeganThe dancing of the belly was today. The belly did OK, it was me that wanted to vomit and/or jump in my car and run the other direction. I promised to post some pics to prove to those who believe I am a liar that I really am taking belly dance and now I am officially part of a belly dance company.
That’s me, in the back center. I’m the one who looks like she’s about to blow chunks all over the stage.
After the dancing of the belly, Mara and Abbie came up for some KC fun. We are now attempting to destroy some soberness and then go out and act like swanky (not skanky) bitches. We are the shit.
Expect some drunken blogging.