Bob, Willie, my Dad, and Me.

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.

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).

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.

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

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.

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.

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.

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...

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.

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!

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

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*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.

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!

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.

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.

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

Conspiracy Theory

I'm not sure exactly when it happened, folks, but somewhere along the lines, things went backwards on me. For the majority of my adult and teenage life, I've had to talk myself out of wanting to be..um..."with" someone. Now. I'm trying to talk myself into wanting it entirely. What happened? Did I step outside of myself at some point, and not find my way back in? Am I really 25 and not wanting a sexy and willing, definitely hot and incredible, man? What is wrong with me?! Can someone PLEASE. TELL. ME!

Nevermind. I'll tell you what's wrong with me. It's been wrong with me right along with what's been right with me all these years. My mind is somewhere else. With someone else. OF COURSE. Why would it be so simple that I would actually be WITH that someone else...both physically and mentally.

BECAUSE THE UNIVERSE IS EVIL. It apparently has a conspiracy against me. I'm decidedly taking revenge. Yes. You heard me. DECIDEDLY.

Watch out world. I'm taking me a fabulously delicious young man. Because I'm done letting your plans for me direct my path. I'm creating my own.

TAKE THAT!

What's so wrong with dating myself?

Some people have told me that maybe I need time off from dating, time to myself. What they don't know is even though I may be lucky in regards to getting dates, not once have I been emotionally involved in any of them except for one, and that was almost two years ago. Which translates to so much time to myself, I start wondering half-way through the evening, whether I'll get myself lucky that night, regardless of whether or not I paid for my dinner. Dating seems to have become a form of entertainment lately. Only the entertainment is now effecting how I think. I'm no longer as excited as I should be; I worry, I analyze, I think of cancelling because I wonder: what's the point? Chances are, I'm not going to be interested in him. Then I'm continuously avoiding phone calls and coming up with excuses not to go out with them again. I'm not saying all this to complain that my life is rough because all these guys like me; I'm not, I know I'm fortunate...I'm just wondering if these will forever be my options. Lackluster males with too-large of egos that are incapable of taking hints easily, or giving up at the first sign of no interest, that I couldn't be more blatant about. I don't want dates. I want emotional involvement. A glimmer of something to help me realize I'm not what I fear most: incapable of feeling anything but annoyance.

Yesterday, unexpectedly, a little bit of that glimmer found it's way to my desk. But my issue (I always have issues) with all this is I've started expecting the glimmer to be fake, to burst as soon as we begin our first conversation, before the food has even reached our table. The frustrating part of it all (although it may not seem it), is that I tell myself to be hopeful, as I'm fully aware that being pessimistic might very well be the pin that is bursting the bubble. I try to supress the voice in my head that's questioning whether it's worth it anymore. I try to make the voice that thinks maybe this time it will be right, loud enough to drown out the negative.

Then again, maybe it won't be so bad dating myself for a while longer...at least I control whether or not I get lucky. And I'm fully capable of getting the hint. As long as that optimistic voice stays drowned, that is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I would have made it a point to laugh harder.

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

Ok, so this is how it went down:

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

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

Hm...

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