I just gotta dance right now, it's critical I do

Car is broken again. Calling BCAA tomorrow and if I can get a jump taking her to Kal-Tire for new tires. If cannot get jump, means battery is fucked and I kill everyone in Nanaimo.

I mean, find a way to get that shit fixed.

I don't even fucking know anymore.

On the plus side -- did another publishing job, in addition to my current one. Much easier project; only took me 5 hours for layout AND cover. Now let's see how that translates to actual print. *crosses fingers*

So tired.

Stupid Mercury Retrograde

Today has been really fucking weird. I'd like to say shitty, but good things happened so it sort of balanced out. But my luck has positively sucked today.

Last night I had a good dream. The first good dream I've had in years. I was pleasantly traipsing through this dream, in no hurry to see how it ended. Perhaps I should have hurried, because now I have no idea how it ended and never will: my dad called me in the middle of it and woke me up.

I'm not a morning person, and I'm not a phone person. Calling me in the morning is sure to put me in a bad mood because not only have you waked me from sleep I desperately need, but you are trying to talk to me before I've had my anti-depressant. The little purple pill that turns me into a functioning human being. Trying to stay polite under those circumstances is next to impossible for me.

Somehow I managed it. I then went about the process of actually waking up before suggesting to my friend who is staying with me for a few days that I call the BCAA guy to come give my car a jump so we could go out in search of breakfast.

(I came home on Sunday to find that my car was dead because I'd left the glove compartment open for two weeks. Fuuuu. Also, there's no food in my house, and I had no will to cook this morning.)

So the BCAA guy comes about half an hour later, gives me a jump. We sit in the running car for about 20 minutes before deciding to try and drive it. It goes! Yay! We get to the street and I realize the car is running funny. I turn around and go back to the driveway. Bryce jumps out of the car. Flat tire.

I've turned off the car, of course, because I'm on auto-pilot, and it won't start again. I call BCAA. "Hi, I called a little while ago because my car needed a jump. It now needs another jump and a new tire."

Wait another 20 minutes for the new BCAA guy.

Plus side? He found my spare, which was in the side of my trunk and not the bottom. Never would have found it myself. Thought I didn't have one.

So, car fixed and ready to go, we go off to do errands. By this point it's 12:45 and I'm starving, so I end up spending more than I should have on food. Went and got a few more things, namely costuming supplies for P&F and props and costume pieces for Criminal Genius. Also late birthday present for Mom. Spent about 100 dollars but I got a LOT of stuff, because I shop smart. Make one last stop at 7-11 for drinks. Two 2L bottles of pop and a double gulp cup of a perfectly mixed Cherry Coke.

Pay, get out to the car, and manage to spill my Cherry Coke all over the car.


I cannot fucking win today.

(The 7-11 lady was very nice and let me get a free refill, however.)

Not leaving the house again till tomorrow. You can't make me.

Poptarts and mosquitoes (a day camping)

We went camping Friday night. Friday night only, because my MIL didn't want to spend two nights away from any form of bathing whatsoever (no lake, stream, river, or showers), and frankly neither did we.

Nate and I slept in the back of the minivan, which fixed my back, surprisingly. (And wrecked his. We can't win.) Also -- sex in the back of a car, crossed off bucket list.

Anyway. I played around more with Scriv while camping (if I set my monitor to be dimmer I can get about 10 hours of battery out of my MacBook Pro, which was more than enough time), and yeah, it's official, I fucking love this program. I also reread the last part of my book, and I still think it's really good. A good sign, that I enjoy it when not in the heat of writing it the first time. So actual editing is coming up soon (especially as I finally got a real divination system figured out for that one chapter, instead of the crap placeholder I had before).

Today I go home. I'm back on Saturday, so the parting is not that bittersweet. Might do our backs some good to sleep alone for a few days, honestly. We'll have to figure out what to do about this before moving in together.

Things to do:

•  finish memorizing lines.
• practice slides for Langara audition; find monologue.
• clean house.
• new book publishing project. 
• revise part 1 of Bellica.

Let Go

I'm beginning to feel I'm invisible.

I send messages on FB and no one responds. Usually these are fairly important messages, too, needing a response rather soon. It's apparent by the messages that they're important. And weeks pass and nada.

I'm not really a person to send multiple follow-up messages, because I think it's rude and pushy. I'm not rude and pushy. I just want a fracking answer before the godsdamned apocalypse.

I want to bitch about it in more detail, but that won't do much more than just spread around negativity. So I'm just going to take a deep breath, play some tunes, and start fooling around with Scrivener. (I've just downloaded it and am going to try it with the rewriting of my novel -- if I like it enough, I'll purchase it. So far it's doing really well in my estimation.)

Our modern social media has made us completely unable to deal with the real world. I say that being a person who prefers social media to face to face interaction in most cases.

Heaven

My MIL has a recliner in her living room, right next to my FIL's recliner. She also has a lapdesk for her laptop.

She's at work, and I have free reign of the house (and her permission to sit in her chair, etc). So I am set up nicely in her chair, laptop on soft desk, feet up on other recliner.

My back is so happy with this arrangement it's threatening to quit if I decide to move. This could be a problem if I need to pee, but for now I am content.

Acrylic nails

Pretty, but a lot of trouble. Currently in the process of filing them down so I can type again (and write with a pen, jesus). Still an awesome birthday gift from my future MIL.

I've sort of gone back to my old nickname -- Jagged -- as you can no doubt tell from the blog. I want Katje van Loon to be my professional persona, and this is not a professional blog. At all. So Jagged is who I am in private -- as private as a public online journal can be.

And now it's time to watch Dead Like Me with the boyfriend. Almost done the series.

Braincakes. Good for what ails you.

My brain has been fried in a giant frying pan in the sky. No lie; I'm a complete vegetable because my grey matter has been used to make flapjacks for the gods.

• My job is killing me. I can't wait for it to be done. Contract work yay. 
• I'm looking at having to move back to Powell River this November-December to save money before moving to Vancouver (which is very very expensive).
• I love the look of my acrylic nails but I can't fucking type with them. 
• Back pain means I can't sleep.
• Criminal Genius goes off in September and we've rehearsed once. Nrgle.
• On the the plus side, I've spent 2 weeks with Nate and it's been really nice. 
• I can't write. I can't think. I have all these ideas but when I sit down to do something about them...poof. Into thin air. Turned into syrup for brain flapjack. 
• I would like a vacation.
• It's really weird that I'm not returning to school this fall. I may get into Langara Film Acting program, which means that I'll be going back to school in January. But if not... I'm officially an adult or something. Ahh. 

So yeah. That's it.

Squee! (ramblings about love)

My boyfriend will be here in...six and a half hours! (Or eight and a half if he misses the ferry. Which is likely. Whatever. Still fewer hours than 10.)

I have no car to pick him up, but that's ok, I'll figure something out. I'm just super excited to see him. We haven't seen each other in 37 days. Neither of us is very rich, and I was in school until mid-June, so that didn't give me a lot of spare time.

Let me tell you something -- long distance relationships suck big lizard eggs. When it is quite literally painful to be apart from him for so long, I tend to lapse into old behaviours to build up a wall and protect myself. And then I turn into a shitty girlfriend. He's like a drug; I need a dose every so often or I go into withdrawal...which is not pretty.

Hug me till you drug me,

put me in a coma.

Hug me till you drug me,

love's as good as soma. 

Dystopian novel references aside. There's truth to what Huxley says there. Love -- attraction, lust, the physical act(s) of intimacy -- is a physiological reaction. (This doesn't invalidate it, by the way. Just to clear up that common misconception, that anything biological is somehow lesser because we can't help it.) I don't know the science-y details behind it and I don't really give enough of a fuck to look it up, but I do know that pheromones -- scent -- play a big part in the process.

So I steal my boyfriend's clothing, because it has his scent, and I curl up with it to feel better once he's gone. (He does the same with my stuff, though he's only admitted to it once.) This isn't some silly thing that people write about in romantic comedies; it has basis in reality. And I'm pretty sure a lot of us do it, even if we don't want to admit it because we don't want the stain of being a romantic to sully our image.

It used to be a secret that I'm a big, hopeless romantic. (Well. Sort of a secret. It was a secret to those who thought they knew me but didn't really care enough to really get to know me. My true friends have known this for a while.)

I was pretty ashamed of being a romantic. Mainly because every romantic thing had blown up in my face, and I was beginning to believe that I'd be alone for forever. Which was ok, I guess, as I'd never really planned to get married at all, and had sort of imagined my parental life as a single mother (via sperm bank or friendly donation). I just wanted one relationship to be nice. Just one relationship with a guy* who wasn't a total douchebag, who didn't send me on a tailspin into depression and suicidal thoughts again.

Being with Fezzik for almost 9 months now, I'm no longer ashamed of being a romantic. Though I admit that we are both sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop because this is the first time something this good has happened for either of us, I'm happy in love and happy to stay here. We fight, of course, but it's few and far between (happening more frequently the longer we've been apart, of course).

Neither of us is perfect, but I know he's perfect for me. And...I think I'm perfect for him. Probably. He'd never admit it, but whatever. He'd never admit a lot of times and it doesn't matter because he doesn't need to. Actions speak far louder than words.

And I know, absotively, that I wish to marry him. I don't wish to get married; I wish to marry Fezzik (golly it sounds weird to say that with his pseudonym). World of difference between those two things.

I think that Dante Shepherd is correct in his definition of love: "Love is best defined by one simple number: the number of times that you're willing to simply just roll your eyes at your significant other's shenanigans."

That's definitely been the guiding principle behind our relationship (you know, aside from trust and honesty and clear communication and all that crap). It works.


(Also, yes, I realize that I do a lot of rambling about how in love I am with my boyfriend. It's important for me to blog about the good things in my life, and he happens to be one of them.)



*For argument's sake I'm straight; I don't identify as straight, but I've also never really been with a woman. I don't really know what I am anymore. Maybe heteroflexible. Like, really flexible. 

Dinner for a Fat Girl (or, Taking Control and Beating My Eating Disorder into Submission)

I just had a chicken Caesar salad for dinner. No croutons. Romaine lettuce. Parmesan cheese.

I did not eat this salad because I have bought into the media's lie that I must keep myself thin to please the menfolk. I did not eat this salad because I was feeling guilty about my eating habits, because I felt I needed to be "a good girl". I did not eat this salad to be physically healthy. I did not eat this salad to prove to others that I'm not like "all the other fat people," that I have self-control.

I ate that salad because I like Caesar salad, and I like chicken, and I don't like croutons.

For dessert, I am having a fudge brownie. I am not eating this fudge brownie because I had an upsetting conversation with someone and need to eat my feelings. I am not having this fudge brownie because I lack self-control. I'm not having this fudge brownie because I'm "a bad girl". I am not "rewarding" myself for being "good" by having a salad for dinner.

I'm eating this brownie because I like brownies, and it tastes good, and I wanted it.

And later I may have some ice cream. Or more veggies. Who knows. All I do know is that whatever I choose to eat, I am making the right choice for myself.

Things I'm grateful for, 2011: the teachings of the Elders

Today we did a plant walk in class. We learned about the healing properties of stinging nettle (urtica diocia), yarrow (achillea millefolium), and horsetail (no idea), as according to Coast Salish teachings.

A tea made with these three plants can cure cancer. Aunty D. saw it happen.

I'm very grateful to be able to be part of these classes and learn these teachings. They are sacred, and I feel lucky to take part of them.

I want a Jack and Coke.

It's not even that I'm having a crap day - I'm not. I'm feeling pretty good. I'm just deep in a well of weakness and I am craving a Jack and Coke so hard.

Beyond that -- I am craving being a part of the culture and experiences that go with it.

I miss the days of my college drinking. I'm entering this new phase in my life where I'm actually being an adult (and no, being an adult doesn't mean you have wine with your dinner or drink otherwise; drinking alcohol is an unnecessary activity that happens to only be allowed to legal adults) and choosing more responsibly, and fuck if I don't want to give it all up.

I have been dry and sober for 7 months. I am coming to terms with the emotional roots of my alcoholism, slowly but surely. I am no where ready to go off the medication that prevents me from drinking. I am fully cognizant of this fact.

Everyday I face that I cannot drink because I live in a world where the drinking subculture has become the mainstream culture. Sometimes I worry about my loved ones, because I look at them and can clearly see behaviours that I was exhibiting when I wasn't sober. But I don't say anything, because I know what kind of reaction I'll get. It's the same reaction they would have received had they said anything to me.

Right now I can feel the burn of the Jack as it hits my throat, I can taste that horrible-and-wonderful-at-the-same-time flavour of the Jack and Coke mixing, I can feel the alcohol relax me as the caffeine in the pop pumps me up.

I can feel my feet on the dance floor and feel myself getting lost in the rhythm.

I can feel the effects of drink after drink until I'm too drunk to stand.

I can feel waking up and vowing never to do it again...only to start drinking as soon as the hangover wears off.

And I can feel this all being blindly accepted and encouraged by the culture around me.


I am encouraged now by certain people -- close friends who understand. Some of them recovering as well. Some of them just sober by personal choice, no addiction involved. Some not sober, but encouraging all the same -- and sober around me. But I fear hanging out with anyone else because if I get into a situation where I am offered alcohol by people who don't know the situation I'm in, or if I am feeling pressured....

I can't promise myself constant strength. I am a human. I am weak.



What if I break?

Things I'm Grateful for, 2010: Epic Sororomance

Sororomance: a relationship between two women that parallels the male "bromance". From "soror", sister. 

This year was the year Jvana and I really got close. We got close before, in 2009 -- the Summer of Kicking Ass -- but I didn't really let her in as close as I have now. She has now seen me at my worst -- and I do mean my very very worst -- and she stared at that and didn't flinch. She committed to that moment, and to me.

I have never been so close with anyone. I can share anything with Jvana. I can trust her with anything. She doesn't chip away at my armor like other "friends" do. She helps rebuild it and support it.

And she's smart. So smart. And funny. She makes me laugh so hard. Especially when we're sitting in our theatre final.

I honestly don't know what I'd do if I didn't have Jvana in my life. She makes me strive to be a better person. Because of her, I've made a conscious effort to be more positive in my life -- and it's made a huge change.

She is the Helo to my Starbuck. I'm sure the gods sent her to me.

The Detangling of Yarn

I just spent half an hour detangling some seriously knotted yarn.

Yarn detangling isn't boring; it's just tedious. It's interesting to note just how tangled your yarn is, and wonder at how you got it to be so tangled - but that interest wanes quickly, and then you detangle your yarn while thinking I don't know how I got myself into this mess but I promise, I will never ever be so stupid again.

And it must be done. Whether you do it today, put it off for months, or chip away at it a little bit at a time, your yarn has to be detangled and stress-free, or you can't really make good knits. Making good knits is key to a happy life, I find. When my yarn is tangled, I am unhappy.

Why do it now, you ask, checking the timestamp on this post. Why not wait until a reasonable hour to detangle your yarn? 

Because, I reply. I need this yarn for a particular project. Without this yarn, I cannot advance, I cannot make this a good knit, I cannot start on other projects until this one is done, so I cannot form good knits with other yarns. This yarn is my focus right now, and I want to finish this project. So I do it now, and do not let myself procrastinate on such an important issue.

No, I don't want to detangle my yarn. Like I said, it's tedious, and sometimes downright upsetting. But I must, to have a happy life. So -- sometimes by myself, sometimes with a little help from my friends -- I sit down and begin to pluck away at the threads, feeling something inside me loosen with each knot I undo.

Gentle Snores

My boyfriend is sleeping beside me. Well, almost asleep. Tomorrow afternoon (by which I mean, today, but I haven't actually slept yet) I go home, and don't come back until the 22nd.

And I am lying when I title the blog entry "Gentle Snores". They sound like a walrus wielding a chainsaw to cut through bagpipes.

Regardless. I am very happy right now. Within a day of coming here my back stopped hurting. It's twinging a bit right now, but that may be from excessive use of muscles to the point of utter exhaustion, the stretching no longer being a good thing. I sleep well over here. I am relaxed. I feel...comfortable with being who I am. I can sit around upstairs in sweats and a loose t-shirt, ugly socks on my feet, and chat with my boyfriend's mom about whatever, and not feel like I need to stand on ceremony.

She is already like a second mom to me. Not that anyone could ever be my mom, nor would I want that. But. I can totally see her becoming my mom-in-law at some point. And I can see myself being happy about that.

I have never felt this way about a lover or partner before. Yes, I'm in love, but I almost don't want to call it that. I've called my feelings for other people love so many times, when, in retrospect, it really wasn't....not if this is love. So it's like the word has been cheapened. I admit it -- I'm a love-slut. I use the word too liberally.

He does not. I've said I love you countless times. He doesn't like using it, because he feels it gets used too often. We've talked about this (ages ago) and we're both okay with each other's stance -- so long as he doesn't expect me to stop saying it and I don't expect him to say it any time soon, or often, we're good. And this is the first time I've been okay with this. 

Because I just know. I know that he feels that about me, that our feelings for each other are mutual. He doesn't need to verbally express it because he's already expressed it in other ways.

Tonight was the first night I heard him refer to me as his girlfriend to a third person in conversation. It's probably happened before, but tonight was the first time I heard it. It gave me this giddy little thrill: I'm his girlfriend. I can't think of anything that would make me happier right now.

I can't count the ways I love him. There are too many, and I've never been good at math. I just can say that I do, in a way that I've never loved anyone else before -- it's not grander or more romantic or epic or glamorous. It's real and human and honest and stable. And honesty is much better than romance, any day. Because when he does or says something sweet, I know it's honest because he's never dishonest. Which is how I know he loves me.


Yeah, I'm being sappy in this post. Y'all can frackin' deal with seeing the softer side of Starbuck. She may have never said it, but I'm sure this is how she felt for Sam. Cause, damn, if he ain't my Sam.

-K


PS Pretty sure I aced my final. It was super easy; I was stressing over NOTHING.

PPS Couldn't keep my hair blonde. It's red and green and blonde now. XP

If it's not one thing...

Well, you know how to finish that sentence.

My SAD is better. My sciatica is not. Which makes homework and studying singularly difficult, as I must do it at a desk or in front of a computer, and sitting = most pain ever, at the moment.

Also, I have a final today. From 1 to 4pm. Brrrrrrrrrrruuuuuuhhhhhhhh.

Whatever. Trying to concentrate on the positive. Going to Vancouver tonight to see boyfriend and go to Burlesque XXX-Mas party tomorrow...he's dressing up as Santa. Rawr. Coming back on Saturday; maybe auditioning for local burlesque troupe on Sunday ("Hi I have sciatica and am probably bipolar with next to no dance skills, but fuck I'm sexy and funny and I have over twenty years theatre experience so you should totally have me in your troupe!" is my pitch). Then just one more final, on the 16th.

Also working on getting packed up and out of here...I'm moving into my own place on Jan. 1st. Where, I don't know, except it's going to be in town here. I'm still working on getting a place.

And in that vein of talking, I may be giving up my cat. My current roommates have offered to take her off my hands, and I may take up that offer. She's lovely, and I love her, but she needs a lot of attention. Which...I can't really give. Not now. At least if I give her to them I know she'll be loved and taken care of by good people who like cats. Can't ask for much more than that, and I just really want her to be happy.

So things are moving on, ever forwards, and I'm even getting some work done, though sitting, as I said, is super painful. Life could be a bit better, but it could also be a hell of a lot worse, and the fact that it's not is one hell of a thing to be grateful for.

I'm going to go empty the dishwasher now.

Back to the real world

The weekend is almost over and my boyfriend is back home and back to work. I now have a working laptop thanks to him, which means I can do my homework anywhere. Life will be easier. Hopefully.

I am working on said homework right now, and cleaning my room and cooking. Might speed up the last two and go over to Everything Nice's place to do homework there -- somehow I concentrate better when I'm not home (hrrrmmmmm).

This week I have a presentation, late papers to turn in, a final, and a business trip down to the States (joy! rapture! don't taze me TSA!). I have realized I'm totally burned out on Theatre and wish to quit, and so I am doing so.* I'm not taking Theatre next semester; instead I'm going to focus on my First Nations studies and finish that degree. Which, of course, means I'm probably putting off my move to Vancouver...again. That's okay, though. Probably a good thing. I don't want to rush it and then get into a bad sitch (specifically, being dependent on boyfriend --- read, how to ruin a relationship).

Overall feeling a bit better than I was a few days ago. I have Seasonal Affective Disorder and it's a real struggle to keep myself happy during the winter. Even with the happy pills and the wonderful boyfriend and great best friend and awesome mom. I'm in my head too much.

Anyway. Back to work. I'm starting to enjoy being a publisher.


*The theatre program, that is. I'm done with doing theatre as a schoolwork thing. I do want to get into actually working in theatre, and that's something different.

4am and I can't sleep

It is really cold here right now. It's snowy and windy and I -- I am freezing. I cannot sleep, I am so cold. I also am dealing with a bought of insomnia. Depending on how long I'm up for, I may try and pull an all-nighter with naps throughout the day. Which sucks, but I do have to be up early to take the cat in to the vet's for her spaying appointment, so I can't afford to sleep in.

I am really hoping school is closed tomorrow. I'm sick, and I do not wish to really leave the house unless it is necessary. Also I want to, I don't know. Write or knit or something. I've been feeling a nudging lately to do more writing, in blogs, or my novel. I just never have ANY FREAKING TIME but whatever, work is good too. I do need to get in 15 hours before the 1st if I wish to make rent.

Of course, getting paid the money I'm owed would be nice too, but I'm not holding my breath. (Someday, I'll never ever have to talk about my financial issues again because I won't have any. This is going to happen. I just have to work hard and be patient.)

Anyway. Want to hear what's awesome? What's awesome is that on Thursday morning I get to pick up my boyfriend from the ferry terminal and he'll be here till Sunday evening (I think). That's what's awesome.

Even if Thanksgiving dinner doesn't happen this weekend (which it may not, finances/time/health being what they are), even if I continue to get bogged down under my SAD (which, hello, acting up again), even if anything else happens that could potentially suck -- my boyfriend will be visiting me this weekend. As he makes me happy in a million different ways, this means my weekend will be awesome.

Also, I found my favorite dairy-free ice cream at a nearby Save-On. Reasons to celebrate, people. You have to keep looking for them and holding on to them, or you'll be so mired in the muck you'll forget what it was to be dry.

Holy crap!

Awesome boyfriend alert!

Showed me this: The best knitted skeleton you'll see in a while | Daily Dawdle.

Knitted. Skeleton.

Coolest thing I have ever seen. I want the pattern so I can put it on my list of "Things I will someday have the skill to do maybe perhaps". I would so knit myself one of those. I would knit one for my kids and test them on the bones of the body with it. (IDEA: embroider the names of each bone on each of the bones! Or use intarsia.)

That is just. Oh. Oh my. So so awesome.

I am now itching to knit something. Later on today, after I have finished work and homework, I will break out my needles. Yes.

So. Fucking Knitting, man.

The other day Everything Nice and I went to a thrift store, because they had a box outside with a sign that said "Free Books" and honestly how can you expect me to resist that.

Found one book (a literary journal). Went inside to look at stuff and...oh, man. Best thrift store ever. I got a full basket of stuff and I only paid 20 dollars total -- for niiiiicce stuff. Got some things for my altar that I needed (a silver chalice among them), some very beautiful scarves, a black pleather purse (I needed something for when I go out -- backpack is just not very classy), and -- this is the most exciting part -- circular knitting needles. I got six of them for 75 cents. TOTAL.

Those things run from six to twelve dollars APIECE in your LYS. At this thrift store they're 12.5 cents apiece.

I restricted myself to buying 6, but there were more. I think I'll go back there next week and pick up the rest of them. You can never have enough circular knitting needles.


And related to this post, what I would love love love looooove for SolsticeXmasHanuKwanza (I'm an equal opportunity receiver of gifts) is an interchangeable knitting needle set. Knit Picks has some really lovely ones (my preference is the wood one -- because I'm expensive, natch. Also because I love knitting with wood needles).  There are also the Denise sets and probably a few other brands -- I think there's a Boye but I don't have a link. All have their pros and cons -- bottom line, however, is that a set of interchangeable knitting needles would be so helpful to me and my projects. I wish to start knitting again as things slow down this winter. I have a few projects to finish (this one and this one), but I'd like to start working with circulars more.

ANYway. Not begging, or nothing. JUST SAYIN. So if, you know, you know someone who wants to spend that much on me...AWESOME. :)

zomg!healthy relationship -- follow-up

No, nothing major has changed. Just thought I'd do this little exercise for fun.

Best friend has been reading Frog or Prince (I think that's the title) and doing the exercises within as part of her self-work on getting away from guys who are bad news for her. I'm very proud of her in this endeavour, and in her blogging endeavour because I think blogging personal stuff to the internet is one of the best ways of processing your own shit, instead of bottling it up. That's why I've been doing it for the past 6 years.

So. From Chapter 5: Frog Boot Camp, is this list of questions.

1. Can I tell him what I really feel-my deepest darkest secrets?
2. Can I forgive him when his actions make me really angry?
3. Are a lot of my needs being met by myself, friends and family?
4. Can I tell my best friend the good the bad and the ugly without her asking "what are you still doing with him?"
5. Can I list his two best and worst traits?
6. Can I accept his permanent frog warts?
7. Does he accept me for who I am?
8. Does he talk to me like my best friend does?

And if you answer yes to all of them -- healthy relationship. Yes to some -- pretty healthy relationship. Etc.

So. My completely honest, unflinching answers.

1. So far, yes. We're only a month in, however, and I haven't wanted to overwhelm him with the crazy. 

2. I have so far. I can't imagine him doing the very few things that will make me actually angry to the point where I make people cry and cower, convinced I'm going to kill them (I actually black out during these times, and I've been told they're really bad -- so don't make me that angry) -- I've only really been slightly irritated with him for a few things.  Again, probably too early to really tell, but so far -- he just doesn't do things that piss me off. And usually if someone is going to, that shows up fairly early. (Hello 2-week long relationships how are you doing.)

3. Yes. Absolutely. I'm not losing myself in him and I'm not going to let myself get lost in him. 

4. Yep.

5. Yes. Best trait: he's honest. Worst trait:  he's unmotivated (which is really just a nice way of saying "lazy"). Not a terribly horrible thing, honestly. Gets irritating though. 

6. Yes.

7. Yes.

8. Not exactly, seeing as different people have different speech patterns, and she and I have a different sort of relationship -- but I think this question is about respect, and yes. He does respect me. 

So, yeah. Looks like we're doing really well. He still has a few trials by fire to go through, and I'm sure I do too. But, you know, I think we're doing pretty good.