Well damn, Ive been busy.

I got "let go" from my job, AKA the business is on it's way to being belly up. Not good. Single mother who is a part time student that pays bills out the wazoo? Not a pleasant situation to be in for the unemployed. So I applied for this job about 3 weeks ago. Project Administrator at an engineering firm. I didn't suspect a call because I sell insurance, what do I know about engineering? The hiring manager e-mailed me and set up a time and date for an interview. I went to the interview completely blind and nervous and I had the nervous poops every 3 minutes. She said the famous line; "We'll call you on Friday".

No call.

Monday rolls around, and she calls me at 5:30 pm. I have a second interview on Thursday. Should I be excited? Is this standard procedure that everyone goes through when they are being interviewed? I have no idea. I've had 2 jobs before, neither of which I had to apply for. I mean, I guess I kind if "applied" to enlist in the Army, but the insurance gig kind of fell into my lap.

I need this job. Badly. My son depends on it. The pay is pretty good, $15 an hour; plus it has benefits. BENEFITS! I haven't had a visit with the doctor since I had my son back in 2007. It is about 112 dollar upgrade per week from my previous job as well.

I need it. I neeeeeeeeeed it.

No news is good news.

Things have been steadily boring lately which is actually a good thing. No drama, no problems, no bull shit. My cat has fleas, though. She's getting the flea dip treatment and I've quarantined her to my guest bathroom with her food and kitty litter because I've done the flea thing before with a different cat. Three times I had to flea bomb my apartment. THREE TIMES. I will. not. do. it. again. Her sad little meows disgust me. And so does the fact that I've locked my poor Brownie in a bathroom; but right now she's a bug ridden flea bag and I will not bomb my apartment again.

On another note, Saints and Vikings. September 9th. Season opener. I'm getting tickets and by God, wouldn't you know it; September 9th is my 22nd birthday. I've been reading the trash talk tweets between Sharper and Shiancoe, and it gave me a lady boner. Favre has had the surgery so it's safe to say he'll be back which also gives me a lady boner. I conveniently live in Who Dat nation, so a month leading up to the season opener, I'll proudly display my horns and Minnesota Vikings wardrobe and once again become one of the most hated residents in the greater New Orleans area.

Now I am all out of things to say. AMF.

I'm not going to lie.

I'm pretty horny right now.

Like, I kind of need to get laid.

This might sound crazy.

I have vivid dreams sometimes. They are normal dreams, with normal people I know, doing normal dream-like things. But they are clear, vivid, and intense.

By the end of the dream my heart will race, it will pound so hard it wakes me. But I calmly awake in a very still fashion and instantly I know I'm not alone. The bedding surrounding me is ice cold, the tips of my fingers and my lips feel like ice cubes. I blink, and widen my eyes, my eyelashes feel like hot ash on the ridges of my cheekbones. The hole in my chest feels heavy and hollow.

I reach over to my son who is still asleep. He is warm, untouched, unharmed. His soft breathing eases me, but only for a moment.

I can feel them, but I can't hear them. I reach into the air above my bed, it's cold and sharp. It's dry, and stings my frozen hands. What do they want from me?

Death looms over my head, it follows me like a shadow. One can only assume after nights like these that my time is coming. It may not be death. But it scares me only the way death scares people. It scares me stiff, it horrifies me.

Within seconds, the blood rushes back to my face, my fingers tingle with warmness, and the empty hole fills with sleepiness. I close my eyes, and I see His face.

"It's been a while" He says.
I ignore Him and fall asleep.

Life throws you curves, but you learn to swerve.

I was recently asked what I value most in life. My automatic response was just that, automated. I answered the obvious in my head- my son, my family, my job... And while I love those things, especially my son, dearly, I think it goes a little deeper than just the obvious. I think when we sit down and reflect on our lives, sometimes our reflections are a little vague. Okay, maybe it's just me who does that. I'm so wrapped up in the now that I lose sight of how I got here and where I plan to go. And here I go, thinking again.

My life has been a whirlwind of dramatics and severely drastic changes. Going from a high school student, to a United States solider, to a wife and mother, to a single mom in the span of 4 years isn't really taking it slow, is it? It seems like lately I've focused all of my attention on the perpetual burns my life has dealt me, and that makes me a fool.

So what do I value most in my life? My son, Big Pimpin', has taught me a lot about this particular subject. By the way, he is two- and I'm here to tell you that two year olds know more about the value of life than we do as adults. I swear. They are bona fide geniuses when it comes to life minus the whole screaming in aisle 3 at Wal-Mart because I want A CHOCOLATE MILK RIGHT NOW!

I could watch him live life for days and never get bored. Sure, he doesn't have a bill to pay or a deadline to meet. And yeah, he doesn't have to cook dinner or even wipe his own ass, but the boy knows that sometimes- just sometimes, it's all about him. He cares about his belongings, as if his 300 matchbox cars love him back. He'll eat his food when he is damn good and ready to eat his food. He'll poop in his pants and watch Dora all damn day if he wants to. And if he doesn't get the piece of candy he wanted because it was either that or he'd obviously die, well fine. He'll just go to his room and die. Then come ask me for candy again in 5 minutes. All he knows is that his needs and wants must be met before his world can continue turning. Then I must remember, he is two and all two year olds couldn't give a shit about anyone but themselves, but I digress.

Sometimes I live my life through pleasing other people. I think of what other people will think of me over what would make me happy. The praises and the contentment in formal and informal relationships seem to stress me out because it's all I worry about. The money in my bank, the ex-husband, the boss across the office, the bills, the ex-inlaws. I carefully and ever so tactfully walk on eggs shells around these things. I worry that one wrong move will ruin my reputation and forever burden my will to live. What about me? Have I forgotten that in my life, one of the most valuable things is... well, me?

So this time, this post, just this once, the thing I value most in my life is... me.

Kidney stones. HOLLER

It's pretty much safe to say that kidney stones are very comparable to death. I happen to think that death is better, because at least you die and no longer have to deal with TINY STONES BEING SHOVED OUT OF YOUR PEE HOLE. I liked to die, ya'll. I woke up the other night with the worst "I have to piss, like, YESTERDAY" sensation, and upon urination, I fell to my knees off the toilet and saw Jesus' face. It took a few days, but I am better. Id honestly give up my eyeballs to never have to go through that again.

In other news, the cheapest divorce consultation I can find is TWO HUNDRED DOLLARS AN HOUR. What in the hell? I have one question, and I have to pay 200 dollars for the answer. I unfortunately googled the shit out of the question and found many conflicting answers. My 200 dollar question is as follows: According to Louisiana divorce laws, in an uncontested divorce involving minor children, is the 1 year waiting period (being physically separated from your spouse) before the divorce is granted BEFORE filing, or AFTER filing? In other words, do I have to be living on my own for one year before I can file, or do I have to wait one year after I file in order for the divorce to be granted.

I've lived on my own for over a year, so I am really hoping the waiting period is before filing. Id hate to have to wait another year for this to be over. Also, are there pro bono divorce lawyers? I can hardly afford to flush my toilet, let alone fork over ridiculous amounts of money for someone to draw up a few pieces of paper for two people who JUST WANT IT TO BE OVER.

James got me a card for mother's day. I didn't expect him to, but it's nice... since I am the mother of his child. It was a nice card, until he wrote this "...We may not be meant for each other, but you were meant to be my son's mother." ....which, uh, I guess is sweet in James' own way. Maybe it's because I know him so well that as I was reading it, I could hear his voice. I laughed a little. But it was nice. Weird, but nice.

Love is a steel framed version of happiness.

Do you think that you recognize love right away? Or is it something that grows on you? Can it be both? Are they both acceptable?

I'm in love. These questions I ask are not asked so that I can justify the craziness I've been slapped with over the past month, but to have a conversation about love- and how it comes about.

My past experiences with love have been pretty unfavorable considering the confusion between lust and love is to be expected from an 18 year old pregnant chick. So I know the difference. Maybe I don't, but I can feel the difference. My failed marriage shed light onto what is and what isn't love. Not that love has a hand book that lays out the limits and rules to what love should be, but I am fairly certain "I hate you, you slutty whore" is not something that someone you love wants to hear.

Now, I've been seeing this guy for a month. I love him. It goes against what I've said all along, it goes against what your mother tells you, what your friends tell you... "Only a month? You can't possibly love him!" But I do. So there, I've said it... it's out there for all 3 of you to read. I've fallen in love with a man I've been seeing for a month. But here's the thing, I fell in love with him on our first date. Sparks weren't flying, we didn't have this unbelievable date that went perfectly, but the first time our eyes met my heart quit beating. It was a rainy day, extremely muggy, and there was way too many people out in the French Quarter. We went to the French Market grill and ate horribly made po-boys under a leaky airconditioning vent. We got lost trying to find the movie theater and ended up watching Diary of Wimpy Kid with thirty 12 year olds. The imperfections of the day fell to pieces around my feet because all I saw was that something I've been looking for. Happiness.

I didn't find the happiness in him or even in the way he makes me feel. I found it in the small moments through out the night, the stupid jokes, the rain that frizzed my hair. I continue to find this happiness. Maybe it IS him, maybe HE is the happiness, but I find it easier to find happiness in other things in my life because of him. We're in love, we're in happiness.