Fuck Yeah 2014

It's almost 2014, guys! Hurray! When you read this it will almost certainly already be 2014. And that is a good thing.

2013 wasn't my best year. It was, for the most part, a barren stretch of time in which I went to work, came home, felt sorry for myself, went to bed, woke up, you get it. And that was rough. It was easy and it was a routine, but I was so unhappy that I don't even know who I was for that six plus months or so, after I came down from the high of being in the same country as Greg again. I was so, so unhappy in Utah. What an awful part of my life. Important, and probably necessary in some things-happen-for-a-reason sort of way, but I'm so glad it's over.

The stupid part is that I don't think I would have realized how unhappy I was, or how much I wanted to leave, unless Greg hadn't told me himself that he had planned to break up with me over some major future life plans he'd casually made without me, but thought he'd let me make that decision myself. And it took being told finally, after five and a half years of him dodging any discussion of the topic, that my partner hadn't thought about marriage at all, to realize that I needed to go back to Portland. I had this completely skewed idea of what my life and my relationship were like, or what they were going to be like, and I was just waiting for something that would never happen. So I decided to leave, because I was depressed and lonely and stifled, and if he liked it then he should've put a fucking ring on it.

Thank god he didn't, though.

It's almost 2014 and I'm in an honest mood. More honest than usual, which is a lot. But I take pride in the fact that I don't sugar coat things on my blog, or anywhere for that matter. It's probably a turn-off to a lot of people, and it leaves me more vulnerable than I might otherwise be, but I don't know how to close myself off. I kind of wish I did, to be honest. Sometimes.

I'm looking forward to 2014 because it will be devoid of Utah, completely. It will be whatever I want to make of it, and that is amazing. I have two comic cons planned, I'm saving up for my next tattoo -- holy shit I can get whatever tattoos I want now, it's like I'm in charge of my own body or something omg -- and hopefully I'll do something worthwhile with my writing.

The idea of a clean slate is just the most appealing thing in the world to me right now. I'm tired of all the loss, the grief, the loneliness. I'm so much happier and more alive now than I was only a few months ago, and I'm ready for my breakup to not be a huge part of my current identity. How about I just focus on being awesome.

Fuck exes, fuck Utah, fuck self-pity. Fuck yes, 2014!

8 Minutes Idle

Tom Hughes has cheekbones. (via)

All right everyone! I'm plugging a thing. Get ready. It's a good thing I promise.

So as most of you know, I was sort of recently living in London, doing an MA program in Creative Writing at Brunel Uni. For my dissertation I got to work with Matt Thorne, one of the instructors of the Novel Writing program, whose book Eight Minutes Idle was being adapted to film at the time. Matt co-wrote the screenplay, and when the film was finished he invited Lucy and me to a screening in Soho. I absolutely loved it; it had a distinctly British indie feel, whatever that means to you, and was sweet and quirky without being twee. You would like it. Also it's about people who work in a call center, and you know everyone has had that one shitty call center job!

After the screening I kept sending Matt nagging emails, asking him when the film would be released, why he hadn't written a sequel yet, etc., and he said they had yet to find a distributor. Well they eventually found one, only the distributor promptly went bankrupt before the film could be released. Sad trombone.

Now the important bit! 8 Minutes Idle has now turned to Kickstarter, where they are trying to raise £20,000 to bring the film to cinemas. You can read more at the Guardian, and their Kickstarter page is here. Also check out IMDb for a plot summary and stuff.

So far they've raised quite a lot (£16,930), but I thought I would boost the signal here on my blog because it's a really great film, and I want it to get its ass to cinemas so I can force everyone I know in the UK to go and see it! I know a lot of my readers are in the US, and may not be able to see the film for some time after its hopeful release date of Valentine's Day 2014, but it's a project worth supporting! Not least of all because Matt helped me write my horrible rambling novel, and his awesome movie really deserves to be seen by the public.

SO BACK THIS THANG. 

There are only 9 days to go, so even if you don't contribute, boost the signal!

Also look at Tom Hughes and those cheekbones, guys. Those cheekbones have got to be worth $8 at least.

Grief

I've been so busy and so distracted lately that I forgot to grieve.

Not that I thought I was over Greg. Though I'm not sure how you define being "over" someone. Are you over him when you no longer want to fall asleep in his arms every night? Or are you over him when the vaguest thought of him doesn't make you want to cry? Maybe you're truly over him when you don't think of him at all.

I'm none of those things sometimes, and at other times I am more than one. I've found it has nothing to do with the time of day, or the music I'm listening to, or how much sleep I got the night before. It just happens, and one moment I'll be at work sipping 7-Eleven coffee, the next minute I'm holding back tears. And there are, maybe, entire days that pass where I don't have a single conscious thought of him.

Perhaps there's not a set definition for getting over someone. You just move on with your life, and as the days slip by, the memories soften and blur. They begin to hurt less. And soon enough, they hardly come at all. There is no line to cross, no moment of being over him. Just like there is no moment of falling in love, or out of it. It's a feeling that builds, is cultivated, and then fades away. For me, anyway. Even when I was hurt by the person I loved, I didn't fall out of love with him in an instant. I didn't suddenly snap out of that reality and into one where my heart wasn't his entirely. 

So I guess I'll never really know exactly when I'm over Greg. There won't be a flash or a moment of clarity. I suppose I'll be minding my own business, doing my own thing, and I'll think of Greg and think -- he doesn't matter now. The feelings will be gone, and I'll realize that I haven't thought of him in weeks or maybe months, and... it will be okay. I'll be happy, and I won't mind. I'll have moved on.

Part of me wants that day to come quickly, but it's a small part. Most of me wants to hold on to these feelings and memories that are still important. That are still raw, and rough, and tender. Five and a half years with someone is a long time. Almost a fifth of my life. It meant so much to me, and it was so happy for so long that I can't bear the thought of it ever not hurting a little, to think about. I can't bear the idea that Greg won't always evoke a physical pain, however small, when I think of him.

But I can't hold onto it forever. And I guess, objectively, I don't want to.

There have been so many distractions. Moving, and new jobs, and dates, and new boys, and becoming overwhelmed with new boys, and withdrawing, and friends who need me, and friends who I need. I haven't had much of a chance to be with myself and grieve.

But here I am now, and I feel like life is finally starting to slow down. Not too much, but just enough for me to breathe. So I think about Greg more and more, because the memories don't hurt as much as they did. They squeeze but they don't pinch, so I let myself remember and cry. It feels so good to cry. It feels so, so good. 

I miss him so much. I will never have anything but love for him, and fondness, but it was time to move on. So we did. And now I get to grieve.

Gratitude

I'm not sure how many times I can say it before it becomes completely annoying and even nonsensical, but. I'm gonna say it again. I am so glad I'm back in Portland. So. Fucking. Glad.

Sometimes I think about the alternate universe that split off from this one when I decided to break up with Greg and leave Utah behind. There's a Meg living in that universe, still in Utah, probably still unhappy and lost and alone and wondering if things are ever going to get better. She may be more comfortable than I am at present -- both financially, emotionally, and psychologically -- but I would never trade my universe for hers. Not for anything. 

There are moments when I'm brought vividly back to what my headspace was like in Utah. Thinking I would never, ever again get to live in Portland. That I'd never live in the same city as my best friends again. That I'd never get to feel quite as at home as I do in Portland. And then I come back to the present, and here I am, back home, and it feels so incredibly good. Every day after work when I come through that tunnel and see downtown all lit up, I am so goddamn grateful. And driving to work, I look at the big, ridiculous Portland, Oregon sign facing the Burnside bridge and I feel more excited about life than I ever did in Utah.

Yeah, there have been a lot of shit moments in the past two months. Countless ones. I cry all the time, I feel lonely and sad and anxious at least once every day. But I'm experiencing life, not just letting it happen around me, and that is infinitely better than settling into a rut. I remind myself every day that the rest of my life is what I make of it, that I'm in my favorite city in the world, and that no matter what happens, I am living.

And shit, I get to meet good friends for Thai after work and drive through the rain and read fanfic as much as I want and make plans to see Thor: The Dark World with the people I love most in the world. If that isn't something to be grateful for, I don't know what is.

I'm so, so fucking grateful. For everything.

Science Boyfriends

"Hey Meg what've you been up to recen--" SHUT UP SCIENCE BOYFRIENDS.

Is basically what's been going on.

Okay I've been pretty stressed lately, what with still not being settled in, having a ton of piled up expenses waiting for a paycheck before I can take care of them, not enough time in the day, new job(s), etc. So I feel like all I've done lately is go to work, drive around Beaverton with no idea where I'm going or how I got there, and sleep. I mean today I had a fucking Snickers for dinner. It's all I've had the energy or time for. So gross what's wrong with me. Anyway, when I'm really stressed out and buzzing like a little ball of anxiety, it helps if I have something stupid and comforting to fixate on. Something that I can look forward to all day, something to wind down with after work, something that makes me happy and full of fangirl glee, preferably. And that's where Science Boyfriends come in! Yep, I am full-on obsessed with the scientists from Pacific Rim and how in love with each other they are. It's the reason I'm living right now, basically. (That and Lyall, but he's just a silly dog.) As usual I'm super lazy and can't find my own fic like a normal person, so thank you Lily for hooking me up like the amazing slashfic dealer that you are. Enabler.

Anyway I really want to write a long essay about how perfect Pacific Rim is, and how Newt Geiszler and Hermann Gottlieb's love is beyond mere words, but... I'm too tired. So let me just summarize it for you: Pacific Rim is the best movie of the year, hands down, it is on par with Thor and if you choose not to watch it I just don't know what's wrong with you and you can probably just give up on your life now. Also, these two scientists are TOTALLY banging each other!!!

The end good night.

Life Learnin'

Some things I've learned recently.

1. Don't trust people until they've earned it.
2. And don't date anyone you barely know,
3. and don't date anyone 2 months after a huge breakup.
4. Do eat pumpkin milkshakes from Burgerville.
5. Tarot can give incredible insights about your life.
6. Take your tarot reading seriously.
7. When you're hurting, stay with the ones you know will stick with you and love you for yourself. Let them heal you. Don't seek solace in the unknown.
8. I'm more grateful for my friends than I could ever express in words.
9. Charlie Day is a fucking sexy little man.
10. Pacific Rim slash fic turns out to be a major source of comfort on rough days.
11. Reconnecting with old friends is one of the best things in the world.
12. My hangovers now last for 2 days instead of one.
13. I'm never too old to learn new things.

Single

Have an irrelevant photo of last weekend's Sunday brunch! Mmm... French toast...

So I haven't been single since I was 19. There was a tiny blip, a couple of months, in 2007 when I was technically single... but it doesn't really count, because I was dating someone who I wanted to be in a relationship with, so really, I wasn't single. I've not been single since I was 19. And this is a crazy thing for me. Firstly, I don't know how to be single. I really don't. I know how to be ridiculously head-over-heels in love with someone who's wrong for me; and I know how to be in a long-term, serious, live-in, committed relationship with someone who's more a best friend than a boyfriend. But I don't know how to be single.

When I was 19, I was not the same person I am now. I was so shy, I'd never had a boyfriend, and I thought boys were these terrifying and beautiful demi-gods whose only purpose was to be lofty and unattainable. The first boy I met who was cute and talked to me and seemed vaguely geeky was, I thought, The One. He was kind of a jerk, not a good boyfriend, rarely emotionally available and was constantly blowing me off for a video game. But I didn't know any better. I thought he was the fucking shit. And I thought, if he breaks up with me, I'll never ever find anyone to love me again. I clung to him like an insane barnacle. It didn't work out.

When I was 21, I was single again in August of that year. I kissed a lot of my friends, and I got drunk and did questionable things that are totally not ever going in this blog, and I was a completely different person than I had been when I was 19. But I didn't want to be single, I didn't know how to be, and within a few months I was in love again, and five and a half years later, that relationship ended. 

So here I am, 27, actually single for the first time since I was 19. I still have no idea how to be single. I'm still a nervous wreck most of the time, cute boys simultaneously terrify me and make life worth living, and I feel like I'm the most awkward, unappealing creature on the planet most days. But I have a lot more confidence, a little more experience (very little), and an actual desire to be single. This is the first time I've wanted to be single. And that's exciting! But also scary. Still, I'm excited. This is the first time I've not been obligated to someone else in almost 8 years. This is the first time I can do everything for me, and not worry about someone else's feelings. I can get whatever tattoos or piercings I want, I can get a really stupid haircut and not have to worry about being attractive to my partner, I can flirt with whoever I want and not feel guilty, I can stay up all night or sleep in 'til 3:00pm and nobody will judge me or expect me to behave in a certain way. It's awesome. And it's barely begun. 

It amazes me that the most painful decision I've ever made has led to this feeling of freedom, relief, and ultimately happiness. I feel happy, I feel excited about life, for the first time in... a year? I love it. It's overwhelming and a bit terrifying, being single and being in charge of my own life 100%, with no partner there to catch me if I trip up, but that's exhilarating. It's what I want! And I have Lyall, after all.

I just hope I don't fuck up this whole single thing, because I have a tendency to fuck shit up. We'll see how it goes. Wish me luck.