Time-out.

I made a list of pros and cons of living on each coast. I'd probably really worry the people closest to me if they knew I was considering such a trade-off. But then again they probably wouldn't be too surprised.

Last Tuesday I sat in my three hour linguistics class while Gianni found something to do in the library on campus. The library isn't too bad, I mean it was used as part of the set in the most recent Star Trek movie and the school setting for that movie Sky High (which I love). But still, it's three hours I was without him. Our time is always short and I worry that it's never well-spent.

Writing this entry makes me angry. It's not me. I always hated reporting and I hated the fact that every article without personality or emotion that I wrote would be a downgrade on my job as a writer. I have no emotion when I write anymore. I listen to music, I go to certain places, I try to be alone and it doesn't flow out of me like it used to. I simply try to recall non-biased facts but when I'm talking about my life, my job, the people closest to me, the love of my life, it's utter bullshit that I can't say what I feel.

Constant posts where I'm just trying to remember the who, what, where and when have plagued my writing style and I'm craving some sort of work that has meaning. I can do it, nothing is stopping me except for the rush. There's always the rush and the stress to produce and no real time to enjoy what I do.

I want to enjoy Gianni. I can honestly say he's the best person I have ever met.

I am annoyed, I really am. I'm at the mercy of all my authority figures, my friends, my family. Not training is not only costing me horrible performances at big tournaments, it is placing a guilt and stress on me from Cobrinha. I want to be the best, of course I need to train. But I have a job. I have to produce a constant stream of articles, cover these events that take me away from home every weekend and I have to be outgoing at these events and write and write and write and interview. My job is never ever done. It never stops. I have to spend time with my mom. I can't remember the last time we spent our usual time in her room watching a movie. Those times never happen. When I have free time I try to spend it with Gianni. He is the light of my life.

I am never in the present. Perhaps I was always like this but it really holds true these days. I'm currently using a mental thesaurus and phrase book to write this post. It isn't me. I can never relax. I am always required to be somewhere and I am always always always letting myself down. I have an essay due in a class that I am way way way lost on and it's due April 19th. I haven't brought myself to even look at the prompt because I probably won't even understand it anyway. I should be studying always. I should be getting article ideas always. I should be dieting and working out and training all the time, twice a day. I did that yesterday. I'm trying to do it today. I'm trying to do that but I am neglecting things. I am spread too thin.

I thought so hard about getting to the east coast. I really do love it there. Sitting in my linguistics class last Tuesday I could not bear the thought or the weight or the pain of dropping Gianni off at 4am the following morning. I worked the whole time he was there and when I wasn't working I was at school for two classes on Monday and one on Tuesday. So I chased him. I looked up plane tickets on my phone in class and saw they weren't too bad. When I got my home I told my mom was I was going to New York the next day and that I would be gone until next Tuesday. I thought she'd fight me on it but she not only accepted it, she offered me a ride to the fly-away and said she would leave work early on Tuesday just to make sure she can pick me up from the fly-away, take me to my linguistics class and then pick me up when it ended. I'm a horrible daughter.

You know that movie I Don't Know How She Does It? The one with Sarah Jessica Parker as a busy mom with a full-time job? Oh you don't? I don't blame you. I saw it while on a plane once and related to it. Thank goodness I don't have kids but I still feel similar to her. She thinks about her to-do lists constantly especially at night and that's what I do except I feel like I never get to check everything off. It's always overlapping to the following day, week, forever.

I chose for this. I chose to do these things but I don't want school anymore. I like the idea of school. I like the idea of being in school and constantly progressing and working towards something. I want a degree. Everyone wants a degree, it ain't bad to have. Surely, I want to graduate but not at the cost of my job, my life, my sanity. Maybe I'd be a lot more sane if I didn't have school right now.

I went to the east coast on a whim and it felt good. In my Monday class last week was when I wrote a pros and cons list regarding living here or there and I also wrote an apology letter to Gianni for not being physically, mentally or emotionally available all weekend during his trip. It's always about me and I try to do things for him as much as I can but laying my stresses and bad moods onto him is not okay. It's not.

I want to be all there. I want to separate my life from my job and feel like I'm doing enough again. Enough for my mom, for Gianni, for my boss, my coworkers, my teachers, Cobrinha, my training, my professors, my classes and for myself. But I am in my twenties. This is the time for me to stretch myself thin and find myself and put all of me into my work in every sense of the word "work." Life is work, relationships are work, work is work. If everything was easy I'd be one miserable camper. I need to always be working towards something but I just feel that I am not doing enough anywhere. It is time for some changes.

Gianni, I love you. I've never met someone so forgiving, kind, understanding and easy-going. Not the type of easy-going that you have no preference for anything. Not the understanding where you agree with everything I say. Not the kind type that walks on eggshells to avoid upsetting me. Not so forgiving that you let me treat you like shit. You are the right type of everything, the type of person that makes me feel like I'm not alone in anything. That my anxiety or my issues aren't issues at all. Thanks for being you.

I leave for Abu Dhabi sometime next week. I don't know when exactly because I haven't gotten my tickets yet. I have no idea what to expect. This is simply just another work trip where I won't see Gianni much, I'll be working all day covering events then trying to find time for bathroom breaks and eating and then I'll go back to my hotel room and crank out articles by some sort of mental will before I pass out and do it all over again. I want to ride a fucking camel.

Everyone deserves an apology. I owe an apology to everyone that is expecting anything of me. I hope to make it up to everyone soon. That's how I feel, anyway. Don't tell me I don't otherwise I'll fight you on it and have this mental stress that I don't have time to deal with. Food doesn't make life better like it used to. Watching T.V. instead of working doesn't do it. Sudoku helps a little. Sleeping next to Gianni helps. But waking up to his absence brings me about 10 steps backward on my LIFE gameboard. It will all be better soon. It will all work out. Everything will be fine. Those are my trite sayings that don't ever work. Those are just the phrases in my head that I somehow conjure up to write in my posts to make people happy.

End on a good note they say: I'm going to Abu Dhabi.