on pizza.

since i'm still basically 12, i spent my friday night babysitting.

also because i'm 12 i have a pimple that's bigger than my eye on my cheek, as depicted in this photo. which one's the eye and which is the pimple is still unclear both in cartoon form and real life.

for dinner, there was pizza.

and, to cut to the chase, i ate it.

here is my sign. my woeful admission. my scarlet A of pizza-eating.

it's only shameful, because while i was eating said pizza, a paleo magazine rested silently in my hipster reclaimed vintage material book bag. literally. i'm a bad meme waiting to happen.

about eight weeks ago, i committed to actually eating mostly paleo, with my big, specific no being consumption of grains. and dairy, too, for the most part, or at least in the reckless creamy-latte/ bucket-of-ice-cream/ pile-of-melted-cheese way. basically because those things just make me feel awful.

tonight i could have planned better but i didn't, so i ate the damn pizza.

it feels like there's a ton of bricks in my stomach, but i don't actually hate myself.

and that's really weird and uncomfortable for me. even more so than feeling certain that i've derailed my entire life and have failed as a human being and should give up any hope of a future.

i am really, really, really extreme. like, all the time. i feel all the things and i say all the things and i write all the words and i emote all over everyone. all of my moments are saturated and intense and terribly fraught with meaning.

and then tonight, as a declared paleo (i'm choosing to use that as a noun, like one would say they're a vegan, but if vegans ate a lot of meat), i ate a piece of pizza (papa john's, no less) and i didn't implode.

i don't know if i'm so tired that i just haven't mustered up the energy to freak out yet or if i'm actually, slowly learning not to be a psycho during all of the minutes, but i feel really good even though i feel bad.

like, i feel like there's a pizza-shaped barbell in my gut, but i also feel like i might not be totally crazy. and that might have been worth it.

to be real, i know i'm not crazy. but growing up and balance is hard for me. because my tendency is to hover at the extreme ends of the pendulum, ever poised to wildly hurl myself back to the other side, never allowing myself space in between. and it seems i may be starting to take small pauses in that in between area.

it feels really weird.

and i guess it tastes like pizza.

on finding a cat under the couch.

yesterday i continued to be a horrible person. maybe even more so than monday.

i texted nic about my misery during the day and he said, "there will be chocolate." 

i told everyone i saw. my boyfriend gets it. i'm having a bad day(ssssss) and he mentioned chocolate. he really gets it.

i got home, and he'd made dinner again! this time i didn't hate him for making me delicious food. we sat on the porch and ate spinach salad and burger patties with caramelized onions. i drank a glass of wine the size of my head. there was chocolate.

i went in the house and out from underneath the couch popped... a cat.

there was chocolate.

and a cat.

i didn't scream. but i was really fucking surprised.

i won't lie and say nic didn't talk about getting a cat. but in the last few weeks, nic has also talked about moving to columbus and/ or china, taking a job in indianapolis and/ or detroit, going to chicago on his day off, buying a new car, adopting a baby, and learning to build boats. i take it all with a grain of salt. i said, "sure, get a cat."

and he did.

also, in fear of seeming like more of an awful person than i'm already trying to convince you i am, i am not an animal person. i love to watch them, but i don't want to snuggle them, touch them, talk to them, or ingratiate myself to them. i'm sort of terrified of pets, especially after growing up with three cats, all of whom had impossibly unlikable and terrifying qualities.

but here was ohna.

her name is swedish for anna. 

she's a siamese cat. blue-eyed and slim with tiny white mittens and incredibly soft grey ombre fur. she's skittish still. she's quiet. she had two stillborn babies just last week and evidently was quite depressed afterwards. the people at the humane society said she kept looking around for her babies. she didn't want to let them go. she kept trying to nurse them.

nic said he just couldn't leave her.

i didn't love her right away and i don't love her still. she doesn't love me either. but we're curious about each other. and i have this weird, magical feeling that maybe ohna will be the one to teach me to love without needing to smother. that you can coexist without constantly having to interact. that love can look a lot like just knowing without having to always show.

or maybe she's just a cat.

but it's a new adventure. and i welcome it. i welcome feelings i don't understand and fear and slight discomfort and eagerness and joy and the promise of a decade to come together.

sometimes nic is so weird. he surprises me. i don't know what he's thinking or how he thinks it sometimes and, while it can make me crazy, i ultimately relish it. i am pragmatic and organized and overly logical and nic, at any given moment, might move to china or adopt a stray feline.

i am so grateful for this strange life of wonder, in which, unbeknownst to me, there just might be a cat under the couch.

on sometimes being a total asshole.

i wanted to start out super positive, but, as promised, i'm being real and i feel anything but positive today. i'm borderline hateful and of course there's no one better to take that out on than those we love dearly.

i arrived home from school, not yet quite aware of how truly crabby i was. until i immediately saw that nic hadn't done the few things i'd asked him to do around the house during the day.

HOW DARE HE? my inner sanctimonious asshole roared.

that was pretty much it. the beginning of the end. i blustered into the house and immediately began passive aggressively doing the things i was sure should have been done on my time table and at my command.

to make matters worse, he had made paleo hot chicken and sweet potato fries. and it was delicious.

then he asked me to go for a walk.

(these things both felt truly offensive to me. i really wanted to hang onto my mood.)

i was sullen the whole time.

i recognized my horrific crankiness not as his fault in any way, but i couldn't help but feel annoyed at every thing he did and said. i needed someone to blame and wasn't ready to take responsibility for how i got there, all by my lonesome.

at the end of our walk and my three mile marinating in personal grief, nic looked at me and said these words.

i don't mind that you're crabby.

it didn't make my crankies stop, because i'm too much of an asshole for that today. but it did make me pause, and beneath the many layers of clouds i'm wearing over my usually sunny heart today, say to myself, thank you debew for teaching me about unconditional love.

may all us assholes be so terribly lucky.