Ramblings.

This is hard. Things are hitting me one by one, relationships are shifting, some ending. I think I'm doing well, but then I look at myself from another view, and I fear I'm just hiding it all in the rush of excitement of what's about to come. I see the people around me changing, or staying the same, but my presense having no effect on it, no part in it. Do I still want to be a part in it? Or is it because I already made a conscious decision, that I hold no weight in any of it? I want this, I feel wholly that it's the right move...but there's a part that I feel hasn't hit me yet. I see so many around me getting what they've wanted, creating the life they've always felt should be theirs, and I'm in the process of doing the same...but the part of me that's scared keeps making my stomach turn, my heart weaken. The disappointments that have occurred over the past few days have tested my strength. The strength is profoundly present, I feel a difference between the me now and the me four years ago...but that same part of me is what wants what I wanted then. And I don't know why, but that's the part of me that is making me uneasy. Maybe because I feel it's the very same part of me that thinks I still won't get it. I'll still end up disappointed in the end. That since I failed at finding it here, I might fail at finding it there. So how do I silence that part of me? That negative part, that part that keeps having to resurface with each heartache, each dead end, each misread?

This has been a hard week. Today someone that I, at one time, thought would be the person I would spend my life with, closed the possibility of that ever happening. Flipped the switch. Told me what I had been waiting to hear for 3 years now, something that would finally allow me to stop. hoping. But it's happening right before I leave. 3 weeks before I leave. So which is it? Is it because I'm leaving, or because it's the truth?

I think it's the ease at which I'm taking this all that's throwing me off. I haven't broken down since he told me he didn't think he'd ever leave her. Why haven't I broken down? Am I stronger? Or has it just not hit me? And if that's the case, when will it hit?

3 weeks feels like 3 decades. This week has felt like a month. These years, have felt like a lifetime.

I just hope I'm ready for the next. I think I am. I just need to make it there.

My super powers, revealed.

As I'm telling him everything I've wanted to say for the past few years, Earlimart's It's Okay to Think About Ending, is playing on my iTunes shuffle.

I think I've figured out how to control my shuffle with my mind...and also? How to finally stop crying.

As painful as this all is, as it has been for 3 years of my life, it sort of feels good.

It's a start.

I just thought of something:

does this whole thing where I finally made up my mind and stuck with a decision, mean I have to change the title of my blog?

I'm done.

I'm tired of being second; I'm tired of being disappointed again and again. I can't do this anymore. I'm ready to stop feeling like this day after day. There's only so much I can handle, and I'm at my breaking point. I'm just done.

When I claim sickness simply to have a day off, the next day that I go in, I'm told I don't look good. When I went to see my therapist after 2 weeks had passed and all these great things had happened, she tells me I look so happy. This was two days after the claimed sickness.

So which is it? Am I transparent, or do people just see what they want to see? And am I really happy, or just really good at faking it?

I'm almost there.

I’ve been struggling for years now, trying to find a direction to go, a path to take me to the happiness I know is out there. I'm starting to realize it’s not a struggle at all, just simply the time it is taking me to get to that place, and the fact that at some point, I believe I will get there. The sadness has overwhelmed me at times, buried me in self-doubt and unrecognizable pain. I let it take me over...yet, underneath it all, I kept the hope that it wouldn’t last. I’m still dealing with a lot of sadness, but right now I can’t see it as clearly. I’ve finally made decisions. I was the conscious part of the creation of a life I wanted. I cleared the path of brush and debris. I wanted happiness and I am seeking it out, and feel one hundred percent that it’s the correct path...even if I can’t prove it with a solid goal in mind. If I get there and can’t make it through another day and have to turn around and come back, I’ll still be happier because I followed the path I created. The power of self-creation is a beautiful and very real thing. We are blessed with that power, and so few of us use it. The coincidences and situations that keep arising all because I made this decision, could not be more amazing. They are almost boardering on eerie they are so strangely connected to this one choice. It's unbelievably amazing. It is proving every theory that we create our own destinty. For anyone who doubts that, I can now disagree completely. I am blown away.

A friend once told me in a letter that he admired the depth of my emotional self, my romanticism. He admired the ability that I have to be hurt, that it was a sign of the person I am, the person that truly believes that we can live uncompromised dreams and can still believe in the storybook endings we wanted when we were young. His words expressed something I had spent years trying to cover, it hadn’t been something recognized by others, shared by others. Even my parents doubted my unexplainable choices; my optimism in something I couldn’t prove would be a wise decision with anything but my intuition that it was right. Or even that it was wrong. My intuition has steered me in directions even I was surprised of, but I trusted…even at times I didn’t want to. Getting people to understand that it is only your gut feeling that you are following is not an easy goal to achieve, especially with people from our parent’s generation…they need stability and back up plans. I usually have neither, and seem to prefer it that way. Just the fact I want nothing less than that storybook ending, is enough for me.

He doesn’t realize this, but that letter was a huge part of my conscious turn around. To know that he had faith in me and believed in the way that I viewed my world, it created a spark in me. The foundation was there, but it certainly helped me start the climb out of the hole. It is still continuing, this climb..but I’ll risk the cliché and say I can see the light at the end.

R, I’m on my way to that place in life and within myself. I’ll miss you. I’ll miss all of you that have helped me get to this point. But don’t forget, even though I’m leaving here, where I’m going? It will have endless amount of wine. You should really take advantage of that. I can’t say it enough.

7 weeks, and counting.

For the last four years, I've been living in the past. Today I took the first step towards my future, and I have never been more sure about anything else in my life....nor as scared to death about what I am about to do. 5 hours ago I sat in my boss' office, explaining the last few months, with tears on the brink of falling, and she responded with nothing more than happiness for the steps I've chosen to take (even though they were laced with a little disappointment). 5 hours ago, I gave my notice. 5 hours ago, I took my first step towards a path that I've chosen for myself. 5 hours ago, I chose to leave the only life I've known since college. This life has been safe. This life has been mostly unhappy. This life, is finally ready for a new setting. A new setting with lots and lots of wine...


That's all I have for now....mainly because I'm freaking the fuck out, and I need to make myself a martini. But once I get done freaking the fuck out and finish the many lists of To-Do, I'll delve further...because there is some delving to do. Four years is suddenly swirling around uncontrollably in my head, and it needs to be delved into.

But for now: A martini. And maybe some whiskey.

(No, not together. That would just be nasty. I'm not freaking out that much.)

(I don't think.)

Happy 2nd Birthday, Undecidedlyso!

You've come a long way, Undecided! You've even begun making decisions, and more importantly, sticking to them! As this new change approaches, let's take a look back at some of my favorite posts of the last two years, shall we?

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There are times that I pretty much think I'm the funniest person alive. Really, I'm probably the only one that laughs. But hey, that's good enough for me:
Civil War
Thumper
I may be losing it.
And a story I still tell to this day:
Sunday, a day...

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Acceptance This is still something I'm figuring out today, and most likely will be figuring out the rest of my life. Just this weekend, S and I were discussing this very thing. Here's proof when I started to realize it.

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The past four years have been the most difficult of my life. I am grateful for the lessons I've taken from it all...but I still struggle to this day. I'm working on making the happiness far outweigh the sadness and frustration...and I'll keep working on it until I get there.
Out with the 25...
The not-so-happy post.
I'm sometimes a fake.
In need of repair.
A bit foggy.
Tired.
Untitled
And something I'm still feeling: Matter

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The one underlying topic that has remained throughout these two years that I can't seem to escape, has been the Ghost. And, of course, those end up being my favorites. This one, being the favorite of the favorites. It was relieving to write. Although never shared directly with him, it helps me to re-read it at times that I'm feeling most vulnerable, times when I'm only thinking about this. He's still in my life. And I still can't figure out how that needs to change. But I know it does. Ever since this moment my life hasn't been the same.

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I think the best thing about having a blog is seeing the progression you've made, or haven't made, in the way that you view the world or how you choose to look at things in your life. In the past four years, since I've been in Rhode Island, I've become a totally different person. Despite my negativity at times, and my uncertainty in my future, I'm so happy with the person I've become. I'm proud of the person I've become. And really, I can't ask for much more than that.

Out of the last two years, this post is by-far my favorite because it describes the turning point that I had been hoping for, the reason I still feel driven, and the reason I went from this to this.:

Itchy.

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Thanks for reading, guys. I don't necessarily know if anyone reads it besides the three that I DO know...but thank you.

We've gone blue.

I have to say, I'm not getting much work done today. I know, that's not really much of a surprise to those who know me well, but I feel like today, it's a bit more justified. On my way to work, I had goosebumps listening to the results of the election on NPR. This cannot mean anything but positive changes to come, and, dare I say, a restored faith in our country? That may be jumping to conclusions, but just the fact that maybe it's a sign most of us really don't believe in Bush, as much as we were convinced of after the 2004 election (ahem...NON-election). I don't know. It just actually made me happy to hear that we elected the first African-American governer in Massachusetts, and that we may just very well have the first woman speaker of the house. I've dabbled with being pro-active in politics, so as much as I'm disappointed and jaded by them, there's a part of me that just gets excited in the midst of elections. And when maybe there's just glimmer of hope that we actually might, just maybe, have even an ounce of power in this country. Okay, I'm not going to get ahead of myself....because then I'm reminded of the idiot in charge when I read things like this:

"Recently, Bush dismissed the possibility that Pelosi [Nancy Pelosi, California] could become speaker of the House, saying in an interview 'That’s not going to happen.'" What a jackass. I can't wait to see what happens.

Small snippet.

The unhappiness keeps coming in waves. It hits me in the most random of times, like when I'm in the shower before work, where the tears can hide in the water from the shower head...maybe it won't count if I can't feel them falling down my cheeks. I'll have a perfectly great week, then the very next day following energetic and unforced smiles, it's as if I've been hit by a tidal wave. The loneliness that seemed to whisk itself away only hours before, returns as if it just got lost for a little while on the way to this moment, then, oh thank god! it found me! whew! it really thought it was never going to find me again! Then I just want to hide from the world. But for 5 months now, I've been unable to hide. I don't even have a door on my bedroom, the only place I'm alone is in my car, or in the shower. Which, coincidently, is where the tears usually come. I even go out to bars by myself, and instead of wanting to meet people, I go out and am annoyed when people talk to me. This isn't me. I don't know who this person is.

Okay, in a random change of topic as, even though it may seem so, I'm not comfortable wallowing in my woes...I went with a friend to Newport on Sunday to pick up a Violin that will be on a somewhat permanent loan. Yep, I'm going to learn how to play the fiddle. I can't wait. This has been something I've been wanting to do for a few years now, and it wasn't until recently that I actually made it happen. I mentally placed it on the top of my "Must Do in My Life" list...and then created it. I figure I'm withdrawing myself from society, I might as well do something productive while I'm in hiding.

So stay tuned for the Undecidelyso US Tour. You may want to bring earplugs.

You can just feel my badassness, can't you? Admit it. You wish you could be as badass as me. I know. It's okay.

Even at 27, I've found a way to feel like I'm rebelling against my parents. I got my nose pierced for the third time. And let me tell you, the pain does not lesson with each piercing.

I took out my previous piercing a couple of months ago because I was tired of it being irritated. And by "took out" I really mean, "had it cut out of my nose and pulled out with pliers." And yes, I got it re-pierced even after that (but the other side). Everytime I looked in the mirror I felt like something was missing. My face was boring me. I've pretty much had it pierced on and off since I was 21. Each not without their own fighting reasons...either to get it done, or to take it out. I can't just do these things, there needs to be a reason behind it. A "my life is changing in one way or another and I need something to be a symbol of that overly-dramatic reaction to the change" piercing.

But back to the rebelling....As of 3 days ago, BOTH my parents moved in with me.* 3 months ago, my dad moved in to start his new job while my mom stayed in Maine to try and sell the house. It has been a difficult 3 months. I like my private time. I like my space. I've lived in an entire house by myself for 2 years...to have your dad, and later your mom, move in with you is not an easy adjustment. It's one thing to move back in with your parents, but to have your parents move in with you? NOT THE SAME THING. So silently I've been raging a little bit. My insides were freaking out with each night that goes by without my usual nightly down time. My house was a mess, my bathroom disgusting (seriously, how am I ever going to live with a man? They are DIRT-Y!), the dishes were piled up, and my spot on the couch was taken over. I was moody and easily irritated...and the saddness and loneliness I've been suffering through the past few months/years, was multiplied by a gazillion. I was frustrated with feelings of selfishness. And it only got worse this weekend when my mom moved in.

So Monday night I all of a sudden the feeling that I needed to get it done hightened, and it needed to happen then. I recruited my friend Sanne to come with, and I went last night and got it done. Immediately, I felt better. On my drive home I was trying to figure out why it was I felt the urge to get it done so immediately. And then it came to me: I have no control over my one safehaven in life, my home. To have absolutely no control over my living situation is a tough one for me. And I know my parent's are not psyched about the nose ring. So the re-piercing was my way of rebelling. At 27. I wasn't much of a rebel growing up, so these small little victories of defiance are as close as I get. Now get me a sword and a horse, and I'll be on my way.

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* Two years ago, my sister and brother-n-law started building a house next to mine and across the street from theirs. Along with this plan came the one where my mom would take care of my nephew and both parents would move into the house where my sister and b-n-l currently reside. But when do things work out as planned? The house has taken an insane amount of time to be finished, and since they are not in it yet, my parents have to live with me until my sister and b-n-l can move into the new house.

Aren't I lucky?

I have never done this, but I can't resist. This is seriously the funniest clip I have seen in a while. Whose Line Is It Anyway is a favorite of mine and my favorite Yankee-turned-Southerner Sara...so this goes out to her.

Packing.

I'm in Maine, ya'll. Packing up the house. It's a lot more sad than I thought it would be. Fortunately, my childhood best friend and her husband bought it. But it's going to be hard to leave tomorrow.

On another note: I finally bought myself a new camera. Wahoo! So here are some pics. I'll be back soon...much to catch you up on.

itchy.

the last four years have been building up to these recent months of boiling unsettlement. it seems like every day has just added onto the next, causing layers and layers of a skin i no longer recognize. with the people i have met, the things i have done or discovered...each component feels like a new pair of jeans: almost right, but still something making it completely wrong. i don't know the person i have become because i'm in the middle of becoming. i'm waiting to shed my skin, and the skin can't be shed here. i've spent these years searching; searching for a piece of who i am to become, of who the person is that i will settle into...but i'm left searching. everyday that i find myself still trying is a day i get closer to no longer putting forth the effort. this has been four years of searching for a connection, for a connection of some kind that would allow myself to be. to be whole. even for a moment. recently an individual tapped into the part of me that i've had hidden since i left north carolina, tapped into a part of me that i forgot was there....the part the craves a connection on a whole level, not one that just satisifies a certain component or fits into an ideal that i thought was my future. what he tapped into awoke a person that was excited again, excited to explore and create. discover. the person that over four years has slowly covered herself day after day by creating who she thinks she should be, not who she knows she could be.

i'm tired of reaching out, of seeking, of searching here. i'm seeking a closeness in any form. a closeness that allows me to be me. a closeness that i've only found in a few....a familarity that has mostly come before my move back north, and has only appeared fleetingly here. i feel myself giving up on what i've known these past years. the people i see no longer evoke in me what i seek to be brought out. i'm not challenged. i no longer recognize the person that i once knew so well...at least not in the company of others. even what i choose to put in my mouth no longer tastes pleasant. the clothes i wear no longer feel familiar. the voice i hear is no longer mine.

i feel the me waiting to emerge inside. but i also feel that same part of me hiding until i change something. something big. there seems to no longer be a motivation left to uncover what is beneath these layers. when even a fraction of it is exposed, it's distorted and unfamiliar. it comes out in words i don't recognize as my own, thoughts that are voiced that don't seem to be coming from inside me. i'm as awkward as a teenage boy who's afraid to talk out of fear his voice will crack...except the voice cracking is every movement i seem to be making.

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i don't want to keep shutting people out. it feels horrible and selfish. it tears at my insides. the people in my surrounding life are kind and genuine and amazing in their own way...i just can't keep trying to be someone i no longer feel is present. words can not express how excited i am about the coming year. i've always felt 27 would be one of my best years, and i'm captivated and consumed by thoughts of what's to come...and most importantly...who's to come; who's under those layers.


my skin is itching in joyous anticipation.

my voice is ready to finally. stop. cracking.

Finally, I know I'm not alone in this world.

10 THINGS I AM REALLY FUCKING TIRED OF DEFENDING.

1. What I decide to eat, or not eat.

2. Wanting to move out of this state for a little while so I can have a chance at happiness.

3. Wanting to go home and not stay to have a drink when I'm tired from working a 17 hour day.

4. Not wanting to go out to a bar filled with striped-shirted, short-haired single men when I work in one.

5. Who I date and why I'm okay with the fact that they're different from you*. That's in fact WHY I like them.

6. The reason I'm still not married/engaged/ already-living-in-a- house-with-a-white-picket-fence-and-2.5 kids...and okay with it.

7. Why I'm still at this job, even though I hate it.

8. Why I like living 20 minutes from town...and why it's ridiculous you won't drive out there.

9. Why I haven't gotten a chance to call you back after your 10,000 calls or return your gazillion-and-one text messages asking why you haven't heard from me.

and finally...

10. Why I'm apparently cranky as hell most of the time lately. I have no idea why. Well, okay, that's a lie, I kinda do...but do I need to explain it?

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*The "you" varies throughout the post. And most likely, if you're reading this, you're not the "you" I'm referring to...these "yous**" don't know about my site.

** In Rhode Island, the word "yous" is actually used. A lot. Like, all the time. I thought it wasn't true until I dated someone more Rhode Island than quahogs and his grandmother used it every other word. For those of you not familiar with this expression, it is commonly used in the same way "ya'll" is used. For example: "Are yous all coming to dinner?" Try it. Especially you southerners. You might know what I feel like everytime I say ya'll up here.

It's the end of the world as we know it...and I've got lime.

The world was about to end, and the last person who had spoken to me was the machine lady at the self-checkout. But at least I would've had plenty of sugar and limes with me...it's a shame they don't sell tequila at the grocery store in Rhode Island, or I would've already made myself a cocktail the second I saw this coming.

Okay.

Well, will this hold you over until I finish it?

My decided upon future:

http://www.sebastopol.org/

I know, I know...it's not Atlanta. But I can totally make it up to you by offering you a place to stay with one fabulously cool chick in WINE COUNTRY. Where there's lots of wine. And they happen to make wine there. And you can drink lots and lots of wine. For free at most places. Did I mention the wine?

Yeah...I guess I shouldn't have lied like that, huh?

Hey all...

[three of you that read this]...just wanted to check in with you, let you know that I'm working on a post. Many things have come to the surface for me. I'm figuring things out. I'm making some decisions. I'm seeing a new side of me...a side that has been sleeping for a while now.

It's all pretty damn exciting. (I've enticed you now, haven't I?) Soon, my friends...

Grand. Freaking. Slam.

Barrett and I, post grand slam.



Our not-really seats behind home plate.

I got to go to my first (and hopefully not only) Sox game of the season yesterday with my friend Barrett and had an absolute blast. It was one of those days where we had perfect timing for everything, including the last train from Providence before rush hour and the perfect table next to the street by Fenway to wait for his friends before the game rush showed up and swamped the place. It was just all around great. It feels awesome to rediscover a friendship that at one point was at risk of disappearing, and to truly enjoy being around that person again as your new selves and it leave you wanting to hang out more because, for once in the past few months, you've discovered another person you can actually be your true self around. I couldn't have imagined a better way to spend a night at Fenway. I mean, even if we hadn't scored those seats right next to our real seats and I had ended up having to look at the big green post directly in front of me the whole game, I still would've enjoyed it. Thank you, Barrett. The Springboard* had a blast.

On another note: Took had to take a visit to the Vet yesterday to take a ride on the Scary Stainless Steel Spaceship to get probed in the ass all because he couldn't stop licking his empty ball sack due to a bacterial infection that his mom caused by letting him wade in an apparently bacteria-infected creek. (I should be sent away). I've been watching the Dog Whisperer lately, and have been trying to work on my energy around him in stressful situations so he can sense it and act accordingly...but yeh, that was challenged a bit yesterday when I watched my dog yelp in fear of the thermometer being shoved up his and the needle jammed in his leg. How can you act calm and comfortable in a time like that? You can't, that's how. Poor guy...it's not your fault you got jock itch. It's your horrible mom's fault that she decided a swim in the creek would be good for you.


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*Over drinks, Barrett decided that my nickname should be Springboard because I'm the one that makes the guys realize they should go back to their ex (or separated wife) or start that new relationship with that girl they've been admiring (or their best friend, whichever). Nice, huh?

For all you sustainable folks:

Google has started a cool little project over here:

http://services.google.com/earth/green/

It highlights sustainable businesses in prime tourist cities, and then maps them out for you, including video highlights that feature a random guy dressed in green drumming at the selected location. I'm awaiting one in Boston...hopefully soon. It's pretty cool.

Nice work, Google.

Calm.

I've always seemed to have had the ability to find a reason for why someone comes in or out of my life. There have been times, especially as of late where I've struggled with the answer. When this occurs I feel off, unbalanced...unsettled. Then, there are times, where I instantly know the reason, I feel the reason why someone has come into my life, and I become a bit more settled. It balances out the previous uncertainty. Over the past few months, I've been trying to come to terms with the frustrations I feel from an unknown future and the pressure for it to be known. This past weekend, I finally realized I need to let it go. It's been causing my insides to stir. Two days later, I began exploring a relationship with someone new (and by relationship, I don't mean the common definition we associate that with, but it is, in essence, a beginning of a relationship of some form)...someone with a calmness about him that is infectious. In the two days and nights I've spent with him, I feel it taking over me...I no longer feel the pressure I've been putting on myself, I feel the way I've been wanting to feel for quite some time now. He didn't cause this, nor did he give me this, but he has helped me acknowledge it's importance even further than I had yet been able to on my own. It hasn't even been through words necessarily, but simply by being in his presence. I feel okay at the moment. I'm not as concerned about the future right now. It all feels*....good.

(In conclusion, apparently, I'm FEELING again. According to the amount of times I just used the word "feel" in the paragraph above, it's feeling times 9. And now it's 13.)

Tired.

I'm getting tired of talking. Tired of confessing I have no idea what my plans are for the future. Tired of backing up my single status, my refusal to settle just so I can have a boyfriend and later husband. I'm tired of telling people what idea I'm onto next, only to change it the next week, or even day. I'm just tired. It's not that I don't want to share my thoughts with the people I love more than anything...but indecision and lack of direction is exhausting, even without voicing it. I'm even tired of thinking. Not being able to choose, to take action, is more than just frustrating to those in my life with unending declarations of where I might go...it's just plain tiring.

Last night as I was lying in bed, the first time I had been silent and alone in 3 days, and I actually thought about going somewhere for a week where I wouldn't have to talk. The only words I would speak would be to my dog. My cell phone would be shut off. The computer would be no where near me. I wonder if then I might find some clarity. To be forced to not share my inner thoughts, my ideas, my daily change of direction, maybe then I'll remember who I really am and what it is I want to do.

I'm just tired. I don't feel like talking about heavy, life-altering decisions anymore.

I just want the silence to make a decision for me, but I can't find the silence.

Parking Lot Bitches 2006™

You didn't realize safety vests could be this hot, did you?

Oh Eddie, why do you hate me so?

Since Ten came out, like everyone at the time, I've been a bit obsessed with Pearl Jam. Even if I didn't like the majority of their studio albums (okay, okay...any) after Vitalogy, I still either bought them or pawned them off friends when they confessed they weren't fans, just so I could have them. When I was still in high school, they played a show in Augusta (Maine) on my birthday. I can't remember why I couldn't go, but there was definitely a reason...either it was sold out before I could get tickets, or I had something else I was committed to. Either way, the night of the show, I found out a friend of mine was going to go up to Augusta to see if they could score some tickets and invited me along. They were playing ON MY BIRTHDAY, and they were by far, my favorite band -- doesn't that mean there was no way I could miss the show? I declined for the above reasons, and cursed the entire night. The next day, I found out not only did they get tickets, they got them for free...and were IN THE FRONT ROW. Since then, I've had a few opportunties to see them, but each time something prevented me. Since they've released Pearl Jam, and it is actually up there with Vitalogy, I thought for sure it means this would be my chance. This morning I received an email from Live Nation showcasing the upcoming Pearl Jam concert in Boston at the Garden with My Morning Jacket. I clicked on the link and it directed me to this link at Tickemaster. I was initially shocked at seeing it sent me to the ticket giant, remembering when PJ boycotted them, refusing to charge their fans a ridiculous amount of money to see their show. Another reason to love PJ (as if I needed another). At the top they mention some nonsense about buying a ticket and getting their album free with the purchase*, so I'm thinking how great that is of Eddie, Stone, Jeff, Matt, and Mike. But then I scroll down further and see the $51 dollars they are charging PER TICKET. And that's WITHOUT THE SERVICE CHARGE.

What happened to your ethics, guys? The entire album is basically a 14-song political statement, a one big FUCK YOU to W, complete with matching angst-ridden tempo...and you're charging me $51 DOLLARS?! I stood by you when you made Binaural. I've been wanting to see you since Ten, but something has kept me from it for 15 years now. And now $51 dollars will keep me from you again. I must also point out, that the show is next week, and you are still not sold out, PJ. Think that's saying something?

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*Update: I just re-read the ticketmaster site, and yeh, you have to purchase the cd as well. It gives you the opportunity to add the $16.99 on top of your ticket purchase, service charge and shipping for a grand total of a whopping: $80.59. I might as well just give my toes up, or perhaps my whole right leg while I'm at it. And to think there was a point in my love affair with you that I was willing to have your babies, Eddie. Yours too, Jeff.

R.I.P., Frijole

For 8 years I drove my well-loved, but uber-ghetto, Hyundai Accent, Frijole. Up until about a week and a half ago, it had very few problems...then it had decided it had had just about enough of life, and it stopped working. 8 years and thousands of dollors concluded in the pouring rain at a traffic light downtown. A week prior to the breakdown, I decided it would be good to know the Kelly Blue Book value of Fri since I had been thinking about getting a new car within the next few months. Frijole was worth a whopping $288. With interest, the $17,000 I had spent for the car was consolidated down to one good night at the restaurant.

But Fri had a good life. I can proudly say I got every cent back that I put into him/her (it was transgender depending on what was happening)...from the weekly trips from Boone to Charlotte to visit my then boyfriend B, bi-yearly drives from North Carolina to Maine and back again, a few jaunts here and there to Florida, a 5,000 or so mile trip to the west coast (in the middle of July WITHOUT a/c, I might add), to Canada, and back down south, to it's final resting place, Rhode Island...it was a good car.

Fast forward to today, I'm driving a brand-new (to me) 2003 Subaru Forester..and, apparently, I'm now a lesbian. Was I the only one not aware of this correlation? And it turns out, the Forester is #1 on the list, followed by the VW Convertible Beetle, and the, um, Honda Civic. Really? Apparently, lesbian's are driving all cars on the road. Imagine that! Who knew?

Here, an article to back the rumor up: Top Lesbian Cars.

I love my new car. That is, if I can just make it past the whole non-ghettoness of it all. I mean, I CAN PUT THE WINDOW DOWN WITH A TOUCH OF A BUTTON! I have also found out that apparently you are not supposed to break out in a sweat when parallel parking. However, I can now take comfort in knowing I will no longer get asked if my power steering fluid has been leaking when I take my car to the shop, by THE MECHANIC, when there is no power steering to begin with. And the transmission...oh how I how love the transmission. This, my friend, is how a stick shift should drive. It no longer takes 20 minutes to get to 4th. I realize it's just a Forester, but to me, it's like a brand new Porsche.

Or, Portia, depending on who you ask.

Single: therefore, I cannot survive on my own.

Two days ago, on my way to work, my car just decided it was done working. I later told my mom what had happened, as I purposely avoided it for as long as I could as I had a feeling she wouldn't exactly be positive and upbeat. However, I did not expect her to say this in response to me simply saying my car broke down on the way to work: "I am sorry you have to face it alone, sometimes it is good to have someone to help you out."

Seriously, Mom? SERIOUSLY? My first thought when all the lights came on and the gas pedal no longer worked was "Shit, I hope a cop doesn't stop and see my inspection expired almost a year ago." My second thought was, "Ugh. I so thought I'd have a few more weeks for this." My third and final thought was, "Damn, I wish I had made coffee before I left the house." NOT ONCE in the entire shitty day did I think to myself, "Oh I can't believe I don't have a boyfriend or a husband right now. Life would be so much simpler! He could do all the thinking for me and help pay for repairs, maybe even ride up to my dead car on a white horse and whisk me away to married heaven. Woe is me. I am so sad, so lonely. What ever will I do now?"

And she wonders why I don't tell her when I'm dating someone.

A bit foggy.

In the last few weeks, I have been witness to horrible maliciousness by girls that are numerically adults. I have been forced to be reminded of my adolescence, of being treated like I was no one by people who claimed they were my friend. I was actually physically sick at one point when discovering what they had done and how they had used me in their plot of revenge. But I believe that finally, I am rid of them. It turns out I won't have to choose between financial stability and comfort...they are now conveniently wrapped into many late-night packages.

In the midst of all this, during the middle of an amazing set put on by Wilco, I realized I had no idea who I was anymore. Just like that, breaking through lyrics sung by Jeff Tweedy, I was looking in on myself and didn't recognize the person staring back. During the last 7 months in more than one area of my life, I haven't been myself. I've been acting a certain way in order to make my life tolerable and not once did I realize that people should never have this power over you. Although it hasn't just been work, it's been evident in other areas of my life. Ever since I've been in Rhode Island, really, I've never been able to find that niche. I've spoken of this on numerous occasions: in the presence of the majority of people I've met -- although mostly all incredible and amazing -- i just haven't felt completely myself. There have been exceptions, of course, and you (I hope) know who you are. After going to California, and spending time with Liz before that, I was reminded, again, of who I really am when I'm around people I'm comfortable with. The last few months I've either been at work, or at home alone with Took. I'm myself at home, of course, but how can you be aware of who that person is when it's just your dog that witnesses it, and your unspoken thoughts? Do people that spend their lives in solitude have a complete grasp of who they are and what they stand for, when there is never anyone to challenge it, to question it, to explore it? When living the monotonous life of work, work, sleep, repeat --- you lose track of who you are outside of that. And I don't want to be defined by my work. Especially when my work becomes equivalent to the years I spent between grade school and college, the years I tried to forget after I lived them because they were so painfully laced with self-doubt. After spending so much of your life unsure, then discovering how to be everything but, it's hard to find yourself back there...uncertain of who you have become, and where your direction lies.

I'm overwhelmed at the task of discovering that again. I waver between excitement and fear when thinking of the next few months...but I hope wherever I land, I can feel like myself again. I liked who I was, or who I am...I'm not sure which it is. I'm just not happy with the last few months, they're cloudy and restless and right now, I'm not exactly sure how to make it clearer.

This is HUGE. Literally. Who knew the giant would eventually be bullied into being more responsible? Maybe our consciences can be cleared a bit when brave the world that is Wal-mart to save a few bucks.

I guess I have to grow up now. Ugh.

Well guys, this is a little sad to see. I can't believe Boothbay isn't going to be my home anymore. I mean, like I've been saying, I still have my ocean-front cottage in Southport (wink, wink), so not all is lost...but after 26 years the home I've known will no longer be mine. I'm not sure what I'm more freaked out about, the fact my home will be gone, or the fact my parents will no longer be 4 1/2 hours away...they'll be 4 seconds away. Ouch.

Wednesday morning moments.

I believe I just had a moment with the coffee guy. I went in to buy a muffin and he smiled the genuine smile that you so rarely get from people. You know, the kind where they linger with eye contact and the smile isn't too big, but not too small...and you actually feel it, instead of just return it. Every time I looked up from my fumbling with change, his eyes were on mine, and I didn't want to look away. It was really nice. In a time where most people refuse to even make eye contact, moments like those really make your day. Even when you know it won't amount to anything beyond that exchange, it still makes you feel incredible to know you can connect in an instant with a complete stranger. Mmmm...what a nice start to my usually boring Wednesday.

On a complete opposite note: my childhood home went on the market today and I'm feeling suprisingly sad about it. I knew it wouldn't be easy to see my home that I grew up in be handed over to someone else, but it's hitting me that the place I could come home to now for the 9 years that I've been away won't be there for me anymore. It also means a huge change is coming my way, which is causing me quite a bit of anxiety and excitement. My parents will not only be leaving my home of 26 years, they will be moving to the house ACROSS. THE. STREET. FROM. ME. Yes, at 26, my parents will be living a mere 50 feet from me. They will be there to see when I don't come home, to see strange cars in the driveway when they wake, and well, to see every single thing I possibly do. Hence: a change for Courtney. Who knows, maybe I'll be moving across the street from you, or maybe even if you're lucky, into your house. Yes, this change I've been speaking of for 2 years now is actually happening this year. I know it is. I have no choice, really. I can't take much more of this before my head explodes and my body starts convulsing in complete restlessness. I feel it coming. And my instincts have yet to be wrong.

Hell yeah.

Well, folks, it's Friday. I don't think I've been this happy to see Friday come along in months. I think it's the first Friday I haven't had to work in months, and damn that feels good. I think it feels exceptionally great because this whole week I spent dreading Friday because I had to work, until someone requested to switch with me. It feels so good that I'm spending the entire night with no one but my dog and some martinis. Which, is ironic...when I'm at work on a Friday or Saturday night, all I can think about is what I would give to be going out like the people I'm waiting on are doing. Then I get the chance, and all I want to do is be home with my dog. I think it's the fact that my work involves basically going out (I just happen to get paid for it and it involves going out with 200 drunk half-naked strangers). I don't even have the familiar feeling that I'm missing out on something, that I should be out doing something fun and exciting. I love that feeling (or, non-feeling). That's the thing about me, sometimes I think I'm happier just being with me.*

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*Give me a few minutes, that statement will most likely be retracted. After all, I am human, and damn if I don't like me some human touch.

In need of repair.

I would take my heart being broken into a thousand pieces to not break another person's heart.

Two years ago, my heart shut off. The little light went out and it stopped ticking the second he walked off my porch. And the thing is, I'm afraid it might not work again. In the past two years I've met a couple of incredible, fantastic, intelligent, life-changing, caring, funny, genuine individuals who care for me more than I deserve...and I've been blessed to have them come into my life in more than one way. I am more honored then I can express that they are willing to give themselves to me, willing to take the risk of a broken heart in the hopes that somewhere along the way mine will be wound once more. It's an honor that humbles me, frustrates me, and worries me all at once. In the end, I can't give them what they so freely give to me, and I'm the one causing pain. Causing someone ache and saddness is a pain that's unbearable.

I don't know how to get my heart to open up again. The thing that is strange is that I want it to more than anything and I'm willing to take the pain of risking loss to just feel again. I have so much love to give, and it's boiling up inside as the inability to let it free continues.

Also at lunch...

it was decided there were two types of people in this world: the ones that love the popcorn jelly bellys and the ones who hate them.

After that declaration, I poured myself a handful of butter popcorn jelly beans as my friend commenced puking.

Which are you?

And we wonder why local music shops are closing down.

I just went into a music store on Thayer St., Tom's Tracks, to re-purchase the Ray Lamontagne cd. Since my previous purchase has expired its amount of copies allowed and somehow I gave away my very last copy, I figured I'd support the artist while simultaneously supporting a local music shop and buy it at Tom's. I go in and go directly to the used section because, really, as much as I want to support him, I'm not made of money, so why pay full price? While searching for Ray under the R's (that's how long it's been since I've been in record store; I forgot that, unlike iTunes, they still categorize by last name), my friend and I discuss the various musical interests, including my observation of how there is a ridiculous amount of phil collins cds for some odd reason...shouldn't they have all been out of circulation by now, or at the very least, burned in protest? I then turn around to look for Ray in the new release section and the owner/salesperson asks as he peers over his low-resting glasses, "Are you looking for something special?" I reply, "I'm looking for Ray Lamontagne?" And he says, with the upmost attitude that I don't think I could ever do justice to without you seeing the disgust that came across his face, "Well, I can tell you now that it wouldn't be where you were looking, that's for sure." Um, okay. "Besides, we don't keep very many of them in stock because they don't go very quickly, but if we were to, it would be in new releases, NOT where you just were." Then he had the nerve to ask me if he could help me with anything else. I said, "No Thanks." And as I was walking out the door I said loudly to my friend, "No wonder they don't do any business."

And folks, for those of you who don't know me, that's about as confrontational as I can get. And now if you'll excuse me, I have to download Ray from iTunes (I can't use Limewire at work...or at home as I am the last person on earth to still have dial-up). I've been going through withdrawel, and we can't have that.