so maybe I'm a little bit different, afterall

"I'm not high maintenence. I'm mid maintenence" This was my favorite way to describe myself for years, but I was only fooling myself: everyone else already knew this was a lie. And it wasn't a very good lie, either.

I wouldnt say that I lived a spoiled rotten life, but I dont recall ever wanting for anything when I was a kid. When I was 16 I wanted a car. What did I get????? NOT the shiny red mustang on the showroom floor. I got a J-O-B instead. And then I got the shiny red mustand coupe on the showroom floor. I worked damn hard for that car -- I've made more pizza than you can shake a stick at, baby sat lots of kids, juggled my AP and Honors class schedule, orchestra, student government and anything else that I thought would get me into a great college, and then made some more pizza. I had some rather lofty goals for myself and I was going to make them happen.

And I did. sort of.

I got into my second choice school (I'm still bitter than Ga Tech didnt accept me. I often wonder if I would have included a picture with my application if things would have been different. It worked for Reese Witherspoon in Legally Blonde, right??) within three weeks. That's pretty much unheard of. So it was decided -- I was going to be a Clemson Tiger majoring in Chemistry. Blonde of not, I'm a pretty smart chick. Goals were being accomplished and I was doing it on my own.

All of this goal setting and attaining would some day make it difficult for men to live up to my expectations and requirements -- not because they lacked in anything, but because I was doing it on my own and didnt need them to be fullfilled. I bought my first car, I got into a great school, I paid for 80% of my out of state school on my own, apartments in and after college, clothes, shoes, different cars. I wasn't ever the girl that wanted to be showered with gifts. I didnt need a boy to get me something -- I'd get it myself! What I wanted was intellectual stimulation. I wanted someone who would make me laugh and not let me be so serious and high strung all of the time.

The girlfriends that I have been fortunate enough to surround myself with are a LOT like me - headstrong, witty, smart, focused, and remarkably wonderful, and we can all talk each other off of the ledge when we're wound a little too tightly. So what makes me so different???

My daily life. For the better part of the past year, and for most of the upcoming year (and then who knows) I will live separated from my husband. I guess it's a military-ish life we live. Jason loves his job and I love that he loves his job. I dont watch the news if I can help it. I am glued to my phone and computer because it's how we communicate. I curse the battery life on my phone daily. We live Groundhog Day each day, every day, on opposite sides of the planet -- wake up, go to work, have dinner, talk via instant messaging, go to bed. Get up and do it all over again. Thrown in the mix are workouts and for me an occaisional dinner out. I manage the distance. I keep the lonliness in check and look at the big picture instead of just the short term separation.

What else makes me different? The fact that I dont have a single girlfriend that would live the life I live. Days, weeks, months away from their husband. Let alone have a husband that lives on a military base. I have my moments of sheer panic, I wont lie. When he's on a transAtlantic flight I can't focus on anything but the clock. I know what time he should be landing and I hold my breath until my phone tells me that I've received a message from him. Next I get to worry when he gets on a plane and heads to the base. He tells me that I have nothing to worry about -- but he knows I will anyway. I worry because I love him. I worry because the short term is hard enough...the thought of permanent is unthinkable. There are days that I dont even hear from him. Those days arent very fun because I dont sleep well when I dont know that he's 100000% ok.

I'm a little bit different because I'm a faux military wife (or close enough right now at least). The independance that I attained so early on keeps me sane here at home and I'm ok with that. I appreciate the life I live. And it'll make for some good blogging!

Where do you go from there?

This is my first blog -- so I apologize in advance for how "unfancy" and rudimentary it may be.

I like to talk, but not really. I'm fantastic at small talk but not good with the intimate conversations and telling everyone everything that's going on. To my close friends I can spill the beans and the tears and the emotions as if the dam had sprung a leak. But to a total stranger? Not so much....until right now.

I've thought about blogging in the past few months. I have friends that do it, so why not do it too? I mean all of my friends seem to be jumping off of a bridge so I'll follow suit. But, when I thought about it I didnt consider my life to be all that exciting. I have a fairly normal life. Sort of. I work, I come home, I sleep, I talk to my fiance (who is half way around the world), I sleep, I do it all over again. It's like the movie Groundhog Day.

This morning my thought process shifted. The rose colored glasses that I've been looking at the world through cracked. Reality has snuck in.... I hate reality. I prefer my lovely glasses much more.

I get up every morning by the aide of my phone, even though I have a perfectly good alarm clock that I've had since I went away to college in 1999. The problem with my phone is that all of my emails are linked to it; so I get the pleasure of laying in bed a few extra minutes to be lazy. I get to read what Groupon is offering, what Banana Republic is selling, and any other promotions that have come my way since I went to bed. What I wasn't expecting to see was an email from my mother at 1:07am.

My mom was a school teacher for over 30 years, and she's still conditioned to go to bed before 10 pm, and now that she's retired she allows herself to sleep in till at least 8:30am. Getting an email at 1:07am is just not something that happens. My parents try not to worry my brother and I if it's not necessary and we appreciate that -- most times. This is a time I wish they had called me.

My dad's parents lived in Miami when Hurricane Andrew destroyed south Florida in 1992. I was 11 at the time and the following winter they moved in with us just before another natural disaster happened -- a blizzard (this was not a good year for weather). They never moved out and I grew up with their presence (another blog for later) in our home. It's never occured to me to NOT have them around. Until today.

My Nana, as she's called, was a smoker most of her life. I think she finally quit when I was 16? We all know the dangers of smoking, we've taken health classes, seen the lungs on display during field trips, etc. What we know now wasn't known then. Nana has never really been a strong person, and I dont mean physically and being able to hold up cars while. She's not a fighter when it comes to anything -- it's easier to admit defeat than push back and fight. I've noticed this trend and mental attitude becoming more prevelant over the years, as her health has deteriorated.

My grandfather, PawPaw, is just the opposite. He's the domesticated one -- does laundry, makes dinner, feeds the animals (Canada geese that live in the backyard year round and their cat and parrot), drives to all of their doctor's appointments, and he mows the yard. When he's sick you know he's sick. But, he never complains -- he just sucks it up, deals with it and gets better. How their marriage lasted this long is beyond me, but today I observed and started to think. Today.

Today sucked. Today sucked really badly. I am not a person that can hold herself together easily unless I am compelled to do so. My mom has always joked that I am the perfect person to own a cat (or cats) because like cats, I dont like to be held. I like to be loved and petted for a short time and then be on my way. On my schedule. As I've gotten older, and grown both mentally and emotionally, I'm becoming more emotional outwardly. Maybe I'm just getting soft in my old age... Today I wanted to break down into a million pieces but couldnt. I'm the person that rarely cries publicly and if you happen to be around me when I cry then you will inevitably cry as well. Today I couldnt. Today I was compelled to hold myself together.

So, my email from my mom said that she and my dad took Nana to the hospital yesterday afternoon and she is now in ICU. COPD and congestive heart failure. We all know what the outcome will be.

Today I was an observer, for the most part. Today I observed how to pick the right person to build a life with. I observed what the glorious result is from weathering out the ups and downs. You stick it out, thick and thin. I observed that you flirt when machines are beeping and humming. You keep moving forward, you put on your big girl (or boy) panties and you dont let the fear in your heart and knowledge in your head show to the other person -- the one with the tubes and IV's and machines. You dont ignore the inevitable, you just persevere. You carry the burden and worry and fear for both of you. You put your most loving face forward, and you pray silently.

My grandparents have been married for 60 years. Not only is that a damn long time, if you've ever met my family you know that's an even longer damn time.

I'm marrying the right person, the person I want weather life with, in December. I hope that when Jason and I have to say "I'll see you later" that we will flirting with each other and not letting our fear show, too.