There's a Lobster Behind the Fridge.

I wrote this blog in my head while driving to yoga this morning and I have a feeling that it's not going to come out quite right. I mean, I sometimes try really hard not to write about things that are really personal to me (hence the recycling rant below) but at some point I just have to do it.

I was wearing our orientation green t-shirt and we were sharing a bed in Venice, Italy. I had known something was wrong for awhile, but admitting it at this point was impossible. I remember wishing I could go back in time to when things were good and clear. I think I've written about the break up with my college boyfriend and me before.

Months later, on a fall it's-getting-really-cold-soon night in Boston we were on my front porch at five in the morning arguing about being in each other's lives. He was too polite to tell me to just let go, but that's exactly what I needed to do.

I have this weird reoccurring daydream where I'm talking to my son or daughter (it changes, depending on the day) and we are up in my attic (it's the scary wooden one in Leesburg where I used to creep around trying to find old toys I had grown out of or Christmas gifts my mom had hidden from us) and we are going through a box of old pictures and we stumble onto this picture of me and another man and my son or daughter asks: Mommy, who's that? It's seriously that corny and unassuming. And I go on to explain who it was, that I loved him at some point in my life but that I love their dad now. And that's it.

I will be the first to admit I'm not the best at letting go of people in my life. After that argument on the porch we decided to not talk for a couple of months. Let things heal a little. It took our best friends wedding in North Carolina to bring us back together as friends.

And after that I dated my boyfriend from Boston for a year longer than I should have, to be honest. I didn't love and respect him the way he deserved and we both struggled with letting go in the end. And now he's got a job in Las Vegas and he's driving across the country on his way to take over the lease of my apartment. Even though I'm staying around Vegas for a little while longer, I'm excited to have another friend in this city. We can start over new.

I just got back into town last night from New Mexico. My mom and dad and sister were there, and we stayed in this little, Southwestern-style apartment. I knew my parents could hear the argument in their room, but I didn't care. I was back on that porch in Boston, but it was New Mexico vs. North Carolina in this one. Deciding to hurt each other. Because honestly, it was time to let go and I hadn't recognized that.

I woke up the next morning with most of all a sense of relief. My current daydream consists of an awkward Annie Hall moment in a bar in North Carolina months or even years from now. And I've had this one before. We are both exactly where we want to be in life, and after a great conversation over beers we finally relax, settle in, and then one of us has to go, so we stand up together, awkwardly sway in front of one another in an attempt to pick sides in a hug, and then turn and say good-bye. And this is at the very least.

It's a Wasteland.

On days when I'm feeling particularly selfish, I try to think of ways I can impact the world in a positive way. Why can't I find some way to make all of my ideas, and my ideals, a reality. That's basically at the core of everything.

When you recycle in Las Vegas, they take your bottles and cans and throw it all together into one big pile, supposedly to be separated at the landfill. At least, that's what they tell people. When you go on the recycling section of the city page it just loops you around in a circle. Six bags of recycling sit in my dining room, waiting to be taken out somewhere. But I'm convinced now that Las Vegas just doesn't recycle.

A couple of my friends and I were talking after work about making a documentary about the problem of no recycling in Vegas. The issues of no community or attachment to anything tangible, even if you try really hard. In thinking that the community here is one that is temporary, a wasteland that people come to to make money and leave. I came here for peace and discovered so much more, and now I'm ready to leave. I got what I wanted from Vegas, and can't imagine investing anymore than that.

This is where I fit into the problem. Of making things temporary. Of creating an idea about a documentary that really should be made, but probably won't in the end. When I was talking to my friend about energy and solar power in Vegas, and how we don't utilize the sun in this crazy city, he simply said, "if you think about it, Vegas shouldn't even really exist." He's right.

My friends and I drove up to Red Rock this past weekend and decided not to drive around the park area because there were too many cars. It felt all crowded and overused. "Vegas isn't that bad," they remarked. In the end, explaining what I've learned and grown from personally by making this move seems trivial. In the end, I feel guilty for living in such a self-indulgent city. When I see all the tourists walking around, gambling and spending, they seem to just want to take from the city this idea that something greater exists. That the world comes to Vegas in all its glory. In order for Vegas to exist, other parts of the world must suffer and go without. And at some point, some point soon, I can't be a part of that.

It's Valentine's Day.

Normally, I'd be happy about Valentine's Day. In fact, we had all these events in the store today and all in all I had a pretty good day. My friend from Kentucky texted me from the airport in Cincinnati that she was on her way and I told her I'd pick her up from the Vegas airport around midnight. That we might be going out with some of my friends to a battle of the sexes poetry slam in Caesar's Forum Shops. That doing that was enough of a welcome to Vegas.

Instead of that I get a text after yoga class that her flight got delayed and she'll be missing her connecting flight so she probably won't be able to make it out to Vegas this weekend. I cry right there in the yoga studio with my two friends who I met up with...because I really needed her to visit this weekend and I'd been looking forward to it for months.

So instead of going out I just took a bath and now I'm sitting here, stewing about how much I miss my friends and the east coast. Instead of investing in the amazing friends I have here I'm deciding on feeling sorry for myself tonight. Because that's just what I want to do.

Even though he's moved back across the country we still talk every so often. We sent each other Valentine's Day gifts but haven't been able to get a hold of one another all day. I find myself not wanting to talk about it to anyone because after not seeing him for a month and a half I can't even remember what he smells like, much less how I've been feeling about things lately. At some point I just decided to let things happen and see where it takes me. Loving someone is just something I've never been able to control. And I wouldn't want to, either.

Part of me wants to get out of bed and change into clothes, drive to the strip and hang out with friends. The friends I have here and now. Because I realized today that I have more friends in Vegas than I did in Boone even. And these are great people who I get to see almost every single day. But at some point you can't replace my friend from Kentucky or that feeling I get when I'm around him. But she's not on a plane on her way here and I'm still sitting here, waiting to see if my legs will move me to some kind of decision.

May it Always Be

We spend so much time (at least, I do) trying to live in the present. Going to yoga, relaxing, sitting and thinking, painting, waiting in traffic. It's all right here. All in all, things are pretty boring right now. And I kind of like it that way.

I've really started to like Las Vegas for it's energy, even though it's pretty quiet right now and even though on my way to and from work I see at least one accident each way. I passed by one today at the exact point where I got into mine a month ago. And it really didn't seem that long ago, especially from the feeling I get when the car in front of me slams on their brakes.

I tried for a very long time not to make decisions based on money, and last week they caught up to me. Because I quit my job last year I basically get nothing back from taxes even though I paid a ton (where do they go again?) and with the taxes on my new car plates I can bearly make rent. I have a friend who is moving here who might take over my lease, so I'd be free to leave whenever I want. Or at least find a temporary place while I'm still in Vegas. But I'm at the point where I don't want things to be temporary again.

I really have nothing to write about. Things are just keepin' on.