You guys…I am NOT 19.  I thought I had sarcasm on lock, but some of you, BLESS YOUR HEARTS, thought I just turned 19.  Nasomuch…

All this 19 talk got me thinking, and I’m finally breaking through the raging case of  bloggers block I’ve had this week.  I am someone who is always looking ahead, learning, moving on, closing chapters, shutting, sometimes slamming, doors in an effort to just get on with it. I don’t think I realized what a defining year 19 was for me until all your comments brought it up, so thanks for the blogspiration, betches.

“We do not grow absolutely, chronologically. We grow sometimes in one dimension, and not in another, unevenly. We grow partially. We are relative. We are mature in one realm, childish in another. The past, present, and future mingle and pull us backward, forward, of fix us in the present. We are made of layers, cells, constellations.”

The Diary of Anaïs Nin Vol. 4 (1971); as quoted in Journal of Phenomenological Psychology Vol. 15 (1984)

When I was 19, I was going to school and shopping like it was my job, because I had more money than I knew what to do with.  I was a cocktail server and quickly learned how to flirt my way to $100 tips on a $12 bar tab.  I didn’t have to worry about pesky things like rent or car insurance, and my father was a phone call away if I ever “needed” anything.  I grew up going to church on Wednesday nights and Sunday mornings and suddenly, I didn’t have to anymore-not to mention this was on the tail end of some very personal incidences that would leave me forever questioning organized religion.  When I was 19, I was seeking the antithesis of what my entire life had been, and I found the perfect catalyst for this in the form of a tall, dark and handsome ASU grad who wore Abercrombie and Fitch from head to toe, lived in San Diego and manipulated the shit out of me.  I fell in love of course (because who can resist that), a love that would lift me up to heaven and then kick me down to hell, sometimes in the same week, same day, same hour.  The every other day heartbreak caused me to stop eating, and taught me how to self medicate with strawberry Arbor Mist while watching Road Rules. It also taught me that my body, and sex, could be used as a weapon.  This relationship would go on until I was 21, when I would finally, to the relief of all my friends and family, slam the door on his chapter of my life.

Another man changed my life when I was 19, but he would do so in his death. My step-father passed away, and this was my first encounter with death and grief.  I witnessed my Mom, my everything, crumble because she had lost her soul-mate suddenly and tragically, while he was in Switzerland on business. I remember wondering how she could love someone so much and becoming terrified that I too, someday, would love someone that much and then lose him.  I still have this fear, which becomes evident in my anxiety if my boyfriend doesn’t call me when he is traveling. When I was 19, my best friend moved to Northern California, which isn’t bad AT ALL, but at the time, at that age, it seemed so far away.  Years later, I would be the maid of honor at her wedding and realize that the friends who matter are the ones whose distance from you doesn’t.  When I was 19, I had so many opportunities, dreams, goals, ideas.  Some I would accomplish, some I let fly by because I was just too busy being…nineteen.

I still have so many opportunities, dreams, goals and ideas.  Some I still let pass me by.  I still question organized religion, but treasure my faith.  ASU guy is a very distant memory, but the lessons I learned about love, and myself, in that relationship are still fresh, and I hope I never forget them.  My Mom is fabulous, and has taught me that a love like the one she had is worth having, even if you lose it too soon and that I can’t control everything, as much as I would love to.  My dad is still a phone call away if I need anything, although these days I call him because I want to, not because I want something. My boyfriend gets in trouble if he doesn’t call me when he travels. I no longer self medicate with Arbor Mist through a straw, I’m mature now, people. It’s all about a bottle of Pinot Noir while watching Jersey Shore.  Nothing like the sweet, sweet smell of progress.

But I can’t walk by an Abercrombie and Fitch without wanting to vom.

Back to my regular posting schedule on Monday, after VegasVegasVegas!

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Happy Friday!
I am not doing anything productive today. Just sayin. No work, no thinking too hard about anything, maybe painting my nails. This weekend is gonna be a good one, I’m excited. By the time you read this, I will probably be at the pool, reading your blogs from the Bberry. Just sayin.

I’ll put them all in a post next week, so leave your question in my comments or shoot me an email, or tweet with me on twitter. UM. p.s LOVE TWITTER…so freaking handy. (Misslizzymarie)

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