There's the feeling again. The one that makes me a little sad to be saying goodnight to my roommates tonight. It's the Sunday night blues, and although I will only have them twice more this summer after tonight, I can't help but feel sad about having to make the trek to work in the morning. The weeks get a little longer every week, and I'm about ready to be back in Las Cruces, working and finishing my degree and staying more busy than I have been.
I miss my stuff and my friends there, although I don't know a lot of what is going on in everyone's lives.
I'm ready to get back and get into my active routine - running and going to the gym - so I can feel a bit better than I do now.
But most of all, I look forward to going back so that I can feel needed again...and so I can avoid the Sunday night blues.
Sunday, July 19, 2009
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Holy Cow
Per request, here is a post about my experience on the Railrunner:
Working in Santa Fe and living in Albuquerque poses its own unique set of challenges that aren't easily overcome - not knowing which restaurant will take you out back and beat you because of their OUTRAGEOUS prices, for one, or perhaps that your entire office lives here, and you're the odd one out - none of these are exactly easily handled. But one thing I haven't had to worry about is commuting, thanks to Richardson's GENIUS implementation of a mass transit rail system from Belen to Santa Fe and everywhere in between.
The first day I got up and dragged myself to the Los Ranchos/Journal Center rail station, I was as excited as a 5-year-old riding the bus for the first time...not positive on what to expect, but thoroughly enjoying it nonetheless. That first day, I managed to read 130 pages in my first "for fun" book of the summer, solidifying the love I have for mass transit where I don't have to fight my way through traffic, getting to work in a rush and as a big ball of stress. Instead, I could read, sleep, eat, enjoy my coffee and be exposed to the plethora of characters on the train.
The first was Derron, my "train friend," as I call him (although, he has since begun driving because he says it saves him an hour and a half). He was fun to chat with for the first few weeks of my adventure. After a week and a half, we settled into a nice routine of sitting in the exact same car, in roughly the same seats. He would bring the ABQ Journal and after he was done with a section, he would pass it to me. We would sit there, discussing the news of the day or the happenings on the previous night's "So You Think You Can Dance," of which both of us are avid watchers. Now, however, I mostly sleep in the mornings...
The (almost) first is the cute guy from my stop that gets on the same car as me and has these adorable glasses that he wears. But he has sat in the seat across from me and is NOT social in the least, instead sticking his ear buds in his ears and turning up his iPOD Touch. Derron and I had a bet on how old he is...I still haven't asked, but I'm almost positive I'm right (he has to be 23 and immature...what other reason is there for me to be attracted to him?).
One of the more interesting days I've had on the train recently was the time I sat next to a guy on a very full 4:10 p.m. train, looking over at his phone briefly only to read "More spanking, please...grr." Needless to say, I giggled at what he assumed was the book sitting open on my lap. It's amazing the characters you encounter.
Incidents happen often with the train, as well. Most recently, a train I wasn't on (Thank God) collided with a cow (which is a regular occurence) and broke a brake pipe. It had to be fixed and all the passengers were moved to another train. This delayed them two extra hours. A few weeks ago, Derron and I had just boarded the train and sat down when the conductor came on and said we would have to wait because there was a truck stuck on the rail down the road. But later we found out it wasn't just any truck, it was a Brinks security truck full of money... and its blown tire had caused it to roll over the tracks. That day, we boarded the train at 5 p.m. and deboarded at 7:30. It wasn't exactly a nice development...but much better than a derail.
The most recent debate I had about the train ride was whether I should invest in a neck pillow to make my "naps" a little more enjoyable...but I'm afraid a fanny pack will come next...and from experience watching Santa Fe tourists get on and off the train, I will never be that desperate for a hands-free purse option.
Working in Santa Fe and living in Albuquerque poses its own unique set of challenges that aren't easily overcome - not knowing which restaurant will take you out back and beat you because of their OUTRAGEOUS prices, for one, or perhaps that your entire office lives here, and you're the odd one out - none of these are exactly easily handled. But one thing I haven't had to worry about is commuting, thanks to Richardson's GENIUS implementation of a mass transit rail system from Belen to Santa Fe and everywhere in between.
The first day I got up and dragged myself to the Los Ranchos/Journal Center rail station, I was as excited as a 5-year-old riding the bus for the first time...not positive on what to expect, but thoroughly enjoying it nonetheless. That first day, I managed to read 130 pages in my first "for fun" book of the summer, solidifying the love I have for mass transit where I don't have to fight my way through traffic, getting to work in a rush and as a big ball of stress. Instead, I could read, sleep, eat, enjoy my coffee and be exposed to the plethora of characters on the train.
The first was Derron, my "train friend," as I call him (although, he has since begun driving because he says it saves him an hour and a half). He was fun to chat with for the first few weeks of my adventure. After a week and a half, we settled into a nice routine of sitting in the exact same car, in roughly the same seats. He would bring the ABQ Journal and after he was done with a section, he would pass it to me. We would sit there, discussing the news of the day or the happenings on the previous night's "So You Think You Can Dance," of which both of us are avid watchers. Now, however, I mostly sleep in the mornings...
The (almost) first is the cute guy from my stop that gets on the same car as me and has these adorable glasses that he wears. But he has sat in the seat across from me and is NOT social in the least, instead sticking his ear buds in his ears and turning up his iPOD Touch. Derron and I had a bet on how old he is...I still haven't asked, but I'm almost positive I'm right (he has to be 23 and immature...what other reason is there for me to be attracted to him?).
One of the more interesting days I've had on the train recently was the time I sat next to a guy on a very full 4:10 p.m. train, looking over at his phone briefly only to read "More spanking, please...grr." Needless to say, I giggled at what he assumed was the book sitting open on my lap. It's amazing the characters you encounter.
Incidents happen often with the train, as well. Most recently, a train I wasn't on (Thank God) collided with a cow (which is a regular occurence) and broke a brake pipe. It had to be fixed and all the passengers were moved to another train. This delayed them two extra hours. A few weeks ago, Derron and I had just boarded the train and sat down when the conductor came on and said we would have to wait because there was a truck stuck on the rail down the road. But later we found out it wasn't just any truck, it was a Brinks security truck full of money... and its blown tire had caused it to roll over the tracks. That day, we boarded the train at 5 p.m. and deboarded at 7:30. It wasn't exactly a nice development...but much better than a derail.
The most recent debate I had about the train ride was whether I should invest in a neck pillow to make my "naps" a little more enjoyable...but I'm afraid a fanny pack will come next...and from experience watching Santa Fe tourists get on and off the train, I will never be that desperate for a hands-free purse option.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Another week on the train
I'm back in ABQ after a weekend in Deming/Las Cruces...and anxious for next weekend to roll around again. I'm SO not ready for a week of temp work.
My goal for the rest of the year is to update at least three times a week, no matter what. What's the point of having a blog if you don't use it? Plus, sometimes I just like telling stories, and that's what this is all about.
If there are things any of my two readers would like to read, let me know and I will try and oblige.
For now, I will leave you with this: Might be buying a truck in the next couple of weeks... More to come. Don't want to jinx it.
Night
My goal for the rest of the year is to update at least three times a week, no matter what. What's the point of having a blog if you don't use it? Plus, sometimes I just like telling stories, and that's what this is all about.
If there are things any of my two readers would like to read, let me know and I will try and oblige.
For now, I will leave you with this: Might be buying a truck in the next couple of weeks... More to come. Don't want to jinx it.
Night
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Snuggles
The first night I stayed with S, it was the beginning of the New Year. Not just the beginning, but an hour after the clock struck midnight and my friends and I lit sparklers and listened to all the fireworks exploding across the City of the Crosses. After a sweet text from him that read "Can't wait for the first kiss of the New Year," I knew I was going to be with him.
As I crossed the city toward his house, I was excited to see him - butterflies and all. There weren't any cars on the road and I sailed through the lights, eager to have my kiss. As I walked up the dark porch toward his house, I realized that I really like this guy despite all my reservations. Rarely did I let people in - friends, sure...but guys had to work a little harder. I've never known why that is. Could be that I spent a year and a half pining after a "taken" man before admitting defeat and pursuing others...and by pursuing I mean giving up.
I walked into his house and he was there, laying on his futon watching "Lord of the Rings" (which, clearly, should have been a sign), and I laid down right next to him, his arms wrapping around me and allowing me to drift off to sleep. I don't know how long I was like that, but I felt comfortable enough to completely lose myself in his arms. At one point, still partically asleep and overly groggy, we stumbled to his room and, fully clothed, I crawled into bed and fell asleep. I remember him taking a big whiff of my hair - he always loved how it smelled, even after a long day - and whispered, "Night baby."
His snuggling technique should be patented. His 6-foot-tall frame and long arms wrap around, making you feel completely protected and loved. Normally, with anyone else, I wouldn't want to fall asleep like that. I like my space - a lot. But with him, it was different. I laid there for a while, listening to his light breathing on my ear until it became heavy and I drifted off, too, waking only as the sunlight began streaming through the blinds.
Never did I think I'd become so addicted to those snuggles that I would let a doomed relationship continue long past its expiration date. But it's not the relationship, it's the routine that became important, as a friend would say. Snuggles were part of my routine...and late at night, as I fall asleep, the pain is worst of all, missing those arms and light breath. Guess that's why sleep is becoming less and less likely.
As I crossed the city toward his house, I was excited to see him - butterflies and all. There weren't any cars on the road and I sailed through the lights, eager to have my kiss. As I walked up the dark porch toward his house, I realized that I really like this guy despite all my reservations. Rarely did I let people in - friends, sure...but guys had to work a little harder. I've never known why that is. Could be that I spent a year and a half pining after a "taken" man before admitting defeat and pursuing others...and by pursuing I mean giving up.
I walked into his house and he was there, laying on his futon watching "Lord of the Rings" (which, clearly, should have been a sign), and I laid down right next to him, his arms wrapping around me and allowing me to drift off to sleep. I don't know how long I was like that, but I felt comfortable enough to completely lose myself in his arms. At one point, still partically asleep and overly groggy, we stumbled to his room and, fully clothed, I crawled into bed and fell asleep. I remember him taking a big whiff of my hair - he always loved how it smelled, even after a long day - and whispered, "Night baby."
His snuggling technique should be patented. His 6-foot-tall frame and long arms wrap around, making you feel completely protected and loved. Normally, with anyone else, I wouldn't want to fall asleep like that. I like my space - a lot. But with him, it was different. I laid there for a while, listening to his light breathing on my ear until it became heavy and I drifted off, too, waking only as the sunlight began streaming through the blinds.
Never did I think I'd become so addicted to those snuggles that I would let a doomed relationship continue long past its expiration date. But it's not the relationship, it's the routine that became important, as a friend would say. Snuggles were part of my routine...and late at night, as I fall asleep, the pain is worst of all, missing those arms and light breath. Guess that's why sleep is becoming less and less likely.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Smell
At first, I couldn't quite figure out what attracted me to him.
S was, well, he was a player when I met him. He dated a couple girls at the same time, complaining to a mutual friend that one would find out about the other and both would get mad and break it off with him after which he would just start all over again. I could never figure out what attracted the sea of women that liked this tall, goofy, long-haired and carefree guy. Then again, I became enthralled by him myself.
I was dating someone else at the time - a guy who was kind, driven and, at first, admired the independent spirit I had in me. Slowly, however, I realized that the over-confident exterior that he showed to the rest of the world was just a cover for the insecurities he felt. He became far too clingy and before too long, I longed to be rid of the whiny behavior he began to display. Then S came around. He seemed like the perfect way to spend my Christmas vacation.
During finals week, we studied together, spending long nights at Milagro or International Delights where we would end up just talking and sipping coffee, getting to know each other's personality a little better. He was, by all intents and purposes, just the opposite of what I'd been looking for. He had drive, but he wasn't lethal about it - he didn't need to get to the top to be satisfied with his life. He studied too much, spent far too much time hitting the books, but managed to make time for his friends and swimming. It was intriguing how this aloof character could manage to hold my attention.
I can't seem to remember our first kiss. I don't know when it happened...I only remember it was in his driveway after I dropped him off from going somewhere, maybe a drink or happy hour. I never really thought about what that meant, but I did know at the time, it meant I liked this guy who played girls like the guitar he strummed those nights he hung out with his roommates. Not long after that first kiss, they became more frequent as he and I developed more than just crushes on each other. I discovered that the player ways came after he ended a long term relationship with a girl he lived with - more are a coping mechanism than an actual lifestyle.
Upon asking him later, he said he wasn't really "that guy" and just wanted to try it out for a while. It didn't really suit him, especially after getting caught so many times during the course of his escapades. I found out later that when we started dating, he called it off with every other girl he was seeing because I was different. I thought it was statements like this that kept me interested, made me think about him every day without fail, but as our relationship went on, I realized I would miss his smell most of all.
It wasn't a exactly a smell, per se, but more of an aura. My friend B called it phermones - the scent that attracts people to one another. I realized his was different after hanging out with another person whose smell was, to put it lightly, raunchy. Like he hadn't showered in a few days, even though I know he had good personal hygiene. With S, it was different. His smell was dangerous - like I couldn't resist it. He didn't wear cologne or aftershave, and he didn't use fruity bodywash or body spray that on commercials would make women melt. It was just...him. He smelled like a mixture of chlorine and soap - a scent that later would make me ache with missing him.
People say that a smell triggers a memory, but my memory doesn't need a trigger. It remembers all on its own.
S was, well, he was a player when I met him. He dated a couple girls at the same time, complaining to a mutual friend that one would find out about the other and both would get mad and break it off with him after which he would just start all over again. I could never figure out what attracted the sea of women that liked this tall, goofy, long-haired and carefree guy. Then again, I became enthralled by him myself.
I was dating someone else at the time - a guy who was kind, driven and, at first, admired the independent spirit I had in me. Slowly, however, I realized that the over-confident exterior that he showed to the rest of the world was just a cover for the insecurities he felt. He became far too clingy and before too long, I longed to be rid of the whiny behavior he began to display. Then S came around. He seemed like the perfect way to spend my Christmas vacation.
During finals week, we studied together, spending long nights at Milagro or International Delights where we would end up just talking and sipping coffee, getting to know each other's personality a little better. He was, by all intents and purposes, just the opposite of what I'd been looking for. He had drive, but he wasn't lethal about it - he didn't need to get to the top to be satisfied with his life. He studied too much, spent far too much time hitting the books, but managed to make time for his friends and swimming. It was intriguing how this aloof character could manage to hold my attention.
I can't seem to remember our first kiss. I don't know when it happened...I only remember it was in his driveway after I dropped him off from going somewhere, maybe a drink or happy hour. I never really thought about what that meant, but I did know at the time, it meant I liked this guy who played girls like the guitar he strummed those nights he hung out with his roommates. Not long after that first kiss, they became more frequent as he and I developed more than just crushes on each other. I discovered that the player ways came after he ended a long term relationship with a girl he lived with - more are a coping mechanism than an actual lifestyle.
Upon asking him later, he said he wasn't really "that guy" and just wanted to try it out for a while. It didn't really suit him, especially after getting caught so many times during the course of his escapades. I found out later that when we started dating, he called it off with every other girl he was seeing because I was different. I thought it was statements like this that kept me interested, made me think about him every day without fail, but as our relationship went on, I realized I would miss his smell most of all.
It wasn't a exactly a smell, per se, but more of an aura. My friend B called it phermones - the scent that attracts people to one another. I realized his was different after hanging out with another person whose smell was, to put it lightly, raunchy. Like he hadn't showered in a few days, even though I know he had good personal hygiene. With S, it was different. His smell was dangerous - like I couldn't resist it. He didn't wear cologne or aftershave, and he didn't use fruity bodywash or body spray that on commercials would make women melt. It was just...him. He smelled like a mixture of chlorine and soap - a scent that later would make me ache with missing him.
People say that a smell triggers a memory, but my memory doesn't need a trigger. It remembers all on its own.
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