A Rose by Any Other Smell...

First, today I had a small breakdown that brought me to tears at the thought that I'm 31 years old (I think, right? I'm 31? Pretty sure...) and still don't really know what my life is doing. And my first thought was, I have GOT to go running tomorrow. It's only been three weeks and the breakdowns are back. So, bonus points to me for healthy living and productivity. My second thought was that I was going to spend my evening wrapped in a blanket in my favorite chair listening to Ed Sheeran, Carey Brothers, and binge-watching season three of The Vampire Diaries. All of which are cued for when I close my laptop.

Second, and the purpose of me writing this post, a thought I had the other day when I had been awake for 17 hours, and had two hours to sleep before having to be up for 18 hours. Read: when I should have been sleeping. And I had the following thoughts that came to me in that way that demands to be written about immediately.

I always wanted to be one of those girls with a signature perfume. Something someone smelled and thought of you. Something that if you died tragically someone would pick up the fancy lone bottle of perfume from your night stand and smell it wistfully, breathing in memories of you as they sigh -that kind of signature perfume.

But how do you do that? At what age is it appropriate to pick just one scent? I mean, does anyone want to still smell like Sunflowers? (My 7th grade scent) --my first obsession. Actually, if we're being honest, the first perfume I was convinced was my signature was from a boxed set my grandmother gave me when I was nine. I think it had been in her cupboard for years. It was called Chantilly Lace and came in this awful pink container with lace over the top and gold writing. Even now I remember that it smelled like the little blue hairs in the grocery store that have the dull sense of smell that necessitates 75 squirts of the eye-watering, nostril-burning, powder and bad flowers perfume. God, can you imagine if that one had stuck?!

So clearly, the proper age is not nine. Or anything in middle school. And as much as I loved high school, I don't want to smell like it for a second after I graduated. In the same manner that you wake up the morning after graduation and feel the instant quality of life improvement and frolic in the realization that life is now glorious and you're never going back. Smell included.

And at some point you grow out of wanting to smell like a Victoria's Secret store (the college phase) ...although, moment of silence for Love Spell...

Last week I bought what is going to be my new scent for the time being. Roses de Chloe. Which is surprising, because I'm  normally not a flower-ey gal. Getting off topic. I got a sample of this one on a recent trip to Sephora, and I used the entire mini tube. I just loved it. And I had to have more. Which means that the bottle of Love by Nina (Nina Ricci) that I'd been using would join the bottle of D&G Light Blue -Walking in Portofino that was my scent in and every time I wanted to be reminded of Greece. The bottle of Nina by Nina Ricci that reminds me of Macy's on 34th St. The bottle of Clean -Cotton Tshirt that was my at-work perfume in Seattle. The bottle of Daisy by Marc Jacobs that smells like Southern California paradise, trips to Disneyland, and road trips to Sea World. The bottle of Armani Code that smells like giggles in the back corner of a hidden shop in Chinatown all the way up the A-train to Fort Tryon park in Manhattan and everything in between. The bottle of Dream Angels -Forever that smells like winter nights in Logan after a basketball game. The bottle of Escada that smells like new-found collegiate freedom and exploding horizons.

As well as the bottles that smell like retail therapy, the salon you tore the sample page from the magazine out of, the ones that remind you of Saks on 5th Ave, the one you got because it smelled young and fun, the one that smelled like sheer elegance. These are the bottles that have been sprayed perhaps once. Most not even that. But I still have them. My sentimentality won't let me throw them away, and I keep adding to the collection. I have some at my parent's house that I was able to remove from my night stand years ago that are filled with even more memories of high school and the beginning of college.

But at this point, I feel like I should have one prevailing perfume that's my go-to. I mean, there are a few perfumes that I have a firm link to different people in my life. Mom, old roommates, etc. And I'm not even sure that they're still using those perfumes either. So what is the appropriate time that you choose what you want to be remembered by for a lifetime in people's noses?  Because right now my night stand looks like this. These are things that keep me awake at night.

My Chemical Romance

Addiction. We all have one. We all have more than one. And really, I don't understand it. I mean, I understand the pathophysiology of the body's physical addiction's (things like nicotine and heroin), but I'm talking about the addictions that everyone has. Some might call them obsessions, but I am not one of those some. At least not today. I spend a large majority of my time at work dealing with addicts. They are all the same really. I swear that I scrub the giant "stupid" off my forehead every day --especially before work. But apparently sometimes I forget. Each person thinks that they are the only one to try to get drugs, and most of them can be quite entertaining actors. They all have big dramatic stories and elaborate descriptions of their pain, and they are all allergic to vicodin, toradol, morphine, compazine, reglan, and motrin. Strangely enough though, the only thing that works for each and every one is dilaudid. We all roll our eyes and prepare for the dramatics that will inevitably ensue when we explain that they will not be receiving any narcotics. These addictions are easy to see. So are the alcoholics. I must admit, I have a hard time trying to reason these things out in my mind. In my mind, if you want to do something, you find a way to get it done. By the same token, if you don't, you don't. So in my brain, if you don't want to be drunk all the time and loose your family and friends, you stop drinking. I understand that it's not that easy, but that is just the way my brain works. I've been doing a lot of thinking the past couple weeks though.

As I mentioned at the beginning, we are all addicted to something. For the most part these are healthy addictions. My addictions vary and are for the most part healthy. I only have the capacity to have one at a time though --I get REALLY in to my addictions :) It started in middle school --well ok, probably earlier, but I'm getting old and can't remember the specifics of any before that. Middle school is when I became addicted to Days of Our Lives. Yep, the soap opera. Actually, come to think of it, I was addicted to Saved By the Bell in 5th grade ...but we won't go there. My friends and I arranged our schedules around the show, and it affected a large part of my day. In high school I quickly became addicted to basketball. I didn't miss a single home game, or any that were within driving distance for my 16 year old self. In College, I was still addicted to basketball --just Aggie Basketball instead. Most of you understand this well. It's an addiction. You know it is. Then when my Aggie bball days were nearing an end my addictions began to shift to the Yankees. And Derek Jeter. I get the text messages of game updates, I check the Yankees website and everything related to the Yankees every day. I drove 1000 miles to see them play in Oakland. I could tell you each players batting average, who's hitting streak was how long, who they played today yesterday and tomorrow, how many games were left and what the standings were in each division. I even wrote a research paper for my motor learning class (a 3000 level) on the Yankees. I have a life size cardboard cutout of Derek Jeter (the best birthday present ever) and he has been all over with me. Oh the places he's seen! He's been on my cross country road trip to Long Island, NY. He spent three months living on Long Island, then joined me on the trip to the other end of the country where he spent a glorious 3 months in southern California. He thoroughly enjoyed the drive up the Pacific Coast Highway, and has been living it up here in Seattle. He came to all our parties and even dressed up for special occasions and holidays when he lived with my roomies and I in Logan. We celebrated his birthday every year --there was actual cake and singing :) Each of my roommates and I have had at least one conversation with DJ --he makes a fantastic listener.

You are probably wondering where I'm going with this. Well, I'm a horrible fake girlfriend. Today I realized that Derek Jeter's birthday was 2 weeks ago, and I did not even remember a little bit! Let alone celebrate with a cake or birthday margarita or feathered hat! Apparently my addiction has evolved again. Everyone take a deep breath ...it's ok, I still love Derek Jeter ...calm down. But like the changing of the addiction from the Aggies to the Yankees, I am now addicted to someone else. Which sucks, to be right honest with you. It sucks because I'm moving 3000 miles away, and I'm having withdrawals. I'm not exaggerating. I get jittery, I'm nauseous all the time, I had an honest to goodness full blown panic attack the other day over the thought of leaving. My lips and fingers and toes were numb and tingly and everything. And I couldn't make it stop. And I'm still here. And he's still here. So really this is all pre-withdrawal withdrawal. The thing is, that I know that it's the right thing for me to do to go to New York. I know that if it's meant to be that it will work out. I know that I can come back at any point. I don't know why I'm supposed to leave, but I am. And it sucks. A lot. Whoever said that it was better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all was full of shit! Before you fall in love you are in a blissful ignorance of your numb state. You can't ever go back to blissful ignorance. Once you know how wonderful it is, you can't go back to blissful numbness. There is only the blistering pain of the separation. The fact that -for whatever reason- the separation is what is supposed to happen, or what is good for you, does not make it better. A heroin addict can never go back to the blissful ignorance of not knowing what it's like to be high. It is better and more healthy for the addict to not do heroin, but that doesn't take away the pain of withdrawal. Is it better to have done heroin and stop than to never have done it at all? Of course not! So why does this philosophy apply to love? It doesn't. If you can't continue doing heroin in a blissful continually-high state then it is best to never know what you're missing. As far as love goes, jealous doesn't begin to describe the way I feel toward those of you who fell in love the first time (I mean really fell in love --not the high school kind) and got to keep your addiction for time and all eternity.

So I don't understand addiction. Why does something so emotional have such a physical pain accompanying it? My brain does not comprehend why I can't just stop the crying and stop the anxiety. That is the way my brain works. I do what I want, and if it's not easy, I just work harder and harder until I do it. This isn't like that. No amount of work on my part can change the Lords plan for me. No amount of work on my part of aligning my will with his will make this any less painful. There is medication you can take for panic attacks. There is mediation you can take for anxiety. There is no pill that will take you back to blissful ignorance. There is no pill that will take away the empty gaping hole in my chest that I put there myself by leaving 3000 miles away from my addiction. There is no pill that will make this go away. In this way physical addictions are easier to cure --there is a pill you can take to fix it. How did this happen? Why? I don't know. I hate not knowing. It makes me down right mad to be honest with you. My freshman year of college, there was a girl in my ward named Katie Webb. I don't know what she's doing now-a-days or where she is, but she said something in a relief society lesson that has stuck with me for a long time.

"The Lord always blesses up. He's not going to take a great guy out of your life and say, ' here you get this looser now --have a great eternity.' " The lord must have something truly spectacular in store for me. But I think this applies to more than just boys. The lord always blesses up. He is perfect and his plan for each of us is perfect. The concept has got me through a lot of sticky situations non-boy related, and it has always held true. I can only hope the way she intended it originally will hold true as well.

This has turned into kind of a depressing post, and I didn't intend it to be ...so anyway ...how are all of you ;) From here on out I vow to be a better fake-girlfriend --and I'll get Derek Jeter a belated birthday card next time I'm at the store :)