Sunday, a day of love for yours truly. Or not.

Okay, so this is what happened. After approximately 15 minutes at the windy, cold beach, he offered me a choice. "Do you want to stick around a while longer, or head back?" I said I could do either, and asked his preference. He said he'd like to go back, as he had some stuff he could get done. Hmm..where was this stuff when I invited him to come with me? After the weird silence moments before, I figured the stuff must have miraculously appeared. On the way home, he seemed to be overly annoyed with Took's pacing, which in turn annoyed me. Before we made it to the house, I recognized the signs immediately. Hell, I've perfected the actions. The cd came out of the player blocks before the house, he held his camera and jacket in one hand, and the other hand was grabbing the bag. If he had had another free, he would've had it on the door handle, ready to jump out before I had even stopped. He said goodbye with no eye contact as he had one foot out the door.

So my only conclusions are these: he must have either (a) really had to go to the bathroom after he ate his sandwich, (b) remembered he left the coffee maker on, (c) this "stuff" he spoke about included solving the AIDS crisis and ridding the world of hatred and crime and he came up with the solution at the beach, or (d) he was intimidated by my beauty and could no longer handle being in the presence of such perfection.

I'll leave it up to you, reader, to decide which one the correct answer is...but I'm banking on (d).

An unexpected Monday (and Sunday, too...but more about that later).

I was planning on coming in today and tell you about how I was so unappealing to someone that I actually made him bolt out of my car as fast as he could; and as entertaining as that would have been for you, the news I heard this morning made that whole situation seem silly and insignificant. I was greeted at the door by a fellow worker asking if I had heard the news. I would not have been surprised if the news of the disgust I had apparently placed in my new friend over the weekend had traveled so quickly, but I figured that was probably not it. He proceeded to tell me that a coworker of mine's husband had passed away over the weekend. The tears came instantly and I was filled with pain and sorrow immediately. I am very close to her as she has become a sort-of surrogate mother for me, her advice I would be lost without. She is a comedic, blunt, and honest woman, and I adored her husband. Together they were an incredible example of humor, life, and love. It is too soon for that to be so quickly disrupted. You feel so helpless in a time like this because nothing that you can do or say will ever fill that void. The one thing that would come close to filling it, ironically, is laughter. But not just any laughter...teary-eyed, from-the-gut laughter. The kind of laughter he envoked effortlessly.

I wish I had known him longer, spent just one more afternoon at their house hearing stories before he left.

I would have made it a point to laugh harder.

The easiest break-up in the history of break-ups.

Ok, so this is how it went down:

him: what you thinking about?
me: well, i was kind of wondering what was going on with us.
him: yeah, me too.
me: um, it's not really working. i just think it's really bad timing.
him: no, it's totally my fault. i just have no time, and i didn't put enough time into our relationship.
me: no, please...it's not your fault. you just have a lot going on right now, and i don't expect to get that from you.
him: no, it is my fault. i'm sorry.
me: that's ok. it just wasn't meant to be right now.
him: but we'll still hang out.
me: totally.
me: do you see that guy that looks like a captain next to us, hat and all?
him: it's the skipper!
me: the skipper's an asshole, he's totally not letting you over.
him: damn skipper.

Seriously, it was a little alarming just how easy it was. Compared to my last break-up that included threats of suicide and constant redials, I'm thinking I could get used to this breaking-up-thing. Next!

Hm...

So I'm wondering why this isn't happening to me?

Not A Good Thing.

Can someone please explain to me why Martha Stewart will now have her own station on Sirius? It claims to provide "advice and inspiration." Inspiration?! INSPIRATION?! Everyone, go get Sirius so we can all be inspired to lie. But don't worry...if you get sent to prison, you'll lose weight and come out wearing a poncho knitted by fellow inmates.

Guys, I'll admit, I like Martha Stewart Living. But an entire radio station dedicated to her may be a bit much. That's all I'm saying.

That and you should go out and commit fraud. You apparently only benefit from it. I mean, you get a hand-knitted poncho out of it and everything.

Sometimes, life is alllll-right.

This weekend was unusually, and surprisingly, an incredible 2 days. As a result of having this weirdly interesting and event-filled time, I'm going to tell you all about it as not to forget that every once in a while, I actually do truly enjoy my life.

Friday night, I was invited to go see Hank Williams III (or, as I like to call him, Hank Williams Jr. III - but was pointed out by my good friend T. that this is rather incorrect...but I digress) at a local shady club here in Providence. I was a little skeptical having not really been a fan of country music, but as being fairy open-minded to all music, I agreed to go. First, however, I was invited to go to a Pawsox game with some friends of mine for opening night at the stadium. (Pawsox is a minor league team for the Red Sox, for those of you who may not know) My impressions of the 2005 season opener -- it was freezing, crowded, and freezing. But all that aside, it was fun to be there, as baseball is surely a sign of warmer weather to come...as well as cheap beer in plastic cups, it's a sign of that too. Ah...summer. After the game, it was Hank time. (well, techinically, it was go to a bar with a friend of mine who is interested in me, to only be showed off to his friends all the while "getting a drink" before Hank time...but that's a story for another time.) We showed up to the show an hour after he was supposed to start (because of getting a drink beforehand at a separate bar) and he was already well into his first set. If you are not familiar the with III, as I was not prior to this, he plays two types of music, a country-rock like kind and punk. My impression is that he basically only plays the country-rock to get people to his shows, and the punk because that's what he's truly into. The country-rock set was incredible, and I am not a country-music fan usually. But it was more than country; it was intense, energetic, fierce. I had a smile on my face the entire time, his excitement was thrown to the rowdy crowd below him. Besides the incredibly scary zombie-skeleton-like bass player with a mohawk, they had a very addicting stage presence. Then...they started playing punk. It was awful. Having never been a fan of punk-music, I couldn't have disliked it more. I was irritated we missed out on more of the beginning to get a drink at a different bar. Did I mention we had to go to a different bar in order to get a drink before we went to a bar? We hung around a while longer so that I could further be showed off to his friends, then I left to head home.*

Saturday I spent the morning stuffing envelopes. I believe I only got 500 of the 3000 I'm supposed to stuff done before I couldn't stand being inside any longer. Took and I headed for the park. It felt amazing out. We walked on the trails for a good hour before I decided to try out the dog park in the city for something different to do with Took. We pull up to the fenced-in park and sat in the car for a few minutes before making the decision to actually try it out. I was hesitant because I've only known Took to be ok around one dog at a time - but 10 different ones, I wasn't so sure about. We step out of the car and all of the dogs in the park come running to my car and start barking in unison at the new dog on the other side of the fence. I thought twice about going straight into the mass of tooth-bearing canines, but was assured by one of the owners on the other side, that they do that to every dog on the other side. The second Took gets on the other side, he's like the new kid on the playground. All the dogs chase him around in one big mass, each trying to get their turn at smelling the new guy. I felt so bad for him, but he didn't seem to mind. The entire time I was like a new mother dropping her first child off at day care for the first time. I was following him around hoping he'd be liked by the other dogs, and not picked on or outcast. Poor guy, though, all he wanted to do was play and all the other dogs were too involved in their games of fetch with various dirt-and-spit0laden tennis balls. (Took is above tennis balls or any game that involves human interaction - we are simply for feeding and scratching bellies.) There was every kind of dog possible there, including a poodle that was the bullie of the park, despite the other dogs viewing him as a hurdle, rather than a playmate. We left with Took panting and exhausted from a fun-filled day of parks and Poodle-bullies.

Saturday night I went to see an artist that I have been wanting so badly to see live, Alison Krauss. I actually feel blessed to have been able to see her perform, she was that good. Her presence seemed that of someone just starting out, excited to finally be doing something that she loved. Her performance, however, was that of someone who had been doing it her whole life. It was breathtaking, inspiring. It was a perfect combination that led to an impressive two hours of amazing bluegrass. She ended the show with an accoustic rendition of Down to the River to Play that was so beautiful, that had I not been so heartless lately, I would've cried. I drove home with a smile on my face, what a way to spend an evening. Although, it definitely made me miss the mountains of North Carolina..tremendously.

And now, for the grand finale: yesterday I went to Fenway to see the Sox play. It was quite unexpected. My friend had an extra ticket and invited me along. So after a brunch with some friends, we headed to Boston. The weather was perfect, our seats incredible (more so after the 4th inning when we moved four rows back in between 3rd base and home plate). After the game we ate in Chinatown at a vegetarian Chinese restaurant. Everything on the menu was listed as meat in quotations, like "Beef" with vegetables in garlic sauce. I had what was the closest thing to beef teriaki in 10 years. It was delish.

Now I need a weekend to recover from my weekend. Usually, I don't look forward to packed weekends. However, these two and half days, I didn't look forward. It was the first time in a while that I was happy and content doing whatever it was I was doing at that moment. I am so lucky sometimes.

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*I do actually really enjoy the company of my friend, I don't want to give off that I do not. He is incredibly interesting and a kind person. I am not, however, interested in him as more than a friend. I just don't have the balls to tell him this just yet.

Since I'm tired of seeing the photos of the snow in April everytime I come to this page, I've decided to post an even more appealing photo for all to see when they first show up here.



Ah...isn't she beautiful?

(Thank you, K, for the photo of our speical friend.)

The Ghost

You came over that last night with so much running through your head. Your eyes filled with tears, I begged you to stay. You said you wouldn't, you wanted me to sleep and you knew I couldn't with you there. I didn't care, something was making me keep you there.

I let you fall asleep the way you were laying when we spoke our last words. When you were asleep, it seemed as if your pain didn't exist and I could fool myself into thinking everything was right. You were on top of my covers, but I curled up next to you and pulled over the corner that was left; it barely covered my hip. I didn't sleep that night, afraid if I moved or made even a small adjustment, you would wake up and leave. I didn't want to risk that, something in me told me that would be the last time I would see you, I wanted to feel you next to me as long as I could. I feared the pain of having that blanket to myself.

In the few weeks we had, I discovered what I was capable of feeling. Before that, the love I once knew now seemed young and unrecognizable compared to what I felt in the presense of your life. The fact that this was not our decision, this couldn't possibly be the fate we were meant to have, was helplessness I also had never previously known. When you woke, the goodbye at the door has since been frozen in my thoughts. The light from the windows, the morning confusion of no sleep, the way the porch would feel once you walked off it for the last time.

You were forced to disappear after that, and I'm forever left laying next to you on the bed with the corner of the blanket trying not to wake you. I'm still not ready for you to wake up and leave.