FYI

I actually learned a long time ago that when I'm happy I don't generally write as much. I don't feel a need to express myself creatively or have an outlet when shit is going well. When I started this blog, I had uprooted my white ass and moved myself and my cat to the redness known as Cookeville. I had left a job making good money in a field that I had a semi-degree in and was unemployed and moving in with 2 boys and 1 retard. I had shit to say. Almost a year later, I really haven't chronicled my 'adventure' all that much or often. *shrug* Sometimes I think that hey- maybe I want to write more and maybe I could be like interweb famous and shit. Then I realize I don't really care- I just like to occasionally get my simple, silly thoughts down in typeface. Maybe because I like to type (srsly, 70+ WPM- I like this shit for some reason) or maybe because I'm an only child by birth and am therefore overly vain and conceited. I mean, everyone wants to read what I have to say, right?

Duh.

I've come a long way in the past 11 months. Went from working part-time at a motorcycle dealership inputting numbers and running errands to working full-time + overtime almost every week selling motorcycles and financing motherfuckers. Bitch- I know the combination to the safe of the store. Only me and my GM know them digits. For some reason, this makes me feel special or something. Sometimes I trivialize my position at my store, then I realize- I do all the things and I like that. I had first started there only wanting limited responsibility and hours, and quickly accepted the fact (all over again) that I am a text book type A personality who likes to control things and know the inner-workings of whatever I'm involved in. I take pride in my job and the work I do there. Today, I added to our t-shirt display the back of each shirt so fuckwit customers wouldn't have to unfold every single t-shirt they were considering to see what the design on the flip was. I also got 2 new air conditioning units for the store. I think I'm more proud of my tiny, laminated pictures than the latter. Go figure.

Speaking of jerbs, Boyfrand starts his 'big boy job' Tuesday. Can I just say I am proud as fuck of him? Because I am. The kid whose parents didn't believe in and were assholes to has grown into a man who supports himself on his own, because god knows they weren't going to help anyway, and impresses me and others on a daily basis. I love this man. It's kinda gross, and I don't care.

With that said, as Summer is ushered in- both he and I are set in careers and secure in our relationship. We are happy- individually and together. It's a good feeling. If you've ever been in a shitty relationship, you can give a 'hell yeah' to that. I remember where I was a couple years ago and today I can say I am thankful for that, for I would never be where or who I am without that journey. Don't get me wrong- I wouldn't go back and do that shit again for a million dollars. But I have always said I never regret the past because the past is to thank for your present. If I had never married, divorced, entangled myself stupidly, cried lots, and drank more, I never would've met the people along the way who I know I will love and cherish relationships with forever. Not only romantically, but as true friends. I thank those who made my life a bit tumultuous, because I wouldn't be here: in Cookeville living with a Man that supports me 147% and loves me (and the cat, truth) unconditionally, in a lovely home, and happy as fuck.