The castle of Princess Muscles

Things become habitual for me fairly easily. Sometimes, a bit against my will. For the last three years, I've been repeating self defeating actions while simultaneously telling myself to fucking stop, because I hate how the actions make me feel. And over the last eight months, I've slowly but surely stopped doing these things. For a combination of reasons, but mostly because of My Fellow, really.

After a breakup, especially one you didn't want, it's hard to see value in yourself. At least for me. I struggled to find my worth for a long, long time. I tried to find it in poisonous things, with awful people, and while fucking my way through misery helped a bit, I found most of the important stuff I'd been missing in making new friends and indulging my hobbies with people that wanted to do them, too. Which is how I met My Fellow. And now we have habits, and they're nice. Saturdays are lazy nights, and we either make dinner together or go out, we'll watch a movie, and that's that. Sunday morning I make pancakes, we'll lay in bed for an hour or two after breakfast, and then we go for an adventure with our cameras, or we hang out with our friends. I've grown very accustomed to this, and I'm very slowly realizing how much I hate that I don't get to do this until the middle of next month, because the army is demanding and field exercises are fucking dumb.

I've spent all day thinking about how the last year has been, and I had an epiphany. Everything clicked together. I finally had the conversation with Dan that I've needed to have for months, and it fucking locked everything in.

While My Fellow and I will not be together much longer, I'm very much going to enjoy the rest of our time together. He's excited to go visit my family with me in September, and I'm excited for him to do so. I still know I am incapable of giving him what he wants and needs from me, but I've explained myself to him, I've been honest about the issues I've had with Dan, and he's still here. The least I can do is be present. I've made small steps, and I've made concessions, which is how I wound up as a girlfriend again in the first place. I didn't want to be, but it's not so bad. I was very clear about not wanting to relinquish my sexual freedom, but knowing I don't have a leash has mostly stilled the itch. He lets me be me, with no expectations. I can just be, and god damn is that freeing. He loves me anyway. I don't really know how to process that, but I'm trying, and I think it'll be easier now.

Perhaps I was wrong, and My Fellow isn't too needy at all. Perhaps I've just been broken for a little bit. Maybe I'll be more receptive to his vulnerability and ability to be human with me. Then again, maybe not.

Our relationship only has a couple more months at most, and I'm not really upset about it. This is probably for the better, even though My Fellow is undeniably the best boyfriend I've ever had.  I've had a small, but delightful hiccup for the last two days, but that's for a different blog on a different day. Probably tomorrow. For now, I'm thirty years old, officially, and I'm tired.

Goodbye, twenties! And with you, goodbye emotional hangups. I won't miss either of you, honestly.

I'm too tired to admit it doesn't hurt to be left out

My heart hurts.

I tried to go for a run tonight, but I'm having trouble breathing and it didn't work so well for me.

I'm having a lovely drink and watching Boy Meets World. I feel quite sleepy, so I'm probably going to fall asleep shortly. Nothing is worse than falling asleep sad.

Until the fucking wheels come off

I finally completed thirty minutes of running. I feel so fucking pleased with myself that I'm celebrating by watching Boy Meets World. I'm debating going and buying my favorite after running treat: coconut water bars with pineapple juice. But I also enjoy how comfortable I feel in my bed. I do have to shower, but I don't want to. Dilemmas.

Today was an interesting day. I got my first taste of staging at my second job, and I hate it.

I can't understand the outfits on Boy Meets World. I...I can't even. But I love that it still holds up as far as my enjoyment is concerned, because I'm having such a great time watching it. And I'm going to be thirty in five days. Which means I first watched this show twenty fucking years ago. Oh god, my feelings. Welp.

There's this, however:

I'm going out to the lake tonight to see if I can top it. I'm insanely competitive. Especially with myself.

You're my letter to desire, and you'll never read yourself.

So, I'm doing camera prep for tomorrow. Here's the itinerary:


- Wake up at 4:15
- pack camera bag and snacky things
- slam a Rockstar
- Drive five hours to Crystal
- PHOTOGRAPH DEAD HORSE MILL (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
- Photograph Crystal
- Drive to the hour and a half to Hanging Lake
- Make that dreadfully hard hike (but this time, with my arm in my sling, and appropriate shoes)
- Photograph, photograph, photograph
-Drive four hours home
- Go. The. Fuck. To. Sleep.


I'm so glad I'm taking this trip with company, as I am too fucking broke right now to afford it (I may very well be in the WORST state of financial hell I've ever personally been in. And I've been homeless, so that's saying something). But also because that's a lot of driving. And I love a good road trip, but that's too much in my condition. Which is selfishly interested in staring out the window, in case you were curious.


It's been a very, very long week, and I'm very excited to finish this blog and catch up on Suits. I'm fairly convinced that the writers modeled Donna after me. I also covet her wardrobe.


Time to finish cleaning the camera! Then Suits and sleep. Yay!

The day I climbed a mountain in flip flops

Short entry again. I climbed a mountain yesterday, and had physical  therapy today. Saying I'm in pain is underselling how I feel.

Here are the things I shot:

My kingdom for clean hair, and an x-ray of my breast

Really, having a broken arm isn't that bad. I mean, it takes me a long time to dress myself....but I can! No complaints there. It's uncomfortable when I sleep, but I sometimes sleep through the night now, so again, no complaints. I do sneak upstairs into Allen's room and curl up next to him some nights, however. I just can't get comfortable downstairs, and he has more pillows than I do. It's a nice change of pace. But I digress.

My one complaint? I can't take a shower without help, and I DEFINITELY can't wash or style my hair. That makes me feel subhuman. The girl who colors my hair made me an offer I couldn't refuse, so she washes my hair for me twice a week. Those days are my favorites.

I miss taking photos. I can't hold my camera at all. Harrumph.

I suppose I actually could complain about quite a bit...but why? It doesn't change anything. I WILL say that the storms rolling through are doing a number on my arm. The pressure changes are not very friendly, and as a result, I'm spending my hours with percocets just so I can feel a normal amount of pain.

My staples are gone, though!

In which you can see Allen's lap, my plate and screws, and my breast in x-ray form:

Phase two in the Lady Deathstryke crossover: complete. My incision site looks pretty radical, as well, but I'll have to post that later. Blogger is proving uncooperative.

I can't type much more. It's painful. I start physical therapy tomorrow, and I'm fairly scared. BUT, I''m a tough old thing. I'll make it through with a smileon my face, even if I don't feel like smiling.

Sidestep the little bits of history repeating

This is going to be short, but I had to post these, because I am fascinated by my own gross body.

This is slightly graphic, fair warning.

 Taking off the bandages, part the first.

 Oh lordy, I am erotic and supple!

 22 staples and some interesting colors!

 Phase one of becoming Lady Deathstrike: Complete.

My wrist now: still fucking swollen and gigantic.

I am packing to go home, though. I am so, so excited. Now to hope my flight doesn't crash!