Icing is Not a Food Group

2008-06-12T20:46:00.005-04:00

We'll Be In the Old Folks Home Together

Me: Hey go check out this website called Sneaky Sunday. It's really cool.

Five minutes later...

Her: Okay, Sneaky Friday is not coming up. How do you spell it?

Me: Idiot. SUNDAY. SNEAKY SUNDAY.

Her: Ohhhh.

Her: Well, just so you know, Sneaky Friday is not a website.

Me, dryly: Thanks.

Her: I help where I can!

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

I cannot lie. I found out about Sneaky Sunday here.

2008-06-05T20:29:00.010-04:00

Fishs Eddy

This store is just so awesome and such a cool find, which I totally owe to the best tour guide ever, my friend Lindsey*. Lindsey and I met at my part-time job many years ago. She told me she was going away to college in New York City. Having never been to NY, I begged her to let me ride along in her suitcase. She smiled uncomfortably knowing only my first name. I batted my brown eyes harder.

About two years later (maybe?), my dad landed a 5-day trip to NY. Lindsey was living there and very familiar with the city at this point. She mapped out everything we should do and showed me the entire city. I sweated my ass off, a most hated activity, and followed everywhere she suggested.

I got another awesome offer this year. A former co-worker invited me to stay for four days with her in NY. I ended up being by myself most of the time, which is awesome for an introverted person such as myself. I just happened to be walking on Broadway to return a camera lens from a rental shop, which was an extra awesome idea by the way. When I looked up and spied ABC Carpet and Home, my memory clicked, and I thought, "Fishs Eddy!" I looked up to see the black and white sign just poking out another block up.

*Lindsey went to Parsons School of Design—where every major fashion designer graduated. She is super, super smart and an awesome creative talent. She has grown up to be everything I ever wanted to be. I hate her and love her for it. She now runs Lemon Tree Paper, creating beautiful, custom invitations and stationery, and you should totally go check it out. I could not be more amazed or proud of her.

2008-04-14T22:01:00.008-04:00

This Felt So Good

I have owned a really nice camera for far too long and not done much with it. I find it so intimidating, and because I hate to read directions and manuals, I have had to rely on my ability to just play with a device to figure out how to operate it. Generally, this routine works out well for me, but this camera still stumps me. Two weekends ago, some friends from ATL got together with one of my girlfriends from Nashville. Because I am drawn to stupid things like font and signage, I wanted to try this restaurant out. There is a reason for good marketing, in my opinion, and luckily, it did not steer me wrong.

This is a restaurant on West Peachtree between 8th and 9th street. Since trying it out, I have already been back twice and brought two other people to it. I am in love with this block in midtown. It is connected to a new building called Plaza Midtown, and there are several new boutique shops with the absolute coolest marketing. I love independent thinking and design. Perhaps it is my creative side that always lurks within me, but I can fall in love with a place solely on their font choice.

After dinner with my girls, the rain had finally subsided. Even though we were on our way out, I made my girlfriend pull over so I could hike in my stilettos and get some shots. Partly because I need to push through the learning curve with my camera and partly because I just miss taking shots of pure randomness. I'm not completely in love with what I got. After 25 pictures, I'd say 3-5 are okay, but at least I'm learning.

Marlow's Tavern

Steel Restaurant & Lounge, definitely on my list to try soon.

2008-03-12T18:49:00.004-04:00

An Honest Surprise

About this time last year, D was being recruited for a job in Texas. We hadn't been together that long, but the thought of him moving was completely freaking me out, silently, for the most part. Being completely impressed with his intelligence, accomplishments, education, and background, I pretty much assumed that any company that even so much as met him would offer him an insane proposal that would put me into a odd predicament.

The scheduling happened so fast, that it happened to be timed in line when one of his best friends was coming out to Atlanta. In a whirlwind, he had to leave for the interview, come home the next night, pick up his friend and friend's wife, and bring them back to his place to finish out their working vacation. To complicate matters, we had met his friends for lunch, and I ended up accidentally keeping his wallet, which he kind of needed in order to catch a plane. That was one of many frustrations I caused him that he should have killed me for. I rushed out of work early, grabbed some work clothes, and prayed to Jesus to help me with traffic. I ended up making it in time, and he ended up getting through the hell of Atlanta's airport.

Exhausted from the stress, I took a long nap in his bed, and woke up to the sun setting through his bathroom window. I walked around and decided I should at least run the vacuum cleaner, and before I knew it, I had cleaned the entire house. I didn't do it for any special gratitude. It was just if the situation were reversed, I would have been freaking out over not getting to clean my house before company arrived. I noticed the above on his refrigerator, and my heart melted. I had no idea when he wrote that little tidbit, and even though it shocked me that my name was on the list, I was more warmed by the fact I came before the dogs given just how much he loves them.

2008-03-11T20:05:00.004-04:00

Untitled

I went to Atlanta's aquarium last June. I was so excited to have a chance to actually photograph something, and then my camera died within about five shots. I just finished uploading all of my pictures (a bit late, eh), and I found this little gem. I was astounded by how much color came through and how much I actually liked it.

2008-03-06T14:34:00.005-05:00

My Love Affair with Mark

Today, I am finally getting to see my beloved hair stylist, Mark. I have to admit that I love him. Like I love him enough, I'd nearly offer to carry his child, and not just because he's hot. The love. It's deep. I haven't gotten to lust after him properly because he ended up almost killing himself on a motorcycle last year. He's been not-cutting-my hair for six months (perhaps longer), and I was forced to cheat on him once with an overpriced hair stylist who doesn't possess his magician-like hands, and she somehow ended up giving one of the most OCD people on the plant an asymmetrical cut, which I was over on day 2. I'm not sure why I agreed to that one. I think it was because she has this incredibly cute British accent, so I sit there with a smile on my face and just nod at her a lot.

I have been so excited about this date, I have been dreaming about him. I got my calendar all mixed up and thought I was going last Thursday. I feel like I'm six and waiting for Christmas all over again. Either way, I'm looking forward to ~~staring at~~ lusting after his hands (because he has long, slender fingers that I love on dudes) and smelling his hands, which smell like shampoo and sometimes a hint of cigarette smoke. I often fantasize about how great it would be to be married to him and have him dry & flat iron my hair in the morning. I think I would perform sexual acts just for that benefit. I hope his woman appreciates that one.

2008-02-20T19:38:00.003-05:00

When All You Feel is Grey

I sit here today with many mixed emotions. I found out yesterday, after much anticipation and anxiety, that my job was not going to be eliminated--a hollow victory for me. My company has not been doing well, mainly do to the market's overall decline, and that has pushed my area into another dreaded reorganization. I've been hearing that we really needed this change though. But sadly, some of my co-workers didn't receive such good news. Many people on my floor lost their job, and as I headed into another meeting to hear about our future, my eyes kept welling up.

I have a co-worker that I've known for about two years. Had it not been for another co-worker taking an opportunity with a company just last year, I wouldn't have gotten to know this girl as well. For some reason, I've never flourished in a group, maybe because I tend to just sit back and watch dynamics. But having the one co-worker that I was comfortable around leave, left me exposed to really getting to know another, and my opinion of her changed. This girl takes honesty to a new level, and she is rarely guarded with anyone, which is probably why I didn't bond to her in the beginning. I have a habit of sharing my opinions/feelings/thoughts with only those I am closest to, and sometimes, I bottle them up altogether--completely, opposite of my co-worker. But the more I have hung around her, the more it warms my heart to watch her. The only word that I can think to describe her is fierce. She is so protective of the people in her life, much like a raging mother bear. She never lets someone get away with something that they shouldn't, and I am in awe of that. We also share some really bad experiences as well, though I am the first to admit that hers were much more painful. Sometimes, I still see her react with that pain, and it causes my heart to ache on her behalf because I'm so acutely aware of what she's feeling, and her instinct is all that she has to act with now, and I get that...her job has been eliminated.

In addition, the co-worker that I dated has had his job eliminated, and frankly, it scares me. I have never really talked about him in this blog before for several reasons. Even though he knew I kept a blog, pretty regularly until we started dating, I wasn't sure about talking about him. It just felt weird, beyond weird. I'm also not one to show my emotions so publicly. For instance, if I had written in my giddy stage and were forced to read that, I think I would want to stick a blunt object into my brain. I guess I equate it with running into someone on cloud nine about their love life--six months later you run into him/her, and they announce that they've broken up because the other one was cheating or something. I don't know. I guess I would just be embarrassed of my happiness if I didn't remain that happy or something. All this to say, is that I'm going to talk about him (D). Maybe it just feels safe(r) now, who knows.

D and I moved to Atlanta within a month of one another. It was unique to both be in a new city not really knowing anyone else and having a new relationship and a new place to live. It was a lot to absorb, but something we were really excited about. I think it takes a certain kind of courage and strength to make that kind of leap. Even though our backgrounds were as diverse as they could possibly be, we were pretty like-minded about a lot. The things we wanted out of life and out of a relationship paralleled rather well.

But now, here we are. Not dating and barely speaking. D has to be the most independent person I have ever encountered. He's independent in ways that have never even occurred to me. He has incredible determination, and he's so intelligent in so many arenas. On the other hand, he breaks my heart, what little I feel I have left. He has never pushed me for a reaction like so many people do, but he pushes me for my own betterment, and I hate that. I'm pretty sure altruism has never motivated a taurus in a the history of the human species. Either way, my instincts are telling me that he will end up moving somewhere else, and that just makes everything seem so final between us. Not having him across the way is sad enough to me, but not having him in the state is a whole new level of finality. Part of me keeps wanting to offer to help, but I just have to keep telling myself that he will learn everything one day, even if it's the hard way because that's the only way that he knows how. It's just his survival tactic, even though it's not mine.

2008-02-19T21:34:00.002-05:00

I Have Loved You Most

And I don't ever think there are enough words to tell you just how much.

2007-11-20T22:31:00.000-05:00

Never Really the Brown-Eyed Girl

2007-11-14T23:02:00.000-05:00

The Junkie has come Home

Monday night, Nov. 12th
1 steroid tablet
1 Singulair tablet
1 Zyrtec tablet
1 Zyflo tablet

Tuesday morning, Nov. 13th
2 steroid tablets
5 Singulair tablets
1 Zyrtec tablet
1 Zyflo tablet

Tuesday day (9-4 p.m.)
21-24 shots in both arms, from a girl who is quite used to needles, and generally not phased by such

Tuesday evening, while getting the hair highlighted shades of red that don't exactly occur in nature
Notes some general pain and slight itching

Tuesday night, approximately 9 p.m., more itching. Hmm.
1 Benedryl
1 Advil PM because I am a terrible sleeper

Tuesday night, 11 p.m., wakes up with more severe itching.
1 Singulair
1 Zyrtec
1 Advil PM (wrestles the night away)

Wednesday morning, 5:00 a.m., left bicep firey hot, swollen, brusied, and ITCHING like a MOFO. (Hmmmm.)

Wednesday later morning, 7:30 a.m., Can't think, just need to s-c-r-a-t-c-h-h-h-h-. Owe! That hurts.
1 Singulair
1 Zyrtec
1 Benedryl
20 pumps of Benedryl spray

Wednesday later, later morning, 11:30 a.m., no relief. Swelling spreading. Dear God, Seriously, why did I do this again?
4 Singulair (dr's advice)

Wednesday afternoon, 4:30 p.m.
Dr: "So you took the 4 Singulair, and it's not any better?"
Me: Thinking WTF?
Me: "Yup. 11:30. Still ITCHING..."
Dr. "Well, we'll prescribe you some more steroids. Typically they take 12-24 hours to work. Try not to scratch"
Me: Thinking WTFFFFFFFF? How about you try not to breathe?
Me: "So, if that's the case, I have steroids still in my system, right?"
Dr. "Yeah..."
Me: "How about a shot instead?"
Dr. "Not sure I have any....Wait, let me go look."
Dr. "I do have one!"
Me: Thinking grrrrreat. Another shot! Whoohoo. WTF?
Nurse: Punctures swollen arm (though not in the highly inflamed area) directly into my meat of my fat arm.
Me: "Owwwee! That, like, hurt!"
Me: Thinking I've never had a shot hurt like that!
Nurse withdrawals needle.
Nurse: "Yeah, see the size of the needle."
Me: Thinking I cannot move my arm. Seriously. WTF? I think she's proud of that needle.
Dr: "Okay, well you should be better in about 2 days. Call me Friday or Monday and we'll do some more shots."
Me: "Yeah, if this isn't gone by Monday, I'm not coming back."
Dr: Blink. Blink. Blink.

25 pills in less than 3 days.
21-25 shots...I lost count.

You can definitely say that I didn't clearly think this course of action through. And that I do not remember being this cranky since HIGH SCHOOL.

2007-02-28T11:38:00.000-05:00

I'll Be Dead By 30

I scare easily, like so easily, you wouldn't believe just how easily. As I stand in the kitchen checking on dinner, my boyfriend is in the bedroom on my computer. Minutes later, he says something to me and scares the crap out of me. I grab my heart and suck in enough oxygen for the entire state of Georgia.

"You are taking YEARS off of my life!"
"I don't get it. You know I'm here."
"But it doesn't work like that. I don't hear you come up. I've scared you before at your house."
"Yeah, but not on such a consistent basis. I, mean, you know it's a problem when I'm seriously considering wearing bells on my shoes."
"Ohhh, or like a dog collar with a bell. That would be great...Wait, what if you start carrying change in your pocket so I can hear you jingle. Or Tic-Tacs! I think there was an episode on Seinfeld about that one!"

2007-02-16T08:02:00.000-05:00

More Than I Want to Know, Really

I just dropped my itty-bitty birth control pill in the trash can, unbeknownst to me. I crawled around under my desk to search for the stupid thing. With nothing in sight, it occurred to me to look into the trash can, and there it sat, at the very bottom of the bacteria-ridden container.

I would have preferred the floor, just so you know.

2007-01-29T23:08:00.000-05:00

Bringing It Back to Elvis

2006-12-14T10:36:00.000-05:00

A New Addition

I'm pushing to call her Maggie, but I don't exactly have "naming rights" on this one.

2006-11-27T15:05:00.000-05:00

Liquid Crack

My co-worker calls me and asks me to split a Red Bull with her. I respond I've never had one. Neither has she. She has an interview to go to after work. I acquiesce.

Red Bull is HORRIBLE. I think the planet is missing taste buds. It has a wicked after taste that made both of us contort our faces in disgust.

We're both on our way to giggly happy now after about a fourth of the can.

2006-11-11T08:40:00.000-05:00

Yeah, I've Missed This

30 Seconds to Mars

2006-10-17T08:27:00.000-04:00

Heartfelt

Seriously, read these.

2006-10-07T21:39:00.000-04:00

Special to My Heart

This entry.

2006-10-03T21:57:00.000-04:00

PieBar

2006-09-15T02:22:00.000-04:00

Je Vis sur la Ruelle de 915 Memoires

Et si tout va bien nous partageons cette memoire....

How many special people change
How many lives are living strange
Where were you when we were getting high
Slowly walking down the hall,
Faster than a cannon ball,
Where were you while we were getting high

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky.

Wake up the dawn and ask her why
A dreamer dreams she never dies
Wipe that tear away now from your eye

Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova in the sky
Some day you will find me
Caught beneath the landslide
In a champagne supernova
A champagne supernova in the sky

Cause people believe that they're
Gonna get away for the summer
But you and I, we live and die
The world's still spinning round
We don't know why

Je vous souhaite bien.

2006-09-14T23:47:00.000-04:00

The View

2006-09-12T08:28:00.000-04:00

How to Sell Your Soul

Not that I keep up with celebrity culture that much, but I do notice trends, like that of dark nail polish. I happened to be reading a People magazine in the break room at my part-time job and saw that Chanel had created a Black Satin nail polish that was in high demand and sold out around the country. Since I live in Atlanta, I (foolishly) thought I could still probably find a bottle. I journeyed to the Chanel counter and the salesman quickly said, "Nope, none in the country."

So, then I thought, "Well, then I'll go out of the country. I will find that damn nail polish." (You see why I'm a Taurus.) I called my dad's mobile, which has never been on since the dawn of mobile phone technology. I leave a rambling message that I'm sure he will never get if only because I'm sure he doesn't know how to check his voicemail. I text him to his work account, which he is usually better at responding to.

Thanks to Ebay, which is selling the nail polish up to $100/bottle, I later discover that the color is a limited edition and only sold in the U.S. My hopes of getting it dwindle. Chanel made Black Satin to be sold in the U.S. and a regular black to be sold in Canada, Europe, and Asia. I send my dad another email telling him that more than likely he won't be able to find it.

I get his email this morning.

"AFTER FLYING HALF WAY AROUND THE WORLD WESTBOUND, I ARRIVED IN HGK (Hong Kong). I WALKED NUMEROUS BLOCKS TO THE SHOPPING MALL AND WENT DIRECTLY TO THE CHANEL STORE. THEY WERE SOLD OUT BUT TRIED UNSUCCESSFULLY TO LOCATE SOME BY PHONE. I LEFT ONLY TO RETURN IN A HALF HOUR TO SEE IF THEY COULD ORDER SOME AND MAIL IT TO ME. THAT WAS NOT AN OPTION BUT THEY TRIED ONE MORE SHOPPING MALL. THEY HAD ONE LAST BOTTLE AND AGREED TO HOLD IT FOR ME. I BATTLED THE WIND, RAIN, SNOW, SLEET, AND HAIL. I HAD TO SWIM ACROSS A SHARK INFESTED CHANNEL. I HIKED 5 MILES BEFORE ARRIVING AT THE STORE TO GET THAT LAST BOTTLE OF BLACK SATIN NAIL POLISH 219. I THEN HIKED 5 MILES BACK AND AGAIN HAD TO SWIM THE SHARK INFESTED CHANNEL. I FOUGHT THE WIND, RAIN, SNOW, SLEET, AND HAIL TO MAKE MY RETURN. I CLIMBED INTO MY TRUSTY JET ON LOAN FROM FRED AND CONTINUED MY WESTBOUND JOURNEY THE REMAINING HALF OF MY TRIP AROUND THE WORLD TO BRING MY LITTLE GIRL HER D--- NAIL POLISH.

IF IN THE FUTURE I SHOULD NEED MY DEPENDS CHANGED, I EXPECT TO HAVE PRIORITY OVER YOUR MOTHER AFTER THIS ESCAPADE.

YOU STILL ARE A LOT OF TROUBLE. I LOVE YOU."

2006-09-10T21:39:00.000-04:00

Blurring the Line

2006-09-01T13:44:00.000-04:00

DragonCon 2006

She says I pimped her out, but her smile says something completely opposite.

I'm not 100% sure this was costume.

Have you ever wanted poison ivy so bad?

2006-08-18T15:23:00.000-04:00

Perhaps the Gayest Thing That Will Ever Come Out of My Mouth

My department here is very small, very, very small. My last department had about twenty people, and I really miss the interaction with all of them. Either way, my boss is in the process of hiring another person. In our meeting, I realized that she wanted to re-interview someone else that she liked and previously interviewed when I was trying out for the position. That kind of scared me because I thought, "Oh crap, what if the new person ends up being like twice the worker I am, and then I look really bad?"

My boss is really different than anyone I've ever worked for. She's like an unsually polite, Southern, cheerleader-y kind of person. She was explaining her thought process in hiring the new person, and that she really wanted the new person to fit here personality-wise with all of us. And then she dropped this e-bomb on me.

"Well, with you, I just felt like God sent you to me."

And then I felt a twinge in my eyeballs.

So I emailed my girlfriend that I have officially become an emotional retard.

She responds, "Are you getting feelings???"

"I don't know. Maybe I am. What's up with that?"

"It would be kind of nice actually."

I think what gets to me is the fact that I was in such a bad place before this opportunity--a very dark place that was beginning to feel like a vortex of despair. So I kind of made a pact with God, and I maybe threatened him a tad bit, which I'm not sure He responds to, but I did it anyway. You see, I gave myself until 30. Thirty was His deadline to dramatically change my world in a better, healthier way. Though I am not a patient person, I have been damn patient, mainly because I can be a chickenshit. So, I felt like He changed it, and we've been pretty cool ever since.

2006-08-17T05:44:00.000-04:00

A (Very) Different Perspective Than My Own

"So, do you still have that same personality/attitude as you kept up from high school? I kind of liked it because you never took shit from anyone and it showed because I knew of a few guys who wanted you delivered on a silver platter wrapped in a red ribbon."

2006-08-16T15:55:00.000-04:00

Looking Up

2006-08-14T05:49:00.000-04:00

Back in Time

2006-08-11T00:23:00.000-04:00

East Meets West

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

For a Wandering Eye

2006-07-25T14:33:00.000-04:00

Unfortunate & Moronic

"Lee Weisbrod, 19, of River Vale, N.J., and Steven Fagan, 18, of Woodcliff Lake, N.J., were playing soccer with friends at Memorial Field in Montvale, cops said. Pal Jordan Zubalsky, 19, told cops he heard an ear-splitting clap and saw a spear of electricity knock the pair to the ground....

In a chilling twist, Weisbrod, a business major at the University of Miami, wrote on his MySpace.com profile that he hated thunderstorms."

A chilling twist? Really? Because I'm thinking that's about as chilling as me saying how much I hate bugs and then dying from lyme disease.

Yeah, I'm not buying it, but I love how much press MySpace gets.

2006-07-20T13:13:00.000-04:00

She Might Speak the Truth

I'm trying to arrange a concert trip, and sadly, the concert is back home, which I guess is a good thing because it means no hotel bill. I'm on the phone with my girlfriend:

"So are we going?"
"I'm not sure yet. I think so. There are four bands that I want to see, one that I kind of know, and three that I've never listened to."
"Have you heard back from--"
"No, not yet."
"We have to pay $9.00 per ticket for a "convenience charge." That sucks so bad. I hate Ticketmaster."
"Well, you probably need to hurry up and get the seats."
"It's G.A."
"Ohhh, crap. Really?"
"Yeah, why. G.A. is a good thing. I can be FRONT ROW!"
"Yeah, you're not much fun a G.A. concert."
"What are you talking about?!"
"You get all obsessed with being front row and taking pictures and your eyes start darting through the crowd so that you can get in the gaps and move up and you make me strong arm people!"
Laughing, "I so do not...do most of that. I've never made you strong arm anyone!"

I've only done that here, here, here, here, and maybe (read: most definitely) here too but only because from here pictures don't come out like here. I maybe did it a lot here too, but I wasn't armed with a camera, damn it.

Clearly, I have proven my point.

2006-07-13T22:31:00.000-04:00

I Guess You Could Call It Irony

Because the day that I changed my tagline to, "Do you believe in love, like I believe in pain," my commitment was challenged just a wee bit. A co-worker of mine turned fifty (freaking) years old on the fourth of July, but since she was on vacation, we've been celebrating her birthday this week. I decided that I would make her chocolate cupcakes, and I don't often use my oven at the apartment because I am a HUGE fan of the toaster oven. It's rare that I need the cubic space of the family-size oven. So, as I continued to check on the progress of my culinary talents and lift the treats from the oven, I also lifted my forearm to the top of the three-hundred-fifty-degree oven. Smart move on my part as I ended up with a second-degree burn.

The odd thing was, it didn't really hurt. It stung just a bit. I ended up talking to my mother within a few minutes of the injury, and of course she told me to apply ice. I argued that the damage was done and that there wasn't much that ice could offer. She responded that the ice would lessen the damage. I obliged her request for about eleven seconds, and then said, "Ok, it was applied. It feels no different." Though I noticed my skin was beginning to turn a grayish color.

The next morning my skin had blistered in the nice shape of a leech and turned a bit blacker. I gently pressed the blister and noticed it just felt airy. I decided not to touch it and take my shower. But in the drying-off process, I accidentally forgot about the injury and slid the towel right over it. I then noticed a portion of the black skin had folded back and another section of it lying on the floor of my tub. I "eeeweeed" at myself.

When I got to work and showed my co-worker her breakfast treat, I quickly pointed out what I had done to myself for her birthday. She sneered and said that I should have covered it up. "I thought you were supposed to air burns out or something," I responded. She assured me that in the environment we work in, I should most definitely cover it up as she offered me some Neosporin® cream and a bandage. I removed the bandage a few times during the day to check on the progress of my wound. Later that night, I removed it once more and noticed what I thought was an excess of Neosporin® cream, but as I investigated further, I realized I was looking at a mass of goo that my body created. I quickly shoved my forearm under cold, running water. I pulled it back and realized it was still lumpy, gooey, and a wee bit greenish in color. It kind of turned my stomach to look at it. Still kind of turns my stomach to say it, really. (How are you holding up?) I ended up having to wash the burn with soap, where I had to turn my head to keep from grossing myself out from myself. I let the burn breathe during the night, and it looked much, much better, expect for the small fold of black skin that I have yet to remove. I tried to lift it, and it looked gooey underneath, and when I see goo, I think "ewe," and my tummy threatens to turn against me.

I have had a bad habit of burning myself. In high school, many of my school mates taunted me with the name, "Pyro." I would tend to play with fire in chemistry class. I'd light matches for no reason but to watch them burn. Once, as a child, I turned off my bedroom lamp and then decided with NO THOUGHT OF CONSEQUENCE, to just palm the hot bulb. A few days later, my hand started peeling and it took me quite some time to backtrack as to why that was happening. I can also recall a time where my mother left me in the car while running some errand. I started to play with the cigarette lighter. When it popped back out, I looked the orange, glowing light with awe, and again, I decided to stick it to the inside of my hand. I clutched my mother's water bottle for the remainder of that day. When I was old enough to know better, but still too stubborn to ever follow directions, I tried to steam my skirt while wearing it. I ended up with a burn of four dots across my thigh. For some years, I had scars across my left wrist where it looked like I had attempted suicide because I would reach across the iron and burn myself.

The thing is, burnt skin grosses me out. It's the one thing I would question when taking marriage vows. In sickness and in health, but if you burn your body, I get to use my get-out-of-jail-free card because I cannot handle melted skin. Yet, it seems I am determined to melt my own.

2006-07-07T16:18:00.000-04:00

I'm Pretty Sure He Wasn't Kidding

I just had my "ass" threatened by a lawyer--a lawyer that works with me. I started laughing because it was just so unexpected, and he talked as though he had just dropped speed and chased it with some sort of Jolt energy drink. I thought lawyers were paid by the hour, and thus, would tend to speak a little more slowly.

I tried to explain what I needed from him, and he finally gave me the super secret password for a project. He then threatened my arse and said that if I screwed anything up, he would tell everyone that it was me. I couldn't help but laugh as though the severity of the situation was green lighting the purchase of bombs for North Korea.

2006-07-07T09:18:00.000-04:00

Go Forth & Read*

I found this website yesterday. I've been reading the archives as quickly as I can, but I just must encourage others to love this blog as much as I already do.

Two quick excerpts from Tom Bartlett's blog, Minor Tweaks:

March 28, 2006
The list of demands my advance team sends to hotels before I arrive

-- The curtains in Tom's room should not close completely. He likes to be awakened by a harsh shaft of sunlight across his face.

-- Remove the batteries from the remote control (or insert dead ones). Tom prefers to change channels the old-fashioned way.

-- If you put an alarm clock in the room, find one that's nearly impossible to set. Tom enjoys a challenge.

-- The temperature in the room should be either sweltering or arctic. Nothing in-between will do.

-- The bedding should smell vaguely of other people's sweat. Tom finds this comforting.

-- Tom likes little bottles of shampoo and very small pieces of soap. The tinier, the better.

January 10, 2006
What I Plan To Embellish For Obvious Dramatic Reasons In My Own Forthcoming Memoir

From The Smoking Gun website, on evidence that James Frey, author of "A Million Little Pieces," invented much of his life story:

But during these interviews, Frey did, for the first time, admit that he had embellished central details of his criminal career and purported incarceration for "obvious dramatic reasons" in the nonfiction work.

-- An argument with my roommate over dish duty will become a heroin-fueled knife fight in some dimly lit, garbage-strewn back alley.

-- That parking ticket will now be two years in "the hole."

-- Instead of mostly ignoring me, the girl I liked in high school will be eaten by a shark while I look on in dumbstruck horror.

-- My fondness for hot tea will turn into a nasty coke habit.

-- Rather than breaking my finger while trying to squash a cricket with my shoe, I will have my arm blown off by, say, a missile.

-- Instead of following the normal rules of capitalization, I will randomly capitalize common Nouns in order to seem Artsy and Profound even though it's actually just an annoying Tic.

*Just remember where you came from.

And another thing, if there is stuff out there that is THIS GOOD, you should totally email me the blog. I definitely need to know things like that.

2006-07-06T19:23:00.000-04:00

Cheating Never Gets You Anywhere

Let me be proof of that. I'm sitting next to a woman who is clearly conversating in French. I took two years in high school, where I was busted for cheating my freshman year. I also vaguely remember that we spent weeks translating a book about some monster on a train, probably something a first grade kid was reading. The second year, I cheated off of this really cute, friendly Asian guy named John. So, needless to say, I think I learned my numbers and that's about it.

I didn't take French again until my junior year in college. Wherein, I had a four year lapse since I had been around the language. I ended up taking four semesters, and finally, by the fourth semester, I thought I had become a little proficient in it. I had a professor that would not speak a single word in English. In fact, for extra credit, I had attended some thing wherein he came up to me and started speaking English. My mouth dropped open. English sounded foreign coming from his mouth. I thought to myself, "Just speak French. I don't know you as English."

So, here I am with a real, live example of a true French woman, and I can't make out a word, except a pronoun and preposition here and there. That smarts really bad. Of course, my ear was always worse than my writing or reading skills. But still, I expected to pick up the general idea of what someone was saying. Boy, was I wrong there.

2006-06-19T11:07:00.000-04:00

So Much for the Geek Techs

My mother calls me from the hotel in SFO to tell me that my father has bought her another necklace. She says he got her a Baccarat necklace, one that is so new, they can't get it in. So, I'm trying to find it on the web because I want to see what my inheritance looks like, and the Baccarat site doesn't seem to feature what she has described. So, I move to Netscape and search "Baccarat," with an immediate blocked message from my work. I try Google. Same response. I think, "Why would they have blocked jewelry? That is so gay." Then it dawns on me. Apparently, the geek techs have confused the jewelry name with gambling--bacarat. What idiots.

2006-06-19T00:03:00.000-04:00

Another Note to Self

Do not, I repeat, do not watch movies about finding your lost love that will cause you to pass a stone.

Jesus.

Serioulsy, that thing just took a year off of my life.

2006-06-16T17:49:00.000-04:00

First Impressions

One of my neighbor's asked me out a few weeks back. He asked for my number, but I was late for work, so I told him that I would give it to him later, and I honestly meant that. As I returned from work, he came walking towards me in so much biker gear that I didn't even realize it was him. I guess he takes that protection thing seriously. I invited him over and he took a quick look around my loft. I had assumed he had a loft as well since he was next door, but I was wrong. He invited me to come see his massive two bedroom. I was drooling over all his space and noticed how clean and organized he was. I said, "You're military, aren't you?" He said, "Well, yeah, I used to be." As we talked further, I said, "Are you a Virgo by any chance," and I so clearly know maybe like 5-6 of the zodiac signs. He paused and bowed his head, "Yeah, how'd you know?"

I'm getting good, baby.

2006-06-16T09:32:00.000-04:00

Note to Self

A bad thing about this job, a really bad thing about this job...the music selection of one of my co-workers. It's like dentist office music. Right now, I'm being assaulted with "Higher Love" by Steve Winwood, which I used to think was "Bring me a pie of love." I will defend that misinterpretation because dude takes a serious syllable break when he says "High-UUU love." (Pie and high are easily switched.) You know I'm right.

I was at her desk the other day, and shook my head. "What is this crap that you are listening to? Is-Is that Kenny G?" She starts to laugh and says, "Yeah, Let me turn it down." I just looked at her in disbelief. "You want to kill me, don't you?"

2006-06-14T22:28:00.000-04:00

How Have We Been Friends

I am currently sitting with my legs crossed listening the sounds of the waterfalls at the apartment complex. It's actually a really nice night with perfect weather that doesn't even possess a hint of humidty, thanks to that tropical storm in Florida. I just got off the phone with my girlfriend. She was in that excited state of drunkeness that I love so much. That state where everything is funny and your body feels so good that you just want to pass out. That's one of my most favorite states to be in. My cheeks start to ache from all the smiling, and I'm really not a smiling kind of creature, if you haven't noticed.

She was recounting her evening where a Nick Lachey look-alike waited on her at the bar. She tells me that he had tattoos and really nice arms. I immediately said, "Okay, that's my type. What the hell do you think you're doing?" As the conversation continues, she also divulges that she has always loved Tommy Lee. I nearly fell off the couch as I screamed with questioning inflection, "TOMMY LEE!" wherein the whole apartment complex heard me. I know he was cool in the late 80s with Motely Crue, and she is totally the poster child for the 80s, but I had no idea she ever appreciated Tommy Lee's rock-star looks. As if she hadn't already shocked me enough, she confesses that Kidd Rock isn't too shabby either, wherein I recalled that she said he was white trash when I told her that I was smitten with him from the get go. She has assured me that she doesn't go for tattoos. She likes these boys "in spite of their tattoos."

I get the feeling that I never knew her at all.

2006-06-07T21:24:00.000-04:00

Dreaming of Green

I know that as soon as I type this and see it in "print," I will say to myself, "What were you thinking," but I'm seriously weighing my options and thinking of getting a third job. Now, I haven't had three jobs since probably two years ago, where I worked a side job for myself. It didn't last long, but it netted me a couple extra hundred bucks and helped my savings account. Other than that, the tri-arena of work really hasn't been tested since my college days. I worked retail and worked for a doctor's office where I could make my own hours. With a full load of courses, that office job was a God send. I tried to work a third retail job, but it was impossible to get my managers to schedule around each other. I really think I could do it again though. My second part-time job has no flexibility to the scheduling. I have had the same shifts now going on either five or six weeks. With hours like that, I could easily fit something else into the schedule.

I've tossed this idea around some folks here, and I keep hearing, "Don't get burn out." But what's an extra 10 or 15 hours, really? I begged for work when I was 15. I could not wait to get a job. After graduating college, I took my senior trip, and I was working full time by the end of May. I really don't think I would know what to do if I couldn't or didn't work. I tend to get greedy when I look at my savings account. I just start getting competitive with it. In high school, I loaned money out once, and I kind of got the feeling I would have been a great loan shark, except for that whole thing about taking people out when they don't pay you back on time. I was kind of missing that crucial step in the plan.

I'm crazy, right?

2006-06-03T12:09:00.000-04:00

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2006-05-31T19:35:00.000-04:00

Goodbye Self

I am only writing this post because it is some sort of way of procrastinating for me. I have had good intentions of writing, but those intentions have fallen to the wayside. I could offer up an excuse or two, but I honestly don't have one. I have been dealing with so much. The newness of my move has worn away, and schedules and routines have started to wear grooves in the wood. As much as I came here to get away and find something shiny and new, I never considered the new battles that would be waged. I can't say that people didn't try to warn me; Oh, how they tried. I will admit there is some smug satisfaction in that what I heard people say would happen, didn't happen. But alongside that arrogance, I am ashamed at how I didn't prepare myself emotionally.

I have mentioned my stubborn nature a time or two, but dealing with yourself can be very painful at times. My new job has me in a strange client relationship that I only briefly questioned in my interview. There have been some days where I have been so angry that I wished I could just cry. The job is so much harder than what I expected. I worried myself over the technical issues that I would face coming here. I assured myself that, that would be the issue, but alas, I was so dead wrong. To date, the technical issues haven't been something to blink at; however, the concept of what I do--what I am responsible for--has had me reeling.

I come from Memphis. I come from parents that consistently "taught me better." I came from college where I majored in the art of communication. I am supposed to be naturally good at communicating. But not once have I ever learned how to deal with negative energy, with drama, with people who think nothing of dropping tone or insinuating that you're an idiot. I bend over backwards to turn situations around. I am typically good at manipulating or even messaging a situation into what I need it to be. Granted, some people intimidate me so much that I can't string two coherent words together, but most of time, I can hold my own.

Dare I say it? It hurts. It hurts really fucking bad. Actually, it doesn't even feel like hurt, but God does it make me angry. So angry, that my thoughts spin out of control; so angry, that I want to walk off and never come back; so angry that the only words I can muster are, "Okay, let me see what I can do," as my mouth fills with blood, and I fight every ounce of the governing Taurus that wants to charge.

I'm trying to step back and look at this as growing pains. There are always things about yourself that you will discover are unsightly. I'm trying to face that side of myself, to control it, and I am quite certain I can relate to multiple-personality disorders now.

It's hard letting go, but I am going to master it, even if it kills me.

2006-05-04T21:06:00.000-04:00

Truly Touched

I fell in love with the concept of a blog when I met Mary Forrest. I found her site by googling "fonts" of all things on the web, and she had a list of places to go to find freeware (fonts that you can download and use for free). I started reading her blog some time in probably 2002. I wrote to her, and she quickly responded, and it was like I had gotten an email from God, herself. I was captivated by her language, her wit, and her creative talents. A lot of what she writes goes far beyond my head, but I have never gotten the sense that she is arrogant with her knowledge, but it is obvious that she was a precocious child.

I don't read a ton of blogs because I am not usually charmed by them. I get the sense that a lot of people just want to be "known," and I kind of find that writing to be empty. I don't necessarily want to read someone's online diary just so they can be famous. When I started my blog, I didn't tell a soul for probably a few years. I kept it just like a diary, with the slight fear that someone could still be reading what I wrote. I have always had countless journals, and then hung my head in shame because I wouldn't continue to write in them. I struggled with this process over and over again. If you are at all a perfectionist, you can possibly understand that writing can be cumbersome. There is no cutting and pasting, no delete button, or backspace key. Your errors are kind of frozen on the page, and even with the help of Liquid Paper®, the mistake is still noticeable.

All this to say, there aren't too many blogs that I follow religiously, but Mary Forrest is one of them. She wrote this post the other day:

"I have this faint memory of a phone call and a sinking feeling. Of suspicion and fear. And impatience and resentment. I remember arguing about bottles of wine and who they belonged to. I remember not really being angry about the wine. The wine was a scapegoat. It lives out in the desert now. Never to return.

You come into a person's life where you come in. There's no changing it. You know them when you know them, where they are and when they are. You know what there is. And when more is added, and when more is stripped away, you continue to know the shadow of what was there. Paper doll fashions leave their silhouettes. You learn the absence of the image better than the presence of it. The absence persists.

Even longing begets focus. Even the kind that promotes flailing and frenzy. But this other thing. It's like a problem with my eyes. I can't seem to just look at one thing for even a second. I am everywhere and all over the place. And all the while, I'm nowhere. I ceased to exist some time ago. No matter how much space I take up.

Died in the church and was buried along with her name. Nobody came."

So, so beautiful, I just couldn't help but put it here.

2006-05-03T20:26:00.000-04:00

As If I Weren't Already Happy Enough

I have:
(a) Successfully installed internet onto the laptop
(b) Managed to change the belt on the vacuum cleaner
(c) Changed out the head to the mop

It's almost like God is telling me that I could actually be equipped to be a mom or something.

I said almost.

2006-05-01T21:18:00.000-04:00

My Weekend, My Night

I took a quick trip home this weekend back to Memphis. My main purpose in doing so was to host a baby shower for my best friend. Another reason was to get the VACUUM CLEANER. Talk about having to suppress every urge you ever had. Whew.

When I was hosting the shower, I continually had to answer the question, "But aren't you lonely?" and there was such a look of utter sympathy on each individual's face. I felt like the conversation was something like, "We heard you had leukemia, you poor thing. How are you coping?" There was just that much concern on everyone's face. I had to continually reassure everyone that I am OKAY. I haven't been lonely for even a fraction of a second. In fact, I kind of keep wondering how other people manage to keep a household afloat because I struggle with just myself. I am jamming things into about every minute of the day, so much so, I haven't really soaked it all in just yet. I haven't even blogged about it. Proof, I would say.

In other news of my weekend, I had my going away party from some of my closer friends at my part-time job. There were even some gifts presented to me, and before I opened each one, I would carefully nose around the contents and then ask with a raised brow, "Is it dirty? Am I gonna be embarrassed?" After the third time, Tiffany said, "If you wanted it to be dirty, girl, you just should have told us. We could have gotten you some motor oil and a box of condoms."

There was also CAKE, which if you've never read my blog, I am like, The Queen of Cake. I could be woken from a coma if someone said the word, "Cake." I was presented with the biggest cake I have ever seen. It was from Costco's and OH MY GOD, it was the BEST CAKE. [Please refer to evidence below and let's all salivate over that mother-load of icing.]

I left the restaurant with more than half of the cake. When I arrived in Atlanta a mere two days later with the leftovers, I had received only four pieces of it. Talk about getting the shaft.

This is Michael, who previously, was rekindling a lost love with Billy Idol's hair. Here, he makes me ponder what that shirt is really suggesting since he's gay. I whispered to one girl, Lindsey, "Okay, I wanna wear that shirt. It would give it a whole, new meaning."

Michael is also signing my card. Shhhh!

Bill wanted to hold these plates like he had breasts, so we let him because we're a cool group like that. Tiffany had shown off her talent with icing from a tube. I wonder where she has practiced that before.

The closest of my friends....

[Wipes tear] Me, Tiffany (Tiff), Bill, & Lindsey

*Lindsey, should you ever see this picture, I'm know I'm going to get a stern talking to about this shot & your facial expression, but it's the only one where I looked good, and that was way more important. And when I say good, I totally mean not as bad as the rest of shots.

2006-04-20T08:09:00.000-04:00

An Update

For those that are wondering, I am okay. The lack in posting is only due to the lack of internet options, which should drastically multiply once my internet is up and running at home.

Atlanta is just so beautiful. Yesterday, I walked to lunch by myself. I kept looking at the magnificent buildings surrounding me, and all I could do was smile. It is everything that I would want it to be here. My location, which made me apprehensive, is perfect. I seem to be 15 minutes away from everything. My "commute" to work is shorter than it was in Memphis, and I keep looking at the clock thinking, "Really? I'm already here?"

People are still very friendly and charmingly Southern. It seems that many have only lived here a few months or years, so I don't feel alone in that aspect. In some ways, Atlanta doesn't have that "small town" feeling, and in other ways, she does.

I am so happy and grateful for it.

2006-04-09T23:28:00.000-04:00

Cary Brothers

A native of Nashville, but with a heart a bit more worldly. Beautiful.

You are the loneliest girl in the world
Taking your hits as they come.
You are the loneliest girl in the world
And tonight you'd fall for anyone.

It's in the way you fall down to bed.
It's in the way you cry when he's not looking.

You are the loneliest girl in the world.
Watch you'd die a 1,000 times again.
You are the loneliest girl in the world.
And I just want to make it go away.
And I just want to make it go away.

2006-04-07T16:32:00.000-04:00

"Right, On the Wrong Side of it All"

This pictures were taken almost one year ago.

I love him, I love him, I love him. Meet Shaun, of Seether.

Dale, bass player

My heart. So don't say anything nasty about this band, or I will be forced to say something ugly about your children.

I heart him more because both times I have seen Seether in concert, he chose great cover songs (Kurt Cobain and Deftones, my number one stripper song, "Change (In the House of Flies)"). Both were glorious, if you can ever call a rock song glorious.

2006-04-06T16:58:00.000-04:00

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2006-04-06T10:48:00.000-04:00

If You Ever Loved Me

You would know that these flowers are my heart.

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

Boys Enjoy Being Boys

A co-worker and I were just going over some figures. He was sitting in my office behind me. He then says, "Oh my, did you hear that?" I had heard something, but nothing that audible. I said, "Did you just fart?" He started to laugh and said, "Yeah, but normally they're always silent."

Silent?

"So are you telling me that, that wasn't an accident. You were just going to fart in my office and hope I wouldn't notice?"
"Well, yeah."
"Can't you just hold it and wait until you're not around other people?"
He shrugs his shoulders and laughs. "I do it all the time. I'm surprised you haven't noticed."
"Well, if I smell something I don't like around you or in your presence, I just try to not inhale anymore." (Which happens to be A LOT.)

Ugh.

2006-04-05T15:08:00.000-04:00

Accidental Encounter

2006-04-04T23:25:00.000-04:00

"Say It, If It's Worth Saving Me"

I have not shared this with many people before, but I've actually been to a therapist. I started going, at first, to help a really good friend of mine, and from there, I fell in love with her doctor. If you picture Sharon Stone with a charming, sexy laugh and combine her with a side of a much younger Jane Fonda, you would have my doctor. I also fell in love with the fact she would say the word, "fuck," which many females, especially ones much older than myself, wouldn't say, and well if they did, they usually weren't the classy type.

Many years ago, back in 2001, on my birthday, May 5th, I was at a luau in Hawaii with practically every person on the planet that I love. I sat staring at the beach, watching the sunset against a backdrop of fluffy clouds, and started to cry. I had managed to separate myself from my family for a brief few minutes to take some pictures, and it was as though I finally recognized the weight of my accompanied misery. As I sat there staring at one of the most picturesque sunsets I had ever seen, I couldn't understand why on my 23rd birthday, surrounded by every person I loved, I could feel so utterly sad.

When I returned home, I scheduled my first session with my therapist. As I told her about Hawaii and my life, it was like something immediately clicked. I suddenly understood that I was comfortable in misery. She mentioned how many women will often stay in abusive relationships with their partners because that is what's familiar to them. While I never saw myself as being abused, I had certainly fallen into the middle of a very rocky relationship that never seemed to calm itself for long.

It was shortly after this session that I received a disturbing phone call at my job--a real job. My boyfriend's sister had called me at work to relay a "serious" message to her brother. Apparently, when my boyfriend was in town and staying with his sister, he had decided to rent some porn through her cable. As she started rattling off the names with great mockery and smugness in her voice, I felt horribly ashamed and embarrassed. I tried my best to sound nonchalant about the movies and told her that I would pass along the message. As soon as I hung up the phone, tears started streaming down my face. I felt so shamed by her discovery but not because it was porn. I was shamed because I had no idea about it; I was shamed because I had to hear it from her; I was shamed because I was supposed to be in this loving relationship with someone that carried my heart, and with all that weight, he was still hiding. "Me!" I thought to myself. "I'm the girl that loves going to strip clubs. I'm the girl that lusts after other girls, always questioning whether I want to be with them or just be them. How is this happening," I wondered.

When I finally talked to my boyfriend and told him the message, he immediately started saying that he rented some movie with Sandra Bullock in it. My anger shot through the roof. I walked into my closet, and I started to hit the wall with my hand. I asked him to stop lying, but he just continued. I continually smacked the wall as hard as I physically could and demanded the lying to stop. I can still remember how incredibly loud the sound was. Then there was complete silence. The next question out of his mouth was, "So, I guess this means it's over?" There seemed to be no sadness or regret in his voice, just anger. To this day, this situation has haunted me. I never understood lying in a relationship. I have never had empathy to think that if I knew I had done something terribly hurtful to another person I loved, that there would be an ounce of pride left in me. I would completely break down and beg for forgiveness, which is a lot for me because I don't show emotions well.

The funny thing about me is that I am horrible at asking for what I want. I would have never broken up with my boyfriend over porn, but our issues were so much deeper than that. I couldn't keep him from lying, and I grew weary of trying to fit together the pieces of his stories. I have to believe that without that therapy session, things would have taken an entirely different path. The porn was nothing to me, but the behavior became so crystal clear in that moment that I just couldn't accept it or him any longer. I wanted an end to the misery.

My second session in therapy came some time later. I was having a difficult time with my job and decided that maybe my therapist could help me with my career. We discussed taking a test called the Myers-Briggs test, which I had to pay for. This test was quite detailed, but she was confident that it would give us a better understanding of what fields I would truly excel. When the results came back, I was pegged as being an INTJ. (Introverted-Intuition-Thinking-Judging) While I sat on the couch listening to her read the results to me, I couldn't help but laugh. She kept looking at me saying, "Is that you?" and all I could do was grin from ear to ear. It was scary how accurate the test was, but what I liked more than anything, was the booklet that she did for me. She had interpreted the reading, and I was slightly embarrassed at one negative outcome. "Often individuals with your personality experience difficulty with authority, nevertheless, are willing to conform to regulations and standards if perceived as useful, logical and beneficial. You would experience conflict working with colleagues that you did not respect or perceived as intellectually inferior." I immediately recognized the true issues with my job in a different light.

When all was said and done, I was grateful to know that I had inadvertently landed in an excellent field that I was not only drawn to, but could also excel. It has now been almost six years since I started my career, and I am finally headed somewhere that upward mobility seems possible. I won't be someone's assistant, and that means so much to me. I will be working with equals who will be there to teach me things.

I emailed my therapist the other day to share my great news. She had this to say:

Thank you SO much for letting me know how your life is going, and giving me such exciting news! I remember - you are an INTJ - so a career where you are intellectually stimulated and working with similar people is what would drive you. Congratulations on finding that career and having the courage to pursue it. I am VERY proud of you...Work hard, watch your attitude, and do what you love.

I kind of winced at the attitude comment when I first read it. If only I could adequately explain how hard that is to suppress sometimes. I can remember being young and my father always telling me that I was so stubborn that I would never be able to hold down a job. I think that comment really had an effect on me because I have stayed with most of my jobs for five years or longer. The ironic part is that my sister seems to have a more difficult time relating to people, and she was always the "good kid."

While I hate admitting I needed therapy, even if it was just twice (three if you count the results session), I can't say that those sessions didn't have a profound effect on me. I feel like they shaped a portion of my life and maybe carved a different path for me. I vividly remember driving home from both sessions with 9,000 thoughts running through my head faster than the speed of light. I told my girlfriend, "I don't know how you go weekly. My brain goes 90-to-nothing when I leave there. She leaves me with too much to think about."

In closing, here are some of the things that my test said:
-Individuals with your personality are often described as logical, perfectionistic, independent and decisive.
-You set high standards for yourself, and are typically objective and determined when faced with challenges and competition.
-Your work strengths include your ability to analyze problems with advanced insight, work independently for extended periods of time, and develop complex models for improving efficiency and solving difficult problems.
-You show a willingness to embrace change and master new and original theories and solutions.

There is a quote on the opening page of the Myers-Briggs website. "Whatever the circumstances of your life, the understanding of type can make your perceptions clearer, your judgments sounder, and your life closer to your heart's desire."

I can agree one hundred percent.

2006-03-27T10:03:00.000-05:00

Going Out Gaudette Style

Last night, the gang got together at the Melting Pot to send a friend (Launa) back to Long Beach, California, where she can make twice the dough she does in Memphis. Launa is gay, and her luvah has been in California the entire time she has lived with us in Memphis, which is a few years. I tell you that Launa is gay only because it's relevant to my story.

As a farewell gift to Launa & because I didn't buy her anything, I did what any giving girlfriend would do. I shoved her camera down my plunging neckline and gave her a shot of my cleavage. That's priceless art. So, then Tiffany had me take a picture of her "dimples," which is really the nice, curvy part of a skinny woman's hips to her ass, and Tiffany has a great ass. So, we talked Kim into giving up one of her girls, because both of her girls would have required a wide-angle lens.

Launa stood over us cackling but that doesn't really accurately describe Launa's laugh. Launa's laugh should probably have its own name and maybe a zip code as well because that thing carries, but it also warms your heart when you hear it one hundred feet away. She pondered to us, "What is it about straight women that you can just look at each other's breasts and touch them, and it's just no big deal?" I told her she should consider going straight so she could get more (free) action.

We then passed the camera over to the other table, and all the GAY MEN came running over to view our pictures. Because my picture was taken first, it was viewed last, and then Randy said, "RENO!" I threw my hands up in rock star style with an all too loud "Whoooohoooooo!" and said, "Yeah, didn't know I had all that, huh?" We begged the boys to offer something memory worthy on Launa's camera, but all were too shy or just not drunk enough.

This picture is me looking at Launa's hidden breasts.

This picture is Launa returning the favor.

This is Sweet Sister Kim.

This is Sweet Sister Kim's girls nearly smothering poor Morgan. Isn't his expression priceless?

It should also be noted that Morgan smells really good, and I always try to hug on him now that I know that.

This is Randy. I want him to turn straight because I LOVE HIM.

This is Tiffany, who is related to Julia Roberts and has a better ass.

(I don't have the official proof she is related to Julia Roberts, but the resemblance speaks for itself.)

The guy next to Launa is Bill. He is our official party coordinator. If you ever need to throw down, Bill is your man. And two to my right, is Whitney. Whitney is sexy hot and has really pretty, dark eyebrows. She is also responsible for capturing the magic moments with Launa and me looking at each other's rack.

2006-03-20T14:04:00.000-05:00

Another Reason to Love My Mother

Not only did my mother finally accompany me back to Atlanta, but she was willing to leave at 2:00 A.M. on Saturday morning. We both managed to get a measly two-three hours of sleep. Though I had foolishly bragged before the trip that I drive really well at night, I had not considered the after effects of attempting a road trip with a nap beforehand. At least, that's my story, and I'm sticking to it until I prove to myself otherwise. While my body didn't necessarily feel tired, my thoughts kept turning into the kind you get when you're dreaming, even though my eyes were blearily focusing on the mundane drive before me. I continued to switch my body and its extremities, shaking my head, and blink-blink-blinking. I would look over at my mother snuggled in a sea of pillows and stare at the mileage counter continuously thinking, "Just make it half way." I guess when my mother "sleeps," she is really feeling the car's vibrations with her heightened mother senses, because when I snuck it above a hundred, she would lazily open her eyes and look at me, at which point I would just remove my lead foot from the gas pedal and pretend to be coasting.

We managed to arrive in Atlanta at precisely 10:00AM, which was my goal because apartments weren't open until then. My brain quickly turned into goo after about four hours of apartment shopping. Though I had a notebook with every complex listed, armed with my digital camera to photograph each place of interest, I was just exhausted. I grew tired of looking; I grew tired of repeating myself; I grew tired of handing over my license; I grew tired of answering the same questions.

Because our time was so compact, there wasn't really time to try new places to eat. Most of our meals were fast food, but I did manage to get my mother into Vortex, which I posted about here. When the short-haired, tattooed, gut-bearing, striped stocking & tank-top wearing hostess asked us if we wanted to sit inside or on the patio, my mother quickly chimed in "The patio!" I furrowed and said, "But the patio doesn't have all the ambiance of inside." We took our seats, which faced these pictures.

She then says to me, "I think it's got great ambiance."

I said, "Mom, I love you."

On the way home, while I was reclined & somewhere near Jasper, my thoughts drifting on life in Atlanta, a CD of mine was playing. Though my eyes were closed, I was still enjoying the music. Then those first few chords of Seether's came on in "Driven Under," which happens to be the prettiest guitar playing on the planet. She turned up the song, and I opened my eyes with my refined daughter senses noting someone has tampered with my music. She glanced over, and said, "I'm sorry. I just love this song."

And with that, my heart swelled.

2006-03-12T02:58:00.000-05:00

Ray Romano & Brad Garrett

Who, standing collectively, should probably be able to reach God's house. They are that friggin' tall.

2006-03-10T15:02:00.000-05:00

So It's Official

I'm moving to Atlanta. I've landed my dream job, in my dream city, with a dream salary. Someone please pinch me because I've never had this much good fortune in my life.

2006-03-09T13:44:00.000-05:00

Bring Your Rain Again

2006-03-05T13:53:00.000-05:00

Murphy's

Not only did I take pictures of the dogwood trees, but I also got picked up on a street corner just like a real prostitute. But unlike a real prostitute, I didn't have to put out to enjoy the best malted waffle I've ever eaten.

Thank you Jose, Whitey, and Adrienne.

2006-03-03T20:26:00.000-05:00

“I’m losing you, and it’s effortless.”

I spent most of today driving from Memphis to Atlanta. While I dreaded this trip because I knew that I would be making it alone and starting it in the morning, which tends to be my worst time of day, it’s turned out to be a pretty good one. I found a partner in my drive a little before crossing the Georgia state line. I only wish that he had been with me the whole time. When I say “partner,” what I really mean is a “man with a plan.” You see, that’s what it’s called. You either have to follow the man with plan or you are the man with plan. We kept switching that title back and forth, and a few times, one of us got cock blocked, but we watched out for other, even when we were driving 115 mph. I first noticed my partner because he was kind of hot; then I noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, wherein I tried to reason that he was working on his suntan because his sunroof was opened. My only other option would be because his family had inbred, and I didn’t like thinking about that one too much. Either way, as we tagged one another, and I was whooping his ass with a pretty bad beating, he finally caught up beside me. I glanced over and realized he was trying to talk. But as my brother-in-law and I just noticed the other day, I can’t talk and drive at the same time. If I couldn’t do it then, driving at 40 mph, I certainly couldn’t do it at 95 mph. So after a few attempts, he gave up, but I still appreciated his company.

I’ve been thinking a lot about this city—what she means to me and what I would be giving up to live here. I missed out on an evening of fine company, martinis, and good stories just by taking this trip. While I consider myself as quite the introvert, I don’t want to take my friendships in Memphis for granted. I’ve worked my part-time job for almost seven years, and in those seven years, it’s taken me some time to cultivate good friendships with fellow co-workers. I finally feel like I’m on the inner circle because I’ve managed to stay around and become an old-timer with them.

It’s rare that I can run an errand in my home city without seeing a familiar face, and sometimes those fateful meetings ignite such love from me, especially when it’s someone that I was once so close to, like a former coworker from my days at The Limited or something.

These certainly aren’t reasons that I wouldn’t move; I guess they are reasons that I will be leaving part of my heart behind in Memphis. For better or worse, Memphis is my past. She is full of rich, vivid memories—some great and some not so great. But ever since I laid eyes on Atlanta, she’s always whispered that she had my future.

I have visited here so much that it often feels like home when I get here. I know the smell of the W Hotel like most know the smell of their children. Despite the fact I have driven up and down Peachtree a hundred times, I am constantly soaking up everything I can on it. I read street signs like they are gospel and say them over and over again in my head. It’s as though my brain becomes a sponge the minute I cross over the time change.

I look at this city like she is my long, lost lover and I might never see her again. If I could memorize every curve of her body and shadow that she cast; where she swells and where she dips; how she moves and how she sleeps…just to hear her breathe. She is my love.

2006-03-03T08:21:00.001-05:00

Dearest Sister

Surprise! I'm not only going to talk about you, but I'm going to TALK TO YOU right on THIS WEBSITE and the WHOLE WORLD CAN SEE IT. You know, the world, right? Oh man, the words that must be coming to your mind. "Oh My Gawd!" I'm not going to mention to the world about that funky growth you asked me about or recount the nitty gritty details of your sex life*. See? You should be proud. Are you sweating yet? Remember, your coworker referred to me as the Spawn of the Devil. I have a reputation to live up to now. And I would like to personally thank you for influencing your coworkers to have such a high opinion of me as well. You're a swell sister.

Okay, sarcasm aside. Since I'm leaving on your birthday for a semi-life-changing potential job & you STOLE Mom from me, I wanted to make SURE you felt extra special on your birthday. You kind of tend to hold grudges like the jaws of life, so I thought if I couldn't be a part of your day, then I would have to show my love in a new, dramatic way, even though I already baked you a cake, which I personally delivered, and I was the first person to treat you to a birthday lunch, I know you need more. Because who can ever give you too much attention? No one, that's who! See, I know you well.

Internet, I might as well address you at this time, something I'm not sure I've done in this blog's history...probably because you tend to be my imagination. Don't go thinking I need to be admitted to the looney bin, at least not for what I just said. It's just that when you keep a blog, you don't often think about whom you might be communicating with on the other side. Side notes aside, I do love my sister. She would probably tell you otherwise, and I would probably tell you otherwise too, but yes, I do love her. I love her for many things, and I know at this point in the reading she is saying, "Yeah, right? How do you love me?" So, this is where I have to really apply my English degree and pretend that my concentration was in creative writing. (Sarcasm Stephanie) I love my sister not only because she's my sister, but because she makes me laugh or maybe it's because I make her laugh. My sister has the prettiest teeth on the planet, and even when I look at our family tree, I'm not sure where she stole them from. They are gigantic and could easily land her a toothpaste commercial wherein she could pull in more dough in 45 seconds than I will make in a lifetime. I'm not going to comment on her nice rack or her stilt like legs that allow her to wear those Fuck-Me boots with zippers. Brittany fucking Spears can't even wear those, even in her skinny-before-she-married-that-white-trash-loser-who's-going-to-take-all-her-money days. See, you have plenty that I'm jealous of. I know you're now thinking, "More, more, more."

I love that as much as you claim to despise me, I know that you love me, too. You still value my opinion even though you would go to your grave before you admitted that, although I kind of just busted you out in front of the WHOLE WORLD, didn't I? I will always be your number TWO, after that hot husband of yours, and that's the coolest place I think I could ever be. But if something unforeseen should happen to him, I will probably only grieve for about fifteen minutes and then my eyes will glaze over with drunken-like happiness of realizing I have moved up to the Almighty, All-Knowing position that your husband has occupied for the last 16 years. Even though I grew breasts in that time period, obtained my driver's license and college degree, I still can't have his place. I can ship things too you know.

All kidding aside, you have been a good sister to me. There have been times when the parents became particular unbearable in the teenage years, and it was awesome to know that I had one person on the planet that truly felt my pain. So much so, she gave up her car so that I could get to my part-time job, because my car somehow just became the sole property of my father and was somehow disconnected to ensure I wouldn't be "crafty" and steal it to fulfill my responsibilities in life. You know, lesson learning. It was cool that I could call you crying and bitching about the 342 rules we have to live by and how retarded they were, and I could hear understanding in your voice.

I hope that you look back on growing up with me as fun, after you get past all the memories of frustration. Remember when you moved out, and I feared that you might starve to death, so I raided the pantry of canned goods for you? I stole for you, woman. I pounded my fist down on a packet of ketchup at a gym because you encouraged me. Even though a nice lady in a white tennis skirt walked by at precisely the wrong moment, and didn't find my trick so amusing, and decided to tell me so in a really, really loud voice, I had amused you, so it was kind of worth it. Your laughter is priceless to me, but what is more priceless to me, is you. You can be a lot of things, but you are and will always be my big sister.

Happy 33rd Birthday, Stephanie. I love you!

*Okay, she never actually mentioned any growths to me and she would never, ever, ever give me any details of her sex life. I've only been asking for about 18 years.

2006-02-23T16:40:00.000-05:00

Thinking

If I could just earn even a fraction of a dollar for the following question:

"Are you The Expert in Excel?"

And I always answer, "That is such a loaded question."

2006-02-22T15:02:00.000-05:00

Furry Equality

I figured that if I have to suffer through dozens and dozens of pictures of friends' kids, then it's only fair that they suffer through mine.

2006-02-21T11:25:00.000-05:00

Update

I imagined and then started pleading with the Heavenly Father for my death at approximately 12:30 AM. This wish was due to some really, really annoying company. Company that decided as the night wore on, his hands could touch me as he kept referring to me as "kidd-o." He also drives 30mph in a 45mph-zone, and he tossed seemingly dirty laundry onto my lap when I mentioned that it was cold. Ewe.

At least the night did bring about this beauty. And yes, I do love him/her/it. Or maybe I just want to be as hot as him/her/it.

The hot piece of ass, which I first met here.

<

2006-02-16T23:16:00.000-05:00

The Dance

The highs, then lows,
The ebb, then flows.
The push, then pull,
The empty, then full.
The steady, then hold
The hot, then cold.
The rain, then light
The hidden, then sight.
The dark, then shine,
The yours, then mine.

2006-02-14T10:42:00.000-05:00

Just Heard

"I wonder how many babies will be conceived tonight?"
I scream, "Shawn!"
"What? Seriously. Think about how many women will have to give it up tonight that normally wouldn't."
"Yeah, must I?"

2006-02-14T09:38:00.000-05:00

Happy Heart Day

I think I'm drowning--asphyxiated.
I wanna break this spell that you've created.

You're something beautiful.
A contradiction.
I wanna play the game.
I want the friction.

You will be the death of me.
You will be the death of me

Bury it. I won't let you bury it.
I won't let you smother it.
I won't let you murder it.

Our time is running out.
Our time is running out.
You can't push it underground.
You can't stop it screaming out.

I wanted freedom.
Bound and restricted.
I tried to give you up,
but I'm addicted.

Now that you know I'm trapped sense of elation.
You'd never dream of breaking this fixation.

You will squeeze the life out of me....

You will suck the life out of me.

2006-02-13T11:49:00.000-05:00

Squeezing Every. Last. Drop. from the Camera Battery

2006-02-10T16:24:00.000-05:00

Whore for Snow

My baby's first snow!

I, of course, ran outside with no winter clothing. I'm only usually bundled up about any other time of the year, but somehow in the snow, I can run outside in flip flops and tank top.

If my camera battery hadn't died, you'd be scrolling through about 32 more shots.

2006-02-06T16:21:00.000-05:00

Trying to be Quick About It

When something that you have dreamed of is dangling right out of your reach, it's really hard not to wish the others ahead of you, a wrongful death.

2006-02-06T13:50:00.000-05:00

2006-01-30T14:54:00.000-05:00

Friendly, Indeed

2006-01-20T15:19:00.000-05:00

Can You Feel the Love?

"Come with me. I need you to do something on the computer."
"Oh, for the love of God. 'How do I capitalize a letter?'"
"Listen bitch, get your ass in here."
"Watch it. I have a sharp object in my hand."
"Sort this spreadsheet for me."
"Je-Sus. Why can't you learn how to do this? And who the hell made this ugly ass spreadsheet? They don't know what they're doing."
"If I learn how to do your job, do you really think I'll keep you around?"
"Yes, because you're lazy."
::Ducking::
"Oh my gosh--Don't hit me!"
"Well, it that ain't Aunt Jemima calling Uncle Tom a nigger!"

2006-01-18T11:32:00.000-05:00

A Shot in the Dark

2006-01-17T17:25:00.000-05:00

With High Praise

I recommend: this.

2006-01-17T10:28:00.000-05:00

Dad, Don't Read Any Further

Turning the Table:

As I'm trailing a co-worker back to my office, she turns around and throws a fun-loving punch in my face. I started to laugh and said, "Good morning. How was your weekend? Did you get any?"
Married, she replies, "No, that's why I'm in such a good mood."
Totally unsympathetic, I said, "Yeah, you should just let me borrow him."
"You don't want him."
"I'll give him back. I don't want to keep him."
"He doesn't last long enough."
"Are you sure? I'm quite fast. I'll probably be done before him. Then, he'll know what you feel like all the time."
She starts to laugh.
"Wouldn't that be a bitch?"
"For him, it would be."

2006-01-09T12:16:00.000-05:00

My Sister

My sister and I aren't close. She's kind of, well, she's weird to me. You can read about how weird, here. My parents and I were eating lunch together yesterday, and they inquired if I'd heard what my sister did to my brother-in-law. I told them I hadn't.

She basically fed him food that she knew was SPOILED, which left him lurching over the toilet for an entire night. He ate some meat that had been in the fridge for an undisclosed (read: LONG) period of time and some chocolate chip cookies from dough that I prepared for her. The dough was mixed together some time before Christmas, and these cookies were probably baked about two, maybe three days ago.

The really sad part is that we were all horrified at what my sister did. My mother stated that my sister didn't really care. She thinks your body just expels spoiled contents in various (though disgusting and unpleasant) ways, but that you get "used to it."

Then my dad brought up a better point, "He could have just said no."

True. But I think about that moment in time when she pulled that shit on me. I was over at her apartment some years ago and spied a cookie from the Cookie Co. still in the original paper sleeve. Being the lover of all things made from sugar, I said, "Ohhh, can I have this cookie?" When my sister replied that I could, I should have known to step away from the cookie. She's not normally nice, and this is the same girl that wouldn't share her Crayola® crayons or her stone-washed denim with me back in the 80s. Why is she sharing a dessert now? So, I proceeded to take a bite of the cookie, and it broke off into my mouth with a hard thud, nearly damaging my pearly whites. I said, "Oh, dear God. Is this to cookie that I bought you WEEKS ago?" She giggled, "Yeah."

2006-01-06T09:15:00.000-05:00

And to think, I almost left the camera at home.

2006-01-05T16:27:00.000-05:00

Behind the Curtain

2006-01-04T16:21:00.000-05:00

"Chronic Fatigue"

I was thinking about my job today, and I realized what I am uncomfortable with here. In every job that I have worked since I was sixteen, I have been selling. I don't pride myself on being a seller either, mainly because I'm not able to show great excitement and happiness. I am polite and courteous, yes, but I don't have that certain je ne sais quoi it takes to truly sell or excel in selling.

This job is the first one where I've had to use customer service, but somehow, on the same token, I am also the adversary for the customer. It's just a tight rope to walk. We are still a business, and in running a business you are forced to be polite and give great customer service. After all, it's about giving the customer what they what, when they want, and how they want it, but we can't exactly do that here. I've never had to work so hard to decipher situations. I can't really speak specifically what I am talking about, but it's almost like working with a car dealer sometimes. There is this constant feeling that you are being lied to, and do you really want to investigate the customer's story or do you just want to be done with it? Because, you are there for the customer, and you are doing your best to protect them & look out for them, but they don't always view it that way, so they can be very cunning. Just because you know this quality about them though, doesn't mean you always have the heart to fight with them. It's exhausting, but it's kind of our legal duty.

I'm aware that this post makes very little sense, but it's something I have observed. I guess it's that feeling of finally putting my finger on what I don't like about this job. This situation closely mirrors a past relationship where I dealt with serial lying. I guess I just get where I don't even care that someone is lying to me. I just want the situation to die down. The hunt is exhausting at times.

2006-01-03T14:37:00.000-05:00

Gateway to the West or Maybe it was the Gateway to Gloom

2006-01-01T00:59:00.000-05:00

Goodbye 2005

I wish for things silently. I wish for them like I were still a little girl, and somehow, if I believe hard enough, they will come true. I will still look at the sky and pretend that there is someone that listens to my heart. I wish for things that would sometimes hurt me as consequence. I try to wish bigger than my own needs, but my own needs always find their way into my wish list.

I wish people would have more heart. I wish we would listen longer and talk slower. I wish we could find more sympathy for one another. I wish we could all see the greatness we have. I wish we weren't afraid. I wish we would give until it hurts. I wish we all got a second chance. I wish we'd stopping keeping secrets. I wish we'd sing a little louder and love a little stronger. I wish we didn't covet. I wish we wouldn't lose sight of what's important.

I wish you'd have a good New Year's.

2005-12-29T23:32:00.000-05:00

Actual Conversation

Heard about ten this morning:
"So, do you want filet mignon, Parmesan encrusted tilapia, or do you want to just go out for dinner tonight?"
"Um, all."
"All?"
"Yes, I'll have the steak, the fish, a burger, and maybe a side of bacon with it."
"She does this to me too, and she's really not kidding."

2005-12-25T14:52:00.000-05:00

'Tis a Real Place, Rob

2005-12-24T19:56:00.000-05:00

Feeling

"So rage, please rage against me.
Beat me down, beat me down. Forgive me
for what I've done. I'm so lame, I'm so lame, I'm so lame..."

2005-12-22T11:19:00.000-05:00

Alone

2005-12-22T09:07:00.000-05:00

Giving, and Giving Well

I love gift giving, probably like no other on the planet, and when I truly love you, you won't be ten seconds from my mind. So, coming up with a gift idea is never an issue. But when I work my ass off to give you an amazing gift with some kick ass presentation, and you come up to me with heartfelt gratitude and say, "That was FUCKING AWESOME!" That, that is what makes it worth it. And when other co-workers are talking about it, that just compounds the appreciation.

Asshole: I hope you take this to heart.

2005-12-21T15:33:00.000-05:00

It's Good to Know that You're Alone

I went to my boss today to see if the phone situation had been corrected. We recently switched "teams" around the office. Teams are kind of how our area is now structured. I noticed today that several former teamsters are still coming through on my phone. When she informed that the phones were still screwed up and that she had been playing phone tag with the person that has to correct it, she then said, "Well, you've only got one more day here. I don't think you need to worry about it." I giggled like, "Fuck yeah, I do," and instead actually said my INNER THOUGHTS ALOUD, "Can you have them redo my phone so all my people are together, like on the same side, because they're like ALL OVER THE PLACE." As soon as I said it, I wanted to rewind the world just a mere five seconds. She just looked at me and started to laugh. I hung my head and said, "Too much to ask for. I knew that."

2005-12-21T14:11:00.000-05:00

Okay, say the title with me....Balls!

Oh, like you didn't see that one a mile away.

2005-12-21T00:32:00.000-05:00

So, I Missed Halloween

2005-12-20T10:48:00.000-05:00

For Chicago

I hate you.

2005-12-19T00:52:00.000-05:00

I Heart Eastern Architecture

And I really heart this little panda.

2005-12-18T22:39:00.000-05:00

2005-12-14T01:06:00.000-05:00

Ice Princess, II

That post. It wasn't written in anger and it wasn't written to make anyone feel like shit. It was written because I sometimes grow weary of arguing about all the things that I'm not. My coworkers have told me that I'm high maintenance. I guess that's what they make of me. When we're sitting in a boardroom and someone says that I'm single and another inquires if she needs to be on the "lookout" for a boy, another one retorts that he needs to be "rich guy." There is just a huge part of me that wants to scream out at that. Why would I even care about money? I care more that he can take care of himself than he can take care of me. I hate that people will judge how I spend my money and tell me that when I get married, boy there will be a stop to that. When I tell someone that this guy I talk to is really cute, genius-type smart, and has been in prison, I get, "Well, there won't be any Acuras in your future going after something like that."

I thought that I came from a different generation. One that was more open minded and tolerant of different spirits. That just because I drive a nice car, doesn't mean that I want to marry a banker. Just because my shoes are expensive, doesn't mean I am high maintenance. I cannot get over what people assume about me. It baffles me sometimes. They are just so far off.

Maybe that is why I am usually so enamored with people who are different. I am usually drawn to the outcast, the different one that nobody talks to in class, the quiet guy, the badass. They make me curious. In all honesty, I've never been disappointed with them. I've always liked the way that they look at life. Different, not cookie-cutter. I see more beauty in them than the world apparently sees. I will judge you for how you shape your world, not how the world has shaped you.

I'm not your married-2.5 kids-$300,000-home-six-figure-salary girl. I need a little more substance and meaning than most. I need to know that you love me, and not because of what I can do for you. The same is true of you. I will love you for you. Not because of your salary or what car you drive.

And dear boys. Money is not everything. My god, I wish you would learn that. Ambition isn't either. When you work your ass off for forty or fifty years, you won't look back and think, "I wish I would have worked a little bit harder." Stop telling everyone what you make too. If you need that kind of approval, it screams that you are insecure. Do you honestly want someone to like you for that? Or do you want to know that she likes you because there isn't an ounce of her being that isn't madly in love with you?

I once dated a guy who, on the second go around, started to interview me. "If I go golfing for a weekend, can you handle that?" He continued from there, which meant I should have just kicked his ass down the hill where he was going with this line of questioning.

Wake up world. Marriage isn't what can you do for me. It's not about your 401k and it's not about if your wife will let you hunt on the weekends. Women, it's not about the size diamond on your hand either. My god. If it means that fucking much to you, just buy it yourself.

Don't tell me that Hollywood is the only place left believing in love. I don't buy it for a second. I just think that sometimes we need to stop and think about what matters in life. It's too short to focus on a gem and animal game.

Love what you love, and love it completely. Cherish and nurture it. Expect it to be faulty, and love it for its difference. Just be true. That's all I'm asking.

2005-12-12T05:31:00.000-05:00

A Complaint Against My Body

I hate the way that I sleep, or don't sleep. I hate the way that a turned doorknob can make me sit up in bed. I hate the way that the smallest amount of a brighter light from my alarm clock can actually wake me sometimes. My stereo makes the slightest pop before it comes on, and I wake to that, not the music. I hate my dreams. They make me anxious. I just want them to go away. I will get angry at my brain for thinking moronic thoughts, and I do mean moronic. I never sleep very deeply. Though my inner alarm clock is nice in that I rarely oversleep, it never allows me to actually enjoy days off, like today. I am WIDE AWAKE on a day off. That is such bullshit. Even though I will stay in bed, there will be no sleep to be had...just some moronic dreaming off an on.

2005-12-11T20:12:00.000-05:00

The Ice Princess

I've been hearing a lot of things about myself lately. A lot of adjectives have been thrown in my direction. I've been told that I'm cold, uncaring, stoic, bitter, afraid, hurt, you name it. I have to say, I started to reprove most of these adjectives, except one. I like stoic, and it's a word that I was barely familiar with. So, I've been thinking and analyzing my seemingly odd nature. I am stoic, in every sense of the word. I would even say I have been this way since I was a child. My parents tell me that when they would hit me for being the unruly child that I was, I would just look at them and say, "That didn't hurt." I have a wall up, and I like it that way. My sincerest of emotions is rarely ever shown or expressed to anyone. For instance, I can compliment a stranger or acquaintance, but I cannot compliment my best friend. I'd rather not utter that I like something. I love my family dearly, but I'd rather not say it to them.

I was once hanging out with this good friend from high school. He had, had a crush on me for some years, and we'd developed a really good relationship. We were together all the time and spent hours on the phone, but there was never really anything going on between us. I remember sitting on his porch with his younger brother. I don't even remember what we were talking about, but his younger brother didn't know me that well. He said something and then called me, "Ice Princess." I said, "Where on earth did you get that?" because he sincerely meant it. I looked at his brother, and he said, "Just ignore him," but I knew damn well what the two had corresponded about me already. It was obviously something that he had felt about me, or certainly portrayed to his younger brother.

I was working yesterday when I watched three boys sitting on our couch. They were teasing a fourth boy, and he sat there with his arms crossed, staring at the floor, crying. I wanted to kick their asses. He was literally breaking my heart. The mother finally came over and sat beside him, but she didn't really do much to comfort him. I didn't know what the situation was, though I had tried to listen. The boys kept tugging at a stuffed animal he had tucked under his arm in a Disney bag. I heard one of them teasingly say, "You can pull it out now." The mother, I'm assuming, said, "He knows that. He'll do it if he wants to." I wanted to kick her ass too. I wanted to tell all of them to shut-the-fuck-up and leave him alone. I wanted to go wrap my arms around that little boy and let him cry.

Crying gets to me. I thought that as they all left the store. As I stood there straightening items, I thought about how many people I've made cry. People that I grew up with, friends, family, boyfriends, dates. I wish I could take that all back. I wish I could take my hurt that I've caused and words that I've said.

But to all the naysayers out there, to all of you who think that you can read me, I'm not what you think. You can read this blog a million times and try to figure me out. I'm not against marriage. I'm not against love. I'm not bitter. I'm not mad at "that boy still" either. I have forgiven him and moved past that anger and hurt a long, long time ago. I've even forgiven some of the other ones who did some stupid shit too.

I do really believe in love, in the purest of ways. I like marriage too, but I hate what society has turned it into. I hate thinking people use it as a safety net or look at it for financial security. I hate that people turn to it as a last resort or an excuse to not be alone. I hate that people don't honor it or fuck around when they're in it. I hate that people participate in it because they think that's what they're supposed to do. And I really hate that people look at like an achievement, a check-the-box type of thing.

Learn something from this blog. Learn to not be afraid of what you want. Learn that loving someone is a freedom in and of itself. You can love whom you want, and no one can tell you otherwise. Marry because you are that fucking in love with someone, not because you are pregnant, not because you want kids, not because it's expected, not because you are scared that no one wants you, not because you don't want to go through life alone. Marry because you want that person beside you, because you want them to be there when you're ninety years old, because you never want a life without them. Marry because that person makes your heart stop, their smile warms your insides, and you always catch your breath when you first see them. Have children because you want something left of that person that you love so much or because you think life would miss something without them, not because you "just want kids." If you can't love in that capacity, if you can't love enough to forgive, if you can't love honestly, then you'll never really love at all.

So, judge yourselves. Leave me out of it.

2005-12-09T09:13:00.000-05:00

Circle, Circle

2005-12-08T23:42:00.000-05:00

A Hundred Years Ago