Originally, when I committed myself to the idea four months ago, it was a means to an escape, and little else, even if I wouldn’t admit that myself. I wanted out of that life, that mentality, that disgusting place.

I claimed in that post that I’d spent the day with some serious nausea. It was true. I didn’t mention that the nausea was completely self-induced. The night before, I’d drunk more than half a bottle of Jack Daniels and decided it would be a good idea to make out with a friend’s boyfriend.

It’s not something I’m proud of, obviously. I’ve never done anything like that, and I spent the next day completely sick to my stomach. I was throwing up from the moment I left my friend’s apartment to the minute I got in the car to go back to Olympia six or seven hours later. In part because of the copious amounts of whiskey I’d downed, but largely because I was seething with guilt. It was crawling over me, making me itch, infecting everything around me.

There was nothing I wanted more in those hours than a way out, an escape. With that guilt on top of everything else I’d weathered in the months before, I just wanted to get out.

So when “Laredo” came on after I’d been reading Travels in a Thin Country by Sara Wheeler, I devised my plan. I’d get a job teaching English in Chile. I’d get out for a year. Maybe more, if I liked it. I could leave everything behind.

Now, though, that I’ve come to terms with my actions, and now that time has started healing all those other wounds, I don’t need an escape as badly. Now, I see Chile as a way to live. A way to experience something different, something exciting, and something that will fill that part of me that’s screaming for adventure and excitement something that I can do for me — not for anyone else, just myself. Travelling to Chile is a way to live for myself, something I’ve never really done until recently.

And now? Now I’ve been accepted.

I have a job. This adventure is moving forward. This life is starting.

Of course, now that it’s real, I have little things to deal with, like, you know, money. And visas, and living arrangements, and all these other things that made it difficult to really imagine. I don’t have as much money saved as I’d wanted. I’m going to have to make a pretty strict budget.

And of course, it’ll be harder to leave than I imagined. New friendships and relationships have been formed in these months. Old ones have been strengthened. Others are being reconciled.

But I’m not worried. I’m making this happen. I’ve created an unbelievable support system, from my family who is completely behind me in this, to friends already making plans for my return, and even a boyfriend who is incredibly excited for me.

But that’s enough gushing. Here are some pictures.

216/365

My delicious panini from Top Foods yesterday. Luxuries like this are being cut as of today. Must save money. Despite how effing delectable this sandwich is.

217/365

I rarely drink Starbucks with such delicious coffee options in Olympia, but I’m always to celebrate the return of the Pumpkin Spice Latte. Also a luxury that will be cut. My coffee and bagel habit has to be reigned in.

217/365

I’m not always happy with myself and my body. But sometimes…sometimes, I feel great. Today is one of those days. I’m not perfect, but there are more pluses than minuses.

Lately it seems like I need weekends to recover from my weekends. I feel like I’m always on the go. During the week, I’m driving around, working with candidates in their district, and then come weekends, I’m in Seattle or down home or with friends in Portland.

This is the kind of thing I love. Right now I have no interest in feeling like a permanent fixture in a permanent city, or working in an office 9-5 every day. I like being out and about, exploring Washington, meeting people, talking about strategy and that kind of thing. I like feeling like I know something, and sharing that with people.

I like spending my free time all over the place. Wanna meet in Mill Creek for some margaritas? Lake Washington to soak up some sun and sip drinks from plastic coffee cups? On a Monday? Yes, yes, yes.

I’m wearing my car into the ground, I’m exhausted 90 percent of the time, and I feel a little loco the other 10. But, I’m still feeling incredibly happy, and what’s more than that, I feel free and independent. I’m doing a kick ass job at work. I’m keeping all of these things straight, getting most of my stuff done, and I still have time to drive drive drive to see people, be with them, laugh with them, etc.

But geez. Here’s some more stuff about me.

I’m a nervous creature, especially when things are going  so well. I live in a constant fear that I’ll somehow “fuck things up,” if only because I’ve experienced that catastrophic fall that’s completely inevitable when things are going well time and time again and I’m slow to blame other people, but always quick to blame myself, even when I know it’s not my fault.

So I’m always playing conversations over in my head, editing and wishing I’d said this or that instead of that and this. It’s tedious and awful and luckily I don’t do it with everyone – just the people I feel the least comfortable with but like the most.

There have been a lot of people in my life that I simply don’t feel cool enough to hang out with. It’s so stupid, because I really do have pretty decent self esteem. I know I’m pretty awesome. But I was really, terribly un-awesome back in school. I’m talking absolutely pitiful self esteem. Thought I was ugly and stupid and socially awkward and the whole shebang.

But I’m slowly getting out of it, so I should be outgrowing that mentality, right? Sure. Except occasionally when I really like someone, or think they’re super awesome, I feel a disconnect. I get self conscious.

So let’s make a not so subtle transition: I was drinking the other night. Normally this cancels out that immediate double check/I’m going to fuck it all up mentality and censors are seriously down. Not the case here.

Miss Mackenzie and the Karl and the Jeremy were down here on Saturday. After being accosted and solicited by an old man named Doc from the Oly Hempfest, we ended up back at my place with some beers and some cards, which of course led to Kings, which includes I’ve Never for 5s.

This led to a conversation about sex. Now, I don’t have a very large sample size with the whole sex thing, so for the most part, when I’m talking about sex, it’s “my ex” this, and “my ex” that. There’s just no getting around that.

In the midst of this, while the Jeremy is in the bathroom or my room or something, the Karl says something to the effect of, “Well, if I had a girlfriend who was talking about sex with her ex all the time, I’d be mad.”

So that statement sent me into my old “OMFG I’m going to eff it up!” mentality straightaway. Since the Jeremy and I became “facebook official” a couple of weeks ago (I use that term loosely, since mostly it refers to a blog entry I wrote and never posted, but I feel like all my readers should know the connotations of it anyway), I haven’t felt like that at all. In fact, one of the things I like about the Jeremy is that there is a complete ease with him. I’ve never had that “check yoself!” reaction after conversations we have, I never feel like I’m going to fuck things up by simply being me.

I spent the remainder of the evening drunkenly asking this boy if I was fucking things up between us. Because I’m smooth like that.

Turns out, I’m not.

Anyway, here’s my what caused my angry face. I put in my SD card, expecting to transfer the many awesome pictures from the past week, and especially those from this past weekend, and my computer didn’t recognize it. So I put it back in my camera, who then told me that there was something wrong with my SD card, should it attempt to format it? No, camera, you most certainly should not. So if course it proceeded to do it anyway. So I took it out and looked at it. And it looked something like this.*

*Anger may have distorted actual damage.

Yeah. That’s why there are no pictures from this past week. I can tell you what they all would have been though. Last Wednesday was a picture of the bagels I’d bought, Thursday was from inside the car wash, Friday was the awesome dinner that this one boy made for me, Saturday was pictures of drinks with friends at the Broho, and Sunday was a picture of my glass from the Red Hook brewery.

Eff. My world seems hellbent on making sure that I don’t finish my 365. But I’m going to kick my world’s ass. By taking 2 pictures a day until I’m caught up, because I’m not falling behind again, damn it. I’m already like 2 weeks behind. I will conquer this project, believe you me. And that’s 215/365 I guess.