Unleash the Beast!

So, last night I attended a wedding reception as a roadie for the DJ. It was at this beautiful, really Gothic look castle/house. So gorgeous. (Unfortunately, it was super rainy and I was unloading equipment and only took one picture of a courtyard. And I can't figue out how to turn it to post it...)

I've never been to a British wedding and, to me, it seems they party a lot better than North Americans. I'm not just talking about the excessive drinking, just the whole set up of the reception and partying.

Anyway, this is not a analysis of wedding receptions.

This is a story.

So, about 3 hours in to the reception, I had just sat down to eat some much needed food and one of the male wedding guests, motioned for me to come join on the dance floor.

I didn't want to be a crasher so I politely declined.

Next thing I knew, he's grabbed my hand and was pulling me to the floor, saying, "We need you to dance."

Oh bless. He had been drinking enough at that point, I don't know if he realised I wasn't actually a guest.

So, I danced.

Keeping a close eye on the drunk males around me to make sure they didn't get too close... if you know what I mean.

Once up there it appeared that there were a couple guys who had been waiting for me to dance and I was soon in the frenzy.

Don't worry the boys behaved themselves.

The guy who'd pulled me in told me I "rocked" and at then end of the song I sat back down.

About an hour later....

He dragged me in again.

This time he was a bit further gone and was drunk whispering to me to, and, I quote, "Unleash the beast", "Let the animal out" and "Own the floor."

Now, if it had been an American with (to me) no accent, I might have found it creepy.

But with his British accent, it was freakin' funny.

I had to stop myself from literally laughing out loud.

How does one "unleash the beast" and "let the animal out"?

It wasn't just his accent it was the request its self.

I really didn't know what he was expecting me to do, so I just kept dancing as I had been. I couldn't go to crazy either because a) I didn't know these people nor how they would respond, and b) I was there on a professional level with the DJ so I had to keep some professionalism.

It was the most ridiculous request/experience I've ever had on the dance floor, but it was great to get to dance.

When he pulled me up to dance a third time (even more drunk) and requested that I "touch the rug" aka his chest hair, I declined and decided I was done on the dance floor for the night.

It was quite the experience, to say the least.

Why post about this? Because it was a stinkin' funny experience that I wanted to remember and share. Also, it serves as a reminder to me.

I was reminded how grateful I am for the standards and morals I have. I don't drink and happily do so. The whole night was a drunken party that I was grateful to have chosen to never experience.


The bride disappeared about 4 hours in and the groom was still hanging around. There was the early stages of a drunken brawl and I'm pretty sure none of those people remember today what happened last night.

I'm grateful for the choices I make and things I have been taught.


As a follow up, at the end of the night, when we were packing up, the guy who'd dragged me in to dance, came over, thanked the DJ and thanked me for the dance. Apparently I'd helped make the evening quite fun for him.

I had fun too. And I will probably never forget it.

It's just another day, doo-doo, doo, do do.

So, it's been about six months since I last blogged... It's a good thing I don't do this professionally.

Anyway, a lot has transpired in those six months.

In February, I had emergency invasive eye surgery due to bleeding in my eyes caused by complications from a previous treatment.

In March, I decided to moved back to the U.K. Namely, Wales.

I spent most of April in either Houston or Hawaii and in May, I followed through with my plans.

I moved to Wales.

There's, of course, more fiddly bits between those events, but those are basically the highlights. Maybe I'll blog about the individual events someday. Maybe I won't.

So, I now live in Wales. And I LOVE it. I don't know what it is about this place, but I've not felt so "in place" in a long time.

Things seem to be coming together nicely as well. I am one of the few people my age in the U.K. to have a full-time job.

At the new Doctor Who Experience in Cardiff.

I'm totally neutral in my feelings about it.

Completely impartial as you can see here.

Anyway, maybe I'll blog more, may be I won't.

Either way, I'm really happy and where I'm supposed to be right now.

That is all.

Good day. I said, Good day, sir.
(ten points to who ever can name that reference)

I am a Geek Girl, hear me roar.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I've never said it before nor did I really realize it, 

 but I am a Geek Girl.

I love mainstream Sci-Fi.  Star Wars, Firefly, Doctor Who. Love it.

I will enthusiastically and with great detail dress as movie characters whenever the opportunity calls for it.

I will attend movie dressed in full period-appropriate costume... a week after the film opened.

I really, really, really want to attend a Con. Dragon*Con, Comic-Con, whatever. In full costume, of course. 

I find Steampunk beautiful and am planning on using elements to outfit a future home.

 via

 via

I am slightly obsessed with Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Who. 

via

via

via 

I regularly quote movies and television shows in every day life.

When my best friend gives me an umbrella with a sword handle for Christmas, I think it is on of the coolest gifts ever and I dress the part and do a photo shoot with it.

I will have a Nerf war with you, anytime, anywhere.

I will have an epic battle against my best friend with toy swords in the toy department of Target and then ride across the parking lot in a shopping cart. 

I believe only Star Wars Episodes IV, V and VI exist.

I re-read the entire Harry Potter series within a month and still openly wept at the end. 

I have read and re-read my favorite book, Beauty by Robin Mckinley probably 10 times and will read it at least 10 more.

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is my favorite movie and one of my favorite books.

I will be attending at least one, if not more, Can't Stop the Serenity events this summer.

I am a Browncoat. 

I am a Whovian. 

I am a Geek Girl

It keeps me joyful, young at heart, full of imagination and sense of adventure. 

I am a Geek Girl.

And I wouldn't have it any other way. 

 

All growed up.

I think I've become a full-fledged adult over the last six months. I've been living completely on my own since November and I managing several rental properties and running a company. But one of the main things that makes me feel like an adult is that over the past few months, I've made overnight trips to Edmonton and paid for hotels room for just me. That's actually where I am right now.

Taking on what feel more like "real" responsibilities has been a great learning experience and, I'm pretty sure, it's preparing me for whatever's ahead of me in life.

Maybe business trips and hotel rooms by myself is part of my future. It's not what I wanted, but I can only play the game with the cards I've been dealt.

So, Dealer, hit me.

And we're back.

Wow, it's a good thing I don't blog for a living. I would be dead broke.

Anyway, since I last wrote, my life has taken all sorts of unexpected turns.

First off, I no longer live in England.

I love living in England and it was perhaps the coolest experience thus far in my life, but, unfortunately, it had to be cut short.

At the beginning of July, I was running late and ended up not eating for most of the day and by mid-day was suffering from cold sweats, shaking and indescribable stomach pain.

This had happened to me once before the previous fall and I was basically incapacitated for a week. It was really bad and happening again, but after I ate something, I felt a bit better.

Now, just a few days prior to this horrible pain, I was stressing. I was struggling big time financially and was finding really hard to get by on part time wages living in perhaps one of the most expensive cities in the world. I had the impression that what needed to be done was that at the end of the summer I was going to go home to get back on my feet financially.

It just became a question "when" rather than "if".

The following day, the doubled-over stomach pain hit.

So I made the decision to at the end of July, I would come home to figure out what was wrong with me since I'd been having stomach problems intermittently since one really stressful semester at BYU-I.

After the decision was made, I started feeling better, but when I was reconsidering a few days prior to my departure, I had perhaps the most vicious stomach pain attack and was thoroughly reassured of my decision. The nine hour flight back was not the most comfortable flight I had. There was a LOT of medication involved.

Anyway, I returned to Canada and after a couple of days recuperating, I went to the doctor to try and get all this figured out. A couple of days and two blood tests later, I was admitted in to the hospital for almost a week as a newly diagnosed Type 2 Diabetic.

Now, I'm pretty sure the diabetes was not the cause of the stomach pain, but it was a contributing factor and I've been working really hard to get that situation under control and so far, so good.

So since my discharge from the hospital, I have been working really hard for my dad. I started out as a delivery driver for his oilfield lubricant company and have since worked my way up to Acting Manager.

Pretty impressive, right?

Well not really, since the promotion to manager came out of desperation since my parents were moving to Hawaii for several months and Dad needed someone to take care of the mean time.

So, pretty much since the beginning of November, I have been running the company and managing Dad's rental properties. I'm also house-sitting for my parents by myself in the big old house I grew up in, that's several miles out of town.

Sometimes I wonder how long it would take someone to find my body should something happen to me, but that has yet to become an actual issue, and, knock on wood, shouldn't be one.

Anyway that's an official update on my life. I do feel like I'm going a bit crazy being by myself in this big old house, but Dad says if I recognized that I might be going crazy, I'm not. So when I stop seeing the crazy, someone come get me :)

I miss England and I really miss my friends, but I've made some good connections here. This is the longest I've lived in Canada since high school, so it's been an adventure but a good one.

And there are many great adventures on the horizon.

Don't you...forget about me.

I've been feeling really off lately.

Besides just being in a weird place with not working, I've had this feeling of fear deep in my chest.

Even now that I have a job, it's still there, just as strong. I'm not entirely sure what this fear is, but I think I may have one idea what might be part of it.

I think I have a deep-rooted fear of being forgotten.

When I was younger,  I had a reoccurring nightmare of me walking down the street with my mom and my older siblings (the dreams started before Stephen was born), and all of the sudden, they start walking faster and end up leaving me behind.
I try really hard to keep up or even just find them again but I can't. There are always these people appearing all around me pretending and looking just like my mom but I know they aren't really her. And, always right before I wake up, I see them quite a distance away and yell for them but they don't even seem to notice I'm gone, let alone hear me calling to them.

It's always been a terrifying dream. And it has obviously effected me deeply because it's probably been at least 10 years since I last had it and I remember the details so clearly, it's like it's been happening every night for the last 10 years...

Even writing about it now is causing tension in my stomach.

I bring this up, because I think on a sub-conscious level, I feel like I'm being forgotten by the people who I care about and I thought cared about me.

Not my family, but the friends I've made at BYU-Idaho and even the friends I left in Florida only four short months ago. In fact, I feel like some of my friends in Florida started forgetting about me before I even left and it was like I'd never existed after a couple of weeks.

It's like my most terrifying nightmare as a child is coming true.

The hardest part about feeling like you've been forgotten is that when you're in a brand-new country you've never been to before, with nobody at all you know, it makes the huge change you've just made, even more intimidating and scary. I love living in England. I just want to know I'm not forgotten by those I care about.

I don't know, may be I'm just over-thinking this.

But how else can I explain this feeling of absolute fear and loss in my stomach?

Clarification.

I realized I should clarify something. I love England. It's fantastic. It feels comfortable and like where I'm supposed to be.

On the other hand LONDON is not my choice place to be. I would much rather be in the Southeast. Kent is where I would rather be. It's less densely populated, more small town and much, much, much cheaper to live in.

But, London is where the job is, so London is where I am.

That is all.

Cheers.