Boston

tonight, tonight

2009-02-27T17:55:00.000-08:00

First Date tonight. Should be worthwhile, really.

...now I wish I were at dinner with you, though.

*sigh*

but....

2009-02-24T22:21:00.001-08:00

but...god damn it...I need *you*....

please, don't let me go.

...Don't let me go. I need you. I need this.....

falling / this has to stop

2009-02-17T22:42:00.000-08:00

It's been one year since life fell apart and I'm now deciding between complacency and integrity. I must sit here with tears literally streaming down my face and letting go entirely, and you and I both know damn well the impossible is the later in both situations.

I choose the easiest day, the one where I find most pleasure mixed with a healthy amount of pain. I enjoy the struggle, I find normalcy in a fair amount of stress. To let go of these situations would be to rid of everything I have come to know, which in the end equates to confusion, complication, and a severe lack of healthy relationships.

I seek out pain. I seek out disadvantage. I enjoy being the other person. I enjoy the torture of knowing I'm not good enough. I find some sick pleasure in that tone of voice. I love the general emotional abuse and lack of reciprocation of friendship.

All in the name of not being alone on a Friday or Saturday night.

So what's it going to be? It's an email for validation I never get back. It's phone call cut short.

These are the bad. These are the typical I put up with for the Friday, the Saturday, so that I get validation that I may not be ugly, alone, worthless - when the other 5 or 6 nights I may not be good enough on various accounts.

Don't get me wrong, I get it. He's Just Not That Into You.

But he can treat me like a friend, treat me like a respected human being. I realize I have had bad moments, downfalls, and have been less than ideal. That may not make me a good girlfriend (to anyone...) but I am a great friend to many people. I'm convinced this makes him a terrible person for not even being able to be a decent friend, let alone anything above and beyond.

I was content earlier. He was he and I was me, and we would coexist until tomorrow and then tomorrow would be, well, tomorrow. But I'm fucking losing it now. I'm fucking LOSING IT.

This has to stop. I can't disregard my dignity for a person who will not and does not respect me.

This has to stop. I will not sacrifice my life for someone who disregards my life for his benefit.

This has to stop. I am wasting my time.

This has to stop.

Love is Not a Hallmark Holiday (It Is a Mixtape)

2009-02-14T22:56:00.000-08:00

This wraps up the end of a hallmark holiday, a day we are forced to make up love, express love, tell someone we love, and somehow decide we need love from another to be happy.

My plan was to love myself and be happy with the love I'm given, without forcing it, without taking it for granted. When I told him about my plan, he wanted to join me, completely altering my purpose. But it meant I would be with him on this otherwise terribly lonely day, and that meant it wouldn't be terrible and lonely. So what am I supposed to do, when things work out?

I cave.

So we spend it together, as friends, because that is what we are, and according to Courtney, that is what we look like sitting at the bar at the dirty bird. That is how we interact in public, we are - the best of, but friends still. And to make it otherwise would mean to rock this boat, to ruin grace, to lose track of this simple kind of life.

So I say OK. OK, I digress. OK, I will stop worrying about tomorrow. OK, I will be happy, because today was a good day...just like every other day has been, even though I feared they wouldn't have been. OK, I will take it if it isn't. Because this is what it's meant to be. So have at it, life. Give me our mixtape, give me our nights, give me our IMs, give me our texts, give me his hugs, give me him until it breaks. Because I quit fighting. I quit wanting someone else, something else, because nothing is better.

----

I just want one more time.

and for something new

2009-02-12T00:39:00.001-08:00

I'll always love you too.

--

God, this sucks.

Don't You Know (One Year).

2009-02-08T23:05:00.000-08:00

So it's been a year, and what a year it's been. I've been in trouble, caused trouble, found myself wanting trouble, wanting love and generally avoiding loss entirely. I've now had to choose my losses, cutting my losses, wanting less for myself, because in the end, I now have too much.

I want too much.

I have so much, and now I have everything I want. I have him right where he's been since %$#@ May, and I have no good reason for it. What has he been, but there? What has he done, but break up with me every four weeks? Who has he been, but a terrible boyfriend...and a good friend that I only see in his bedroom and on %$#@ yahoo messenger?

He has been nothing, except my comfort. And will continue to be so, because getting rid of him is getting rid of the reason I am OK.

I am OK because I have lost 20 pounds since I tried to kill myself. I am OK because I have my own apartment, my own career, my own friends, my own life. I am not OK because of him. But he...he gives me some semblance of a reason.

And now I have met another reason, and I am lying my way to my grave to keep him from knowing the truth to my life. The love, the pain, the pills. They are secrets, and secrets they will keep. I have no desire to tell someone. I have no desire to hurt anymore. The less I open up, the less I hurt.

This is where the problem starts, don't you know.

And so this week will come and go, and hearts will break, don't you know.

And Saturday will come and go, and I will spend it at the bar with my friend bartending...and him, because he invited himself to be my valentine's day date / accomplice (when the person who should be such is MIA for the weekend) ...don't you know.

And I will exist, without tears, because I refuse to hurt anymore.

Don't you know.

When Chocolate Isn't Enough

2009-01-28T00:22:00.000-08:00

OH FOR THE LOVE OF GOD.

I need a midol - my m and ms, popcorn, and bottle of water isn't doing it. I've finally started to cry, which means either: pms is in full effect, or I just need to hide away until Sunday. Until all this schoolwork passes and until he has his Doubleheader Date....because I'm not his this weekend. I hate when I'm not his and he's not mine. I'm just fine when I'm not his on my perogative. But god damnit, I want it to be how its always been.

And the past is slowly slipping away.

Well, save for the fact last March or May or whatever it was came biting me in the ass today and a great guy can no longer date me, because his brother's best friend phyiscally assaulted me on numerous occasions after dating me (this, and I already met "great guy"...and his now ex-girlfriend.) This makes a good story to fabricate for my book, but otherwise makes me incredibly depressed that this world is too small and otherwise causes drama preventing my ultimate happiness.

I'm just an apple at the top of the tree. Maybe if I fall someone will catch me...it's lonely waiting for someone to make an effort to reach up.

This Is How

2009-01-20T22:48:00.000-08:00

I lost.

I'd prefer you to just play OAR's Shattered on repeat, because that's pretty much exactly how I feel.

War

2009-01-19T22:50:00.000-08:00

This is war.

Settle

2009-01-13T18:55:00.001-08:00

So I'm trying to sort out my thoughts here, trying to figure out why I'm sad. I'm not sure if my sadness is a fear of the unknown, or an unwillingness to let go. I try, don't get me wrong. I'm not giving up...I think I just don't want life to change. I was comfortable. I'm afraid of resetting, or finding new happiness.

But in this new happiness is new comfort....just without him. I don't IM him. I don't call him. I don't hear his voice, feel his hands, touch his skin. His closeness is lacking, and I keep on, day to day, tear to tear, lacking any understanding to why this is such a problem. It just is. A problem irrelevant to my life, because my life is just that irrelevant of him. But he was part of it. He made it. He supported it, gave me strength, and let me fly. And was there when I landed, everytime.

And so now I schedule, I exist, and he's not there. Maybe he will be if I needed him....but these are my tears, for today: I don't need him.

And so this dust from the storm settles. The storm of the unsure of the past two years. Everything in life is OK. So I'll let it all settle, waiting for the OK to take shape. And in the same, know that he is all that is not. And that's why I cry. Because in this dust, he is the only thing that will never settle. That will never be OK. The only thing still lost.

The only thing I will never have.

I resolve

2009-01-11T22:38:00.000-08:00

So what does it mean to make a resolution? To resolve. To decide this is how it's going to be, hands down. No matter what, I'm going to make this happen, to make my life that much better.

So what do I resolve?

I resolve to get rid of the toxic.

I have decided there will be no more of people who bring me down. Who use their selfish platform to make me question my own self on a consistent basis. These people, who remind me that I am not as good as them, or as good as someone else, will no longer exist in my life. I will not accept an apology, and will not run back for lack of anything better. I am the better. I am myself. I have amazing friends, and family, and am strong in my own right. The toxic will always make my day worse than the worst day I have when I am alone. And this can never be acceptable. I am always OK. The toxic do not make me OK. While there are two specific people who will not exist in my life anymore, the general conceptions of those who bring me down are gone. And if they remain, I am a force to be reckoned with at this point.

I resolve to make good things happen.

I resolve that from now on, I will make an effort to make good things happen. I do not resolve to make all the things I do to be good - maybe for myself, since I focused too much on others, to my own demise, really. But I will make good things happen in my career; in my education; in my family. I will make my world a better a place to the extent I am possible. If this requires me to be selfish, here I raise my middle finger to those who deserve. But in the same, I extend my hand to those in my life who need it. I will make an effort, and I will try hard....because now, on my two feet planted firmly on the ground (finally) I can. And maybe - I will help those who can't. I do already, and I will continue to do so.

I resolve to love and let go.

I resolve that I will love others as they deserve; and to let go when that love is over. Whether that is in my past or my future, I will get over it. I will not subject myself to pain and humiliation for the sake of affection - I do not need this. I will love for love back, and nothing less. And when love is not present, I will move along, for myself and none other. And I will realize love exists in family and friends - this is all I need.

I resolve to be classy.

I resolve to be classy; to dress with style, to talk with thought, to act with grace. I will be the change I wish to see in others, and to act as I wish others to. I will be how I wish to be seen. I will be respected - I will respect myself.

I resolve to be happy.

I resolve to find happiness in life, in what there is - not what I wish there to be. I will live for now, and find happiness in the little things. I will appreciate life - I will love life. I will not complain except for what is deserving, and I will enjoy what I've been given. I will be happy.

I resolve to get published.

I resolve to publish my stories of humiliation and embarrassment ASAP. You just might not know about it....for the sake of humiliation and embarrassment.

I resolve to make these resolutions - and I resolve to make them happen.

GRRRRRRRRRRRR

2009-01-10T22:30:00.000-08:00

I'm so tired of people being selfish. In the last week, the three people closest to me have proven they are excessively selfish to the point of hurting others without regard - or even awareness - of what they are doing. I consider to what extent do I point it out and make it a big deal, cause reverse pain. It would be to the detriment of the friendship, but in hindsight, I think I would be better without that pain. Knowing Adam turned the tables on me and told me it was MY drama...no, sorry hun, that was not my drama. That was you texting another girl while I was in bed with you....amongst more graphic details. I've been through this with the others before...fool me once, blah blah blah. I think I'll just take a deep breath and stick it in my back pocket. I can reduce the meaning of their friendship to the levels I am to them. Maybe then they will realize, when I am not there, how little they are. Or how shitty it is when they call to exclaim their amazing social lives when I sit at home, alone with half a glass of wine left to keep me company. I am finding I do not need them, just as much as I did not need Adam (at least, not after we broke up the first time. I genuinely beleived I needed him - and he was brought into my life for that reason - when we were together.) But whatever the fuck. I can't deal with it.

Hoping to elaborate on my new years resolutions when I am not so tired that my eyes can't stay open. Another girly day planned for tomorrow - maybe I'll sit down in the evening and write then.

fresh

2009-01-04T22:08:00.000-08:00

I'm not good at walking away. That said, I am blessed to have amazing friends and family who know when to agree with me that the ridiculous is just that. Sometimes I want the world to change, and sometimes I just wish time would stand still.

Right now, I want to keep on going and let time move on til tomorrow.

I want to start fresh....let this snow (again...) melt away and get on with it. Get on with you, my best friend....and forget about it. Just forget about it.

I just want to forget about it.

So let's start fresh, shall we?

We.

What is that, anyways? Oh, 2009. You have so much.

Resolutions

2009-01-03T01:01:00.000-08:00

A few days late.

Get rid of the toxic
Make good things happen
Be classy
Be happy
Get published
Love and let go

Make them and make them happen. Make them .... and not break them.......

giving in

2008-12-28T00:10:00.001-08:00

oh for the love.

it's never going to really end, is it?

sulfites

2008-12-27T22:16:00.000-08:00

Oh....god. What do I say? Angry doesn't really justify the sadness, the sadness doesn't justify the desperation, the desperation doesn't explain the reality I've landed in. Because, you see, it's 10 pm on a Saturday night, I'm on my second glass of wine, I have cleaned my entire apartment and the last thing I want to do is ruin the game I've so stragetically designed.

So here I weep, crying saline into sulfites listening to emo-indie music in some vain attempt that at some point I'll realize that all of this, this whole god damn day, has nothing to do with me and everything to do with the decision I made that brought me into this fucking mess.

I'm angry.

Because I can't say the words I want to, can't ask for June back, can't wish for September, can't ask for last Sunday. When I stopped caring about you I stopped feeling entirely, and allowed my life to unfold into something full, beautiful, meaningful and wholeheartedly absent of pain. I didn't hurt.

You - you make me hurt.

So what's a girl to do? Hurt like this, crying into her wine on a Saturday night alone or, or out there amazed by the beauty of life? Because life isn't beautiful tonight. Life sucks. Because you are feeling things that puppies and butterflies make people feel, and I'm feeling like you punched me in the stomach, kicked me into the snow, and told me to fucking deal with it.

Which isn't far from reality, save a methaphor or two.

So alone I walk, until someone calls me and lets me cry into my wine over the phone. Maybe tomorrow I'll bounce back and realize this whole time it was never about you, and this is not about me, and we'll never be friends, yadda yadda yadda.

We'll never be friends.

Don't you see, because I exist for your benefit when nothing better exists. When Mrs. I Had A Mistake doesn't exist. When Mrs. Golddigger isn't available. When you otherwise have no one else to stroke your ego.

Fuck it if I love you. I do. But you don't need that from me. You do not deserve that, because you have never appreciated it. I wish there was a way to communicate that frustration to you, without you huffing and puffing. I wish there was a way for you to understand my emotions, but you never have. You understand things, events, reality. And you criticize them just as well. If only she knew what you've said. If only she knew what you've done.

But, that has nothing to do with me. You are your own, without me, from here on, because I can not feel like this one more day. I can not cry like this, will not, because this pain is reserved for true pain. People who act to spite me.

Not in spite of me.

So I'm giving myself tonight, because this hurts. Really, really....really bad. And that's all I'll give myself, because I have so much more life than you'll ever credit me for. And maybe I'll never tell you, maybe I'll cave and commend you for learning how to hurt others when I know - I KNOW - you hurt just as much. But I know that's a lost cause, because you, like every other "man", just bottle it up and return it as anger.

I wish I could get angry like this again. But I know I won't. I know tommorrow....it will be gone. And I'll just be sad. Sad I lost you.

Because you're all I had.

Still Snowing.....

2008-12-22T00:20:00.000-08:00

Watching the snow continue to fall, thinking about being alone for tonight...and how I feel less alone now than I have been in months.

Maybe it’s not right but here we are
Now it’s just you me and the stars
And Maybe we can talk it out all night
There is nothing you can say that makes this right
So nobody has to know
No Nobody has to know
And you look so real in my car
You used to be a dream now there you are
So much inside we tried to find
But you look so beautiful in the small yellow light
So nobody has to know
nobody has to know
you been afraid for too long we know
you can’t escape what’s too strong to go away
and nobody has to know
try to fall asleep but I can hear your heart
we know what it means when it beats this hard
but nobody has to know
nobody has to know
and nobody has to know
nobody has to know.
And maybe its not right but here we are

Defining Happiness

2008-12-18T20:59:00.000-08:00

So here's what was on my mind. I was thinking about you. How you come and go. How in between I live my life and worry about legitimate worries. My income, my debt, my family. How I may have to sacrifice for my family, so they do not fall. I cannot watch them fall. I think about how I am rising, how this externship will most likely develop into a career, and how I am settling into place so well. I think about pain and suffering and how I am worried about my health on a daily basis to an extent I have to take a step back and just forget that I have control. Decisions or destiny, what have you, I have plenty of myself to worry about.

And then - there is you, yes. But it is not all you. This is not yesterday. I wish for trust, and I long for someone to trust me. That is my emptiness. That is my longing. A trusting, where someone can believe in me ... so that I can believe in them. I wish I had not said things months ago, and now I know better than to say them today. Or tomorrow. I know this trust is fleeting, a momentary burst and I value it when it comes around. And for that, I don't know how to share my trust with you. Or these thoughts. But I promise, like you do, I will be honest. And for that....that I am thankful.

Thankful for that... and my other 23834 thoughts - because those are mine and mine alone. This is what meeting me halfway is, and that's what has come to define my happiness. Because, in today, I asked you the question I needed answered. It wasn't verbatim, but now I know what you need. I may have much more to figure out, but this is where I am content.

So that's how I've come to define my happiness. Through knowing everything I've thought through makes you happy, too.

it snowed today

2008-12-17T21:57:00.000-08:00

I got to thinking in the last thirty seconds - what would I talk to you about if I could say anything to you? Clarity solidified the past 6 months, and as sun turned to snow I'm now stuck at "be careful." What would I say?

Would I really say "meet me halfway?" Or would I ask "why NOT me?" Would I ask about all the thoughts that have gone through his head the past six months? Or would I leave it at the generic "how was your day? would you like to cuddle tonight?"

In all honesty, I would ask why. Why this, and why not that. Why July, and why September. Why this weekend, why yesterday, why today...and why tomorrow.

In my mind, resolve is not the end result. Resolve is few and far between my days, and in the past year resolve seems to be a direct result of my detrimental force. I learned how to live for this moment, this very breath, which inadvertently comes to define tomorrow. If I were to worry about tomorrow, and if I were to consider what would become of this reevaluation of a relationship that brought me hope and love in a time I so desperately lacked feeling for it - well, I would miss this. I would miss knowing he was there, and I was here, thinking of the other, for better or worse. I would fail to realize my happiness. Not qualified happiness. Happiness, for that in and of itself.

And if I were to expect more, or worse, anticipate less, I would be forgetting the daily advice I dish - enjoy THIS. Enjoy THIS moment. I care for what this moment is to be defined as and because of, but I find peace in knowing I am making the most of life. The most of my life.

So if I were to ask him anything, I would resolve, most definitely to ask him, the next time I am there, if he is happy *right now.*

For what more could I want, than to share happiness with him?

When Hell Freezes Over

2008-12-15T23:56:00.000-08:00

I enjoy the routine, the sense of solace from the normal. The normal the comes from the peace, the calm, the one person you know, inside out, from time past and time present. I missed him, missed the conversation, the cuddling, the love...if it was ever that, if it ever is that.

It's not that I lied, and said I never loved you. I did. It's not that I lied when I told you I loved you, because I did, and I think...I may always. They ask me why, and how, considering everything. But what is everything? The support you gave me when I stood tall, walked in the shoes only I knew, and the support you gave me when I fell apart under my own weight? Who wouldn't say a harsh word or two.

My mom said you needed me that one night, back in the summer, when it was warm, and breezy, and all I had was you in some vague memory, my heart aching. My mind racing. You in my text messages, telling me something I desperately wanted to hear.

I think, now that hell has frozen over and I drive through blustery blizzards to see you....time changes nothing between us.

So I will get defensive. I will secretly wish you may just like me a bit more than her. And I will hate your tolerance, because I hope that you would tolerate me...for just one more day. And when you call me instead of her, I wish that would be the norm. As it was. As I think it will most likely be, because that has been the norm in my life for years and years. Life teaches you that those who don't learn history are doomed to repeat it.

Those who live history know best that it always repeats.

The norm. The normal. Call me, to say hello, or maybe goodbye. But just to say something. As time goes, that's all I want, because I miss that. Because I lied, and I will continue to lie, to pretend I don't cry....maybe it's just a tear, a hint of pure frustration, but in this amazing, divine life I live...I miss you. And to have you like I wanted you was the life I've only felt since I wanted to stop feeling. Best Friend #2 was right...you are what I miss, because you are all I've known. Wanted to know.

And missed you, that is, because suddenly summer turned to snow and life hasn't changed a bit, save for a bit less of me, a lot less faith and, oh yeah, everything else too.

Just, baby....maybe this is what we need. Maybe its all we ever needed. I learned, from 2004 turning month by month to 08....one day you realize that you were meant for something you wanted nothing to do with, in the end. And then, god forbid, it's too late.

I can never marry him, and that's all we both want now. There's a secret I'd never tell. Oops.

Who knows what I want anymore. The life I live, the breeziness, is the acceptance I've trusted in. I love too much and feel nothing, and for that I am grateful. I find happiness in the moment and have forgotten what it feels like to be, well, here. And now that you are back, I want to both embrace it and forget it, because it is the antithesis to the normal, the solace I have found.

So maybe there is some new normal, new solace. .... Baby, you have to meet me halfway this time. Either that, or fall for me again, because the normal we knew is not the normal I know now.

And I was happy without you. I missed you...but I was happy. I'd love to be happy with you, again. How do we do that? I wish I had some answer as I sit here, racking my brain with my heart wondering if this was ever a good idea. A good idea when you live 5 minutes away, when you are a phone call away, when you know me. When I have no choice but to drive by you.

To you.

So here we go, with hell frozen over. Who knew it would ever happen.

for the record

2008-12-08T01:54:00.000-08:00

For the record

I forgot this feeling, and for what it's worth, I kind of like it.
This feeling is anger.
Anger because I am disappointed in you.
You I loved.
Love is loss.
Loss is emotion, and emotion was long forgotten.
I did not want to forget you.
And now I do.
Now I want to cry myself to sleep because I haven't done that in a long time.
Time is all I have.
I have myself.
Myself, and my friends, family, and life.
Life that will not be defined as "that girl."
You can have that girl.
That girl you disrespect enough already.
Already is enough to think about this.

Also let it be known I listened to Drive My Soul by some band named "Lights" probably 50 times today.

God. I just want this weekend to be over. Weekends used to be my essence. Now I despise them, because they are empty - what happened????

I tried too hard.

Fifteen

2008-11-12T23:06:00.000-08:00

There are always those moments in your day that you hear someone say something; recognize a song lyric; see a sight that makes your thoughts spiral backwards towards a past life. I never think much about life when I was younger, other than to boast about my accomplishments that defined who I was. But not to really the person that I lived as. In that, I choose to forget, since the person I am today defines my existence tomorrow. Today I needed an escape - I still do, really, and cannot wait until I force myself into bed to rid myself of this day filled with heartache, heartbreak, and ironically, feelings that transpose right into the reason I'm writing this.

The new pop icon of the year, Taylor Swift, released her album yesterday, much to my unawareness. I needed new music for my six mile therapy sessions (that otherwise exist as walking on the treadmill at my apartment complex) and found her album on itunes. While i walked away, one song caught my attention.

Fifteen.

The idea of being fifteen.

Cause when youre fifteen and somebody tells you they love you / youre gonna believe them /and when youre fifteen / feeling like there nothing to figure out /well count to ten, take it in / this is life before who youre gonna be / fifteen

Nothing to figure out. Every day questioning what love is, what love was, who may or may not love me tomorrow and whether or not life is going to be like this tomorrow. I would love for it to be simple, for those simple crushes and those heartbreaks that felt like my world would crumble. Because in today's world, those heartbreaks destroy lives and interfere with the best of the life you have today. They make you feel, as accomplished and amazing as you are, as if you are essentially worthless. This has been relatively irrelevant in my life, and I am keen to blame being, well, a girl, today, for even relating to a country singer (note: Carrie Underwood doesn't count. I will sing along to "Last Name" at the top of my lungs wherever and whenever you dare me.)

The problem, however, is that in overcoming my past, I forget my future - and then, decide to otherwise emote in terms of a fifteen year old. I forget that there will be nothing to figure out and decide to crush. And Crush Hard. And fall for the unattainable. For what good do we girls, now women, do this? For the sake of love, and companionship, and the good cuddle in the mornings, and the good kisses goodbye. For the sake of feeling as good as we know innately that we are, that is why. Because we always know....but we don't always feel.

When all you wanted was to be wanted / wish you could go back and tell yourself what you know now / Back then I swore I was gonna marry him someday / but I realized some bigger / dreams of mine

That's the dilemma. I know what I know now - and now these feelings are so reminiscent of a time when the pop song I played when my heart ached was Britney Spears (first album. track 5. don't ask. I don't know anymore, either.) So I know now....what I know today....and as much as that sounds like Sarah Palin, I mean it. What does that all mean? I drink my soda, eat my chips, cry my eyes, and live for tomorrow. I'm convinced, and I have faith in myself above all. Crazy cat lady or crazy in love, I'm sure in the end. Because, in the end, I'm actually happy with myself - and that - that I didn't know at fifteen. At fifteen I wanted the world to see me and accept it. The reverse has been the battle until today. And this - this is where the heartache differs.

But, in the end, the advice is the same.

take a deep breath girl / take a deep breath as you walk through those doors.

My doors, perhaps, opening to a much bigger world this time. A world shaped by love - and not the love that shaped it at fifteen.

alone

2008-08-02T20:59:00.000-07:00

I'd like to wait. Every day. All day. Wait without thinking about waiting. Wait without accepting the fact I'm waiting for nothing, because today is what I've waited for.

But, I know its not. Because I will always want more. Better. Higher standards. Maybe some company. Maybe someone to tell me it's the best it can be.

So I sit. And keep sitting. Because that is what today is good for, and maybe that day is the very moment I waited for. Maybe that phone call is what, truly, I was waiting for.

But there will always be another phone call. Another day that I'm alone.

Which is funny, considering that's what I thought I wanted......

shaken

2008-07-30T22:40:00.000-07:00

Shaken, but not stirred, that is. 3.0 Earthquakes that go unfelt only by yourself leave for a bit of apprehension. I, as always, am now worried. Between this and L.A....who knows what it means?

Adam would say to live life. How do you do that, unsure if death is approaching at any moment? Or just sheer lost....what if, in this moment I had felt complete peace - is really a precursor to us all losing it all?

Sure, that's what I say now...after not feeling a decent earthquake. Prior I would have said something to the effect "I found peace in Barcelona."

I get addicted to music that highlights the emotions buried deep within occasional tears and too much sleep. I found some....point of OK today. Some point of acceptance...I don't have everything I've ever wanted, but I've found acceptance of what I do have. Most of it came with a song on the radio, from the future Death Cab's of the world. As Seattle bred Nirvana; as Seattle bred indie rock as we know it now - comes perhaps the next best. Barcelona.

They sing love, loss, depression and future saving grace.

In lost love, I have a best friend. In months of flailing through depression, I have other close friends. I have a family that is always there, for my best and worst. I have a path, slowly being forged, that seems to have light shining from the end. Through these next months I will find knowledge; a career; my own place. I have an answer waiting for me next June.

And that's about 300 days of living day to day, and that just seems...so overwhelming. With little to hold to - I know that those in my life will be there until the end. I don't worry about loss with them....I go into it in love, sometimes, and in adoration in others.

And to go into a friendship based on being in love takes most of the courage I'm willing to exhibit for the next year. And for this next year, that is all I want. Pure love. And you know - I have it.

But Forever...forever may have to wait until tomorrow this time. Because today I am ok. And as always, happiness is best found shaken - not stirred. Today...I may have actually found that happiness.

it's the details in the fabric

2008-07-29T23:12:00.001-07:00

It can't be this hard. To fall in love, to spend a life with, to forge a new path. It can't be that hard to go a day, or, better, a week, without tasting tears. Without worrying about tomorrow, because you know this will always be. To not fear love itself, or what really matters, the loss of it. The loss of you, holding my hand, telling me you love me.

Except you never did. You never told me you loved me. I always said it first. Then again, we went camping and you said you decided - you KNEW - I was it.

3 weeks later you're throwing me to the curb, though not literally (this round), saying I'm not enough. Your 70 hours are enough. Your trees, your yard, your money. Secrets may have been kept, but I know it's all the truth nonetheless. You hold yourself to such a standard that no one could ever entertain you enough, love you enough, bed you enough to make you happy. You can't relax at the most relaxing of moments....and your stress breaks me down in the same.

I'm broken. Apart, down, hearted, whichever you prefer. I've lost my footing because I put trust into you that you would guide me until my next place in life.

Truth is, I don't need it. I obviously don't need you, because my own breath and strength led me to this moment...and yes, I'm sad. I'm sad you will never become the best friend I so desperately want. But do I need you? Absolutely not. I may have, for a day or two, when my world crashed down in front of me. But even then...I couldn't be enough. You need....but you can't have me need.

So I'll make a list and check it twice. A list of everything you will never become, because someday, I will find amazing love, have a family I've always wanted and live happily. And you will not be there.

I will list how I want someone like you.... someone important in their career, driven to success and sure of how to get settled down. I will want someone who takes me on amazing dates, someone who tells me I am beautiful. I will want someone with their own place, their own life. I will want someone to invite me in and share the life....give me a toothbrush...but hopefully much more. I want someone who is proud to walk by my side. I don't want pride...I want adoration. Love. Someone who says I love you first, because that is their priority. I will write down that I want someone tall and handsome. I will write that I want someone who makes every minute every day available to me...who wants to see me every waking moment that is physically possible.

I will write how I will want you.... in another life, another way.

And now I know. I know exactly what I want. I had three parameters before I met you. Not hard to find, though, apparently, moreso than it seems. You were....unreal, surpassing every expectation. So now, I must move along, knowing I may have had the best that will ever come along.

The best in theory, at least. I doubt this is the end of my story. I'm sure I have years to write down still, blogs to keep filling with my stories of love and loss and the drama inbetween.

I will move along, list in tow, tears on my cheeks. I will hold my head high. I will do my thing, day by day, until success and luck meet me on the path I forge, alone this time. Because I was someone, one day, when I went my own way - and when I gave up on being alone, I gave up my dreams.

I will be someone again. And I will meet my dreams.

And I will love. Just not you.

five days

2008-07-13T23:43:00.001-07:00

5 days is a bit of a stretch. In 5 days, you can earn a week's income; you can completely redecorate a room from start to finish; you can read a book or three; you can self-tan yourself to perfection. You can sleep 40 hours. You can get over a bacterial infection. You can watch an entire season of the O.C., maybe even 2. You can walk 20 miles without an effort. Lose 2-3 pounds. Consume an entire case of soda. You can buy something on EBay and have it at your front door. You can check the mail 5 times, drink as many lattes, eat an entire bag of m and ms. You can drive until your gas tank is empty four or five times. You can book a plane ticket to your escape city of choice, relax, and come home. You can enjoy 30 hours of perfect sun. You can read dozens of newspapers, click through to myspaces you forgot had owners, and read more craigslist than healthy.

Or, you can sit, and think, 12 hours a day for five days. Think about love, loss and what it all means in the end. You can call someone 20 or 30 times in a hope for peace of mind. You can cry 72 or so times, hold your own hand in sleep for hours. You can wonder why it doesn't feel like loss. You can go to barnes and nobles, browse the self help and realize, only when you get home, the books are just all wrong. Apparently, its not like you think it is - the words seem far away from this reality. You cry again.

You can take a chill pill in the middle of the day and hope to sleep. Hope that, when you wake up, the world will be right where you left it - 5 days ago.

5 days is a long time. It is an unbearable amount of time to think only about success and failure; tomorrow and yesterday; want and need; self and love.

But in the end, after five days, it is only you and I. As its been since what feels like forever. As I knew it would be.

It is I who realized, in 5 days, what I haven't done in 5 years. What I have wanted in the past 2. What I have lost in the past year. What I am - and what I will be. What life could be. What life is.

It is you who realized, in 5 days, what life can become in the next 5 years...what you are, will be.

It's funny...like death, I wonder if I fear life. Because without one is the other. Because if I don't live - it will always be death. Death has been in reach, and the split second I realized it had retreated to the dark place I never want to see again....I saw that I had life.

That thought may be the most overwhelming I will ever feel.

So here is my life. It is all I have. And life is right now. Life is feeling and experiencing the best. Life is the happiest you can find. Life is...love.

So here is to 5 days of life I missed out on, for fear of life itself.

Here is to the best 5 days of my life. I hope I never see them again.

fear

2008-07-12T23:09:00.001-07:00

Once upon a time, I was told I should write a book. I've blogged for so long, so dedicated to sharing my triumps and tragedys. Then, one day a few years into "once upon a time", I decided living life and falling down was no longer worth my words. The one outlet I had to myself, to pscyoanalyze and find peace within - was silent.

I'm so sorry. To myself. I am apologizing to this girl for her past failures.

Maybe I should do that more. When you apologize and recieve affirmation that it was understandable - just that once, though - you can move on. It takes two to tango that dance, but I forget that myself is ever changing. Always a new person. Always willing to let go, yet - I don't.

I hold on. I cry about things my former self fucked up over. The things I said when I was tired, when I was overwhelmed, when my heart hurt so bad that life looks like this, and not that. And maybe...maybe someday I should apologize to myself. And say its OK, because life happens whether you want it to or not.

A lesson I learned on a Friday in February, 5 months ago - when I intentionally overdosed on my medication....maybe to leave this world forever, maybe just to leave for a little while. I'll never know. I was there, but sometimes trauma does that - takes yourself out of your actions.

So, here we go. I'm sorry.

But its OK. What doesn't kill me...makes me stronger. Funny how literal that became.

And its OK that my ex, Adam, kicked me out only a week later. Because that was not me. A very important person during those times reminded me that...here we go...it takes two to tango. A perception is formed not by my actions, but within another's head. It is their responsibility. Patience is a virtue.....so is being sober, clean, and loving. None of which this person had.

So its OK. It wasn't about me. Love overcomes all. This was about love. If love didn't overcome my breakdown.....it wasn't true love. And I deserve better.

And I'm sorry I made mistakes as a result of that loss of love and life. But its OK. In the end...it was validating.

I'm really a good person.

And today, sitting here while 11:11 passes and I lose my chance for a bidaily wish....I know I'm able to conquer the world, love in hand or not. Because if I hold love, it will overcome these days. It will overcome a Level 5 breakdown. It will overcome my insecurity over my ability to stand next to someone who otherwise overshadows me. It will overcome me fear of my past.

And I'm sorry I feel like that. I'm sorry that I was touched in anger, decided for out of control, used for value. Those were not my fault. I did not lie, cheat, deceive, abuse, or otherwise hurt in those situations.

But is OK. Because I didn't. And it hurts still, and I'm allowed to hurt. I'm allowed to worry. I'm allowed to pray today won't end up like those days.

And I'm allowed to hope someone understands I will always fear. Because at one time, I didn't, and now I must fear the reality that may become - reality I, prior to that fear, never thought possible.

There's nothing better than a good day. Nothing better than a day to look back on and reflect that nothing went wrong. That there was happy. That there was love. That there was a smile. Maybe a laugh. A day I didn't cry.

Those days float in and out of weeks, and months. Because every day I wake up, and I have to decide those months, those years preceding weren't going to affect today. And sometimes...I forget to tell myself that. That I am no longer the girl I was at 17. Or yesterday.

So maybe....when I tell myself its OK...someone will tell me its OK too. Maybe someone I love today will tell me its OK. That together, we'll take it a day at a time, because everyday is a new struggle for me, moreso these days than ever. And maybe, with an OK in hand....each day will struggle less. Maybe one day I won't have to remind myself about yesterday.

Because, I will know, things will be just fine today.

Best of the week

2007-12-07T11:23:00.000-08:00

When you're overworked and underpaid, the littlest things can either make or break your day - or even your week. Whether my coworkers or customers, I can't help but think about one or two things until the day's end. Or in this case, the weeks' end.

On Tuesday, I received a voicemail. This is, in itself, rare. We are the sales office, and you have to really look to find our phone number. The staff here is small in size, and what they do, well, isn't much for the public to know or care about. So when the public calls, I know it's a job for me to handle and something that nothing can be done about (otherwise, they won't be calling an irrelvant office).

So I get this voicemail and return the call because that's what I do at the front desk (kind of, I suppose). Soandso wanted a product we sell online, which is also offered free. They went through the process and somehow, at some point, a screen came up (or so Soandso said) and it asked for their credit card.

Now, you and I would question a random screen asking for a credit card. I would, at least. I would want to know exactly what I'm buying and what I am getting and, more importantly, what I am spending that will put me farther into debt.

No. Soandso didn't. They entered it and somehow, suddenly, they were charged an enomorous amount and couldn't figure out why everything on their computer was adorned with our company's logo.

I told them to go the support site.

Oh. They can't type.

....exactly.

And that - that is my job. To help the people who really, can't be helped. At the salon (my second job - yes, it's come to that :( ) it's more or less the same. It's not even frustrating - there is nothing I can do. I've found it either happens or it doesn't. What is frustrating is when my coworkers get angry that people are "stupid" and then THEY have a bad day.

If only there was a switch for parts of life.

In other news, it's Friday!:

Friday Five (Friday5.org):

What playground game do you remember most fondly? Foursquare and Tetherball equally, though I was never coordinated enough to play it well.
What playground game did you just hate? "sports" - too many kids ran too fast and kicked too hard!
Which playground apparatus did you most enjoy? Jungle gyms - I had perpetually bruised knees as a child from those!
Which playground apparatus did you generally avoid or not care much for? Slides. It's a rush, but its....too fast.
What playground game might be really fun if grownups played it with adult rules? Foursquare in the middle of summer - how much fun would that be!

TGIT

2007-11-29T15:52:00.000-08:00

TGIT! 36 hours and I will be sleeping in, safe and sound in my townhouse on the lake, contemplating whether to go Christmas shopping or make what's left of the BYOB Seahawk Sunday we had this last week.

No, not beer. BREAKFAST. It was my ingenious idea - 10 people, 10 breakfast items. It was srumptious, to say the least. And the leftovers? They are calling my name every time I open the freezer.

So why TGIT? Well, Friday is not only overrated (every 20something I know is too tired to really celebrate the end of the week properly) but here at Google, TGIT is a little something we celebrate every week.

What? Google, you say?

That's right, I am no longer working for $2 on $20 every night (...aka waitressing). After several nights of horrific nightmares I called a temp agency and VOILA, I am the newest facilities assistant and the #1 Company To Work For.

Did I mention free parking? Free gourmet organic food? Wear-want-you-want attitude?

It's FABULOUS.

The commute...not so much. But that's what the suburbs are for. 2 hours of traffic a day for peace, quiet, and a real job in the city.

Who's all grown up now?

piano rock is my medicine.....

2007-08-25T23:59:00.000-07:00

....and vicodin. well, tylenol with codeine. thank you to my sister for that bottle, though i'm pretty sure she never knew it was missing.

As of leaving work tonight at dark oh thirty (or a hair past incredibly late), I was only 7.xx hours short of overtime - and I work a double tommorow. This leaves me: a. working overtime tommorow; b. working 7.xx hours tommorow in sections that will leave me with skimpy tips.

I can't wait.

But, sometime between dark oh thirty and the first time Something Corporate came up on my playlist (for the mothers reading this: this is the piano rock I am referring to) it occured to me that this is ok with me. I got on craiglist and traditionally browsed the HR ads, and then had a good laugh. And then I read the mukilteo beacon and realized I am not that person anymore. Maybe when I was a junior.

It's not my time....maybe it was, or it will be, but I like it simple for the time being. It was really hard for awhile to endure the difficult, and I think I've seen the greener side through it. It may smell better (because I smell like roses after work, let me tell you) but I sure like sleeping until noon. And I like a three hour lunch. And I like talking bs about the biotch who is uber controlling at table 24, so much she orders for her boyfriend (I hope that's all he is!) and will not let him talk, even to ask for honey mustard.

I didn't want a tip from her, anyways!

I like going to bed...past my bedtime...and still, in theory, get to "sleep in". Being a grown up with a grown up job has its perks (some, I'm told. I am actually secretly uber jealous of Alaska Airlines employees.) but when I end up making twice as much at mine...it's kind of hard to ever consider leaving it even when there's an offer (few and far between, but I still get phone calls from recruiters. Still not interested. No, thanks.) And school? Why would I want to ever do that to myself again?!

Plus, I get free smoothies. No way could I give that up! I hope you all know I really am glad they're shining. They always have, and I think - oh, oops! - I got burned out. Life really doesn't always work out like it should (ala my myspace profile) but, in retrospect, this is the happiest I've been, I think ever.

I think it's the free smoothies.

zero on 103 and how love does it

2007-08-22T00:08:00.000-07:00

It's been awhile. I guess I haven't wanted to share my life so much as I've wanted to call my mom at one in the morning and vent about friends that go by the wayside; coworkers who try to get people fired and, the newest, jackass customers who leave a $0 tip on their $103.00 tab.

I love my job though. That table - who shall remain nameless even though I considered hitting up craigslist with the best of my rant - ran me ragged for over an hour. And then I cried. Hard. And my coworkers and manager supported me 110% and made up for the lack of tip (oh, to be a manager. The power. The KEYS. They are...so powerful, those keys.) Even though it wasn't about the money, it was nice that when people screw you over, there are people that can make me feel good despite it. Especially when you feel so, so, so incredibly used.

And then I came home and my boyfriend told me he loved me more (imagine the "I love you" "No, I love you more" "No, I love YOU more" phone conversations, but with text messages. It was....gag worthy, I'm sure :). I live for that these days - this endless love. It's so....to use my word of the month...fabulous.

I am, however, not thrilled by the moving boxes I am surrounded with that refuse to fill up. I need a day to finish my kitchen alone....apparently I like shot glasses and wine glasses, and they require some specific care to place them into a box with a coffee pot and pots and pans. I'd like to keep them all in one piece (individually, that is) and the time that I will need to wrap them individually may just drive me insane.

All of this - by next Saturday. At least I can unwrap them in our townhouse on the lake. That's right - we - Adam AND me - got a townhouse - on the LAKE. Can I pee my pants yet?! It's three stories, two car garage, full view of the Lake Washington. A little far from work, but it's a good halfway point for Adam and I. Plus, we are right next to a park and walking trails. And, since it's a townhouse, no barking dogs to keep me awake! SO excited!!

It's a little strange, leaving Seattle. But everything I know now is with him. And this is, for better or worse, I suppose, the next phase of my life. Better to live it with what makes it everything than to live it alone - or, worse, drive around half of my life to make it what it is.

And you know what's fantastic? I had the WORST night - or what should have been the worst night - but I feel great. Sure, I'm drinking a little (I've had, approximately, 10 sips. It's right where the bottle actually starts. If I actually finish this drink before I fall asleep, I promise to blog about my probable alcoholism - since this is, actually, my only drink in perhaps the last month.) But I'm loved. And the fact I am loved, for once in my life, has made everything bearable.

Suddenly, I understand how everyone else does it, and has always done it.

i need a sunrise

2007-06-17T21:13:00.000-07:00

First, for those of you who are still reading this, I want to thank you - though I probably should be slightly worried since I haven't posted in an extremely long time and anyone repetitively checking this (and not finding this off of my facebook/myspace/mother's internet bookmarks) might constitute something to worry about.

Second, it's a good thing I have this blog. "Boston" - for those of you who don't know why I chose to name my blog such - is from the song by Augustana that was a three-day radio phenomenon (and my current default ringtone on my cellphone.) I'll let you google the lyrics, but in essence it's the idea of starting over. Needing to see a sunrise instead of a sunset.

I could NEVER live in Boston.

However, I've known, ever since the birth of this blog, I've needed to change. Needed to get out. I got out of Seattle almost a year ago, and came back for the wrong reasons. An inexplicable amount of good came from those wrong reasons, but, also came cause for my current situation.

I had to get out of what I landed back into.

So much of what I thought I wanted was wrong. So much of what I was living in was hurting me. With the support of the boyfriend and friends and family, I had to make a very important decision regarding my life.

I have quit my job at the law firm.

And now, I'm back where I started years ago. After four years of college and one year out of it, I'm back to working as a waitress at my favorite place in the world.

What's funny about it all is that's the end of it. The end of this past year of tumultuous, heart wrenching, stomach turning times. The end of my legal career, which brought so many tears. And I'm finally done with everything associated with life before I graduated. With my boyfriend, my new getaway in Kingston (the 360 is so peaceful), an amazing, fresh apartment, and a job that has me back where I was the happiest - I finally feel like I'm whole.

Not to say it was easy to get here. Or that there haven't been signs of the world falling apart beneath my feet. In a single day I witnessed a nuclear submarine return to port; a Celtic harp performance on a ferry; eagles flying overheard while baby birds not more than a few days old get rounded up by their parents on the edge of a road; my sister deleted her myspace (she's 17 - I'm wondering why this alone hasn't caused a pig to fly overhead); and my boyfriend almost summited Mount Rainer this morning.

But it's calming. In fact, the random rain falling here at my parents is slowing (though I still can't see across the water). I hope I return to writing more here - things are better when I collect my thoughts.

Or is it the other way around??

2007-05-15T22:01:00.000-07:00

Long time, no see.

I suppose I should update you.

I am not engaged. Not pregnant. I am still not a homeowner.

I am still employed at my law firm...now officially a little richer now that my raise is in full effect.

I am still living in the 403 - and will be for the next year (I signed a new lease!)

I am, however, now planning on being in law school in the fall of '08. This means that I will need to take the LSAT again (Sep. 29...meaning my entire summer will be consumed with study materials and practice tests. Yippie!) I need to get two new letters of recommendation (I am meeting with an old professor, also a U.S. attorney, during lunch tommorow). I will need to write a killer personal statement (tenative topic revolves around realizing how different I see society, and how society affects me, after growing up as the daughter of a naval officer).

Basically, I need to do a lot to continue to worry about it all thereafter.

But, I realized in the last two days, which were really two horrible days at work, that before I can do that, I need to make myself happy. I need to paint my apartment. I need to workout in the mornings. I need to finish Nineteen Minutes. I need to paint my toenails. I need to foil my hair (it's approximately 20 different shades of brown, red and blonde at the moment, none of them intentional. Well, maybe the brown. I intended to keep it, at least, this time, since the natural shade was never intended...unless you count by God, but that's another post, another time).

I need....to go grocery shopping. Not to be confused with shopping. Spending money on consumables is not my idea of fun.

Maybe I'll stop by the mall on the way there? I did get paid today, and shopping is so much sweeter with a paycheck to be spent!

(Note to all mothers, fathers and other concerned readers: please read that as "a paycheck to be spent after all necessary expenses and savings have been accounted for").

At least I'll have that to do tommorow. As for now, I need to convince my subconscience not to hit the snooze at 6a.m., considering that even with another hour of sleep I have a tendency to turn the alarm completely off (which, is exactly why I want to get to the gym before work.)

This should be fun.

fearing the unknown

2007-04-16T16:28:00.000-07:00

There is a distance between me and the world today. There is no t.v. in the office, and perhaps, for the first time, I am well aware of why my parents are so concerned with my generation's use of the internet to communicate.

I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.

I do know, however, I will not turn on the t.v. tonight. I want nothing to do with World News Tonight, nor do I want to see the breaking news ticker on CNN that was not in place until 9/11.

Funny I know that from fictional book I'm currently reading about the worst school shooting in history.

I will, however, probably continue reading that book - to understand in my own way. It's interesting to think through how I learned and felt about Columbine, yet to grow, in the last 8 years, so conditioned to the idea of hatred and violence.

Is it that I'm wiser, more aware? Is it that our society has adapted to such a standard? Has violence become so much the way of life in the world that this is how those angry due to their own lifes think that this is the solution?

Six degress of separation in this world has become two today. I've heard possible cause of the rampage. I've heard of people directly affected. I've heard of casualities increasing by the hour.
And yet, I still have nothing to say, and feel nothing in effect. The most I understand is that, despite Columbine, despite the War, despite the shooting at UW, this still happens. People will always be angry.

"They were telling us to put our hands above our head and if we didn't cooperate and put our hands above our heads they would shoot," [she] said. "I guess they were afraid, like us -- like the shooter was going to be among one of us."

That's what scares me. They will always be among us.

my shoes don't have shoelaces anymore

2007-04-10T15:12:00.000-07:00

Last Thursday - I was "sick", more or less legitimately (you really don't want to know, I promise!) - I decided to enjoy the 70+ degree weather Seattle was experiencing and headed to a park while I waited for the boyfriend to get off work. I found a bench that was in the sunshine (though it didn't occur to me the sun *moves* and quickly disappeared into the shade of a tree within 10 minutes of me sitting down), put on the ipod and disappeared into my book. I was on a path, and somewhere into my ever-so-relaxing afternoon some little boy with gramma and mommy plopped down not 3 feet from me to tie his shoe. Gramma and mommy were in a hurry to get across the park and while the the little boy - probably between 3 and 4 - hadn't *quite* grasped the ability to tie a shoe, but oh, did he want to try. Gramma tried to help him, he resisted, and eventually she said he could do it next time. Gramma, as gramma's do, diligently but gently tied the shoelaces amidst the little boy saying "I can do it! I'm OLD!"

I then looked at gramma who looked at me, both of us shaking our heads, and without much thinking about it I said "he doesn't know what old is."

This, as I turn 22 next week. I realize this isn't "old." But sometimes, when I look around see handfuls of past highschool and college classmates getting married, and (I don't know if its less or more) having babies, I wonder "where I am" in life. I can see myself getting married within the next few years. I have a "real" job and am looking at buying my first car within the next few months. I'm apartment shopping this week to move closer to some newly important people in my life.

It's a change from when my past was my constant present - it is now a clean break from my current present. My life is not longer what it was. Not to say I don't get sad, or miss aspects of what was. But, in a nod to a contributor to my desire to post this, and not postpone this post as I've been doing, it wasn't fulfilling my life. They were, perhaps, contributors to where I am now. The people and events that fill my life feel as if they make my life whole. Or make it expand beyond the basics of my needs, if that makes sense.

But that little boy - and perhaps all children, and maybe that's why I feel so "adult" in comparison - are still experiencing their, for lack of better words, building blocks of their lives. They aren't looking for a change. They aren't looking at a past. They are here and now and wanting more of what they have.

While I can say the same for the here and now of my life, I can't say my life has always been at that point. I'm at a new phase.

I'm old.

Or, at least, older.

channeling my inner Leo and Gore all at once

2007-03-29T21:54:00.000-07:00

Today was fabulous. Not only did I find out that I am $$ richer per month (I got my raise!), but my rent is only going up 10% upon renewal of the lease in June. This means that when my car decides to break down somewhere between here and the Boyfriend's (probably on the highrise on 520, knowing my luck), I can afford to replace it. Either that, or prevent such tragedy from occuring. I'd ideally like a Prius, but my dad isn't too keen on it. Maybe I should channel Leonardo DiCaprio and Al Gore at the same time and see if they'd convince him.

That, and its so darn CUTE. I know...such a girl.....

And, that being said, I should tell you the story about how I realized my internal fear of my ten year reunion. Five years from now - not even halfway there! - yet perhaps the one day I will dread most. And not becuase I may be fat, or preggers, or three times divorced (or worse - three times unmarried) or ... god forbid...all of the above.

It is because I may not know what to wear.

You see, tommorow is a reunion of sorts. I...inadvertantly...dropped off the face of the planet a little over two years ago. At least, relative to my college marching band family. I was, however, invited to a get together at a local bar to celebrate the birthdays of two very important people (read: they directly caused me to date two people in the last 3 years). I no longer have reason to be absent from their - and the band family's - lives, and I could use the rekindled friendships.

So...an appearance shall be made.

But what happens to the girl who was infamous during the years she spent with the aforementioned "family" and then disapeared, save facebook newsfeed updates, and then shows up 2-3 years later to say hi?

Probably the same thing that happens at a ten year reunion on a lesser scale.

Welcome to my anxiety.

What do I wear? How will I do my hair (now only one, practically natural, color?) Do I wear real shoes? Do I tell the Boyfriend what to wear? Who drives? Do I drink? What do I drink? What do I say first?

And, oh god...what do I wear??????

All this, for one bar outing with people who see my facebook and myspace at least daily, and already know everything I could update them with. All this, for college friends, whose maturity far surpassed mine 4 years ago, let alone now.

Now I'm convinced that five years will not be enough to get ready.

better than myself (just this once)

2007-03-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

I was having coffee with a friend last night (insert obligatory promised blog shoutout - Hi Matt! - here), and after we got done discussing the latest development in the relationship drama of past college friends and the amusement that is 100 level history exams in Southern California, where I don't know why my friend expects more than what he gets, we somehow got into going to law school.

For me, that would be going to law school...again.

His point was that he needs to do something with a master's in history. His second point was that I was "better" than what I am doing now.

That is where I begin the point of this blog.

What is "better" or "worse" than one occupation or another? I mean, granted, I did spent a good 10 minutes telling my mother how good I felt after a classmate from high school, who is now working for a legal copying service, came in to pick up some legal documents at our office. (Note: he came back in today. I still didn't say a word to him, nor did he say anything to me. Also, note that I had a crush on him when I was all of 14 and thought that drummer boys were the only thing that mattered in the world. *sigh*) But, in hindsight, why am i "better" than that - how do I know he's not "better" off than me?

Why is there such a drive in my generation to be the best of the best, and that until you attain that, you are "worse" than what you could be? Why is being the "best" at your job equal to being the "best" at, well, life?

I would like to get married someday. I may want to - and here is my "omg" of the day - have a family someday. I like sleeping in. And, most importantly I suppose, like staying sane. Accomplishing (or maintaining) all of that would make me the best I *could* be, regardless of my employment status. It's frustrating that my peers (and no Matt, I'm not really talking about you here. This is just what I think about between punching holes in pleadings and deciding if I should ask for a raise today, or tomorrow or....ever) equate job status and life achievement.

We're alive. We're functional. And by "we" i mean those of us doing "something" with our lives. Isn't that enough? It's effectual. That's more than I can ask of most people. Those of "us" doing that by default, well, we're doing the best that it gets for humanity. And lets just say, from now on the aforementioned drummer/copy boy will no longer be looked down upon. (And, ahem, if you, uh, you know who you are....read this...by chance...I apologize profusely for any of the previously discussed thoughts and/or conversations with my mom that you would have never known about otherwise.)

And for the rest of you, in case you didn't catch it....Kelly's asking for a raise. Tomorrow. As in, I should probably think about what I'm going to say. Wish me luck!

inconsistent at best

2007-03-26T14:37:00.000-07:00

That's great. I get a blog, I spend hours trying to figure out how to make it not look like a typical blogger blog, I attempt to make blog friends, and then I abandon the poor thing, and really, not even for better things.

I mean, yes, I've been busy at work, without even so much time as to MySpace with the Boyfriend. (But, don't you worry, his 8:35 a.m. messages haven't gone unanswered yet. Except for the Great Unable to Reply Episode of Last Week, and then I called him. I'm in love, what can you do.) I come home, and, OH EM GEE, i hit the gym. (and, just so you don't think i'm doing it for nothing - i *broke a sweat* last night. I mean... uh.... I started glowing last night!)

Then there are the weekends, where I am a temporary resident of the 104 (mine is the 403, just so we're clear. And yes, that means his is on the first floor and mine on the fifth, aproximately 30 miles apart. Unfortunately, we both have annoying dogs above us. I don't know why god hates me.) I try to sneak on his computer, but I keep getting drawn to facebook and my basketball bracket. And basketball games. And beer. Well, I don't drink the beer. I drink carbonated soda that hurts my stomach. And then drive the Boyfriend who drank too much beer home. The life!

But I want to blog, really. Because there is much to say. I've realized that, in this new life, I am myself, as compared to the past...2 or so years....where I really wasn't. I'll let those of you who are local make the connection. I changed during those years - instead of staying in and scrapbooking, or blogging, or doing quiet things, I was forced to pretend I was the opposite type of person. And I was made to think that that was who I innately was. Being made fun of for being the real "me" was a given during those years. Being "nice" was a fault. And for all the above, I was taken advtange of. But somehow I managed to walk away from that and now I realize that doing this - talking about my life, enjoying what I'm giving, loving for what it's worth and, really, loving life, makes me truly happy. And it makes me who I am.

I'm past being angry. Talking with a new friend these last few days has made me realize that I've let go of those years and despite it all, I am in a better place (whether in comparison, or not.) And even if they are angry at me for being happy, being in a better place, being forgiving - it was their actions that pushed me to be myself - a happy self - again.

A self that blogs about how she is in third place in the NCAA Basketball pool at her office - behind only her boss and one of the partners.

GO GATORS!

the addict

2007-03-14T13:27:00.000-07:00

Hi, my name is Kelly, and I am an addict.

Oh, it could be worse. I could be doing lines before I go to work in the morning. I could be fighting off an oxy fix every day, as if I was recovering from some tragic accident/disease that left me with a lifelong prescription to painkillers. I could still be needing Ritalin (thankfully, I nipped that one in the butt and decided I was better off slightly ADD rather than slightly drugged during the better part of the day.)

No...it's nothing like that. I am addicted to the best thing there is to be addicted to.

Coffee.

I make my cup in the morning. A double shot of columbian espresso with some Starbuck's Frappucino mix and ice (and, if I'm feeling spunky, some white mocha powder.) I drink another Starbucks thing after lunch. If I'm especially bored, to the coffee shop on the Hill it is, usually around 3 p.m (with my cell phone, no less. But that's another addiction, for another time). I try to avoid it after six, but on the way home, that pizza shop smells so good downstairs the best thing I can do to satisfy my craving for something bad is....you guessed it.

More coffee.

(Usually at that point in the day it's with some Bailey's, because you can't drink caffeine after 6 without alcohol. Unless you're my mom, and I really don't know how she does it.)

I don't even know how it started. I realize I live in Seattle, and am native to the area at that, so it's "in my blood", more or less. But even so long into my Seattle occupancy as high school I didn't really drink coffee (unless you count those blended milkshake "frappucino" things you buy AT Starbucks, which in my opinion, don't count, because every 13 year old girl buys when when they go to the mall. It's sugar through a straw for the crowd that's outgrown pixie stix - perfect for a trip to the mall when you are that age.) Though, I will admit, my Mountain Dew at 7:15 in the morning was probably more potent than any double-shot coffee drink I could have picked up on the way.

No - It was around the middle of my college career when I discovered that my dining card paid for espresso drinks in the student union building that I started drinking true coffee. And lots of it. What better way to get my calories in? It was either that or use the "cash" on a carb-filled pasta dish that was more processed starch than actual food. Plus, I felt chic walking through campus and sitting in class with coffee in hand.

And then, I got an apartment with Starbucks literally out my backdoor. The addiction was more or less encouraged by convenience and excessive amounts of giftcards supporting my reliance.
Well beyond graduation and relocation, to the past six months where I have commuted past 2 independent coffee stands and a drive thru Starbucks every day, I have relied on my lattes and mochas to get my through my day. It wasn't until my bank account put its foot down and resisted funding my addiction that I realized the inevitable.

I had to make my own.

Which is how I realized I can't have enough of it. I set my alarm earlier. I look up recipes to make it better. I can't wait to buy a new bag of ground coffee. I worry what I will do on the weekends if I stay at The Boyfriend's (working solution: bring bottles of Sbux. Watch him laugh when I head for the fridge first thing in the morning.)

But...like, I said, it could be worse.At least I don't require triple shots anymore. And - at least - have never had four in one drink.

If it ever gets to that point I'll just ask for the IV drip.

convincing myself

2007-03-12T16:31:00.000-07:00

gone.

how hard is this?

2007-03-09T11:43:00.000-08:00

This morning I took my time getting ready. I'm really good about hitting my snooze button - and by really good about it I mean I'm really good at consistently hitting it three or four times before I decide to actually wake up. I did my thing, made lunch, made coffee, and slowly made my way out the door.

It's a rare day I see anyone else in my building in the morning. It's dead week at the local colleges, so the only people I would expect to be up and about are the working folk that live in my building - which are few, since my building is mostly twentysomethings living on student loans or daddy's money. I meander to the elevator - all of 5 feet from my door, but around the corner - and there are two guys slightly older than me holding the elevator for me!

I spent the next 10 minutes utterly amazed that there are at least 2 nice people left in this world. They undoubtedly heard my clanging as I tried to lock my door with lunch, coffee and purse in hand and despite their probable hurry to get to their destinations on time, (not hard, I'll admit, on a Friday morning...car to office was less than 15 minutes today), they waited at least 30 seconds for me to even realize they were there, let alone get there, scramble for my elevator key and hit the button.

How hard is that, though? There are plenty of times I've just missed the elevator, at home or elsewhere. Plenty of times I've had doors slam in my face, plenty of times I've been cut off driving or - worse - walking. It took 30 second of these people's lives to wait for me, so that I wouldn't be inconvenienced at least 5 of mine - plus whatever backup that would have created.
This probably didn't cross their mind. They didn't think "What if that girl gets caught behind a horrible traffic jam and we could have let her in the elevator and she would have avoided it?!" Or "what if she's late to work and misses her lunch or GETS FIRED because of us?!" No, they were just being nice for the sake of it, I'm sure.

Kind of like the boy at the doctor's office this past week who opened not one but TWO doors for an elderly lady. He was a basketball player from a local high school (the sweatshirt kind of gave it away). Though his community involvement has probably ingrained it into him to be that way, he didn't even hesitate to just be nice, because I'm sure she didn't notice who he was or what he represented. He was up and back in his chair in less than 2 minutes. And all he did was open two doors...on a sunny, 70 degree day, no less...and he made that woman's life incredibly easier for the time being (and probably made her day).

The fact I notice that people are nice rather than become thoroughly disgusted every time someone is rude just goes to show how rare it is, and how sad it is that so few people take just a moment - a literal moment - to be nice. It's not even a matter of accommodating or going out of one's way to ass-kiss to a complete stranger. I suppose its a matter of civility.

And maybe there's the big problem, in and of itself.

the first one

2007-03-07T12:30:00.000-08:00

As if it was a metaphor for what what I hope this blog to be about, I found a gray hair...about 5 minutes ago (not to say I want this blog to be about gray hairs, but like I said, it's a metaphor.)

I was in the bathroom, making sure my eyeliner hadn't become a complete disaster since I applied it over five hours ago, and all of a sudden, against my dark roots, I notice this white...thing. But only about an inch of white. I lifted it, I twisted it, I pulled it to see if the entire strand was white. Oh no - just the root - where my natural hair color should have been.

I did what was only natural for any female who finds her first gray hair.

I pulled the horrible....thing....out and paraded around the office for five minutes asking everyone if it really was gray.

Turns out it's "white, actually".

Which, actually, is probably a good thing - my hair, as over processed as it is- is probably not graying. The boyfriend, via response to my frantic textmessage, and the coworker, with an eyeroll and laugh that comes with knowing what real gray hairs are, both think it's the torture I'm intent to perform upon my locks approximately every six weeks that's doing this.

Good thing too. Because, this way, I'll never know if it really is ever graying.