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giddyromance, it's a 30 Day Blog Challenge. I don't know if it'll be 30 consecutive days since I generally don't use LJ/blogs on the weekends, but meh. I like the idea even if I fudge the rules a bit.
Soooo, onto the first topic: A description of you, in detail.
Oh snap, I have to talk about myself--when do I ever do that? (/sarcasm)
As many of you probably know (if you are friended to me on Facebook anyways) my name is Tammy. Though a good portion of you also refer to me as Tams (and so does Steve and the kids), so I will answer to that. I was born on May 22nd, 1985 in San Jose, California--both of my parents were in their second marriages at the time, and in their mid-thirties when they had me. As such, I magically became an only child, but thankfully I was too shy and introvert to care whether or not I had siblings. I much prefered/prefer it that way, if only because it gave me a relatively quiet childhood. Woot.
When I was 8, we moved from California to the suburbs outside Portland, Oregon. My dad got a job transfer out there, and much of my mom's family had already moved into that area for their own jobs, so it was quite a natural progression. Starting a new school during second grade was terrifying--I remember how shy I was, and how scary the other kids were--unfortunately those thoughts didn't stay behind in my childhood *frowny face*
When I was 9, my dad passed away from a massive heart attack. I won't go into the details much except that I was the first one to find him, and I think that despite my denials, that has affected me in a much larger way than I could of ever imagined. But I also don't consciously dwell on it since that's silly--but it's probably responsible for starting a lot of the problems I had today. Ironically enough, the anniversary of his death is September 3rd--the anniversary of my arrival in the UK is September 4th. But that wasn't really intentional, just a convenient flight really. When my dad died, me and my mom moved in with my aunt, and moved into a huge 5 bedroom house so everyone wasn't stepping on each others toes and we could all have seperate bedrooms (my cousin also lived with us at the time, so it was a bit cramped in her three bedroom place).
Things were pretty uneventful from that point. I went to school, had a couple friends but really I just kept to myself. I never went to a 'proper' college mainly since I didn't think I'd ever be good enough to get into one--a common habit of mine is to second guess myself unfortunately. Plus I didn't want to waste the money/get loans for something that wouldn't benefit me in the end, and I realized the major I wanted (English) would keep me in retail hell for the rest of my life since I really couldn't think of anything practical I wanted to do with it. I graduated high school with little fanfare, bummed around for a couple years unsuccessfully trying to get jobs (I am *horrible* with interviews, urgh). I had a LDR with someone from Texas for about a year or so which ended in a huge ball of fail--he was tired of dicking around with our relationship, and I was tired of it as well. Not to say I'm peaches and cream to be with, but I felt I was putting in way more effort than he was, and he decided it was a better option to drive to California to fuck a 16 year old than it was to continue on with me. Which all worked out in the end since he really is a pretentious cock and I think we would of murdered each other had we hooked up.
Shortly after the end of that relationship, I threw myself into a technical school. I had put it off once before because of my relationship with the boy from Texas--I didn't want to tie myself down to Oregon. But now that that was over, I decided to finally go for it--they had a 7 month medical assisting course which I signed up for. I graduated with a 4.0 and Perfect Attendance, but never ended up getting a medical assisting job since the school sucked and my externship sucked and I sucked. I did get certified though, but a lot of good that does me now.
In the midst of all this, I had another short-lived fail relationship (when the bloke admits he cheated on his last girl 10+ times you should probably run away, but I was desperate v.v). Then I started talking to a good friend of mine again, as he made his online presence more known. I had this British friend since I was 16 when I used to roleplay online--we exchanged brief conversations over the course of 4 or 5 years, but nothing major due to the time difference (8+ hours) and him working all the time. He told me his wife was leaving and getting a divorce and taking the kids with her--to say I was a bit shocked is an understatement. As far as I had understood the last I had spoken with him, things were peachy keen, and now they were divorcing. I was sad since they had *seemed* happy, but I tried to help him as best as I could. Over time we talked more and more, and we actually made it a point to talk to each other--he'd make time before going to work to chat with me, I'd send him emails while he was at work, etc. I even gave him my cell phone number which he then left a voicemail on while he was at work--and I think that first move was vitally important. It gave me a real tangible connection with this person I had been talking to for years, and why the fuck did it matter so much anyway, he was just a friend.
As we all well know, Steve did end up coming over to the US in 2006 to visit, to break the ice and all that jazz. And it's been going strong ever since, over 5,000 miles, 8 hour time differences, age differences and all that (he's 39, I'm 25). It wasn't easy by any means--I cried enough tears at airports and had enough painful goodbyes to last a good long while. There were so many times where I didn't think we'd make it this far, that there was all this crap in the way, but like Steve says when he wants something he gets it. And that I should adopt that attitude as well, but I'm far more pessimistic than he is.
We were married on May 27th, 2009 in Oregon. I got my spousal visa at the beginning of July, and moved over to the UK in September. It's been bloody hard--my brain hasn't caught up with the fact that I'm actually *living* with him, that I see him every day. I miss my mom so bad though, and if I could have it my way I'd have both of them with me. England is incredibly hard to adjust to as a resident--little things piss me off, or don't make sense to me and I find myself trying to figure them out and it angers me. But it might be one of those things that time will heal. I still have a lot of issues to work through, and I go through my tough spells.
In my spare time, I play World of Warcraft (duh), read, write--very boring things really. But maybe I'm just a boring, quiet person. I do enjoy my time alone--I don't need someone there 24/7 to entertain me, but that's not to say I don't get lonely sometimes. I also like cats I guess? I left one in the States (Pepper) who died this last February after 17 years (goddamn he was kinda old); I have one here as well (Gahzbag) who's a bastard as well, but I love him to pieces. If I had it my way he'd be indoors all the time, but the English have some weird thing where if you suggest that, they look at you like you have fucking leprosy >.<
Now I've run out of things to say kinda. I guess all of that is me in a nutshell--I could go into loads of more angsty crap but not today.
~Tams
giddyromance, it's a 30 Day Blog Challenge. I don't know if it'll be 30 consecutive days since I generally don't use LJ/blogs on the weekends, but meh. I like the idea even if I fudge the rules a bit. Soooo, onto the first topic: A description of you, in detail.
Oh snap, I have to talk about myself--when do I ever do that? (/sarcasm)
As many of you probably know (if you are friended to me on Facebook anyways) my name is Tammy. Though a good portion of you also refer to me as Tams (and so does Steve and the kids), so I will answer to that. I was born on May 22nd, 1985 in San Jose, California--both of my parents were in their second marriages at the time, and in their mid-thirties when they had me. As such, I magically became an only child, but thankfully I was too shy and introvert to care whether or not I had siblings. I much prefered/prefer it that way, if only because it gave me a relatively quiet childhood. Woot.
When I was 8, we moved from California to the suburbs outside Portland, Oregon. My dad got a job transfer out there, and much of my mom's family had already moved into that area for their own jobs, so it was quite a natural progression. Starting a new school during second grade was terrifying--I remember how shy I was, and how scary the other kids were--unfortunately those thoughts didn't stay behind in my childhood *frowny face*
When I was 9, my dad passed away from a massive heart attack. I won't go into the details much except that I was the first one to find him, and I think that despite my denials, that has affected me in a much larger way than I could of ever imagined. But I also don't consciously dwell on it since that's silly--but it's probably responsible for starting a lot of the problems I had today. Ironically enough, the anniversary of his death is September 3rd--the anniversary of my arrival in the UK is September 4th. But that wasn't really intentional, just a convenient flight really. When my dad died, me and my mom moved in with my aunt, and moved into a huge 5 bedroom house so everyone wasn't stepping on each others toes and we could all have seperate bedrooms (my cousin also lived with us at the time, so it was a bit cramped in her three bedroom place).
Things were pretty uneventful from that point. I went to school, had a couple friends but really I just kept to myself. I never went to a 'proper' college mainly since I didn't think I'd ever be good enough to get into one--a common habit of mine is to second guess myself unfortunately. Plus I didn't want to waste the money/get loans for something that wouldn't benefit me in the end, and I realized the major I wanted (English) would keep me in retail hell for the rest of my life since I really couldn't think of anything practical I wanted to do with it. I graduated high school with little fanfare, bummed around for a couple years unsuccessfully trying to get jobs (I am *horrible* with interviews, urgh). I had a LDR with someone from Texas for about a year or so which ended in a huge ball of fail--he was tired of dicking around with our relationship, and I was tired of it as well. Not to say I'm peaches and cream to be with, but I felt I was putting in way more effort than he was, and he decided it was a better option to drive to California to fuck a 16 year old than it was to continue on with me. Which all worked out in the end since he really is a pretentious cock and I think we would of murdered each other had we hooked up.
Shortly after the end of that relationship, I threw myself into a technical school. I had put it off once before because of my relationship with the boy from Texas--I didn't want to tie myself down to Oregon. But now that that was over, I decided to finally go for it--they had a 7 month medical assisting course which I signed up for. I graduated with a 4.0 and Perfect Attendance, but never ended up getting a medical assisting job since the school sucked and my externship sucked and I sucked. I did get certified though, but a lot of good that does me now.
In the midst of all this, I had another short-lived fail relationship (when the bloke admits he cheated on his last girl 10+ times you should probably run away, but I was desperate v.v). Then I started talking to a good friend of mine again, as he made his online presence more known. I had this British friend since I was 16 when I used to roleplay online--we exchanged brief conversations over the course of 4 or 5 years, but nothing major due to the time difference (8+ hours) and him working all the time. He told me his wife was leaving and getting a divorce and taking the kids with her--to say I was a bit shocked is an understatement. As far as I had understood the last I had spoken with him, things were peachy keen, and now they were divorcing. I was sad since they had *seemed* happy, but I tried to help him as best as I could. Over time we talked more and more, and we actually made it a point to talk to each other--he'd make time before going to work to chat with me, I'd send him emails while he was at work, etc. I even gave him my cell phone number which he then left a voicemail on while he was at work--and I think that first move was vitally important. It gave me a real tangible connection with this person I had been talking to for years, and why the fuck did it matter so much anyway, he was just a friend.
As we all well know, Steve did end up coming over to the US in 2006 to visit, to break the ice and all that jazz. And it's been going strong ever since, over 5,000 miles, 8 hour time differences, age differences and all that (he's 39, I'm 25). It wasn't easy by any means--I cried enough tears at airports and had enough painful goodbyes to last a good long while. There were so many times where I didn't think we'd make it this far, that there was all this crap in the way, but like Steve says when he wants something he gets it. And that I should adopt that attitude as well, but I'm far more pessimistic than he is.
We were married on May 27th, 2009 in Oregon. I got my spousal visa at the beginning of July, and moved over to the UK in September. It's been bloody hard--my brain hasn't caught up with the fact that I'm actually *living* with him, that I see him every day. I miss my mom so bad though, and if I could have it my way I'd have both of them with me. England is incredibly hard to adjust to as a resident--little things piss me off, or don't make sense to me and I find myself trying to figure them out and it angers me. But it might be one of those things that time will heal. I still have a lot of issues to work through, and I go through my tough spells.
In my spare time, I play World of Warcraft (duh), read, write--very boring things really. But maybe I'm just a boring, quiet person. I do enjoy my time alone--I don't need someone there 24/7 to entertain me, but that's not to say I don't get lonely sometimes. I also like cats I guess? I left one in the States (Pepper) who died this last February after 17 years (goddamn he was kinda old); I have one here as well (Gahzbag) who's a bastard as well, but I love him to pieces. If I had it my way he'd be indoors all the time, but the English have some weird thing where if you suggest that, they look at you like you have fucking leprosy >.<
Now I've run out of things to say kinda. I guess all of that is me in a nutshell--I could go into loads of more angsty crap but not today.
~Tams
