Do you ever have those days or weeks where for no particular reason, you just feel….blah??

It started last week – no particular reason – just a general …haze of monotony settled over my head. All of a sudden DC feels too small and leaves me feeling as though I’ve dated every man in it leaving me much less than impressed. General dislike of my apartment, my job, my hair, my skin – the only thing I AM liking is my ass as I’ve been trying to cure the boredom with excessive exercise.

I feel like my life is at a standstill – no direction – no momentum. The same food. The same bars. The same…everything. Not to mention that anyone within a 5 yard radius seems to have developed an amazing ability to annoy the crap out of me with alarmingly minimal effort.

And so I tried to shake things up – for instance, I went to my first opera at the Kennedy Center last week, which was lovely despite the fact that I went by myself which is less than ideal. Its no one’s fault, mind you – I didn’t ask anyone – but then again I didn’t anticipate the lack of variety in attendees and thus making for ho hum people watching. Geriatrics and hooker-fied 22 year olds on the arms of barely legal boys. Quite the combo.

I scored AMAZING DC United tickets for Saturday night – something I’ve never done before, which had pick-me-up potential. Until…wait for it…EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY FRIENDS was either out of town, or busy, had people in town or was otherwise engaged. I even went to THIRD TEIR friends! (note: if you actually KNOW me and you're reading this blog, you are NOT a third teir friend). The prospect of going to yet another event sans friends and surrounded by strangers was a little too much.

And with this extreme lack of joie de vivre, obviously I feel as if I have nothing spectacular with which to entertain you, dear readers. Which makes me sad as well and the prescription meds aren’t exactly filling in boredom, self-pity cavity I seem to have carved for myself.

Ugh – what a truly depressing post. Hopefully I’ll pick myself back up and be back to my generally chipper self!

*Cheers* <clinks glass> Here’s to hoping!

I’ve been confused lately.

Very confused.

From the whirlwind of work, schedules and happy hours to the swirling of thoughts in my head and emotions in my heart.

Maybe I’ll be able to think more clearly after he leaves and my life will take on some semblance of normalcy and of “me” again. But between surviving three relationships, two different jobs and one sexual assault in the past two years, how can I even remember what “normal” is anymore?

“Normally”, when a relationship was becoming rocky, or there was an end in sight,  I’d be out scheduling dates and parties with either the trusty standby’s in my little black book. These included generally attractive, fun guys that I have met during my tenure in the District out of which relationships never materialized for one reason or another. However, platonic friendship never Quite developed in their place. At any rate, these are all excellent candidates for lively dinner, happy hour or movie going companions easing moi back into a the single mentally and solo lifestyle.

But I haven’t so much as perused my phone contacts list in contemplation of an augmentation of my social life.

So perhaps the definition has changed – or have I?

Frankly,

P.S. The meeting of Mr. & Mrs. Army went well - as predicted, much wine was consumed. Thankfully, the meeting did not necessitate the need for hard liquor. I was, as predicted, underwhelmed by inclusion into the Army family dynamic. However, I did not spend the majority of the weekend dwelling on where I was not. Which, I think is a step forward?

Yesterday, I was elected, via popular vote plus an almost unanimous bid from the super delegates (Britney Spears and Michael Jackson pulled two votes each) the sole party candidate for the Presidential election of Crazy Town. I am currently attempting to withdraw my candidacy effective immediately, but the locals keep pulling me back in with bribes of happy pills and bottles of wine.

I have severe reservations about disclosing the exact events and/or circumstances under which I earned a VIP seat on the Express Train to Crazy Town (which bypasses Obsessive-ville, goes way beyond Nuts-o City and stops just short of Lunatic Junction) yesterday afternoon. Let’s just say it was a very, very low point that did no one (least of all ME) any good. A low point, a cavern if you will, which ultimately left me sitting across from Barbie #3 at a Dupont bar last night recounting my ride to Crazy Town whilst tears streamed from my red, puffy eyes that I tried to mask oh so cleverly behind Jackie-O sunglasses.

Thankfully, by the time my second Guinness was delivered by what had the be the WORST waiter in the history of food service, the tears had abated and I had re-applied my eye makeup, the evening took a decided turn for the better. By the end of the night, life didn’t seem quite so hopeless, and while I was still VERY crazy, at least I was laughing at my own insanity.

I will spend this weekend waiting to purchase a one way ticket back to the realm of sanity while I try to forget the fact that my friends are at my alma mater without me. And that despite his undeserving behavior, Fuckhead will be with them and I will not. I will try not to remember last year’s reunion and look, instead towards to future and concentrate on the present.

I have a beautiful weekend planned with Army to be spent on the Eastern Shore at a little Bed & Breakfast with sailing, shopping and sea food. Frankly, it sounds infinitely preferable to fraternal drama, substance abuse, and feeling significantly older than my 21 year old, undergraduate counterparts.

Dear Summer,

It is with mixed feelings that I bid you farewell. While your heat and humidity have given me perpetually bad hair and a grueling pedestrian commute, and your sunshine has left me with more freckles and skin damage (despite my shade mongering and daily SPF 30 application), you have left me with your fair share of memories as well.

Oh Summer of 2007, you were definitely my summer for travel – New York, Philly, Chicago, Kentucky, Cleveland, Vegas, Delaware and many states in between. You were my summer of co-habitation. For the first time in my life, under the threat of my father’s disowning me (had he found out), I shared my utility bills, my cat and my apartment keys with a boy. And it was heaven.

You gave me a new niece, born in June, a new brother-in-law, opportunity to see my family at a time other than Christmas, jet-ski races, and quality time with the Russian. You sent me away from the apartment by the White House back to my old stomping grounds of Dupont Circle – just around the corner from my first apartment in DC. And it’s good to be back.

But as much as you gave to me, Summer ’07, you took away family members, some friends and another year as I turned 27.

But in the end, I forgive you as you begin to wander farther away, taking with you your long days and warm nights, leaving me with darker, crisper mornings and football filled Saturdays. I will look forward to seeing your little sister (’08) next year and hope she finds me as much in love and loving life as you did (though you might want to tell her to lay off the freckles the sun bleaching) !

Fondly,

So sorry I’ve been silent as of late. Work, life and PMS have left me verbally uninspired and pretty much void of creativity.

Ok, enough excuses.

But you’ll be happy to know that I’m feeling good – about life and its forward momentum. However it is tempered with the usual personal demons of self-doubt and the challenges of getting my life together financially, physically and spiritually, but I have been dealing with ghosts of Scarlett past as well.

I am coming to terms with…for lack of a better explanation…ME. There are certainly many things that I love about myself and there are certainly chunks of time where I strut down the street, usually to the rhythm of an Indie rock song blaring through my Cherry Chocolate phone, thinking ‘God! I LOVE being ME!’ And for the most part, I do.

But with the advent of my 5 year college reunion, I have been overly nostalgic as of late. I am definitely looking forward to going back, but I must say I have mixed feelings about my college experience. I enjoyed myself to be sure but I suppose most of my memories and consequently, my regrets stem from my senior year and I must admit, while my first semester 2001, was the best academically by far, the spring semester left much to be desired in terms of grades, involvement in campus life, social life and friendships.

I regret the fact that I was in such a hurry to get out of school, to abandon the precious tree lined quad and end my stint of living with 60 girls in a house with only 8 showers. I regret the fact that I didn’t take more pleasure in researching and writing my 80 page thesis. I regret I haven’t made more of an effort to keep in touch with college friends. I regret the fact that I was so preoccupied with the fact that I was essentially done with school that I neglected my sorority functions. And I think I’m a bit apprehensive to go back more because I’ve convinced myself that still 5 years later, people will remember me as the gal who didn’t go to the little sister ceremony her senior year because she was working on her thesis!

But as I write this I find myself thinking about who I want to see when I go back. And what I remember about them. And I must admit, I don’t remember the bad things so much. I know my little sister and I lived together for two years – and while we fought…quite a bit near the end, I can’t even remember what it was about. I can’t recall who was at which sorority functions or who was absent. I cannot recall the petty arguments that went on amongst silly sorority girls – no doubt the result of too much estrogen, hormones, over exposure to daytime tv and usually incited by a combination of cheap wine, beer, jungle juice or ‘yank me crank me’ (a popular concoction consisting of vodka, seven up, beer and country time lemonade).

I do believe I have spent the last 5 years kicking myself for sins of relatively little consequence. What I do remember also – are hugs at parties accompanied by enthusiastic ‘I LOVE YOU’s of late nights smoking outside on crisp nights. Of road trips. Of laughter.

And so I can only hope that is what will come to the minds of those girls and boys now turned women and men as we see each other again after navigating life more singly than we did before. That they once laughed, cried, bitched, sang, drank, confided in and danced with the redhead with the big smile who was certainly never perfect, but always strong.

 Deep breath. Thank you for helping me prepare to walk down memory lane – also known as main street.