Undecidedly So

A new home.

2010-08-03T02:37:00.007-04:00

If there is anyone left out there, or someone somehow finds this, I thought I'd lead you here. I'm a different person than who I was on these pages....but without these pages, I wouldn't be who I am now.

Hope to see you over there.

c.

Man Weekend, Continued.

2007-08-18T13:02:00.000-04:00

I went out to my car last night and there was porn on the movie screen that had been set up in the field the day before, and 30 men screaming and yelling with a bonfire behind them.

I ran back inside and locked the doors. Can I die of too much exposure to testosterone? If it won't be that, it will be of the image I have in my head of the 20-feet-too-much close-up action shot I had the pleasure of viewing.

Man Weekend.

2007-08-17T22:52:00.000-04:00

Since the day we moved in, we've been hearing about "Man Weekend." Man Weekend is here, my friends. Imagine about thirty 50-something men drunk and let lose without their wives in sight. A few minutes ago I needed to go outside to my car to get my glasses, and I peaked around the corner and about 8 of them were bouncing on the back of my landlord's truck. Now, they're sawing something. Before that they were nailing on the deck for about an hour. Oh, wait...now they're nailing again.

I could escape to Tim's house since he's out of town...but that would require me walking to my car, and who knows what that would subject me to. And I'm a woman that can handle men. But thirty of them, drunk, and my dad's age? I'm not so sure. California is an interesting place...

And you know what? Despite Testosterone Weekend, today on my way home was the first time since I've been here that I've genuinely felt ecstatic to be here. In love with California. I've had my moments of happiness, especially with Tim...but this I haven't felt. And he's even out of town.

So who's coming here next? If you come soon, there may still be something left to drill.

Times, They Are a Changin...Again.

2007-08-08T13:26:00.000-04:00

Well, guys, things are changing in my life. The days of living with my roommate and her doggie are coming to an end. I'm a bit sad about that, but I'm more excited about what is to come...I will be moving in, for the first time ever, with my boyfriend. Yep, that's right. And you know what, I'm strangely not even nervous about it. It just feels like the natural course of things...and that, really, it just seems like the obvious choice. Why wouldn't I want to live with my best friend who just so happens to also be my love? And not only do I get to live with Tim, but we get to live on land that is a little bit of heaven. In exchange for rent, we get to take care of the gardens (he is already the caretaker). And, the best part? We can build a fence and Took can stay outside during the day. Seriously. I'm very excited. I know it's only been 6 months since we've been together, but he's it. He's amazing, thoughtful, fun, sweet, and wonderfully handy (Yes, I'm actually just using him for his carpentry skills and eye for beautiful landscaping). He's the person I had a feeling I'd meet out here, and he's the person I want to share a closet with. Only catch is we'll have an outside shower and toilet for a little while. Um, a compostable toilet, guys. Now, I know I've had my days of hippiness, but I have to say, I'm not psyched about this. But I'll suck it up. And more importantly, share my woes with you guys. Lucky you! You have stinky sewer stories ahead of you!

Now the pesky mission of finding a place to stay until then...

It feels good to be back, guys. I'll try to keep my end of the bargain, if you keep yours and stick around a little longer, mm-kay?

Finally.

2007-07-30T22:33:00.000-04:00

damn him for the inspiration for me to write again. never mind the amazing people i’ve met (and one in particular), the vineyards, my new job, the ocean, the land, causing me to go to my computer....he was right that it’s in the midst of anger and sadness, we produce our greatest work or find our deepest inspiration. i’ve found myself in a dark place the last couple of days, a place that i find myself heading here and there, but fortunately pull myself out at the last minute somehow. but i haven’t been as successful the last couple of days. and when i’m in this place, every bone in my body is telling me to leave. that you’ve tried it. that the pain you feel when you think about your nephew, or any of your family, or even that street you got so tired of, but now would give anything to be on...is enough to pack your bags and go home.

it’s a good thing we don’t usually listen to bones.

this time, if i were to go home, the hope that has been there for 4 years now, has now vanished with a single email. contact that i once thought would be there for the rest of my life, will no longer be. a love of my life has ended with five little words of well wishing, well wishing laced with anger and sprinkled with betrayal. this week i found out that i had been lied to for a year and a half. robbed of a year and a half of time that i could’ve spent moving on. getting to a place where it would’ve been easy to leave....a place that i wouldn’t have felt a bungee cord of hope holding me to rhode island as i move 3,000 miles away to california. i needed that one last thing to tell me that i was an idiot for believing in a someday. words were not enough for me, but this? this would’ve been enough for me. i would’ve gotten the picture. i would’ve finally hit it into my skull that he wasn’t going to leave. but no, for a reason that he feels was selfless, he kept it from me so not to add to my pain and stress at the time....that during the entire year and a half, he felt it was never the right time to tell me he was planning and creating A FUCKING FAMILY.

i don’t believe i have ever felt this way before now. thankfully, until now, i have never been lied to to this extent, nor had to defend why i feel it is a lie (to me, omission on this level, is a lie). sure people have lied to me, and i to them, but not to the point where my heart was on the line for so long, and by someone that i was painfully in love with for way too long. a love that wouldn’t allow me to love any one else. as angry as i am, i know that i’m relieved. that i’m finally free of the burden of loving someone that will never be able to love me back completely. it’s a weight that i’ve carried for far too long. a weight that i didn’t deserve to carry, that no amount of talking myself out of, would let disappear. even as i write these words, i’m feeling lighter by the letter. maybe this was the ending i needed. he’s been here from the beginning, been the feelings either directly or indirectly behind the majority of my posts on this blog. so maybe this is the last step that i needed to take to make it real.

i didn’t need this to tell me i made the right decision, to know that i’m where i’m supposed to be. but it sure does help.

I am

2007-04-25T14:11:00.000-04:00

alive. I think.

These past 3 months haven't been easy. I'm stuck inside my head, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not.

But needless to say, a post will be coming. Very soon. I promise. Everything seems overwhelming, and I'm working on that not being the case. However, I'd say that requires getting out of my head for a moment or two....and like I said, that hasn't been easy.

Will you guys accept my apologies? I've missed you, too.

Soon...

Ramblings.

2006-12-22T09:40:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-21T11:34:00.000-05:00

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:

2006-12-20T15:46:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-20T08:42:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-15T09:19:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-12-12T15:11:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-11-30T19:18:00.000-05:00

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!

2006-11-19T15:40:00.000-05:00

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?

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...

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

2006-11-08T13:52:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-11-07T09:49:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-10-11T09:29:00.000-04:00

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.

-----------

* 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?

2006-10-05T16:45:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-10-03T16:19:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-09-13T13:33:00.000-04:00

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.

--------

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.

2006-08-22T15:31:00.000-04:00

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

10 THINGS I AM REALLY FUCKING TIRED OF DEFENDING.

2006-08-10T09:26:00.000-04:00

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?

------------

*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.

2006-08-03T10:05:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-07-31T15:15:00.000-04:00

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?

2006-07-28T09:58:00.000-04:00

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

Hey all...

2006-07-19T14:06:00.000-04:00

[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.

2006-06-22T10:51:00.000-04:00

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.

----------------------

*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:

2006-06-20T15:47:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-06-16T14:46:00.001-04:00

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.

2006-06-12T11:57:00.000-04:00

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™

2006-06-08T12:34:00.000-04:00

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

Oh Eddie, why do you hate me so?

2006-05-19T09:11:00.000-04:00

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?

-------------

*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

2006-05-15T12:58:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-05-04T09:02:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-05-02T16:11:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-03-17T15:22:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-03-16T09:16:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-03-08T11:11:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-17T09:08:00.000-05:00

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.*

--------------------------------------------------

*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.

2006-02-16T13:12:00.000-05:00

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...

2006-02-15T15:02:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-15T14:08:00.000-05:00

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.

2005-12-28T01:20:00.000-05:00

I'm sitting here trying to figure out which words that are in my head want to come out through my fingers and onto the screen. There are too many swirling around. The last 36 hours has been exhausting. I've been searching for answers that I know are not there, searching for a reason why this had to happen...even though I'm aware that that answer will never be found. In a life where I constantly search for reasons why something is the way it is, there have been too many times in the last few years where I've had to accept that a reason will never be known. I can feel my heartbreaking with every tear that falls from his eyes, with every smile I see on her face in my thoughts, with every question still left unanswered. I want to believe so badly that the words I hear myself saying are true, but this is the first time in 36 hours that I haven't been trying to be strong for someone that needs it so badly right now...and my thoughts are turning darker as the familiar unsettlement returns.

Yet, I find myself in the face of the capacity of the human heart and I'm able to find some solace in the compassion that exposes itself so raw during a time like this...the capacity it has to reach out to another in pain; the ability it holds to drain hard emotion simultaneously with another experiencing similar tearing; the desire it has to do anything it can to make someone else's pain cease...even if it's only for a few hours of rest. This undeniable ability we hold in just a few words or movements toward another in pain is sometimes all the answers we need, if just for a moment. It somehow makes the pain of unanswered questions, bearable.

I'll try to stop searching for answers, and start creating the reasons why I'm still left breathing.

I'll do that for you. For all of you.

I'll do that for me.

A little bitching with your coffee, by Undecided

2005-11-18T10:10:00.000-05:00

I spent an entire week working on some new publications for my office, actually enjoying the creative process and even working while at work (I know, crazy idea, right?)...and it was just squashed to hell by my boss. Everything. The only thing she liked was the color scheme; and the color scheme? Yeh, it was the same as before. I've been sitting at this desk for three years now, telling myself it's okay to be at a job that I'm not really into, because I'm in transition, trying to find what I want to do next. Along the way, I've learned that the majority of people my age are in transition...and do you know what that means? Alot of unhappy, confused motherfuckers. So now I'm sitting here, pissed off that the work I've done for the past week --- and enjoyed --- was a waste of my time. I could've been writing for my blog. I don't get paid enough for this shit, and yet I'm supposed to work as hard as if I were getting paid 10's of thousands more? It just doesn't make sense. And then it's only worsened by the fact that I've spent some good time looking for other jobs, sending out my resumes, working on bullshit cover letters, to only hear back from a job that can only offer 20K. Is that even minimum wage? What are we supposed to do? I realize that I've got it better than a lot of people, that I have a job and should be thankful for that alone, but it sucks because people my age, with the same background and experience, are getting things practically handed to them (just so you know, S, I'm not talking about you...you deserve every bit of happiness that you have gotten in this world, more than anyone I know, in fact. And you know what? A lot of my true happiness these days is drawn from people like you, people who are just shining in their life, it couldn't feel more wonderful to have a close friend getting everything they've wanted, and being genuinely happy --- it gives me something to strive for, and I thank you for that. Okay...now back to bitching...) where was I? Oh right, people getting it handed to them...I think I'll move on from that, because now I've lost where I was going. My point here is that this is bullshit. It's bullshit that I want a new direction in my life, I'm searching for that direction, and while others seem to get it layed before them; I have to dodge bushes and rocks and trees, and the road is all covered in brush...and I'm trying, I'm trying hard...but it's just not clearing up for me. I'm wondering when the hell a wind will come and clear the path...it's been three years now of calm.

Last night, on my way home, I saw a shooting star when I was in the middle of a city. Later as I was walking Took, I saw another shooting start above the trees. I don't know, I felt like maybe it was a sign of some sorts. But then again, a part of me thinks that we create signs when we feel we need them...and I'm okay with that. So I think I'm going to tell myself that the shooting stars were signs, because honestly, I can't remember the last time I saw one. And that part of me that I mentioned above, almost feels like if we believe in signs, we'll force our way to that change we create. Surely three years of trying to create change, will finely pay off. I hope soon, I'm not sure I can handle much more of this underpaid bullshit. I can't even afford to pay off my loans for the education that supposedly got me here. This society is fucked up.

And those are my thoughts for this friday. Now I have to go work on a spreadsheet for it to only be returned to me in need of being changed...again.

2005-11-14T12:13:00.000-05:00

Check it out: my almamater, Appalachian, got some props from SustainableBusiness.com. It's an article of the Appropriate Technology department that I got my minor in Sustainable Development through. It's nice to see they're getting recognition, it was a great program.
Aw...kind of makes me miss the ol' Boone.

(Direct link to article here.)

We should be so proud.

2005-11-14T10:06:00.000-05:00

It's good to know that the people who write the speeches for our lovely president are just as intelligent.

http://www.sadlyno.com/archives/002012.html

Skip over this if you want to stick with the thought that I'm doing well still. (Because I really am, but this doesn't show it. AT ALL.)

2005-11-11T09:49:00.000-05:00

I was telling Rob this morning that I'm back into the phase of my life where I don't care to know what's going on in the world, because it upsets me too much. It's an ignorant and selfish way to live, I realize this, but then I read things like this:

http://www.nytimes.com/2005/11/11/international/middleeast/11hotels.html?hp

and I am overwhelmed with guilt, hatred, and fear. We have no idea, and will never come even close to understanding what it is like to live life like this. We can read it all we want, read the gory details that the NY Times press explain with such indifference, feel like we're going to be sick with disgust, but still not come close to knowing what it's like to be present on one of the happiest days of your life, filled with such euphoria...and have it turned into a day of blood and death and torn limbs. We only know such scenes from a Hollywood set. We are so sheltered and removed from this, as much as we want to think that our glutenous American lives are horrible and difficult, they're not. They will never come close to the lives of most of the people on this planet.

When I read things like this, I feel so insignificant, so helpless...I want to crawl inside and cry without end. I get confused and distraught, wondering if I should feel blessed and go out and utilize the freedom that has been bestowed upon me by a chance birth, or if I should feel hatred and discontentment with my siutation and the people around me.

This is why I think sometimes it's better to be ignorant. I know these things go on, but when I have such evidence through descriptive words, there's nothing I can do but cry. Then I go out to my car, with only thoughts of what I should eat for lunch and what music I should listen to, and feel disgusted at how much people take this for granted. I don't know how to feel...because I can't feel. This isn't feeling. None of what I experience are close to the feelings some endure.

And as I write this, the Party Shuffle plays "Amazing Grace."

Here's to 26!

2005-11-07T09:20:00.000-05:00

...let's hope it's the best year yet. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ILL NA NA!!

I love you tons!

Back from a Maine hiatus.

2005-11-07T09:13:00.000-05:00

A week in Maine does a body good. I left on hiatus rather abruptly. I was so tired of my muddled mind, my disappointment in myself, my unhappiness with the world around me, that the wednesday before last week, I decided a vacation it would be. I went home to Maine to stay with my parents. I spent the entire week do nothing but sleeping in, running by the water, hanging out with Took, eating free food, and staying up late. The one productive thing I did was work on my resume and apply to a job. It felt good. All of it. I needed this in so many ways. And now I'm back and feel refreshed, I even told a homeowner in the neighborhood that I park my car in that the work he's done on his house "is lovely." I said "lovely." To a stranger. I never say lovely. I think I even smiled.

Things are clearer now. The problems I was dealing with (and still am), don't seem nearly as paralyzing as I thought they were. They still exist, and are still on my mind, but I feel like I can handle them now. I had a hard time leaving Maine, I even cried a little bit as I drove away...even at 26, things don't seem as bad when you have your mom there to hug you. I'm lucky to have that, to have a home to escape to, and parent's to help me get through. I'm focused now on making the change I've craved for so long. I'm still not sure what the change will be, but I feel it coming...which is something I couldn't even come close to before I left. It feels good. I am also aware that I do this, that I go from up to down to up to down like I change outfits in the morning, but for now, I will try to revel in this, and be productive while I'm on this current up.

I came home to a beautiful vase of flowers from Rob by my door, wood on my porch from a friend, and a card from one of the most incredible friends a girl could have. Last night as I was getting ready for bed, the dread of coming home had transfixed itself in the Christmas lights on my ficus in the dining room to feelings of contentment...it was good to be home...even if this isn't going to be my home forever. I was happy for the night, happy for the people in my life, and happy I had escaped, even just for a week.

My (sort-of) moment in the sun.

2005-10-20T11:31:00.000-04:00

Clem Snide's "Moment in the Sun" from their Ghost of Fashion album, just plain makes me feel good. It doesn't hurt that, for once, I woke up on the right side of the bed and am (surprisingly) rather pleasant. (Don't tell anyone, but I think I'm even smiling!) Eef's "la la la la la la..." in his odd, somewhat shrilly voice is balanced out by his quiet expression of it being his "moment in the sun" by stating: "I'll share my problems with the world, pycho-sematically, I'll sing...to God and all his pretty girls. lalallalalla..." It's funny how he turns his problems into such seemingly cheerfullness, and sings his happy "la's" succeeding the expression that "hunger, war, and death is bringing everybody down." Well, pretty girls and the Wo/man above, it's not necessarily my moment (I'll leave that to Eef), but damnit, despite the hunger, war and (most recently) death...I'm feeling good today.

It's actually kind of a weird thing that I'm suddenly happy. (Those moods, they sure are sneaky!) This week, my car finally had had enough and decided it was time to quit. The clutch has been going for quite some time now, and well, it went. I was on my way home from work on Tuesday and after having it freak out in downtown Providence at a light for the second day in a row, it finally decided it wasn't going any higher than 2nd gear. After swerving some so the car wouldn't stall as I was following a truck going slower than what 1st gear should be for (I couldn't get it to downshift, either), I put my flashers on and pulled off. Shortly after, I commenced in a mental breakdown. I was not ready for the expense this would cause me, and the fact I would be forced to rely on others (something I have a really hard time doing...it's part of that whole independent thing I thrive on). Rob came to my rescue while I was waiting for the AAA guy to come help, and kept me occupied by spouting off to me about the idiocy that are his students.

So my car is now sitting in my driveway, waiting until I have enough money to get it fixed. All this comes when I finally decide it's time I suck it up and admit to myself that I just don't make enough to get by, and a second job it will have to be. Then yesterday, Rob comes to pick me up, and tells me some horrible news that a friend of his died the night before in what could possibly have been a result of him taking his own life. I'm not sure if I've talked about it much, but suicide has been something I have been unfortunate enough to have dealt with in my life more than once, so it hits a nerve when someone I have met or know through others takes their life. It conjures up painful memories and unanswered questions. Yet, somehow, even though I was thinking about my personal losses and feeling for Rob's friends, I woke up this morning thinking maybe my problems aren't so bad. Worrying about how I'm going to apy for my bills, my disinspiring career, and my never-ending indecision, are merely passing woes. I'm thankful to be alive, to be able to feel pain and saddness, and know I will get out of it, instead of being unable to see the light of happiness in the distance. I at least know I have a light, somewhere.

However, you all have been with me long enough to know these little bubbles of happiness don't last for too long. At least for now, I can listen to Clem Snide tell me that I had better pray that "I never wake up to find my dreams have all come true, cause if [I] get everything [I'd] hope for, then [he] will have to punish [me]" and be thankful that I'm able to feel. Even if feeling means being sad and scared, at least I can feel. My dreams are still out there, and although I may be a little off-course right now, I'm still on the course. And for today, that's something to smile about.

Bitching again.

2005-10-14T15:16:00.000-04:00

Only in Rhode Island do you witness a driver yelling at a pedestrian crossing a street IN A CROSSWALK. The NERVE! I swear, I love this state, but when it comes to driving (and walking), I'd rather live anywhere else but here.

Grand Canyon gaps, scrunchies, and two left feet.

2005-10-14T12:36:00.000-04:00

There's this couple in my salsa class that fascinates me, to say the least. The man is probably slightly younger than my dad, I'd say probably mid-forties and about as white as a man can get. He looks like he's straight out of the 80's, doning a combover, boat shoes and collared shirt, his belt holding his jeans up mid-waist. He's always been very friendly to me, introduced himself right away, and making it a point to introduce the "woman" that came with him as his wife. This is where it interests me, his "wife" must be younger than me, perhaps even closer to the early 20's (shit, I've just realized I've made it into my mid-to-late twenties. How exactly did that happen?), very beautiful with creamy dark skin. She's still working the scrunchie, along with the flared jeans, hoodie, gemmed belt and keys hanging out of her back pocket. Her sneakers are Sketchers or Keds or something of the sorts, and her smile lights up the room. But she looks like she is barely out of high school, and they're all over each other like newlyweds. And, well, it freaks me out a bit. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for the older men, I've been known to date a few that are already into the next decade, but I would never consider marrying one of my dad's buddies, that's just weird. And as I was partnered up with him this week for a dance (he's horrible, by the way, NO rythym what so ever. Did I mention he's as white as white can get, right?), I found out he travels to Panama rather often for his job, and his wife stays here while he's gone. This adds to my intrigue even more. This curiousity all comes after I joked with my hairdresser the other day about finding myself an "older" gentlemen on his last breaths to marry and fund my future career goals (you don't mind, do you Rob?), but realizing that this really does happen, in between jokes. Anyway, it's just weird. I wish you could see them, you'd agree. I mean, there's an age gap, and then there's an age canyon..and they're breaching the grand canyon of gaps. I don't think I would find it so weird if they weren't so damn giddy.

Well, maybe the joke is on me...she could know something that I don't. I know she's definitely not in it for the salsa, the man has two left feet.

It's Friday, ya'll. I'm breaking out the Kanye today, trying to prepare myself for this weeknd when I go to see another one of my friends step out of the single world and into the married one. The numbers are dwindling quickly...and apparently, even the younger scrunchie-wearing ones are snatching up anyone they can get their hands on*.

Have a great weekend, friends.

-----------

*I feel the need to point out, that although I find this weird and seem to have a rather all-too-familiar-bitter-tone to my observations, I swear I'm cool with it if they're in love. More than cool with it, actually, if people are fortunate to find true love, then by all means -- relish in it, and dance salsa with it. Even if there are two left-feet involved.

Take THAT, Myspace.

2005-10-13T00:11:00.000-04:00

Since I'm rather jealous of Myspace's "Currently listening" option on their blogs, I've decided to add my own little icon and link in the sidebar so you can see what album is presently on rotation in my player. It will often clue you in on the mood I'm in as well; so it's sort of a dual-purpose icon - you can decide beforehand if you want to read my post or not, and you can find out about some great music you may or may not have heard of at the same time. I'll try to update it as often as I can (well, more like as often as I have the motivation to do so) so you can hopefully be exposed to someone new to fill your ears.

Currently, it's Jeremy Enigk, who was given to me by Rob as part of my birthday-music-stack of cd's (Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!) that he so graciously gave me as part of my gift. I believe, and I could be wrong considering my memory, that Jeremy was the man who Rob dubbed as "folk-like." I love how music can sound so entirely different to two separate people, that's the beauty of it. Because to me, if this is folk, it's manic-depressive-on-acid-folk. Which, clearly, more folk music should be. The track, Call Me Steam, actually reminds me a bit of a distorted Silent Night, with some off-key vocals and flutes, all the while sounding enjoyable. If that doesn't entice you to listen, I don't know what will.

The rest of it makes me want to stand outside in the rain screaming in agony to the grey sky while simultaneously curling up on the couch with nothing but my dog and some wine to drown my sorrows. Man I love this kind of music.

Bi-polar music.

2005-10-07T15:29:00.000-04:00

My moods have been rather bi-polar lately. The good moods come random, and hit me mid-laugh when I can't stop and there's no explanation for the change in spirit. Literally, I will wake up absolutely miserable, and within a few hours, unable to get the smile off my face. Today I've gone from internally singing Red House Painters and Elliot Smith to bouncing my head to Kanye West while singing a duet with Otis in my head to Gone. Or like last night, I lose my voice belting out Oh, Atlanta with Alison Krauss, only to wake up desiring Adem.

I wish I could change my moods as easy as it is to change a cd in my changer. Or maybe that's the solution, whenever I'm feeling Elliott Smith, put in the Dandy Warhols or Eels as an experiement for my head, hoping with the change of tune, a change in attitude will coincide. I realize this is not a new concept, but I'm often contemplating the effect music has on me, as if melodies and lyrics are in place of blood in my veins. I think about the people who have no desires towards music, and I'm sad for them. Without music, I would be bored with just the voice in my head. I need a soundtrack to supplement my words and transform my thoughts.

Even if my soundtrack is currently R. Kelly's Trapped in The Closet, at least I can be temperarily (or rather regularly) be consumed with the work of an R&B artist's mind, and forget for a moment the drama I may have conjured within my own reality and focus instead on a circle of adulterers in a 30-minute musical drama masterpiece.

This is the brilliance of music. I may not be able to play a chord on my own, I can at least indulge in the talents of others to make my day go by a little bit more easily. And in some cases, a little bit more bi-polary.

Friday frustrations.

2005-09-30T16:05:00.000-04:00

I just ran into someone in the hall that I met my first few months here in Providence who had got back from taking a year off of medical school. In our polite catching-up chit-chat, he teased me that I hadn't yet moved to a vineyard in California. Instead, I replied that I had since moved out of the city, and yes, am still working in the same position. Here he is one year away from becoming a doctor, and I'm still barely making it by with a desk job. I felt like an asshole.

You see, I am always coming up with new ideas. Either a new place I want to move to (I was serious about moving to a vineyard in California, specifically this place), or a new career move I was thinking about taking. The thing is, I'm dead serious when I'm talking about my plans, but chances are, I'm going to change my mind in a matter of time. I was just talking to a friend of mine today over IM how we're both kind of stuck because we find so many things interesting that's it's difficult to center that energy into one thing and go for it. This has been irritating me for years now.

And today, running into my old friend, it all really hit me hard. I've mentioned I'm tired of voicing my thoughts on actions I want to take here before, but I'm also tired of never sticking with something I at one point deemed as exhilirating and a worthy direction to head. I feel like it's making me seem like I'm all talk. And actually, I'm beginning to realize I just might be. But I'm stuck, I've been stuck for years, nothing feels right to me and I'm scared nothing ever will.

I crave the change and yet don't know what the change is. What if I never know? How can I find motivation to get out of where I'm at if I don't know where to direct it? And why is it people like me spend their entire life searching for what they want to do, when some people seem born with it?

Welcome to the past.

2005-09-29T15:50:00.000-04:00

Women everywhere were just simultaneously and unwillingly forced back into time where we had no choice when it came to our bodies, when the government thought they knew better than we did.

Read the horrible news here.

Pro-lifers were just granted the satisfaction they've been searching for for decades, and we dismissed all their hateful actions of harrassment and burning of clinics with this one vote.

Salsa, on PMS.

2005-09-29T15:00:00.000-04:00

During last night's salsa lesson, the smile that was continuously on my face was masking the following thoughts (proof that the salsa classmates you usually adore, are not as loveable the week before your period. Man, girls are bitches. Consider yourself warned.):

* Dear Girl-Who-Wears-the-80's-Dancer-Gear: this is not Flashdance and you are not impressing anyone with your backless leotard and cutesy skirt. And careful, if you move your hips out to the side any further, you're going to start knocking people out left and right. I'll make sure to avoid you. That, and your boyfriend creeps me out. Will you tell him to stop staring at me with that goofy grin on his face? And last night, we apparently had a moment that I was not aware of sharing, because he looked at me then laughed like something just happened between us, but I missed it. I mean, how did you guys get permission from your parents to stay out so late, anyway? Isn't 8 past your bedtime?

* Ok, perfect girl with the perfect looking boyfriend: you are obviously a dancer, because you move like a dancer - but being a dancer already does not a good salsa dancer make. Although, you sure do think you're great at it with your perfectly level head and and your perfectly swaying hips, but you are not perfect; in fact, you kind of look like you're doing a toned-down version of Riverdance. And besides, your boyfriend seems like he's one of those guys who probably only dates girls as perfect looking as you. And that irritates me. Not because I'm envious, but because I've dated one of these guys (not because I was perfect, but because I'm good at making people think I am. HA! Had you fooled until now, didn't I?); and let me tell you, he actually admitted to me that he would have broken up with me if I had gotten fat. And because he also knew how to cry and how to threaten suicide, I still stayed with him 7 months too long. (When now I'm realizing all I had to do was get fat.) But that just pisses me off that people like that even exist and people like me fall for it because we're too nice to dump someone we don't really like and because we're too lonely to want to be alone, even though they're boring as hell.

Ok, sorry, where was ? Oh right...back to salsa.

* Someone in my class looks like the Ghost. I'm scared to dance with him. I don't want him and his black-rimmed-glasses near me, I might knee him for making me miserable all those months (years), and well, he doesn't deserve it because he's not him, and that would just be plain mean. Besides, I really like his girlfriend, she's hilarious and fun and dresses nicely, unlike Flashdance girl who I want to accidentally trip.

* Guy with the accent, you wear WAY too much cologne. Really, you don't have to roll around in it, didn't anyone teach you the-spray-in-the-air-then-walk-through-it trick? And, although this is your second time around taking the class, don't act like you know more than me, I may be clouded and confused temperarily by the burning sensation in my eyes from the pungent skunk-drowned-in-perfume scent that's surrounding us, but I'm pretty sure you are not the salsa-god, and I am not Penelope Le Peu, so give it a rest already.

* Hey girl-that-looks-like-she's-in-her-own-world, obviously imagining herself whipping it up on the dance floors at the Latin clubs...although you might seem like a badass white girl salsa dancer, you are not even close! I saw you last night trip on your own feet, and then when we went right, you went left. You may want to give it a rest, you are not as smooth as you think you are, stop blaming it on the guy when it's obviously you trying to take control...wait a minute...this is me. Ok, ok, you do have smashing hip movements. So what if you trip on your shoes? You pull it off with such grace, you hot-stuff, you. Keep it up, badass.

-------------

Ok. I'm begining to think Blogger should have a PMS-filter. Just a thought.

2005-09-27T12:19:00.000-04:00

Well, guys, I think my idea of celebrating my birthday for the entire month is finally coming to a close. And I must say, this year, I think I may have overdone myself and people might just be rolling their eyes at this point if they have to celebrate it one more time. And I must say, I don't blame them.

So even though today is offically the day, I'm having a hard time actually believing it myself. I thought maybe if I posted this picture, I might actually feel it. Fortunately for me, there is one person who has yet to celebrate it with me, and tonight he's taking me out in style. I'm pretty much the luckiest person alive, not just for the feast that will be laid before me tonight and the company that comes with it, but for everyone that I am blessed enough to have in my life. Especially those that travel thousands of miles just to spend a day or two with me. Sometimes I don't think I deserve it, but boy does it make me happy (and, a little misty eyed).

Thanks, guys, I couldn't have imagined a better birthday. You're the best.

Here's to 26!

I'm not happy to see you, I just live my life consistently cold.

2005-09-23T13:44:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I think I should be arrested for walking around like I do in my office. Seriously. I'm x-rated on a daily basis.

Gangstaknitta, can you knit me some nipple sweaters?

Out with the 25, in with the good.

2005-09-23T12:23:00.000-04:00

I've been having run-ins with the past as of late, and it's throwing me off a bit. I'm not sure how to process it all, what it is the instances are trying to tell me. For a week now, it's been one after the other. And they haven't been pleasant reminders, they've been emotionally filled and a bit distressing. Many have come in forms of dreams, others in email or voicemail, and only one in person. It's not like it's unusual for me, people coming in and out of my life from my past, but never have they happened all at once and provoked so many thoughts. Perhaps it's because my birthday is coming up, and, like New Year's, it's causing me to think about the previous year and what's to come in the next. In any case, it's making me feel a little uneasy about things, leaving me to wonder where it is I should turn next.

This week has caused surpressed feelings to resurface, feelings that I've purposely learned to ignore for a while now. Feelings that I had once been devoured by, but managed to uncover myself from and push them aside in order to go on with some kind of normalcy. The one somewhat-positive reminder of my past was in a dream I had a few night ago of my friend Tim from childhood. This positivity drips of irony, considering he killed himself a little over 3 years ago, and left me with feelings of negativity and confusion, not optimism and contentment. Whenever he visits me in my subconscious, he is always the Tim that I knew and loved, that I never once felt threatened by, the one who could always make us laugh and feel like a kid again. I broke his heart once we were 8 and he never let me forget it; I would give anything for him to tease me about it one more time. I've had dreams where I've repeatedly asked him why he did it, why he couldn't of just come to one of us for help, but I've never gotten an answer. I'm always waking up just as puzzled as before. I feel unsettled the rest of the day, left with a desire to hide and be alone with my thoughts. I want to erase that moment, erase the last few years of his life so he'll come back. I want to be back that New Year's eve when I last saw him. I just want him to still be alive.

I feel the need to know what these instances are trying to tell me. I pride myself on being able to find a reason for just about anything happening in my life or in others; but this time, I'm a bit stuck. Are they to remind me of who I was, remind me that I need to deal with the feelings they left me with? I feel like there's nothing left to uncover. My thoughts were consumed all too long with them while they were happening, more time spent will feel like a waste of energy. Yet, when I still think about each person, each is linked with remaining feelings of restlessness, feelings that have been left unclosed. I feel guilt or am filled with questions, something that won't allow me to close that part of my life just yet. Or maybe I'm being over-dramatic, like I often am. But even still, something is preventing me from figuring it out.

I hope maybe all this questioning will soon be turned around, maybe these instances are preparing me for something that's coming, something that will finally allow me to feel settled. I hope this is it. I'm ready for my thoughts to be calmed even a little bit, I want these reminders from my past to be welcomed.

This birthday, I'm blowing my candles out with hopefulness running through my head; and the hope that with my breath, the questions will be blown away.

I think this year is going to be different, I've paid my dues. It has to be, I'm not allowing it to be anything else. I'm tired of the bad, and ready for the good. Bring it on, life.

Disappointment, recurring.

2005-09-16T16:22:00.000-04:00

Ok, so remember this whole thing? Well, I guess I never really went into it as to why it didn't last, because, well, I didn't feel like talking about it all that much. But I've just heard that he's back together with her. You know, the other girl that he was choosing between? The other girl that he continued to bitch about while with me, pointing out all the qualities I had that she lacked and that he despised in her? Yeh, her. The one that supposedly had lost out in the choice.

I'm not jealous of her by any means, as I've got a good thing going myself right now, I'm just more or less disappointed in him. And disappointed in myself. Disappointed and frustrated that I, yet again, trusted someone and what they said. I've said it before that I trust too easily, almost to the point where I'm bordering on naive; but honestly, I don't want to stop trusting people. Yet it seems more and more things like this keep happening, and sooner or later this trust thing is going to stop happening.

Does the deceiving ever stop? Can the trust ever truly exist? I'm beginning to wonder.

She's no Commodore 64.

2005-09-16T10:05:00.000-04:00

I just got off the phone after a 5-minute conversation with a computer. And it wasn't the press 1 for this or press 2 for that kind of call that we're used to, this was a full-on, comprehending digital female voice. When asking me what it is I wanted, the lady machine could understand my words, even gave me options. In fact, during the conversation T was asking me something, and as I replied to her or if I laughed out of pure astonishment, the machine lady interrupted her spouting of options to stop and say, "I'm sorry, I didn't understand that. Did you say...?" When I stated I didn't have a second number where I could be reached, she replied, "That's ok, we still have your first number, don't worry." (And I was, people, I was worried!) She even looked through her digital datebook to find a time for the next repair man to show, and when she finally asked if I could be available from 9 a.m. to 6 pm. today, Friday, September 17th, for a techinician to come to my house, as if a machine myself, I finally requested to be transferred to an agent. And she understood my request.

All this had come after a call last night to pay my cell phone bill (late), where the first few minutes Miss Verizon Digital Lady expressed her heartfelt sympathy to me for the families in Louisiana that lost their homes and lives. Miss VDL contined to voice how they're committed to making the transition back to normal lives as easy as possible for those effected by Hurricane Katrina, and they'll do everything they can in order for that to happen. Something just seemed wrong about a machine spouting off words of compassion and dedication. It doesn't quite have the same effect coming from a robotic voice, even if it was programmed to sound warm and sincere.

I know this isn't all that uncommon, guys, but this morning I'm having a hard time believing we're actually there, that the future we were waiting for is present. The words of Chris Martin singing "it could be computers looking for life on earth" are suddenly true now, not a hundred years from now. And as I hypocritically transform my human voice into digital words and code for computers to display, I'm suddenly longing for the time where 2010 seems light-years away and human contact and interaction were actually needed, desired even. And all this came from my need to get online at home after finally installing a landline a week ago(remember those?) that is now broken, when I spend all 40-hours of my work-week staring at a computer. It just doesn't seem right.

Can't it just be 1985 again?

1, 2, 3 - 5, 6, 7; 1, 2, 3 - 5...

2005-09-15T10:05:00.000-04:00

The salsa lessons started last night, kids, and I'm gonna be rocking it Havana Nights style in no time. My nervousness in going it alone was pretty quickly squashed when I realized about half of us were solo. So now I'm thinking in threes: 1, 2, 3 and 5, 6, 7, which is a weird transition having spent a large part of my youth dancing in 8's. I think I caught on without much delay, and I felt like I was already ready for a little latin club action. Far from it, though. Give me 6 weeks, I'll be tearing up the competition on the dance floors; no one will have seen a white blonde girl danca salsa like me. Watch out, Providence.

90210 vs the OC

2005-09-13T08:35:00.000-04:00

If yesterday's post was the funniest thing I have seen in a while, this might be one of the funniest things I've read in a while. And, I happen to know a few women who will appreciate it, including the 3 I watched it with every week in college. (I apologize ahead of time for the lengthy copy and paste of the comparison, but it was sent to me in an email, and I'm too lazy to find the link.)

I give to you, the 90210 vs. O.C. debate, by Bill Simmons from ESPN.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

You're right, it's time. Let's break this baby down, Dr. Jack-style. To keep things fair, I'm only comparing "The OC" to the first two seasons of "90210."

Premise: "90210" revolved around two twins from Minnesota moving to Beverly Hills and dealing with rich people. "The OC" had a troubled kid from Encino moving to Orange County and dealing with rich people. The lesson, as always: You're probably going to have a hit show if an outsider is dealing with rich people. "The OC" pilot was better -- actually, it was probably the best episode in the history of the show -- but "90210" gets points for originality. Too tough to call.
EDGE: EVEN.

Stars: Brandon Walsh could have been a pretty corny part in the wrong hands, especially when the pilot had him turning down the advances from a smoking-hot chick in a hot tub, or the episode when Emily Valentine slipped him an ecstacy pill and he reacted like she had infected him with an AIDS-infected needle. It was also confusing how the writers made him the moral conscience of the show, then gave him a gambling problem out of nowhere, or had him smash up his car in a DWI accident. But Jason Priestley handled all of these things, became a pretty big star, helped launch the remarkably bizarre sideburns trend, hosted an "SNL" episode and breathed life into lines like "You sure you should be driving?" and "You OK?" Good actor, great part. He was the rock of the show -- we even forgave him after he broke the Code of Guys and started dating his best friend's girlfriend. Meanwhile, if it wasn't for Marissa, Ryan would have been the weak link of "The OC" -- he was very good in the first few episodes, before the whole "he's a brooding outsider with a hair-trigger temper who means well" act wore thin because they ordered too many episodes at once. By the end of the season, Ben McKenzie (who plays Ryan) was stuck doing Jay Mohr's eyeball rolling, "I love her man!" impersonation of Andrew McCarthy, only he wasn't kidding. So they preppied him up in Season 2, gave him a self-deprecating sense of humor and a broader personality, and now he's an absolute mess -- to the point that they're starting to steer the show around Seth. What happened to the guy who wore leather jackets and white T-shirts and couldn't express himself? Now he's whipping out one-liners like Yakov Smirnoff. I'm confused.
MAJOR EDGE: 90210.

Breakout Sidekick: I'm already on record as saying that the guy who plays Seth (Adam Brody) has the best chance of anyone to become the next Tom Hanks ... and yet, I'm not sure Seth could carry his own show. He's a little too manic. Dylan McKay? He could have carried his own show. And then some. I'm just saying.
EDGE: 90210.

Babes: Tough category for "90210" -- there were only four girls on the show, and two of them were Tori Spelling and Gabrielle Carteris. Ouch. I liked Jennie Garth, and her Kelly Taylor character clearly foreshadowed every loathsome character we would see 14 years later on "My Super Sweet 16," but she wasn't prettier than anyone on "The OC" (except for maybe Ryan's new girlfriend). And Shannen Doherty was too wholesome and crazy-looking during those first two seasons, although maybe she had to be. As for "The OC" ... good golly. It's a murderer's row. You could make the case that Alex (Marissa's new girlfriend) and Summer (played by Rachel Bilson) are two of the hottest characters in the history of televsion -- that's right, I said it -- with Marissa right behind them, as well as Julie Cooper and Seth's mom making the Meredith Baxter-Birney Hall of Fame for smoking-hot TV moms. Say what you want about Josh Schwartz (the creator of "The OC"), but the man clearly knows what he's doing.
MAJOR EDGE: The OC.

Parents: I liked the Walshes, but the Cohens serve the Brandon Walsh role for "The OC" -- in other words, they're the collective rock of the show, which made it so infuriating when they introduced the recent storyline where Sandy Cohen struggles with unresolved feelings for an old flame (played by a Botoxed-out Kim Delaney). Too out-of-character for him. Anyway, I can't ever imagine the Cohens getting slowly phased out of the show like the Walshes did, or getting transferred to Hong Kong and knocked off the show. Wouldn't happen. Only one thing saves this from being a complete landslide: The opening credits of "90210", when James Eckhouse (as Mr. Walsh) would proudly turn around with his arms folded over his chest, followed by the "that's right, I'm Mr. F-ing Walsh!" smile. That always killed me.
EDGE: The OC.

Wet Blanket Character: This boils down to Andrea (90210) against Caleb (OC), which is ironic because they're both the same age (bah-dum-cha!). But at least Caleb serves some sick, twisted purpose -- he's a villain, just a bad one. Andrea murdered entire episodes at a time -- she was like a cross between Adrian Balboa and Ted Bundy.
EDGE: The OC.

Theme Song: I can't believe I'm saying this, but ...
EDGE: The OC.

Unintentional Comedy: Between David Silver's budding music career; the two-part accidental shooting death of his buddy with the cowboy hat; Brandon nearly making the basketball team when he was like 5-foot-5; Andrea being like 35 in real life; and every single scene with Steve Sanders -- including the unforgettable adoption episode, which should have won Ian Ziering an Anti-Emmy -- I'm not sure we'll ever see the likes of "90210" again from an Unintentional Comedy standpoint. (Again, Ian Ziering was one of the stars of this show. The man had a blonde mullet perm. Repeat: Blonde mullet perm.) Anyway, "The OC" is too smart for that stuff -- if anything, the Unintentional Comedy is intentional, if that makes sense (like Luke's "welcome to the OC, b---h!" scene, a parody of those cheesy 80's scenes with the Zabka-like villains, the more I'm thinking about it). I'm pretty sure they're parodying shows like "90210" with some of these plots -- like Caleb's secret daughter being involved with his other daughter's surrogate son, or the entire episode when Luke's dad was outed -- which is one of the reasons I enjoy the show so much. No premise is too absurd for "The OC." At this point, the only Unintentional Comedy happens during any scene when Marissa has to act, especially if she's throwing a tantrum or pretending to be drunk. I keep waiting to find out that Mischa Barton is Keanu Reeves's illegitimate daughter. Then again, she's no Ian Ziering.
HUGE EDGE: 90210.

Plot Lines: "The OC's" biggest mistake was the way they raced through plots and relied too heavily on the "tune in next week!" factor, which is a pretty dangerous way to go -- we weren't even midway through the second season when they were playing the lesbian card. At the rate they're going, by Season 4, we'll see Ryan kidnapped by a UFO or something. I also think they juggle way too many plots, almost like the TV version of the Memphis Grizzlies playing too many guys. And with so much going on, the characters are racing through their lines now, so everyone talks in the same snappy, sarcastic fashion and you almost need to watch the shows twice to pick everything up. With "90210", they were very good at building shows around guest stars and one-episode plots during those first two seasons, with almost everything revolving around Brandon's world and the Dylan-Brandon relationship. Some of those early episodes stood on their own, like the one when Brandon dated the racist volleyball player, or the slumber party where Kelly confessed that she lost her virginity in the woods to a conniving senior. (It's weird, I can't remember what I did last week, and yet I can remember all of these stupid episodes). When something major happened -- like the Dylan-Kelly-Brenda love triangle -- it happened over the course of an entire summer, not two episodes, and it actually made sense as it unfolded (they set that baby up like a multi-episode arc in "Lost"). I don't feel like there's any rhyme or reason to the stuff that happens on "The OC" -- personified by Marissa falling for another woman during February sweeps. That's right, it's girl-on-girl action, Thursday on Fox!
EDGE: 90210.

Gratuitous use of half-siblings and step-siblings: It took a few years for "90210" to master this one, whereas "The OC" jumped right in -- at this point, Seth is related to everyone on the show except for the gardener.
EDGE: The OC.

Hangouts: "90210" had the Peach Pit, where aggrieved teenagers gathered to bitch about their parents, throw down some greasy food and crack wise with Nat (the one-note Peach Pit owner who inexplicably landed in the credits in Season Six). My favorite part about the Peach Pit was that Dylan hung out there -- here's a 17-year-old kid who didn't need a guardian and somehow knew every shady character in Los Angeles, someone who Mr. Walsh thought was WAY too dangerous to date his daughter, yet you were always most likely to find Dylan in a diner having lifetalks with someone who was three times older than him. How did that make sense? It was right up there with Daniel-San introducing Mr. Miyagi as his "best friend" in "Karate Kid 3". As for the Bait Shop, which became the main hangout on "The OC" this season, this might be the most unrealistic club on the planet. First of all, it's never crowded, even though they frequently have bands like The Killers playing there. Second, they don't card at the door, but there's a full bar. Third, it's the only music club in America where it's possible to have full conversations without shouting at the top of your lungs, even when the band is playing on stage. Fourth, there are no fights, no mosh pits, no obnoxious bouncers, no marijuana smoke, no cigarettes and nobody ever throws up. And fifth, none of the characters on the show are aspiring musicians along the lines of David Silver, who would have belted out
"Precious" on stage at least six times by now. So why even have the Bait Shop? Again, I'm confused.
MAJOR EDGE: 90210.

Glaring and embarrassing exclusion of any African-American characters: At least "90210" had a black manager at the Summer Club, or the episode when Brandon butted heads with Vivica A. Fox, or the one where Brandon nearly exposed the rule-bending on the hoops team. I'm not sure I've even SEEN a black person on "The OC." Has it happened? Did I miss it?
WORST OFFENDER: The OC.

Originality: "90210" mastered the love triangle -- which was shamelessly ripped off by every subsequent show of this ilk, including most of the excruciating "Dawson's Creek" -- as well as those preachy storylines involving alcohol, the loss of virginity, drugs, diet pills, drunk-driving, bi-polar girlfriends, elephant tranquilizers, bestiality and everything else you can imagine. It also invented the "outsider deals with rich people" concept, as we discussed before. "The OC" mastered the "parody of a 90210-type show that somehow carries the weight of a real show" dynamic, which is harder than you think ... but not enough to take thiscategory.
EDGE: 90210.

Inexplicable homoerotic overtones: When Brandon and Dylan grew matching sideburns and started calling each other "B" and "D," you would have thought they were a lock for this category. But between Seth and Ryan's "Single White Female"-like friendship and Marissa's new relationship, this isn't even close.
GIANT EDGE: The OC.

Cultural Impact: Brandon and Dylan started the sideburns trend back in 1991, leading to my ill-fated attempt to grow them during my senior year in college. I'd rather not discuss this again. Ever. But "The OC" never inspired me to do anything. Not even throw up in my mouth.
EDGE: 90210.

Watershed ridiculous episode (through two seasons): For "90210", it's the episode where Brandon dumps Emily Valentine and she melts down -- any show that ends with a crazy girl threatening to set herself on fire on the school's homecoming float is one for the ages. Of course, Brandon visited her in San Fran a few years later and there was no mention of any of this. You had to love "90210." As for "The OC," I'd have to go with the Tijuana episode, which ended with Marissa overdosing and Ryan carrying her in slow-motion through the streets of Mexico, one of those "I can't believe I'm watching this" moments in life that you can never get back. Throw in a homecoming float and we would have had a winner.
EDGE: 90210.

Final verdict: "90210" invented this genre, whereas "The OC" tried to re-invent it (throwing in a little self-parody to boot). "90210" didn't make many mistakes during those first two seasons, whereas "The OC" made a bunch of them (most famously, the Oliver debacle). More importantly, I can't believe I just spent 2,000 words trying to figure this out.
FINAL EDGE: 90210.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

I would like to say, as much as I have grown to like the OC, I have to admit it doesn't come close to filling the void that 90210 left, and I believe Bill would agree with me. Your thoughts, ladies? (and any gents brave enough to admit they watched it. Go ahead, you can do it.)

2005-09-12T15:14:00.000-04:00

If you guys have yet to see this, I recommend not wasting any more time and watching it immediately. It is perhaps the funniest thing I have ever seen. I mean, I couldn't be happier that he did it, as it was definitely needed, but the look on Mike Myers face, then the reaction of Chris Tucker had me almost in tears.

Watch it. NOW.

http://www.ifilm.com/ifilmdetail/2678975?htv=12

And then...it gets even better when Chris Rock does this:

http://www.ifilm.com/ifilmdetail/2679500

My week in numerous sentences, bordering on a little too many.

2005-09-12T13:32:00.000-04:00

Since I usually fill my blog of heavy, somewhat melodromatic posts, I feel it necessary to share with you all about my past week and how incredibly blown away I have been by it all. Please, read on. I hope you don't get too bored with all my gushing:

Do you all remember this? That was back in January that I discovered my potential new love, and before that I had been filling my friends and coworker's ears full of my desires to have my very own Mac. And as I am usually rather obsessive and neurotic about expressing my wishes, I no doubt did this particular wish of mine great justice by successfully making everyone roll their eyes every single time I mentioned it. Well, apparently, they had had enough.

In case any of you don't know me, you should know one thing: I am all about my birthday. It's not just one day for me, it's an entire month dedicated to just my birth. Really, I feel like everyone should make the biggest deal as possible about their birthdays. It is the only day (or in my case, month) out of the year that can be dedicated just to you. There's no need to be modest about it, I say live it up. You might want to start out with a birthday week, then work it up to the birthday month. A birthday year would be taking it to far, I mean, that's rather selfish, don't you think? There are a few other billion people to take into account. For me, this year so far has been no exception. In fact, it's been the opposite of an exception. (Hmm...what is that exactly? An inception?) It not even close to my birthday, it's still two weeks away in fact, but I already feel like I've had two birthdays. Thursday I came into work to a vase of sunflowers and a note that read, "Happy Birthday Month, (heart) T." T shares my affection for celebrating the birthdays to a T (ha!), so she tends to go all out at the sake of others as well. But sunflowers 3 weeks before my birthday, she took it up a notch, and I quite enjoyed it. I sat under the towering sunflowers as my sister called to have lunch with me a bit early that day. I thought nothing of it, she's often doing that. We had an unsuccessful lunch at the french place that others refer to as Au Bon Pain; me: The French Place whose name I refuse to say so I don't sound like the idiot American it makes me feel like. We head back about quarter of so she can say hi to T and J, on the way she makes a strange phone call to her husband but some weird person answers and she thinks she has the wrong number, but then it turned out to be his secretary. I'm still clueless at this point. We walk into the hallway and the door is shut and the lights are off, I express worry to my sister, wondering what happened. We open the door and all my coworkers and even friends not from Brown are standing all around, balloons, streamers, and good food surrounding. I was completely shocked. I would've been content with just that, happy that people had made an effort to celebrate my birthday early, in what is completely my style. I thought that was it, I was ready to eat and chat with my friends. But there were requests to open the present I planned on saving until everyone was gone so I wouldn't have to be watched. I opened just the end of it, and saw the beautiful two word name: "Mac mini." I was in shock. No way is that really a computer wrapped in the shiny purple paper, no way did I just see that correctly. Surely it was just the box. I continued unwrapping, and it was indeed a Mac mini. And the tears started flowing. And folks, they didn't stop for about another hour. I couldn't believe this many people had cared that much about me to put their hard-earned money into getting me something I had always wanted. Never in my life would I have expected this, I will forever be blown away when I think about how incredibly special and loved they made me feel with that one act of kindness and thought. Everytime I turn my comptuer on, I'm reminded that I am one lucky individual that has been blessed with the people in her life, in so many ways. I'm especially grateful to T, not only for this incredibly thoughtful act, but for being a constant in my life, and for being a wonderful, amazing, gratious friend that I am so lucky to have forced to be my friend. Ah, sometimes I'm proud of my skills of persuation.

And folks, this is not the end of it. In addition to this lovely unexpected surprise on Thursday, I also threw a little BBQ out at my house this weekend. It was appropriately dubbed, a "country shindig." And that it was. People came out, sangria was made, a fire was built, and food was consumed. It couldn't have been any better. I loved everyone there, and was so thankful they made the "trek" out to my house to enjoy the fresh air and the company of one another. It was pretty much the first party I had thrown on my own without the help of roommates, and not on that, but it was the first successful party I had ever thrown. I couldn't have been happier with the turn out. There were constant comments about how much colder it was way out in Foster compared to the city (only 20 miles east fo there, but you would think I live in a whole other country). Later in the evening, Took had managed to wrap himself entirely around my friend M's ankles and caused him to fall down. (Finally, our little trick had been mastered! Nice work, Took, nice work.) The best was feeding my friends, and them overwhelming me with compliments and requests for more. Nothing in this world makes me happier then feeding people and them loving my creation. If possible, cooking is kind of my art, and it's one of the few things in this world that I claim to not be all that bad at. So when I can witness a group of people enjoying what I put time into, I'm not sure I could get happier. I didn't want the night to end, I wanted people around my fire permanently, and laughter and conversations heard from my house on a more constant basis. It was lonely there last night, my house was too empty and Took was too bored with just me.

In addition to all of this, I've been keeping something from you. Kind of intentionally, actually. As you may have noted, I tend to jinx myself with talking about someone special here, so I've purposely been keeping it to myself. Although, I think I may have hinted towards it now that I'm thinking (here, in fact)...but I've been hanging out with someone new who really makes me smile and continues to surprise me. His intelligence is inspiring, and the similarities and connections between us are still being uncovered. More on this to come.

Overall, I have lately been amazed at how life throws things at you when you least expect it. For me, it was my trip to DC and the feelings and motivation that came from it, including a desire to move there. Since this experience, all these things have happened in my life that has made me re-evaluate my eagerness to move away from Rhode Island. People have come into my life that already held a love of this city, and have made me realize what it was I was looking past, and simply because of unsettled feelings I had of refusual of this actually becoming my home. The past week has reminded me of the friends I have made here and how much I love them all, and don't want to leave them simply because of stubborn reasons that I can't rightly justify. I'm not saying I'm ready to settle, as I'm not sure I'll ever be ready for that, but I am planning on sticking around for a little while longer at least. This city is special, and the people I have met in it, even more so. And I think that is one of the little pleasures of life, the realization that something of greater force is throwing what you want the least back into your life in pleasant little reminders. That maybe what you want, is already what you have, but for some reason, you just can't see it. This whole idea of life's little ironies is one of the many things in this world that continue to amaze me...

...that, and my inability to express myself accurately. I think the next book I need to read is a Thesaurus. Here are some pictures of the surprise party, and my reaction to the unexpected gift that is now threatening my relationships with actual human beings because I love it so much:

And here it is: Proof that way too much time was spent contemplating TITC, in chronological order. (R would be so proud.)

2005-09-09T11:58:00.000-04:00

Here you go, Velumptuous ladies, you asked for it. I'm not sure you knew what you were getting yourselves into. The following should provide ample procrastination time. Let the discussion begin....

---

Thursday, August 11, 2005

From: Courtney
To: Robert
Subject: trapped in a closet

Message:
you seem like an intelligent, creative, intriguing
being...so i am curious what it is about a video of r.
kelly waving a gun around and finding out his wife
knows the cop that interests you? is it a part of your
popular culture studies? or simply a burning desire to
be trapped in a closet?

and an even better question is: when do the next
chapters come out?

sincerely,
the only other person who watched it besides you,
courtney

(If only I knew where this was headed..)

----

From: Robert
To: Courtney
Subject: re: trapped in a closet

Message:
now this is a subject i can get into. and, sadly, i
know a pathetically large number of people (say,
two or three) who followed the saga religiously.

i think i'm just trying to figure out if the r is as far
ahead of his time as i think he is, or if he's just a
very lucky idiot. but there are so many priceless
exchanges, odd minute details and
inconsistencies, and so much flat out insanity to
pts 1-5 (and i have no idea when the rest is coming
out - i heard he made 35 of them - but i'm there
when it happens), that i'm still struggling to wrap
my head around it all. and, yes, i'm kind of scared
to ask myself why i care.

and you, did you stumble along this epic on VH1,
or did kells have you from hello? that's important
for me to know before i really get into part one
alone.

it's too bad we can't have this exchange in song.
i'm suddenly inspired...

talk to you soon...
rob

(This was only the beginning, my friends. Only the beginning...)

---

Friday, August 12th, 2005

From: Courtney
To: Robert
Subject: re: trapped in a closet

Message:
yes, however...if we were to have this conversation in
song, you would be doing all of the singing, and i would
just be mouthing my words. as for how i came across
it -- i did just happen to stumble upon it on mtv2,
actually. although, i was definitely sucked in as soon
as the husband came home and turned out to be gay.
(um, which is a little shocking, really) but priceless
exchanges, eh? and these inconsistencies you speak
of..i'm intrigued.

i might have to say he could be a very lucky idiot. i
mean, 35 more? i'm afraid his luck could run out with
that many more lyrical exchanges.

yes, this is a little scary. especially now that you
actually have me seriously contemplating the depth of
an r. kelly drama.

courtney

---

Sunday, August 14, 2005

From: Robert
To: Courtney
Subject: re: trapped in a closet

Message:
scary, eh? the r's fear leads him to nearly
shooting someone around part three. and
really, why was he "scared"? so he got
caught in bed with the gay pastor's wife? i
also like that he says "all of this that i'm
going through is unheard." is it? is it that
outlandish?

other little bits: the cell phone ringing -
can you turn it on vibrate at mid-ring?
and who called him at 7 o'clock in the
morning when the "rays from the sun
wakes me" (poor grammar from the git.
learn how to use your prepositional
phrases, kells)? why doesn't this get
answered?

the "he says yes i says no he says yes i
says no he says yes it's the truth" line:
priceless. just priceless. just like "and he's
looking at the closet/and i pull out my
baretta/he's coming to the closet...now
he's at the closet/now he's opening the
closet." can you ever think of closets the
same way? can you?

another priceless one: "and she says rufus
you son of a bitch, and he says kathy you
go to hell." they don't read nearly as well
as they are sung, but what's with the weird
she gives r a biblical name at the club
(mary), and that turns out to be false. and
then he actually details her throwing a
pillow at rufus, like she tried to shoot him.

the part four sex scene: possibly trumped
by "i cannot believe it/ooh ooh ooh
ooh/here come's a policeman", which he
delivers w/o a hint of irony. and where the
hell did her brother twan come home
from? college? the army? prison? space
camp? but the sex is so lurid. i mean, his
leg cramp?

and who the hell is tina? why did his wife
mention "tina", only to move right to
roxanne? will we find out later? and just
how large is our man's persecution
complex?

oh, almost forgot: "there's a reason i'm in
this closet." "yeah, what are you, talking
clothes?" wtf?

well, if you weren't scared before, that's a
lot to write about r kelly right there. i think
i have to go give my brain a shower. in
the meantime, what else are you up to
when not getting sucked into r kelly's idiot-
savant psychodrama? as if that isn't
enough...

rob

(See, what did I tell you?)

---

Tuesday, August 16th, 2005

From: Courtney
To: Robert
Subject: re: trapped in a closet

Message:
ok. so apparently, i need to watch this one more time
before i can really add anything substantial to this
conversation. however, some initial thoughts: "there's
a reason i'm in this closet." obviously, being trapped in
a closet is figurative as well as literal. i mean, the
"reason" he speaks of is more than just for the clothes
because the pastor was not exactly a model of fashion.
so what then, he's feeling trapped because he's not
getting satisfied at home or something? but obviously,
as shown in the last chapters, he is getting rather
satisfied (physically) at home. so what could he be
hiding? what makes him trapped? ah...the depths of r
kelly's mind.

i was definitely confused as to why he felt the need to
bring the gun out. like you said, what did he have to be
scared about? obviously, he could have taken the
pastor, w/o a gun. was he really threatened by
someone half his size? i remember the phone ringing,
but i believe mine might have rang at the same time,
so details are a little blurry around this time. but
perhaps he just silenced the ringer? which can be done
while it's ringing. i'm a little blown away by the fact that
as soon as the husband gets home, he and his wife go
at it, all the while she knows r is in the closet. don't
you find this a little strange? i mean, i guess she had
to just go with it so that he wouldn't suspect anything.
but still, it's a bit odd. also, when r was calling home,
why would the guy that was with his wife answer?
that's a little unrealistic. of course, the dramatic effect
would not have been present had she answered.

so fast forward to the final chapters...that was a leg
cramp that caused him to stop what they were doing?
or was it the possible guilt or lack of trust? i think i
need to watch it again before we continue this
conversation. honestlly, i didn't exactly realize an r
kelly video could have such depth as this apparently
does. so either you are really good at finding depth to
just about anything, or i was oblivious of the layers at
first viewing. but either way, i think you are on to
something and i will try and find it again to watch it
more closely.

so this will have to be continued...

courtney

---

From: Robert
To: Courtney
Subject: re: trapped in a closet

Message:
sadly, i lost a thread of emails that my friend josh
(a brown grad studying middle-eastern politics in
jerusalem, and the smartest person our age that i
know) started among ten or so of us on the saga.
enlightening, and scary proof of how much
brainpower has gone into deconstructing "the pied
piper of r&b".

so, i'll keep the analysis short, but you touched on
the closet metaphor thing, and i can't help myself.
i'm not sure if r ever - intentionally - implicates
himself in that metaphor. it's like he says about
the pastor at the start of pt 2: "now he's staring at
me, as if he was staring at a mirror". this
foreshadows the pastor's own infidelity, and
his "coming out the closet". honestly, i think r's
persecution complex is too large for him to feel
any guilt. for (amazing) evidence, check out the
quote at the link below:

(Sadly, somewhere along the lines, the link was stolen from Friendster. Rob, do you still have them?)

at least i've proven i can talk at even
greater length about things unrelated to mr robert
kelly. i'll wait for you to take another look at the
video (but look for the poster in part five. beyond
priceless).

rob

---

And, that, my friends, is waaaaay too many words exchanged about R. Kelly. Or is it? It's up to you. I believe there are many more words that can be said, and Rob is your man. (Oh, and by the way, the last paragraph in the last post was taken from another message, I had to cut out the part where he asked me to have his baby, it was a bit ridiculous, and I tried to keep it to TITC-related.) There has been a few more exchanges in person, and constant references made. We still have yet to catch the VMA performance, I'm hoping to catch it on a re-run.

Ok...your turn.

And I'm out of my shell with a bit of a (heavy) bang.

2005-08-26T13:58:00.000-04:00

In 5th grade I received a ceramic figure of a deer and some fake ruby earrings from my boyfriend on Valentine's Day. I still remember the card; it was a tri-fold, an arrow aiming for a heart, signed, "Your Boyfriend, Ebben" When, at that time, the title simply meant someone to tease on the playground. I think I may have broken up with him the next day with a note passed through a friend. I couldn't be his girlfriend any longer when it was his best friend I had a crush on that day. In high school, no one ever admitted who it was they were into at the time, it became a guessing game and an extended chain of "Telephone." My first real "love" was my freshman year of college with a hippie named Barrett. I had met him through a mutual friend and later ran into him at a show in the club next to my dorm, the next day begun a year and a half relationship. My first real boyfriend. I was convinced I would marry him, that it was that simple that your first love would become your life-long partner. After we broke up and I eventually moved on and it proved easy to fall for someone, maybe a little too easy. The only difference was that I would realize that they weren't necessarily going to become the "one." You could fall in "love" instantly because your only worries were writing papers and studying for tests, a romance made everything around you heightened. It might last, but it might not. You were surrounded by options, including, for the first time, a place of your own or of his own. Freedom allowed lust and infatuation to permeate your life (as well as lots of alcohol and other mind-clouding substances).

After college, it has all become so complicated. Expectations are present, realism sets in. It's no longer as easy; the brain kind of gets muddled in the process and you can't shut the thinking off, no matter how hard you try. I think it's when you fall for someone married, that it really sets in that you can no longer have the free-falling romance of the college years. Next thing you know, you're invited to your first love's wedding and then have to refer to his partner as his wife when they drive through town and ask to stop by for a visit. And now, instead of the foolishness of just thinking someone could very well be the "one," you actually have to consider it. It needs to at least be an option, or you feel like you're wasting your time. But after years and years of that question turning into disappointment and ill-judgement, it becomes even more difficult to fall. You can physically feel your body holding back, putting a shield up around the heart, requiring it to be chipped away at over time; the safegaurd getting more and more nails hammered in each time it's successfully torn down and put back up again. You don't want to be that one with the baggage, the one that sabatoges good things when entirely having the intention to do the opposite. But you realize, eventually, that the baggage isn't baggage at all. The bags you're carrying are simply reminders, warnings if you will, that the shield is still present and it's there for a reason: because along with the realism that sets in at this age, you're also aware of what exactly it is like to be completely and wholly consumed with love, and you know what's at stake if it doesn't work out. I don't even wish that I could be back to the times of checked boxes on passed notes, because I wouldn't have known what it was like to really feel. All this goes through your head even with the first hello to someone new, and you there's no preventing the flow of thoughts that come with it. It's a tiring battle, this falling in love. It's no longer ceramic animals and cheap earrings; it's the hope of a partner to share your Sundays with, the hope that in the end, it will all be worth it.

I guess the hard part is allowing the sheild be chipped...even if it is little by little.

Apologies and random thoughts.

2005-08-25T16:17:00.000-04:00

Don't you like that I outed myself, only to leave you hanging as far as more posts go? Yeh, my head has been in the clouds this last week. That and I think I may be being a bit bashful. See, I've given my blog address to someone of the male-variety who I happen to find extremely intelligent and who also happens to be an excellent writer..so now one might say I'm having stage fright.

But some random thoughts to hold you over until I come back out of my shell:

* The eels, Blinking Lights and Other Revelations (a double disc), is worth downloading. If not simply for the fact they have a song titled "Going Fetal."

* Do you know how difficult it is for a girl to make girlfriends? It's not easy, my friends. Girls are petty little bitches. But when we do make girlfriends, man, it is so worth it. This feat occurred on Saturday, and let me just tell you, this girl drinks whiskey. Enough. Said.

* I've decided (along with above friend) that I need to stop voicing my thoughts so much. For example, thoughts on actions I'm contemplating taking. It only works to my disadvantage. Either they tell me something I don't want to hear (meaning, their opinion), or, I later turn out to not at all do anything of the sorts and feel stupid for voicing my idea prematurely. Which, I would say, the latter happens 9 out of 10 times. My brain switches gears about every 5 seconds. I can be totally psyched about something for one minute, then the very next minute, absolutely realize there is no way I would ever considerate that. So in other words, my indeciveness, from now on, is becoming mute. I think.

* I need to read more. Must read more. Need more knowledge.

* Earlier this week, I was a spider. Which is ironic, considering spiders put more fear in me than axe-murderers (ah-hem, R). As much as I fear spiders, it turns out I don't like being them, either. Go figure. Providence is a small, small city; in fact, it is bordering on incestuous. Quick synopsis, try to follow: Tuesday night I went to a bar with a friend of mine to meet up with some friends. We get there, and his ex-girlfriend is sitting with my ex-boyfriend's new girlfriend (and are roommates, no less). The friend's ex also is not a huge fan of me, considering I hang out with her ex often. At one point she also liked someone else I just recently met and have been hanging out with. At another point in the night, this same girl inquired about another friend of mine who was also there, stating she found him attractive and had seen him around. I bet if we had polled the room, guaranteed everyone had slept with one another through one person removed. Now that's an image for you.

* Did I mention my new friend ROCKS? She does. No, really.

* Look at that, you ended up with a post after all. It's your lucky day.

Annonymous no longer.

2005-08-17T15:31:00.000-04:00

(In D.C., on one of the insane escalators that city has. I think if you look closely, you can see your reflection in my forehead. You almost need some sunglasses to look at this picture.)

As part of this new me that emerged from my trip to D.C., I've decided not to be annonymous anymore. I'm not sure what sparked it, I just figure I have no reason to hide behind my words. They're my thoughts and my life, I shouldn't be embarrassed to own up to them -- whether the words themselves are embarrassing or not.

After all, I embarrass the shit out of myself on a daily basis in real life, why not do it on the Internet as well?

--- Courtney

This is just too good not to share:

2005-08-12T16:27:00.000-04:00

Chick: "I swear to god, I don't know how nothing has happened to me yet, either I am infertile or the cure for herpes in is my vagina."

--- Overheard on the 6 Train, NYC

I just found this site, Overheard in New York, that posts different things overheard on the streets in NYC. It's hilarious.

(And to give credit where credit is due, I found it through this guy, also a good read: The Hanging Stranger.)

A photo.

2005-08-12T16:09:00.000-04:00

In leu of a boring written post about what I haven't done today, you're getting a random picture from my trip to D.C. This was taken in a bar in Adam's Morgan after the sangria we consumed at the mexican restaurant around the corner. At the time, I thought it was a brilliant picture. Now that I see it full size, it's not quite so brilliant; but I still find it kind of cool at the same time.

Enjoy. And have a great weekend!

A change will do (me) good.

2005-08-11T11:40:00.000-04:00

I need a change in my life, ladies and gents. But what that change could be, I am a little stumped on. I thought the new purse and dress purchased this weekend at great deals would help my little slump I have found myself in as of late, but alas, it did little for the cause. A new haircut? New glasses? A move? A new career? I thought maybe even moving around the furniture in my house would help, but there are little possiblities there as my house is uber old and lacks the space needed for such moves.

Any thoughts?

In other news, I further perfected the grilled pizza last night. It was absolutely delicious. The concoction was comprised of the usual whole-wheat crust from Federal Hill, homemade pesto from the basil in my garden and garlic (grown locally), carmelized onions (once again, from a locally grown onion), local mushrooms, sundried tomatoes, mozzarrella, and feta. Seriously, I make a lot of pizzas, and this was my best one yet. Oh how I love thee pizza.

In addition to needing a change, I am also in need of a new project of some sorts. I've been thinking of writing a book (but then again, who isn't these days?), or actually setting up my sewing machine. You would think the project of my jewelry making would be keeping me satisfied, but sadly, I have the attention span of a two year-old when it comes to projects. I really dislike that about me.

This weekend should be fun. I am heading to the Newport Jazz Festival for the first time on Saturday, then to Maine w/ T on Sunday for a little Peak's Island reggae. Good times, good times.

Until then, I will most likely bore you with more pointless posts such as this one. See why I need a change?

You should see me with a Maglite, I'm bad-ass.

2005-08-09T11:04:00.000-04:00

Having four days off is delicious. I'm having a difficult time getting back into the swing of things, especially because that would require actually being on the swing prior to leaving for my mini-vacation. I did nothing of particular note, except spend a lovely evening with some wonderful people (hi C and M!) and an old friend (hi old friend who doesn't read my blog!) on friday night. We all met at their house before heading to dinner, and they almost had to drag me off their porch for some food because I really loved their porch. Really, I love it. I'm thinking about moving to their porch, it's that great. I think my love for it has to do with the fact that my porch is big enough for a few plants and door into my house, and the view from the porch is that of an overly-large lilac tree and some even more trees behind that. But on their porch, you get ample space that you could probably hold a mini-marathon on and has views of drag racing and sunsets. Both of which I witnessed on friday. Dinner was great. And I really do love those guys. I think I can honestly say they are two of the most incredible people I have met, and their relationship should be what everyone strives to have, it is that great. I'm really glad I met them, even if they are all-too-often consumed in med school life and don't get to hang out as a result, but I guess I'm ok with that, considering they want to be doctor's and all. They are really lucky to have met, and the best part of that is they appear totally aware of that, and most people often forget how important that is. I admire that to no end.

So guys, this is a total suck-up so you'll want to hang out with me more. Is it working?

Just kidding. You guys really do rule. Oh, and your stories of the ER are totally making my blog when I'm struggling for topics. Trust me internet, you won't want to miss out on these.

Anyway, the rest of my weekend was fairly good, minus the fact I was stranded in Foster because my car's brakes decided they would start making a piercing sound that caused me to want to stick sharp objects into my ears so I could no longer hear. I feared driving anywhere and causing further damage, so I was stranded alone dogsitting for my dog and my sister's for almost 36 hours without any other human contact. Oh! Sunday night, after watching a not-so-great movie, I was walking back to my house and noticed my car's dome light was on. I walked to the car thinking the door had been ajar, but no...the switch had been turned on. At this point, all of my body started shaking and I thought someone was going to jump out of the woods and abduct me and no one would ever find me again because everyone refuses to drive to Foster in this state, so of course they would never drive out if there was a chance they wouldn't even find me. So I cautiously opened the door and shut off the light, and continued to totally freak myself out the rest of the night. The three people I spoke to after I realized my life was threatened by the light-turner-oner were of no help, too. One lived in Providence with no car, one in California with a car, and one in Boston, also without a car. THEY WOULDN'T OF HELPED. So there I was, clutching my 15-inch, 5-pound Maglite in my hand the rest of the night, afraid of every room in my house.

But luckily, I must have intimidated whoever it was with my immense strength and Maglite weapontry, because I escaped the night unscathed. And here I am, at work, after 4 days of being gone. But I did come in to an email from a friend of mine that sent me a link for a story on Cindy Sheehan staking out at the end of the driveway at the President's summer house until he speaks to her. To read the article, click the links below. The NYTimes one you need to sign-up (for free), but I went ahead and found a CNN artcile that's free if you're too lazy.

NYTimes

CNN

Also, if you missed my post about her incredibly powerful talk here in Providence, read it here.

Oh, and one more thing, I'm thinking about getting rid of this whole annonymous thing. Any objections? I'd probably keep my friends annonymous, though. Ok, I'm done boring you to death. You may go now.

2005-08-04T12:32:00.000-04:00

So I know I've been on a roll lately with my posts, but I wanted to give you a head's up that I'm not going to be around for the next 4 days. Tomorrow I am taking off and going to the beach with my sister, and Monday we have off because Rhode Island is the last state in the country to celebrate Victory Day (previously known as "Victory over Japan Day"). So don't miss me too much, I will hopefully come back with the same motivation to post as regularly as I have been as of late.

Have a great bug-and-bat-free 4 days! I'll be back real soon. I promise.

I may be losing it.

2005-08-04T09:23:00.000-04:00

Last night, on my way home, I looked down at my hand right as I was about to shift and saw the biggest ant I have ever seen crawling on my hand. I freaked out, of course, because I'm not one for the crawling creatures, and I seriously think it could've bitten my thumb off. Later on, around 9:30, I was making one of my trips to my sister's house across the street and I was dive-bombed by two bats. They came within a foot of my head, stopping briefly before me, then zoomed past to the field. I, of course, stopped in my tracks and screamed. Because, you know, that's obviously what will save me from getting my eyes gouged out by two evil bats. Not too soon after, I went to bed. Right above my bed is a window with a fan blowing in, and directly on me. As a result, I am paranoid something will fly in through the fan and attack me in my sleep. I was on the cusp of sleeping, where dreams feel like your reality, and saw sworms of those giant mosquitos (you know the ones, they're not really mosquitos, but look like the big brothers of mosquitos?) surrounding my bed. I freaked out, started waving my arms frantically, jumped out of bed and turned on the light to see that there was absolutely nothing in my room. It had been a dream. After laughing out loud to myself, as well as catching Took's look of "What the hell is your problem, lady?!" I fell back to sleep to later dream I was being covered by ants.

Do you guys think I need to move back to the city, or what?

He's worth it.

2005-08-03T08:40:00.000-04:00

Usually when Took and I go for a walk, he's in his own world having a personal adventure of mysterious scents and varying landscapes of tall grass and poop graveyards. He trots along with his tongue hanging out and a look of determination in his eyes. But sometimes, he comes out of his world and realizes I'm walking along with him. He stops dead in his tracks, looks up at me as if to say, "Oh...It's you! You feed me and scratch my belly! I like you!" and then he wags his tail and looks up at me, not budging until I scratch his head. For everyone who comments that dogs are too much responsiblilty and question why I would take that on, this is the reason. That single moment where he realizes who I am and makes eye contact as his smiles, is what makes all the responsibility totally worth it.

Evidence

2005-08-02T08:22:00.000-04:00

A while back, I came across the site Postsecret through the Blogger welcome page. Postsecret started as an art project compiled of secrets annonymously confessed on post cards. The idea took off and became so popular a blog was started to post a few of the thousands they began to receive. This morning a friend of mine suggested I check out the new secrets that had been posted (new secrets are posted every Sunday). This one struck me:

How can you be so power hungry that you can ignore the plea of soldiers, the mental poisoning of YOUR citizens, W.? How much more proof do you need before you decide to pull out our daughters and sons from destroying someone else's land and killing themselves and other innocent people? Perhaps you should send your own daughters overseas and see if they come back just as they left. Or if they come back at all.

I think you may need to reacquaint yourself with the definition of freedom. I'll make it even easier for you: here's a link.

------------------

Click here to read the rest of the secrets at Postsecret.

More gushing about my garden, a bit about my weekend, and finally D.C.

2005-08-01T16:00:00.000-04:00

It's riding on borderline freaky how much I love my garden. I have yet to sleep outside next to it, but when I was planting it, I did have a hankering for rolling around in the compost it was so rich and beautiful. I was thinking how if I were to do it for my job, if I would still love it as much, or if farmer's just loose the love of gardening when it becomes their way of making money. Right now, I'm abound with cucumbers and zucchini, and still basking in the glory of being able to share my veggies. If I were doing it for a living, I'm afraid it would suck the love right out of it. Just a thought. Also, my zucchini and cucumber plants are attacking my skin. I just looked down as I'm typing this, and it looks like I got into a fight with a hundred kittens. And I say kittens because they're little scratches. I'm not sure if I'm allergic, or this is normal. But I digress...

I had such a great weekend of normality. And I was excited about that, internet. Although, something happened friday night that threw me back a bit. I went to a friend's house for a party they were throwing and I was the first to show up. Soon, about 15 girls around the age of probably 20 or so came walking in with cell phones in their hands and apparently having forgotten to put clothes on. So not too long after this, I got told that I'm too mature by friend. Hm. Too mature - I've definitely never been told that one. It could've been because compared to the 15 year olds that were there, I could've been their mother. But apparently, he meant it as a compliment -- he said he was intimidated by me because I'm so mature. Nice, huh? I left not long after that, I had to get up early for Bingo anyway.

Ok, so instead of posting what I wrote about DC in it's own entry, this is what I have to say: D.C. blew me away. I have left there energized to finally do something for myself. The people I met were familiar to me, welcoming of me -- I was a part of their family the second "hello's" were exchanged. They were intelligent, kind, open, driven -- each incredible and owning of a passion I crave. I walked miles and miles, enough to aquire painful shin-splints, and now the last thing I want to do is drive my car or sit down. For months now, I've felt bored and uninspired. My life had become routine and pre-planned. The people I met had a purpose to their lives, they had a cause they were fighting for, something they felt was unjust and needed attention. And not only did they hold this, they acted upon it. It effected me in a way I didn't expect, I found motivation for something I didn't know I had. The first night there, I met my girffriend H's friends and instantly was surrounded by political debates and current issues I hadn't thought twice about. It was refreshing, and quickly made me feel like I needed to stop living in my hole. The next day we attended a panel discussion on hip hop and culture and how it can be transformed into a positive influence and put back to it's roots. The discussion continued for about 4 hours, followed by a couple of performances by political hip-hop artists, including one that was H's friend. It was amazing. That night we went out for Mexican food and sangria that knocked us on our asses. It was GREAT to sit there and chat with my girlfriend, to catch up after FOUR YEARS of not being in touch. It was like we hadn't gone a day without talking. The rest of the time there was spent exploring the city (including the zoo that I didn't like all that much) and hanging out with her friend Alex who is so sweet and intelligent and kind (and walks dogs for his job!). She also had a dinner party where one of her roommates made a lasagna out of ingredients from their garden, and it was one of the best meals I had ever had. I honestly can not say enough good things about my trip and D.C. I feel like I'm not even doing it justice. And my girl H...ROCKS. What a cool chick. I didn't want to leave, I wanted her in my life on a daily basis, not a flight away. Not only is she one of the greatest people I know, but she's actually SINGLE! *GASP* I mean, I thought I was the only one left, people! All in all, it was one of the best trips of my life, and I've been a lot of places.

So that's the short recap of D.C. Hope you're not disappointed, but most of you I've already talked your ears off about it anyway.

Happy Birthday, S!

2005-07-29T14:07:00.000-04:00

Today, one of the greatest people I have been blessed to meet in this life, is celebrating her birthday. She's miles away...and having the time of her life. I couldn't be prouder of her for making the move that she did; she is an example of strength. S is one of the kindest, funniest, sweetest, most beautiful, sincere and genuine people you will ever meet. I am so lucky to have her as a friend. I can only hope to give back to her what she has given me over the years, for she deserves nothing but the very best.

Have a wonderful, fair-filled birthday, S. I love you with all my heart!

My garden.

2005-07-29T11:46:00.000-04:00

So this is the full garden (well, actually, to the left are more plants -- but it's the majority of it). Sorry the pic is kind of little. But isn't it beautiful? I love my garden. Can you tell? I also have some lettuce in there that I just realized I didn't label. You can kind of see it in the top picture above the zuchini leaves and below the tomatoes. It looks really great and almost ready to pick, except it's really light green and I'm wondering if it's going to get darker. It looks exactly like the picture on the seed packet, except for the color. Anyone know if I'm doing something wrong? And check out that Took plant, isn't it handsome?

I'm so proud! Look at my little pepper!

2005-07-28T10:21:00.000-04:00

Oh how he's grown...the time goes so fast.
*sniff* *sniff*

Pride a ribbon could never display.

2005-07-28T08:47:00.000-04:00

Last night as I was driving home, my phone rang and up popped my dad's picture. Earlier in the day, I had emailed the below post to my mom, curious as to what she would think about what I had wrote. She emailed me later saying she was impressed by what I had written and thanked me for sharing it. What I didn't know was that she had forwarded it to my dad (which I would've done on my own, I just spaced it). I answered my dad's call and he immediately said, "I'm so damn proud of you." I asked why, and he replied, "Your mom sent me what you had written, I am so proud. This is what we need to do, this is what you kids need to keep doing. They did this for Vietnam, and it eventually ended the war. I think this is great." I was taken aback by his comments, I certainly hadn't expected them. I knew my parents weren't in agreement with Bush, but I was not exaclty confident they felt this war was unjust, as politics are not usually a topic of choice in our family. What my dad said next, filled me with pride - he had forwarded what I had written to everyone he knew. He had also printed it out, and was bringing it into work today for his coworkers to read in the break room. (Actually, his words were, "I'm bringing it in so all those damn republicans can read it.")

Guys, I can't explain how this made me feel. Up until two weeks ago, I was an avid news-avoider. I have the NYTimes as my homepage at work, but I would only quickly glance at the headlines and then continue on to my other work out of fear of becoming sick with what I would read. But my trip to D.C. struck me, made me realize I need to stop living in the dark and find out ways to make a difference. And I can already feel it. I'm psyched my dad is doing this, that he's going to share the story that made this whole thing so real. If it even changes one person's opinion, I'll feel like I've succeeded. And you know what? This is only the beginning.

Cindy Sheehan

2005-07-27T12:40:00.000-04:00

I know I promised a post about D.C. (um...S!), but I have to get this out, I want to share this story with you. I feel empowered to share it, to spread the truth so others can get a better understanding of who the person is that is running our country. I apologize ahead of time, some of what I'm about to write may not settle too well with you. But that's the point.

Last night, I attended a talk given by a woman named Cindy Sheehan whose son, Casey Sheehan, was killed in the war in Iraq. She was introduced to the sweltering crowd at the Beneficient Church in downtown Providence as a woman "who lost her son in the war." She immediately explained that she is more often than not introduced as a woman who "lost" someone. She said she once lost her son in Disney World; her son was murdered and she knows exactly where he is: in a coffin. She didn't want sympathy, she wants people to become angry at what is going on in the Middle East, angry that we are being lied to repeatedly, angry that thousands upon thousands of lives are being innocently lost - both Iraqian and Amerian - for no reason except for the President to gain even more power in this world. She wants people to know the truth behind the bloodshed and media deceit we are being fed.

I wish I could remember everything that she said, all the reasons she gave as proof of this war being unneccesary and unjust. But unfortunately, my memory is horrible. However, I do remember the story she told that will stick with me for the rest of my life, and the story that I am going to tell here. This story was the point where it became real to me exactly what kind of person (I say person because I am convinced he may not even be human) George Bush is. Before her son left for the war, he was told they would be greeted by children handing out chocolates and flowers, expressing unending thanks for being their saviors in this world. He was there 4 days before he was shot in the back of the head (by a weapon that, most likely, was given to an Iraqi by Americans back when we were friends with Sadaam). He was armored in a vest left over from the Vietnam War, a green vest; he might as well have been wearing a flashing sign stating: "Here I am! Here I am!" There are varying stories about his last breaths, but what she does know is he eventually died in a hospital while a nurse was trying to hold his brains in and a doctor was trying viligently to get his heart pumping once again. He never got handed chocolates and flowers, the children of Iraq would have actually had to have wanted them there, first. After he was sent back to California to be buried, the Sheehan's were invited to the White House for a memorial for their son. They awaited the president in a room with various families of soldiers who were killed. He walked in and the first thing out of his mouth, in a long Texas-drawl, was, "So who are we honoring here today?" He spoke the sentence out loud to the room, he didn't even bother to find out before he walked in. He came up to the Sheenan's and never once called their son a "He" and not once referred to him as any form of a human being at all. He also never once looked any of them in their eyes. He bent down to speak to Casey's sister and said, "I wish I could bring your loved one back," as if it was being played from a tape recorder, without a trace of affection in his words. She replied in agreement, "Yeh, I wish you could!" He simply said back, soaked in arrogance, "I bet you do." Further down the line, another woman whose only son was killed by his war had, prior to the memorial, written a letter blaming the president for the death of her son, calling him a murderer and stating she will do everything she possibly can to prevent anyone else from being innocently killed and deceived by this war. He had apparently been read the letter before he came into the room, and knew what she had written Before she said anything, he got within an inch of her face and said (approximately, my memory isn't the greatest), "I am George W. Bush, the President of the United States, and I hear you have something to say to me." She didn't back down, she told him everything she had written in the letter, including calling him a murderer.

Casey Sheehan was killed on 04/04/04, exactly 37 years after Martin Luther King, Jr. was assasinated, and exactly 38 years after he wrote "Letter From Birmingham Jail." This significant date has driven Cindy Sheehan to lead a life dedicated to ending unjust wars and spreading the truth about the politics in this country. She hopes to motivate the citzens of this nation to take back their country and make a stop to this war. The last poll showed that over 60% of Americans believed there is no just reason for us to be in this war --- so how is it that we have no control over the fate of our sons and daughters? They enlisted into the military because they felt it was their duty to protect our soil and fight for our freedom, but they didn't enlist to be lied to or used in the fight for ultimate power over the rest of the world.

I recommend checking out the Gold Star Families for Peace group's site (http://www.gsfp.org/) that Cindy Sheenan helped found. I especially encourage you to read the poem that her daughter wrote about the death of her brother, the poem "A Nation Rocked to Sleep," that moved me to tears as she read it to the audience last night. (If you go to the site, it's on the opening page about half way down). I know that this talk, as well as my trip to D.C. has given me a motivation I've needed for a very long time now, motivation to start fighting for what we should be handed to as citizens of this so called "free nation." I hope I can continue to find ways to express this, and I hope you can somehow find a way to do so in your own lives. As of late, I've felt like a stranger to myself. I'm not used to this energy, but I am soaking it up and hoping it sticks around.

Ok, I promise, the D.C. one is next up!

2005-07-26T12:16:00.000-04:00

Here is the only photo I took at the DC zoo to hold you over until I finish the post about my trip later on today. Until then, sit back and enjoy the flowers.

Some advice from an Idiot about other Idiots.

2005-07-08T11:15:00.000-04:00

In case you haven't noticed, I've been on a bit of a hiatus lately. After it was apparent my instincts were, in fact, dead on - AGAIN - for the umpteenth time, I guess I needed a little time to myself to mull things over. So now I'm back, only a little bitter, and more imortantly, realizing more and more that it's nothing wrong with me -- that it's the guy that is just being idiotic and missing out on a fabulous catch. Now, I'm not one of those gals who always says all guys suck or are stupid, but I do have to say, I may have been given clarity on that very supject. Yesterday T and I were discussing men with one of the professor's here. He said it bluntly, "Women always think they've found the one man in the universe that is different, the one man out of the billion that is wonderful. Then they realize at some point down the line, that he is no different. Let me save you the time, we are ALL IDIOTS. Every single one of us: IDIOTS. It's just how we are. We can't change that. So just stop thinking you'll find the one exception and you won't keep getting disappointed." Both T and I found this rather refreshing, and so true that every woman thinks that she's found that one exception, including me on more than one occasion. And what do they always end up doing? Fucking up. Being stupid. Missing out. Now, his point was not that they aren't worth it, because he's happily married -- but we need to stop thinking the one you find will be different. Chances are, they don't have a chance in a million of being different. And if, by chance, they really truly seem to be --- give them time. But it's ok, guys, the good news is we know you're worth it. But do know, that the secret is out; which, really, should make it easier for you. Just do us all a favor and stop pretending like you're perfect from the beginning -- that way, when you fuck up down the line, we won't be surprised and shocked that you really are no different from those other guys.

So, on another note, although still kind of related, my grandfather is getting married this weekend. It's a little strange for me, as I was really close to my grandmother, who only passed away 3 years ago. But I am fully aware that it's his happiness that matters, and I'm trying to be ok with it. Which, I am sure I will be, as soon as I see how happy he is. I kind of just need to get it over with. In addition to this, I will be spending ample time getting excited about a little trip I spontaneously planned to D.C. After getting dumped on my ass out of no where, I decided instead of wallowing in the frustration I was experiencing at having another great prospect go down the drain, I called my friend H and told her to expect a visitor - I was planning on having some fun single gal time in a city I'd never been to. We haven't seen one another in about 4 years, and it's due time we made up for that. So it's sure to be an all-out gab fest among pints of beer intermingled with laughter and tears in the capital city. I'm really really looking forward to it. I just wish my damn iPod Shuffle wasn't a piece of shit and I would have some music for my travels. I hate thinking of being without my tunes for a whole 5 days when numerous forms of transportation will be used alone. I may just have to resort to signing aloud and amusing myself by flashing strangers on the subway and in the airport. No wait, that only happens to T during class. Guess I'll have to find my own form of entertainment. Until I leave next friday, you should hear from me again. Because, after all, it's back to normal for me -- I'm once again alone. Only this time, a little more fired up.

Bob, Willie, my Dad, and Me.

2005-06-27T12:36:00.000-04:00

As soon as we checked into the hotel, we headed to the liquor store for some beer. Dad actually had to settle for Miller Lite, as there was not PBR to be found in in the middle-of-nowhere Pittsfield store. (The horror!) We quickly downed some and headed for the ball park. As we approached the entrance, the line curved around the block. So we kept walking, trying to find the end, and realized we were not about wait in a line a mile long. We turned around and headed to the parking lot...where we walked directly into the park - proving there was no need to wait in line (silly people!). Since we cut our wait time by about an hour, we walked straight to the stage and scoped out our spot. We sat surrounded by blankets and happy strangers just 15 feet from the stage watching as the people poured in, pondering why anyone would chose to sit in the stands where you could barely make out the stage, let alone see the performers. I went to get us some beers and we sat soaking up the sun waiting for the show to begin. My dad had struck up a conversation with our neighbors who was also made up of a father and daughter duo, as well as her hippy friends. There was no where else I would've rather have been. Bring on Willie.

The opening band, The Greencards, was a compilation of musicians from Australia and England that met in Austin, Texas. They're music is ironically quite American, rocking out the fiddle (my personal favorite) and mandolin to create a bluegrass sound infused with obvious influences of rock and celtic. Bluegrass being one of my musical loves, I was blown away by this band that had only been together for a little over a year and were already touring with Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson. Talk about luck. I was especially intrigued by the female bassist, who was obviously psyched to be doing what she was doing (and really, who wouldn't be?), rocking the bass and looking incredible sexy while doing so. I was hooked.

Then Willie came out, the black curtain fell to release Texas state flag, and his family started playing (literally, two of his sons younger than me were in the band and his aunt played the piano). It turns out I knew many more songs of his than I thought I would. He played Crazy and I was filled with memories of my grandmother listening to Patsy Cline on our road trips south. He sang On the Road Again and I felt like I was in the back seat of our family car on the way to one of our camping trips as a kid. It was perfect being there with my dad. He played all the greats, and he was better live than I would've thought (knowing now that was stupid of me). The beer goes down nicely when you have Willie singing along with you. (Although, I'm guessing there's a little something else that might go even better, but beer did the trick that night.)

Finally, Dylan came on stage. The Texas flag was dropped to reveal his insignia (see below), that just prior to I had seen the same logo tattooed on a the back of a woman's neck. He came out dressed in a deep purple-almost black suit with a white cowboy hat. He set up in front of a keyboard and didn't move the rest of the night, except to check his set list after every song. He would walk back to the sheet in what seemed like a daze, to only continue without a word spoken to the crowd below. He had an acoustic guitar set up right next to the keyboards, but it remained untouched the entire show. He played song after song without any recognition from the people who were there to see him; we were left wondering if we would know any of the lyrics he was mumbling with such humility. Right when I thought it was over without one song I could sing along to, he came out with Like a Rolling Stone for an encore and put the cherry on top of the entire night. I enjoyed the music the whole set, but wanted that one familiar song, and man he gave it to me.

The next morning we slept in until 9, and my dad didn't snore once. It was the pefect night. I am so lucky in so many ways.

Please bare with me while I get this out so I can feel better.

2005-06-26T15:24:00.000-04:00

It's not easy when you get an update from your first love's mom as to how his and his fiance's trip in europe is going. I wonder if they got married yet. It's not easy when you have someone incredible waiting in the wing, but you can't find it in yourself to actually believe that he's there and wants to be; to know that he might not want to leave. It's not easy to get hammered into my head when I'm reading how much fun he's having with her, staying in homes in the countryside of Italy where they make their own olive oil and have horses you can ride with the glow of a sunset lighting your way. It's not even that I want to be with him, that I wish it were me - in fact, that's not it at all. It's the fact he has what I want so badly that I'm being caused actual physical pain. I can picture his happiness, and somewhere deep inside, I am truly happy for him. But right now it's selfishly masked, and that's hurting me more than the pain of wanting to be with the one I can stop thinking about. I despise selfishness when it's not needed. I've spent a good deal of time focusing on not being selfish, making a conscious effort to never be that. But sometimes it silently creeps in. I hate that I can't bury myself in my happiness, in my hope for the future that is so close I can taste it's honey-dew sweetness; the happiness that that I have burned into my memory of his eyes telling me everything I've been wanting to hear, with no words needed. I don't hear from him in 3 days, and I'm already thinking he's realized I'm not worth his time. This insecurity always finds it's way back into my body, haunting me. I like to think the insecurity will someday go away. As far as he's concerned, I'm confident and non-pressuring. But inside I'm so scared, I'm making myself sick. This one, I fear the most of leaving, because I want him forever. I want his eyes to look at every morning, his smile to return mine when I wake up next to him. I want him to go with me to Europe where countrymen make their own olive oil, where we can ride horseback in the countryside. I want to write the emails that get forwarded.

I know it's not easy now, but thanksfully, somewhere there's a part of me that holds out hope that it will be all worth it in the end. I will hopefully read this soon, and laugh at my wasted insecurities. That's my plan, anyway. Wilco said it best when they said, "what would I be, without wishful thinking?"

Cheap beer, a park, and artists who can't sing (but damn they can write good music).

2005-06-23T08:47:00.000-04:00

Tonight night I am going to see Bob Dylan and Willie Nelson with my dad in Pittsfield, MA. It should be quite entertaining, to say the least. And Bob and Willie might be ok, too. A friend of mine told me last night that Willie hasn't been that great live lately because he doesn't even pay attention to the crowd. He just mumbles and plays what he wants to, barely even talking to the people who PAID TO SEE HIM. Wait, doesn't that describe Bob Dylan? I guess when you're about 243 years old, you stop caring what your fans want to hear, and you just do what you want. So I'm interested in seeing what this is going to be like. I've seen Bob Dylan twice (when he was touring with I-only-play-the-same-songs-in-the-same-exact-order-every-single-show Paul Simon) and the first time, he was absolutely dreadful; but the second time, incredible. So it's most likely hit or miss for both artists. Either way, I'm getting to enjoy a show outside in a park with my dad, it doesn't get much better than that. We'll probably drink some cheap beer (because in my dad's eyes, there's no such thing as a beer without a blue ribbon on the outside of the can), laugh at the hippies, and get stoned. No, I was kidding about that last part. But I wish I wasn't.

On another music note (ha! pun intented), I recently purchased Coldplay's X & Y. Now, this was a difficult purchase for me, as I often hesistate in purchasing an album from a radio band. But I have to admit, they are a really excellent band, and his voice is what drew me in. The first time I listened to it, I was incredibly disapointed. I couldn't tell the difference between songs, they kind of all blended together. I set it aside for a few days, thinking that would be the last time I caved in and bought an album from radio play. Then, out of boredom of my other music, I put it back in for my drive home one night. As I was listening, I randomly chose different songs to listen to, instead of listening to the order they came in. Somehow, this worked...and I was blown away by their lyrics and ended up not being able to get enough of some of the songs. The more I listened, the more of a fan I became of Coldplay. Till Kindom Come and Swallowed in the Sea are the two most on repeat right now. I'm still not a converted radio listener, but I do completely understand the appeal of Coldplay now. Perhaps you need to be in the right mood; but whatever mood that is, I seem to be stuck in now, because I can't take it out of my cd player.

Alright folks, I'm warning you now -- after tonight, I might come back all mumbly and disconcerned about the people around me...with a PBR in my hand and a bandana on my head. You've been warned.

The planets must be all aligned, and pointing in my direction.

2005-06-22T13:19:00.001-04:00

There's something really right in the Universe right now, folks. Things are beyond good in my life and those I am connected to. My friend Ill Na Na not only just found out she got into Graduate school (Yay Ill!), she also just started a new job, which means, she got out of her old really crappy job that she didn't like at all. (Although, sadly, that also translates to no more all-day email from her. I'm still mourning that loss.) My other friend S who just moved to California, not only ended up landing a great job, but found an apartment directly on the beach (the ocean is literally her back yard). If you have ever met this woman, you know that her dream has been to live on the beach and play volleyball all day. She's almost there...keep an eye out for her on the professional circut any day now. A little closer to home, my girl T has basically taken it upon herself to declare this summer: "Summer of Celebrations in Honor of Me" She's already had one in May, there's another this weekend, and the final one in July. She's worth it though, and it sure is making her glow. (No! I am not telling you what we are doing Saturday, T! Give it a rest!) Finally, my girlfriend L, is experiencing exactly the same thing as I am, in such an eerily parallel way. See, ever since we were in high school, not once have we been happy at the same time (regarding relationships, I mean). When she had a boyfriend, I was single; when I had that one boyfriend way back when, she was single. It's actually very strange. Now, all of a sudden, we're both happy. Our lives are eerily parallel. She's on her way out to Cali right now to get her some -- I mean, see her man. So let's everyone cross our fingers for her that she figures things out, and this happiness continues.

This brings me back to my life. Guys, I am experiencing feelings I have only dreamed about. The butterflies are there, the excitement causes me to shake. It's better than anything I could've imagined...and it's scaring the crap out of me. I don't want this one to go away. He's a thousand times more wonderful than anyone I've ever met. You know, I never thought it would be this scary. It's intense, it's real. I could go on...but I'll spare you. I'll just say that I honestly believe I am the luckiest person alive right now...and it happened in a blink of an eye, just like they said it would. Damn, life is incredible.

For S

2005-06-16T13:11:00.000-04:00

Last night, while still stuffing envelopes, a rerun of the MTV movie awards was entertaining me. Until this happened. Then I needed to be alone for a little while, if you know what I mean.

This, of course, sparked a debate with my girl S about whether or not that could be real. Meaning, is there really that much passion between two people to actually not be able to contain yourself when you're around one another, forcing you to run, jump into his arms, and kiss like it's the only thing saving you from a tragic death. We say yes. There has to be. But there are so many people out there that do not believe it exists, that it's only in scripts written to feed to hopeless romantics...leaving us just that, hopeless.

What do you think?

Proof that I'm happier.

2005-06-15T16:28:00.000-04:00

Instead of puking and spouting off angry tangents about unsuspecting strangers so innocently embracing one another or gazing into one another's eyes on the street, I'm now thinking to myself, "AWww! That's so CUTE!"

I disgust myself. I might go puke now.

Still not as good as she puts it, but here's my take on the whole thing.

2005-06-15T14:10:00.000-04:00

Have you guys noticed I haven't been posting as much now that I'm happy? Me too. It just goes along with an idea that I can't stand, one that Dooce laughed at that Sarah pointed out so perfectly. And what am I doing? Exactly that. I'm happy for the time being, and my inspiration for writing is lost along with the bad moods and self-doubt. What? Nothing to bitch about, Undecided? Then why write? HUH?! So instead, I'm bitching about how I'm not writing anymore. Ha! I think this little pet-peeve of mine stems from the excuse I received from The Ghost as to why he's purposely staying in his current miserable condition -- because his art is flourishing. I cannot tell you how much this angered and frustrated me. He would rather miss out on his happiness to produce art that he deems as his best, simply because it's inspired by his darkness. I mentioned this to Ill Na Na who had experienced something similar with her ex, that when he actually got out of his depression, and realized the art that he thought was so remarkable, actually turned out to be crap once he could see it in a different light. It just seems like a lame way out of getting better, and an easy reason for staying in your gloom. Because it's not easy to get out of, that I'm aware of. In fact, sometimes even I like to wallow in my depression. It does allow for some self-exploration, a window into your deeper, more introspective side. OR SO YOU THINK. Usually when I re-read things that I wrote in my journal about how sorry I was feeling for myself, or some great revelation I discovered from staring at my wall for 5 hours straight while seeing nothing but dispair in my life, it's pathetic and uninspirational. I find I like myself more when I'm happy, and I end up liking others more when they're happy. So please, all you depressed artists out there, your work is most likely not good enough to keep pretending that the darkness that is your soul is inspiring great masterpieces. Most likely, it's just crap that only other depressed will appreciate. And if you're fine with that, then I'm fine with it as long as you don't share your saddness and complain that your life is awful, but then say that your art is flourishing as a result, so it's ok to continue wallowing. And I promise I'll try harder to write while this happiness lasts.

I'm trying.

2005-06-02T13:31:00.000-04:00

Ok..I've recovered from my day of negativity yesterday, and am back on track. Mainly, and I'll give due credit here, all because of S and T for kicking me back into shape. And, I spoke to him yesterday, so my fears of him choosing not to come were squashed. It does bug me that I am constantly going back and forth. Although, perhaps I do need to give myself credit for eventually coming around, even if I go right back within a few hours...at least I'm there for a little while. That's progress, right?

Presently, I am positive. Things will happen for me. They have to, based on probability alone.

Besides, It would be a shame that a good catch like me wouldn't be snatched up eventually. And if I'm not, there's always toes to paint, and that's what matters most in life. (wink, wink!)

And....it's back to negative...

2005-06-01T15:50:00.000-04:00

The negativety I have in my head always finds it's way into my stomach, feeling as if I had a salad of stones for lunch. I hate that I think this way, and even more, I hate that I can't get out of it no matter how much I strain to do so. I can't seem to tell myself that something good will come; instead, I see nothing but a fate of unhappiness and days alone. I really do start to wonder if I am meant to be alone. Even with amazing prospects on the horizon, it's a future of no one but my dog at my side that I see. The part of that that really seems odd to me, is that that really wouldn't be a doomed existence. And yet, I see it as one. Why is it that in my thoughts, my hopes...it's finding a partner that becomes the last part of the equation left missing in my happiness? I can see the ridiculousness of that without reading the words for evidence...but it's convincing my heart of that that is proving impossible. As I've mentioned before, I am so lucky in many many ways; and as a result, I am truly happy. I realize this may not seem all that apparent here, as I am most often filled with words of doubt and anger - but if you notice the reoccurring subject along with these tones, they are usually stained with thoughts of love. So as a result, I am beyond frustrated with myself and this habitual way of thinking. The thing that really gets to me, is that I am aware this way of thinking may very well be the reason I am alone. I am a huge believer in the idea of putting positivity out there and being returned with exactly that...positivity. But being a believer in that concept does not make me an immediate practicer. My capability to put those good thoughts out there has begun to prove more and more difficult.

I need to get out of my head just long enough to find something else to invest in, something else that will fill that void I can't seem to stop dwelling on. I admire those few who find happiness in every aspect of their lives, and that is truly all they need. But I can't help but wonder if they're just better at hiding it.

I surrender.

2005-05-31T12:22:00.000-04:00

Alright, karma, did you have fun this weekend taking revenge out on my little plan? I had to be all: "...I'm done letting your plans for me direct my path. I'm creating my own." So you just HAD to go and put him in the emergency room. Seriously, what did I do in my previous life to make you so mad at me? COME ON ALREADY!

Finally, proof!

2005-05-27T15:26:00.000-04:00

What I have been saying all along (you know, that Rhode Island has, by far, the WORST drivers in the country), was just proved by CNN*:

http://www.cnn.com/2005/AUTOS/05/26/drivers_study/index.html

---------

*Please note, that Massachusetts is only 0.2 points away from a TIE FOR WORST DRIVERS IN THE COUNTRY. And you guys wonder why I have mental breakdowns and accidents?!

The final rose ceremony it is not.

2005-05-25T11:12:00.000-04:00

So the big difference between me and those girls on The Bachelor, is that I don't even get to be famous while sitting around waiting for him to decide. Therefore, I will also not be bombarded with requests for dates simply because I was on TV, nor will I have a fancy limo to cry in if I'm not chosen.

Think it's too late to contact ABC?

I'm not complaining in this one, I swear!

2005-05-24T12:46:00.000-04:00

As much as I bitch and complain about my lack of a love-life, I am the luckiest person alive when it comes to friendships. My friends make me feel special every single day. I have been blessed with some of the most amazing people as comrads in this thing we call life...from Australia to California, from Canada to Georgia (and all that's in-between!)...I couldn't be luckier.

Last week was quite the week for me. My girl from high school came for 4 short days to the little state of Rhode Island. We caught up on the quality hang-out time we had been missing the last few months, and it was so wonderful. She reminds me of the girl I used to be, the girl that thought she'd always be alone (wait a minute...), but didn't care. I'm reminded when I'm with her, that I'm not alone. That she'll be there every step of the way, most likely experiencing a very similar path. And most importantly, I'll at least have someone to back me up when I'm being pathetic. She's one friend in the world that I can do absolutely nothing with..and still love it. She and I have moved further away from each other every year (physically). One of these days, we better settle as next door neighbors, missy!

After she left to get some much needed action on the West Coast (um...YAY!), another friend came to visit. I don't believe we stopped yappering once (minus the sleeping hours and mouthfuls of yummy, carb-laced delights. But then again, no one was awake to verify we didn't keep talking in our sleep, which we very well could have done.). We had months and months to catch up on, and we only had a few hours to do so. It was all too short, but all too necessary. Thank you so much for making the trek up here, S. I can't express to you what it feels like to know we lost nothing in our lack of communication. You're a special lady, and I'm so lucky to have met you when I did!

Also last week, in a rather bittersweet event, another close friend moved across the country..and I couldn't be happier for her. It was not an easy move, but in so many ways, it was the right move. She's been rather lucky when it comes to various aspects of her life, and I do hope the luck spills over into the rest of it. I couldn't imagine a more deserving person than her. She's genuine, kind, and probably one of the funniest people I know. If she weren't at the other end of my almost-daily phone calls, I'd be lost.

Then there's T, a rather reoccurring character in my stories here at Undecided. And I say character in every definition of the word...because a character, she most certainly is. I may not have shared this story, but the day I met her will forever be recalled. I had just moved here and started as a temp in what is now my real position. I had been working here for a couple of months before she showed up, also hired as a temp. I was starved for interacton with people my own age, that I had already decided we'd instantly be friends before I even met her. (I mean, she was from Maine and everything.) So she's getting introduced, and before she even got to the second syllable in her name, I was already shaking her hand telling her I was from Maine, too, and we should hang out some time. And that we did, and we haven't stopped since (as I even moved in with her and her man). I often admit how desparate I was when she started working here, and along with that, have had to admit I was also rather psycho-like when attacking her on her first day at the job. But hey, I wasn't wrong, was I? Huh, T?! HUH!?! I KNEW WE'D BE FRIENDS!! Anyway, I have met very few people in this world that I can spend as much time as I do with her, and actually still talk to one another. She has been my savior in this city. I think daily how if I hadn't met her, I would probably be poorly dressed and begging for friends on Thayer....and no one would EVER get my jokes. Don't worry, T, I'll always be there to laugh at your jokes. Someone has to. HAHAHA. (hehehe...love you!)

And there are so many more, so this will have to be an ongoing post...so stay-tuned (including one about a particular GREAT friend over at my favorite blog, Velumptuous, who I have also mentioned numerous times)...I am one lucky gal. Thank you so much for being in my life, you are each amazing in your own ways, and I will never stop appreciating you! I love you all!

My life as a pathetic and rarely watched reality show.

2005-05-23T12:35:00.000-04:00

My life as of late has turned into one long, drawn-out episode of The Bachelor. Only I'm without the fancy dresses and tropical islands, or million-dollar Malibu home.

I believe it began in high school, with E. My little hippie boyfriend, who brought feelings out I had yet to experience. After 3 months of being with me, he calls me up to break the news. He had had a girlfriend. OF. 3. YEARS. He felt horribly guilty, and eventually went back to her. Later, I began dating R in the class below me. It was exciting. It was as hot as a high school relationship could get. But after 3 weeks, he had told me he didn't want a girlfriend, he wasn't ready for one. It was within a week he started dating my friend, of whom he stayed with FOR. 3. YEARS.

Then there was H in college. He left for a course in Prague after an incredible month of being together, leaving with promises of thoughts and words of hope. We would pick this back up when he came back, this he was sure. The first week he was gone, he said he missed me and didn't think it was going to be as bad as it turned out to be. Then the email became more and more sparse, the conversations generic and painful. When he came back he said he had felt nothing. When I kissed him, it was blank. I asked if he had met someone, and he said yes.

Then, after a few interspersed between, there was, as you are familiar with (and undoubtedly annoyed with hearing about)...the Ghost. I had met him in the post office. He was standing at the counter, for what seemed like an eternity. Our eyes met, I smiled. Before I left, I looked one more time and his eyes had never left me. I smiled once more, assuming that would be the last I would see of him. My friends convinced me after work that night to meet them at the bar for a round of darts. I walked in, and it was as if his eyes had been with me the entire day into the night. There he was, the guy from the post office. The Ghost. We spent what would be the most incredible few weeks of my life. But inevitably, he was left with a choice. His wife (yes, his WIFE) ended up with the prize (rightly so, I do admit), and I was left again with the feeling I would never be the one on top. I would forever be second runner up in this battle of contest Love*.

And here I find myself again, awaiting the final rose. After almost two years of being convinced that I was left incapable of feeling again, it having been shut off the day he disappeared, has been torn open in a matter of a night. Suddenly, I can feel again. And it scares the shit out of me. He told me yesterday it's between me and her. He has to make a decision, and it won't be easy. In my mind...I'm the obvious choice, how could I not be? But then I look at my track record, the odds are against me. Except, maybe it's about damn time I do get the final rose. I mean, one of these days, I'll have to end up in first place. Life isn't that cruel.

At least give me my final date, Chris. Or surprise me with more time like you did for Charlie with that annoying chick Krisiley and innocent Sarah B. I'm tired of waiting my turn, knowing my time will come. I'm ready for my turn to be now. I have too much to give.

The rose ceremonies have not only run it's course for me, but for primetime as well. I'm done competing. And really, you should be too.

------------------

*Painfully cheesy, I know. But it serves it's purpose for dramatic emphasis quite nicely.