“Love is what we were born with. Fear is what we learned here.”

I almost had one of my panic attacks on the trolley.

I seem to have two types of panic attacks. There is one where I get very nauseous, short of breath, and get this claustrophobic feeling. Then there is the one that is triggered by violence, especially when men are involved. That one is just...pure panic. An uncontrollable urge to cry, flee and hide.

Well, I'm coming home tonight from school and the loud, high-as-a-kite kid across from me starts talking in an overly loud voice, exclaiming about how all guys in the Navy are gay. And that's just the start of his little bashing session.

Some guy behind me decided to take umbrage, either because he was himself gay...or in the Navy...or both..or maybe just took a dislike to that kid. Suddenly there is much loud yelling and jumping around and potential beatings about to happen right next to me.

And yes, I feel myself start to go into a panic. I tell ya...took some strong will power not to run off the trolley freaking out. I did cry though, albeit quietly.

I have many theories as to why violent men make me freak out...many having to do with my father and a few biased stories told by some relatives of my infant-hood. But I have no memories of such, and a strong love for my father (maybe the same kind of love a woman has for the husband who slaps her around?)...thus it remains theories until he decides to tell me otherwise. And since he's not speaking to me any longer...

Yay! Half-Nekkid Sunday ;)

Saying Goodbyes

We're seriously thinking of moving out of San Diego...which is kind of funny since we worked so hard to come back here after the Hubby got out of the Air Force. Being away, there were places I missed here, but coming back, I find it was the memories created in such places I missed more.

I know there will be places I miss again (mostly eating establishments!), but I find I am more than ready for new experiences and new adventures.

And ready to get ahead in life instead of just breaking even! The cost of living here is insane. Maybe it's true what my pessimistic side says...that no matter where we live, the cost of living will always outmatch the income. Yeah, maybe I am fooling myself...but all I want to have is a nice house to live in while in a good neighborhood, weather that doesn't make me want to kill myself 80% of the year, to be able to afford groceries every month, and maybe some left over for art supplies? Is that too much to ask?!!

But I digress. The purpose of this post was a thought I had to go out and take pictures of San Diego for the rest of the year, each with a purpose of saying goodbye...and that thought chained itself- what if we took every picture with that thought...would they be more meaningful? What if we lived every moment with that thought? Would it make life be more precious? Or would it just be a terrible sadness to bear all the time?

Well, I can't answer my own question. But I can start with pictures of San Diego and work from there.

"Into every life some rain must fall. Usually when your car windows are down."

Well, the Hubby is gone for a week on a business trip. I hate when people leave me. I hate knowing he's flying on a plane. Planes are scary.

It feels weird having to go through the motions of life while he's not here- getting myself to school and around. Having no one to talk about my day with. I feel like I should be on pause til he gets back. It's scary only having myself to depend on.

In my head I know the roommates are still here, but we have such odd hours right now, its like I'm alone.