Tired.

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

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

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

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

Parking Lot Bitches 2006™

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

Oh Eddie, why do you hate me so?

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

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

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

R.I.P., Frijole

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

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

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

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

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

Or, Portia, depending on who you ask.

Single: therefore, I cannot survive on my own.

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

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

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

A bit foggy.

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

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

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

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

I guess I have to grow up now. Ugh.

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

Wednesday morning moments.

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

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

Hell yeah.

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

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

In need of repair.

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

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

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

Also at lunch...

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

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

Which are you?

And we wonder why local music shops are closing down.

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

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

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

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.

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.

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.)

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!

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

I love you tons!

Back from a Maine hiatus.

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.