I am in Mississippi and loving it. Mind you, it’s been a vacation and I haven’t had real responsibilities, but I’m loving it here.  The weather’s been great, there’s a lake I could kayak in, and I have two roomates waiting for me kinda.  

I’m ready to start my new chapter, and a little scared, but I really wanna move here.  And there’s this boy, too.  And lots of ultimate frisbee.  And hunting.  It’s looking good.

My life.

Being 22, it’s obvious that I have been exposed to a lot of stuff.  The media makes sure of that.  And, lets be honest, it’s so rare to be 22 and in the VLC.  AKA, the Virgin Lip Club.  As one can imagine, there are so many ideas and fantasies wrapped up in my head surrounding what the first kiss would be like.  The movies did nothing less of making it easy to make this a huge deal.  But there’s also the nervousness of not knowing what to do, and worrying about not finding a guy who could understand that.  

On my recent cruise, I met this guy named Tabre.  Witty, smart, attractive, I was just enjoying being his friend.  One thing led to another, and I ended up with a group of people in his room.  With it being loud in there, we were finding it hard to talk and so we moved out onto the balcony.  At this point, I’m still super naive and am thinking we’re just hanging out.  As I’m leaning over the railing, he starts moving closer.  As he keeps moving closer, our arms touch.  As this is all happening and his voice starts getting a little lower, I realize that he’s into me.  Naturally, those pesky butterflies start jumping around.  Before they have chance to take over, he grabs my belt, says “come here” and puts his hands on either side of my face.

Cue lip lock.

It was sweet, it was short, it was like a movie.  It was the best.  There we were, under the stars being enveloped by a warm Mexican ocean breeze, kissing.  It was magical.  

The rest of the cruise was spent honing my skills a bit, getting to know Tabre, and having an all around good time.  Life is great.  

With 3 great friends.  It was beyond wonderful - Mexico, food, Canadians, sunshine - wonderful.  I made some goals to go along with this.  

1.  Have a great time

2. Befriend green shirt guy

3.  Dance a lot

4.  Don’t fall overboard

5.  Get tan

6.  Kiss someone

7.  Relax

8.  Sleep alot.

9.  Don’t get ruffied.  

10. Go down the waterslide.

Some of these happened; some didn’t.  Stay posted for more.  

I want to laugh and frolick and dance and travel and see things with all of my heart.  I want to have limitless resources to make all of these things happen.  Someday.

Today, there was sunshine.  And a soccer game.  And I watched Hispanic men play and speak in Spanish; YES. And I made a rock awesome scarf.  And Ninja hasn’t changed.  And I had dinner with Maddie.

Even though I’m desperate to go back to Costa Rica, to be there with all of my friends and my family, they’re coming here!!!! The people that in 2 or 3 months became such huge influences, blessings, and friends in my life ARE COMING!!!!  It’s gonna be a COSTA RICAN INVASION!  One of our Oregonians is getting married in August, and so far 3 of our American Ticos are coming; 2 more are sure to follow, possibly 2 more than that.  GAH!!! I”M JUST SO FREAKIN EXCITED!!!

PURA VIDA 

I joined a soccer team.  I don’t play soccer.  I pull together my skills of basketball defense and naturally aggressive instinct and use that to my advantage, though my eye-foot coordination is sadly lacking.  However, after our first game, I got asked,

“Dana, how long have you played soccer?  You looked pro out there.”

Well thank you, blind sir.  I greatly appreciate that! 

So, last night a friend came over and we laughed and danced and talked and it was wonderful.  I’m super thankful for that.  I also love dreams.  As we fell asleep to Step Up 3, I dreamt of hanging out with one of my cousins I haven’t seen in a super long time.  I was wearing slightly inappropriate clothing that may have consisted of leopard print, and we were super secret spy agent people and ended up winning a car and a lifetime supply of tequila.  It was wonderful.  Oh, dreams, how I’ve missed you.

I’m doing this new 30 day thing.  To keep myself accountable and to be more active in my own self-expression.  A positive for each day; a story, a blessing,  thought.  

Day 1 -

I’m glad that when I’m with friends here, I’m finally fully present, happy, and not regretful. And I think the happiness is starting to show.   

Today, I was in the sheriff’s office waiting for my (funny, wonderful, compassionate, handsome) officer to come pick me up for my ride along (as a part of my internship with Washington County).  (Which was great.  It was 8 hours of laughter and smiling and my cheeks hurt.  It was also 8 hours of build up for my Deputy to ask for my number.)  

While in the waiting room, a Mexican family walk in.  (I know some get really offended by this term, but they were, and I’ve talked to so many who would rather let their nationality be known, rather than be clumped into a vague pit of cultural similarities.)  Anyway, they needed an interpreter.  I speak Spanish.  But instead of helping them, I just buried my nose in my book and waited for the front desk people to get a Spanish speaker.  So sitting there, feeling guilty with my nose buried in David Sedaris, the two little girls were playing around.  As I was enjoying some carrots, one of the little girls (who was now sitting in the chair next to me) kept eyeing them.  So I gave her one.  And then one to her little sister. Then they got really curious about me, and I couldn’t take it anymore.  I swallowed my shy pride and started to talk to these sweet little girls in Spanish.

This led to a game of patty cakes, a conversation with their parents, and impressing Deputy Humphrey (as he walked in mid-patty).  

I was humbled and ended up benefiting from it.  It was such an amazing 10 minutes of waiting.  I love Spanish.

So, I love laughing in all situations.  I laugh when I’m happy, sad, awkward, mad, the whole bit.  Life is just better that way.  So imagine my pleasure when the following situations happened today:

• I choked on my breakfast during my drive to work and almost wrecked because I was dying.
• There’s a judge named “Butterfield”  Now say this out loud with a deep British accent to capture the hilarity I think every time I hear it.  Also I laugh at how inappropriate it is to laugh at his name, poor fellow.  
• I was praying on my way to work this morning that I’d stop missing Costa Rica so much.  I was informed a few hours later there is a Costa Rican gang I will get to work with. 
• I took a nap in my backseat during my lunch hour and when I woke up and sat up, I came face to face with said Judge Butterfield.
• My dad and I have a fool proof plan to bring up my love and affinity for music at a concert of a beautiful farmer boy that just happens to be a Christian and family friend. 
• I spilled ranch all over my skirt at lunch today and had to proceed to walk around with said spill all day.
• I got 12 glasses for $2.48 at Target to replace the three I’ve broken.  

My life.  Laughing again.  Win the day.

I’ve had a horrible cold.  Hurty eyes, stuffed up nose, scratched throat that makes me sound like a 15th century gargoyle.  Fever on and off, sleepless nights, sleepy days, the whole bit.  If I wasn’t feeling stuck before, I am sure as hell feeling that way now.

In this past week, I’ve had a lot of time to myself, which is great AND horrible. I’ve watched a lot of tv, read a lot of books, crocheted a crap ton of stuff.  I’ve even baked and taken a shower.  (Yes, one.  Get over it, mom)  A kid’s dream, right?  Staying home, hanging out, loving life.

Kinda.  But I have this looming sadness that I can’t shake.  When I’m with my friends its more bearable, when I’m lost in a tv show, I can handle it.  But I miss what Costa Rica was.  I came back, but a huge part of me didn’t.  I can’t explain it, but I have this consistent sadness that is weighing me so far down, getting out of bed is a chore.  Healthy, right?  This morning, (it is laundry day), I woke up with yet another intense migraine.  Why, one asks?  Is it because I don’t really eat anymore?  Don’t celebrate life the way I used to?  Don’t feel that anyone understands me?  Yes, probably.  And so I just laid in my bed and cried.  Cried and used my sheets as a tissue and cried.  And HURT.  

I’ve felt this hurt so rarely before.  The kind that cuts my heart that it really does physically hurt.  When he got her pregnant.  When Uncle Elroy died. When I said those final goodbyes.  And so here I am, hurting, alone, miserable.  Stuck.  Nothing sounds good enough to do, nothing sounds normal.  Nothing sounds ok.

All 6 weeks long.