Winston the Wolf

To steal the line from Talix, I am so over me. Jesus Christ. How self involved can a person get?

Yoda (boss) made an interesting observation today and one that has stayed with me for most of the day. Life with B was something of an alternate universe. Although I didn't appreciate it at the time, it was often a whirlwind, chaotic, choose-your-own-adventure type of existence. I was the rational, reasonable, stable one amidst the chaos and that gave me a false sense of calm and control. My role was clearly defined - keep the peace, keep B stable, be the grounded one, be the one that stays cool in a crisis. If B got bent out of shape, I put him back together. If the shit hit the fan, I swooped in with my calm, cool and collected self and found the escape route. I was impervious to the drama, as it was my job to resolve it and smooth things over. Never any drama of my own, just tending to that in our life. Other people's drama.

Fuck if I haven't made up for lost time. When I am cutting myself some slack, I allow for the possibility that the pendulum had to swing back in my direction and I took a half year of quality self-centered time. Perhaps that is one explanation. Sure beats the other explanations (self-destructive, escapist, immature, irrational, etc.) Fact of the matter is that I cannot erase any of it and cannot spend the next half of the year looking backward over my shoulder. Nobody ever gets to where they want to go with their head, heart and mind rubbernecking the past. Plus, you end up with a ridiculously whiny attitude and write unmercifully verbose emails to your ex that (mercifully), you never send. What a waste of energy, at least most of the time.

I am pretty much done with that. I know where I want to go and only I have the legs to get me there. I am not going to jump ship in the near term, especially after the partnership talk today. I don't want to live in LA and I am probably not the person to be living part time in Mountain View (although I am going to to see the Google opportunity all the way through, because hello? YouTube? Fun.). I am going to continue to train for the half marathon in November (because, quite frankly, I have no desire to run 26 miles). I am going to continue to play soccer and softball and, in my spare time, take a few tennis lessons and hike with Darbs. I am going to have as little contact with B as possible and remember that I no longer live in that alternate universe.

I am going to take at least one weekend a month outside of Seattle. First stop is LA this month, then probably Austin next month. NYC is September, and hopefully Boston in October. November is usually pretty nutty, but I am just now starting to plan a girls' weekend in Vegas. So overdue. My brother is getting married on NYE, so no trips in December, but am strongly leaning towards a European adventure in January. I have plenty of vacation time to roll over, so it will probably be two glorious weeks. Am leaning towards Spain and Portugal, but I may cop out and go someplace nice and tropical. We shall see.

The RX to avoid the drugs is two hours at the gym. I am being really careful about not hurting myself and it seems to be working out (ha!). I have been running with Darbs every morning and that does us both good. My body is getting back into the shape I like it and the mind is following. Mostly, I am grateful to not have the self-defeating thoughts 24/7 and am regaining my perspective. Again, just getting the fuck over myself. It sounds so goddamn trite to say this, but just living honestly and deliberately is a luxury of those who have the time to worry about self-fulfillment. Seriously. Not to harken back to B, but if this is the scope of my troubles, I live a very sheltered existence.

Also, and completely unrelated, what the fuck with Lindsey Lohan? I don't even believe the girl is a drug or alcohol addict -- she is a fame addict. I don't have much sympathy for her, as she has stated in interviews that she craves the fame and courts and teases the paparazzi. I will go to my grave not understanding the desire to be famous. Successful, yes. Acclaimed, yes. Revered and respected, yes. Famous? No. Not at all. Fame appears to be more addictive than any drug I can think of, and more destructive as well. Why anyone would want public scrutiny of their private life is completely beyond me.