feelin' 22...

Yup. The big double two -- and let me tell you, it was a good birthday MONTH in January, not just day. I finally got my dream party:

Birthday bowling...

in semi-formal attire!

My lovely ginger girls, Ann and Tatijanna

Friends! Kayla, Ben, Adam, Ben, and Chelsie

More friends! Jason, Tatijanna, Tony, A.J., and Ryan

Even MORE friends! Tyler, Bryan, Laura, Ben, and Jerry

This photo sums up our entire friendship

My Kayla girl -- here's to five years of friendship!

Our manly men -- Adam, Kevin (check out his tux!), Tanner, and Bryan

And because I wanted mashed potatoes, they took me to Chili's -- Ryan, Tony, Tatijanna, Ann, Adam, A.J., Bryan, and Tanner --
not pictured are Laura, Princess, and Jason

In short, it was an excellent birthday. I was so surprised to see that many people come and be all dressed up. It was so much fun. 

Oh, and I almost forgot. Here's the best part:

Birthday flash mob in a bowling alley -- what could be better? I'm super lucky.

strange...

If someone had told me that I'd be where I am right now, I would have laughed and asked if there was a drug problem I needed to know about so I could get the person some help.

Based on what I see in my life, I don't know what to think of myself. I don't know if I'm overly hopeful, or a work-a-holic, or just plain stupid. I do know that I'm overly anxious and that I sell myself short, to me and everyone else. Lucky for me, I have friends and family who help me when I'm having a rough day.

Despite worries and concerns, I'm pretty happy. Circumstances are strange and completely unexpected, but I'm doing well.

Life sure can throw you for a loop.

oops...

That awkward moment when you realize that you invited 119 people to your birthday party.

I didn't even realize I had that many people to invite to a birthday party -- those are just the people that I really like and whose company I find enjoyable. I didn't even invite the "maybe" people, which I usually do. Just the "Yes, I want them to know they're invited" people.

Luckily most of them won't come, because that's kind of how these things go. I mean, can you imagine trying to pack 119 people in the same group into a bowling alley? A lot of people don't even like bowling.

Considering I'm highly introverted, I sure do have a lot of friends.

it's a new dawn, it's a new day...

I usually write a "looking back" post for the new year. But for the 2013 to 2014 transition, I'm not going to.

I'm looking forward.

It's been a good first day of the year. I've been reminded again of the good friends that I have, of the present opportunities, and the importance of family (even though I still struggle getting along with them). I've gained a greater appreciation for my home, and for the relationships I can fall back on when I get into trouble, whether through my own decisions or just because of circumstances.

Honestly, I face this new year with a lot of fear and anxiety. There is so much uncertainty in my heart, and my mind jumps at shadows that it is actually creating. I've learned that I can't just say "No more" or "I'm fine" and expect it all to go away; that I have to work through it and learn to manage it. And I'm starting to learn to say the words, "I need help." As sick and scared as it makes me feel before saying it, getting the words out provides relief. I've done it twice today and so far it's only strengthened friendships, instead of pushing people away.

For this year to be a good one, I have to make it be a good one. Again, I'm scared to sleeplessness (worse than the usual, mind you) about what the future may hold, and I can't figure out how to shake the past (yet). But it'll be okay.

Given how things have been for the past few weeks, I can say that right now, right here...

I'm feelin' good.

so sad...

Today has been kind of a sad day. I woke up feeling like little pieces of glass had been wedged into my heart and were moving slowly through my veins -- kid you not, it's a real feeling. Your whole body hurts and shakes, and it's worst in your chest, like something has shattered -- and the little shattered bits are radiating out through your arms and legs and toes and fingers. Even your ears hurt.

Because it was such a sad morning, I was grateful for my friend Thomas. He took me to brunch at Denny's, because there was Hobbit food on the menu (and because he said he misses me, and that it's stupid that we're so busy with school). What better than Hobbit food to make you smile? It was such a laugh, the whole time -- I've know him for over a year, but there are so many things I've learned about him since we started spending time together this semester. He's probably one of the most talented, sincere people I've met in my life. I don't think he's afraid of anything. Visiting and laughing with him made some of the blues go away for a little while, for which I was happy. He took me to a dance concert at the college afterwards, and we had a good time watching all of the talented people perform.

Coming home, the sad aches began again. I tried doing homework, and couldn't focus. I tried writing for work, but no words made sense. I tried cleaning, organizing, even sleeping -- nothing.

Finally, I gave up. I went to Target and bought my favorite frozen pizza and some peanut butter cup ice cream. I bought season 7 of Psych through Amazon.com, threw on some sweats, let down my hair, got a plate of pizza, and pulled out my new shimmery, light pink nail polish. And I've been sitting at my computer since 7:45 this evening, watching ridiculous episodes and making my nails look pretty.

I feel a little better. The sad aches are still there, but they're a bit numbed now. I've got good memories of breakfast with Thomas, new funny lines to quote from Shawn and Gus, and pretty fingers.

Part of my brain is yelling at me for wasting the weekend, doing no homework and getting no work assignments completed. Another part of my brain is smiling.

Hopefully my heart will start smiling more, too.

drop dead...

That awkward moment when one second you're singing "Come Thou Fount" and the next you're staring up at dozens of concerned faces over your head.

Yeah. I passed out in choir today. I'm not really sure what happened. No, I didn't lock my knees -- I've been singing since I was four-years-old, so I'm well aware of that no-no. As a matter of fact, I actually sat down for a whole five minutes due to a sudden headache before I hit the floor. I made it through maybe the first line and a half of the first verse after standing up...not entirely sure when I lost consciousness.

Thankfully, Amber caught me on my way down (according to reports from bystanders). Between her, Jason the EMT, and Jamie the Lifeguard, I was in pretty capable hands (har-har). Dad did drag me to the doctor, which I resent a little bit, and as usual, it was determined that nothing is wrong with me.

I'm probably just super stressed. Not to mention the stress has been amplified because I lost a whole afternoon and evening of homework time, and my first 12-page paper is due on Thursday at 1:30. It's the history paper that my professor said will be graded according to a higher standard than my classmates because I'm brilliant.

Well. I hope she likes disappointment, because the best I can do is much less than I had anticipated. Which is frustrating. I hate, hate, hate doing mediocre work.

School should die. It sure is killing me.

my life right now...

Whoever thought it was a good idea to call me to be a Relief Society teacher is crazy. Wait...

Parker is married. And Sierra is married. And Alyssa is married. And Abe is married. And Jason and Morgan are married...to each other. Funny, if things had gone as planned, I would have beaten them all at tying the knot. Let's just say I'm glad they went first!

I am obsessed with checking my position on the waitlist for Economics 110. Down to 24th (one second)...sorry, 23rd (yes, I did just check it again) from 110th. It's almost as bad as eBay bidding.

White Collar. White. Collar. NO, I have not watched the first season in less than a week for the second time. And NO, I do not plan on starting the second season again tomorrow. Give me a break.

But seriously, Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay -- I can't decide who I like better.

Why is it that I am absolutely terrified of calling/texting/contacting in any way, shape, or form, the one person who I should not be afraid of contacting? It's kind of ridiculous.

Living at home is making me lazy and depressed. I stay in my room all day, avoiding family at all costs because for some reason, every time I emerge, a fight breaks out. I don't know if it's my tone of voice (which would be hard, because I've pretty much stopped speaking), my facial expressions (again, hard because I usually hide behind a book), or my smell (possibly, because mom thinks my jasmine-vanilla lotion smells like bug spray). So basically I sit in my room and weigh the pros and cons of staying or leaving every time I decide to venture out. Let's just say it sucks.

My dogs are possibly THE neediest dogs on the planet. I don't care, though. It's nice having the little furry things in my room all day.

I decided that I figured out why there are so many liberal thinkers in the Humanities and Social Sciences fields -- I've been doing some research on course requirements for various majors and I've found that most (if not all) of those majors are not required to take Economics (except for mine, of course -- go figure), at least at my university . They can take other classes to fulfill course requirements instead. If Econ is an option, they skip it. I would, too, if I had any other choice. So they read loads of Russian or German or French or whatever literature, and tons of philosophy, and never get into the actual history of what happened to the people financially under socialist and communist governments. Fascinating, what we think works, and how we easily ignore actual history.

It sickens me that one person (me) has so much stuff. And yet, when I decide I'm getting rid of things, I cannot let go! That stuff cost money. A lot of it is in the form of books and memories (journals, photographs, and the like), and arts and crafts supplies. Then there's all of the bedding and clothes (gah, I have so many clothes) -- but I use them all! It's a dilemma, I tell you. A real dilemma. 

Sometimes, when I'm having a sad moment, I picture his cute face and just grin like an idiot. And then I wonder why I'm scared to call him, because he is my boyfriend -- I'm afraid that I'm needy, I guess.

I hurt so, so much. After having that ultrasound, I am completely perplexed by the fact that such a tiny piece of anatomy can cause such excruciating and all-consuming pain, not to mention fainting, vomiting, fevers, and what have you. My whole life I've thought that ovaries and uteri and all those other things were huge because anything that could make so much of my body hurt all of the time had to be ginormous. Wrong. Takes childbirth to a whole new level as well, I'll tell you what.

I got hired to do freelance writing for some sort of online independent business marketing firm. Wish me luck.

Oh, one last thing. Guess who is going on a weekend trip to Cedar City with her man and...wait for it...her man's parents. The four of us, three days seeing plays and hanging out at the Shakespeare Festival. I'm honestly extremely excited, and the more I think about it, just as terrified.

Let's do this.

i never understood...

I always knew that breaking up was hard to do, and I thought I had a pretty good understanding of how it feels. There have been times in my life when I had to let go of people I really cared a lot about, a couple of them being guys I almost dated. One I even had to run from, because staying was too dangerous.

It isn't until now, however, that I think I actually understand what it's like to lose the companionship of someone you love more than anything in the whole world.

It sucks.

Now that I know what it's like, I ache for those who are going through similar situations that I am. One friend went through a break up earlier this year, and she still isn't quite over it. She's been holding on, hoping that things would get back together (I, unfortunately, am in the same boat, just in a different sort of way -- every experience is very different, another thing I'm learning). He, on the other hand, has moved on and is dating someone else.

I saw the update on the Internet and my heart broke for her. How it must hurt her to see that he's done and has found someone else to make him happy, while she's still stuck with the pain of losing him, and the future she thought she would have.

I think I understand that better now.

That's one of the things that is the hardest for me, really: that the future I thought was going to happen isn't happening. I thought I had found someone to share my life with, someone to whom I could give everything and be sure that he'd still be there tomorrow.

The day I see him move on will be a hard day -- I like to pretend I'm good at moving on. I'm not. I hold on to things I shouldn't, and I hope for things that probably won't happen -- at least not with the person in question. I'm loyal to people I love, even after they're long gone. People I haven't spoken to in years, who have really hurt me (even the one really abusive guy) -- I still miss them, even though I know I shouldn't.

I wish I couldn't love. Then things wouldn't hurt so much.

But love makes life worth living.

...

Lately when I think about writing, I feel sick. Then again, that's how I feel when I think about most things.

I'm often ready to bolt into the nearest restroom because my stomach turns and twists so much. I'm always (not an exaggeration) on the verge of tears. I can't sleep.

The worst thing is that my happiness for other people's joy is tinged with a deep pain. It isn't jealousy; I know how jealousy feels -- mean and angry and bitter. This is different. It's more like a quiet, aching sorrow, one that I don't want the happy person to know about because I don't want to detract from his/her joy.

And yet, I sometimes wish they knew, just so they could give me a hug and a job to do so I can help bring about their special days. It's better when I'm working, especially when I'm working for others.

It'll get better. Honestly, it only can get better from this.

I'm lucky, really. Lucky that this is happening: I'll be more aware of others' feelings. I'm learning to be more forgiving. I'm learning to take care of myself for me, not to please someone else. I'm understanding that what I want is just as important as what someone else wants (although I still often do not have opinions, which some of my friends mistake for not sticking up for what I want -- sometimes, I just don't care what we're doing because I'm with people, which means I'm not alone). I'm getting better at telling people the truth regardless of the consequences. I'm practicing asking for help.

I'm growing.

Funny, how I forget that growing physically comes with pain, too -- joints enlarging, muscles stretching, bones lengthening -- keeping me awake when I was little as my body changed into the 5' 2" person I am now. Why should mental, emotional, and spiritual growth be any different?

Perhaps because the pain, for me, is enhanced by other things in my life, such as the long-time struggle with depression, and the more recent appearance of quite severe anxiety. And part of it is my personality: two of my friends were talking to me last night, and they reminded me quite firmly that my loyalty to others has often placed me as less important -- that it's time to stop taking the backseat. And they're right -- while being loyal isn't a bad thing, strengths can easily be weaknesses if used the wrong way.

I'm lucky in friendship. Lucky that I have people in my life who care about me, and who stick with me no matter what's going on in my life. I'm lucky that I have people who celebrate my successes, and who lift me up when I've hit the ground.

Georgie's just lucky, I guess.

good-bye, Google Reader...

So.

With Google Reader peacin' out, let's stay connected with this little link right here: Bloglovin'.com

I've rolled y'all over already because there are too many people who I will miss hearing from if I don't! Seriously -- who ever thought you could feel such a connection to people you've never met? It's like books -- you read and you love.

Keep in touch, yeah?

the best people...

...are the people who love you no matter how good or how bad you look, feel, talk, or act. And for them I am grateful.

"that girl," who has stuck with me the longest and who has never, ever given up on me. Ever. And we have no pictures together, and she probably wouldn't want me to post one of her anyway. But just so she knows.

My room mate, my friend I didn't know I had until a year after we met, my "mom" away from home.

My role model, my "big sister" I never knew I wanted, my confidante who knows me better than I know myself.

My advice giver, my three o'clock in the morning go-to guy, my "big brother" I always wanted and never had. 

Who I also have no pictures with. And who is ENGAGED! So happy for him!

My partner in crime, my photographer buddy, my friend who loves getting lost.

Honestly? I can't NOT put him here -- even though we broke each others' hearts and it still sucks, and he confuses me like crazy -- 

I'm so glad he's still a part of my life.

one of those times...

Lately it feels as though nothing is working out.

I was made student lead at my job. You'd think that would be a good thing, but no. I hate being in charge, particularly when it's a position for which I was never trained because (surprise) it never existed before. It's so frustrating having curators and metadata specialists coming to me for answers to questions I've never known needed to be asked. To every day send people to ask someone else because I don't know what to do.

The paper I'm writing is too smart for me. I don't even understand the eight pages I wrote -- and I don't know if my professor will like it. I'm writing way out of my league because it's fascinating, but honestly? I'm terrified I'll get called out for writing a paper on personal racial identity when -- hello -- white girl right here. I mean, the fact that I'm white doesn't mean that I can't discuss racial issues. It sure is terrifying, though.

The air conditioner broke this morning. And it's the hottest week of the summer so far.

At the same time that nothing seems to be going right, things are going okay. I mean, having a position created for me because the curators recognized that I at least have potential is pretty great. They picked me, out of the seven students -- and me being here the least amount of time.

The paper I'm writing is too smart for me. Yeah -- that's kind of a good thing, right? Because if it's too smart for me, yet I wrote it and the thoughts came from me, then I must be headed in a good direction.

Today is the coolest day of the hottest week of the summer. It's cloudy and overcast, with a nice wind blowing -- kicks up a lot of dust, but the house might not turn into an oven by the end of the day.

Plus, I made a new friend. She's a custodian for the library, and she is one of the sweetest people I've ever known. She told me all about how she used to work at Disneyland, and her vacation to New Orleans this summer with her family. She had the strangest earrings I've ever seen, and was totally focused on getting things cleaned up in the stacks where the construction crew had made a mess. She also noticed things that have been broken or sitting around by my desk for months that I didn't know what to do with, and just took care of them for me.

How nice is that?

And so, things aren't all that bad. It just feels that way.

peace in the storm...

I hate you.

That's been running through my mind a lot today. Vicious and cruel, broken and empty -- there have been various tones of the sentiment.

All day, though, I've seen evidences of how much I am loved. I saw it a lot last night as well. Today I really felt it.

Though I've had my world turned upside down again and my heart wrenched from my chest, I'm okay. Life goes on. Not only does it go on, but it goes on happily, joyfully, with people who love and are in their turn lovable.

I've made serious mistakes. I've lost a lot, including the one person who meant the most to me in the entire world. But I have not lost my faith. Nor have I lost my Heavenly Father. If anything, I feel closer to him than I've felt in a long time. All day I've been comforted and sheltered from the turmoil raging inside my heart. There have been tears, yes. Tears, however, can often be as healing as a good laugh. At least they are for me.

I'm still angry. I'm still heart broken. I'm still confused and sad and scared.

But I'm not alone.

struggling through...

I have a bad habit of looking straight to the end of things. I'm a big picture person, but big picture in the most finite sense of the word finite.

Sounds oxymoronic, right? Oh, honey -- I know it.

Here's how my brain works: I see all of the little tiny details as they should be in the completed picture, all at the exact same time. Right now, I'm looking at a tree -- or at least, a tree that I'm envisioning in my mind. 

I see the entire tree at the same time I see each vein in every single leaf. I see how tall and wide it is, leafy and green with a brown trunk, simultaneously with the intricate ridges and curves in the bark. I see the big and the little in the same moment. 

Then I see what's beyond the tree: the seed, how it grew from a sapling to a giant, the rain and the sun that fed it, the birds that lived there, the snow and sun that laid their weight on its branches, and that the tree will one day fall to the earth -- the ways it can fall, when it can fall, which direction -- so many possibilities. And seeing the new trees that will come from the rotting limbs, and will feed those trees as the limbs were fed while a little tree.

That's how I see life. All of it, all at once. The past, present, future in an instant, all of the tiny details and the infinite elements.

It's exhausting. Exhausting in the sense that my brain is never quiet. I can never stop seeing and observing, thinking and experiencing. Exhausting in the sense that I constantly see the potential outcomes -- the multiplicity of things that might be, could happen.

I'm struggling with all of the seeing. My potential outcomes are generally negative -- failure, disappointment, heartache, sorrow -- I see potential negatives at every turn. I feel sadness, shame, guilt, fear -- a dying, twisting, rotting tree, decaying from the inside out because inside, it wasn't good enough.

Failing -- I may fear that more than anything else in the entire world. Not being good enough, not choosing the right things, not having it perfect.

I feel so deeply. I think so hard. I try and try, against all of the ever-pressing obstacles that throw themselves in my way. Yet, it never seems to be enough. 

Will I ever be enough?

pardon my French...

Okay, I'm going to be straight up honest in sharing these thoughts. Forgive me, but I'm freaking out.

What the hell am I doing?

Seriously. What am I doing? I cannot afford to get involved with a guy again. I cannot afford any more male "best friends" who turn out to be painful lessons that take months (or in some cases, years and therapy) to get over (abuse sucks, just saying).

I like him. I like him. But I keep seeing these little red flags that are bred from a frightened mind remembering the past, and I can't get away from them. Memories and moments crop up out of nowhere -- I duck or flinch or, when feeling most vulnerable, cry "Don't touch me!" and proceed to pass out the second I stand up.

Yes. That did happen.

I catch myself thinking "he's just like everyone else," "all men are the same," "it'll never be different." I keep expecting something awful to happen. I keep waiting to be hurt.

He isn't like that. He is not the past. He is not those other guys. He's good and kind and honest and sweet. And as Chelsea said, "If you set him up for failure, he'll fail from the start, no matter what he does."

Every day, I keep trying. Keep being friends, keep saying hello, keep playing and hugging. And yes, let him hold me when there's a chance for it -- I like it. Because he's different. He is not the past, and neither am I.

Still I ask myself, over and over again, what am I doing?

spill it...

It came out of nowhere.

One day we were just holding hands and stuff, becoming friends, goofing off, and the next, I'm spilling some of my deepest secrets. What's crazier is that he spilled first. When it was my turn, he didn't judge or even give advice. He let me talk, and when I cried, he held me close and told me that everything will be okay.

I didn't intend to tell him anything. It just sort of happened.

By the way, our first date (Friday) was loads of fun. He took me to see The Hobbit, as when I mentioned I hadn't seen it, he was horrified. Dinner at Macaroni Grill (which I've only ever heard about), a walk through the Christmas lights at the Riverwoods shops, and coloring Captain America in my Avengers coloring book followed.

He's the sweetest guy ever.

The spillage took place last night. I got home from my parents' house to find an unexpected visitor sitting on the couch with Chelsea and Jeff. The four of us went to Applebee's for a last hurrah before school starts (bug). He paid for me -- I was too tired to fight him and the waiter at the same time.

He stayed late, letting me talk about things, just listening. I feel so much lighter, like I was carrying something heavy, and the weight is gone. I feel so much safer, even comfortable.

I'm the luckiest girl in the world to have a friend like him. No matter how this goes, I'm lucky.

who would've thought...

I have a reputation for being against all the things boys and girls do when they like each other (or just being against liking anyone in general). I also have a reputation for saying things like, "dating is stupid," "I will never be in a relationship," "no more boys for friends," and the like. Just two weeks ago, multiple declarations in favor of independence and vehement protestations against dating and friendships with men were the norm.

I have a right to change my mind, don't I?

Who would have guessed that me, scaredy-cat Georgie, would actually like spending time with a guy? Would actually reciprocate affection? Would look forward to seeing someone, rather than dread it? Sure, we don't know each other super well yet, but who cares? That's the point of dating!

Honestly, though. Who would have thought? Not me, for sure.

Welcome, 2013. Let's see how this thing goes.

what...

Guess where this girl will be tomorrow night?

His house. 

Because he invited me.

First New Year's Eve away from home.

Ever. 

My mother is going to kill me.

the walls come down...

ER, anyone?

At 10:00 tonight, I got a call from a friend informing me that another friend was in serious trouble.

So I called a different friend with a car, and we kindly forced the troubled friend into said car. And then drove to the emergency room. After which, we spent 30 minutes trying to get her out of the car and into the ER.

Finally, she agreed to come in. Very reluctantly. I pretty much pushed her across the parking lot.

At 1:00 this morning, Chelsea came and picked me up because the migraine I had this morning started coming back. And I have a 12 page paper to finish that is due at 8:00 this morning.

So. That's taken care of for now. Not the paper, but the friend in trouble.

Never taken a friend to the ER before.

Never pulled an all-nighter as a BYU student before, either (and school is out tomorrow...what?).

Never thought I'd like a Christmas song featuring C-Lee and the Muppets. NEVER.

Now to write 3 more pages. And maybe get some sleep. But after two 20 ounce bottles of Coke Zero, that might not be happening. We'll have to see.