To me it seems like a lot of my childhood is a division of two parts. Pre and post divorce. My parents' that is. My memories from my youth are all very happy. Surrounded by a wonderful family, supportive parents, great childhood friends, and grandparents that spoiled me. To say that I had a great childhood would be an enormous understatement.
Although my parents divorced when I was six, I don't hold one single bad memory of their marriage. I don't hold any memories of it. Their marriage. At all. I cannot remember a time when the three of us were together, when they were actually married.
I don't remember anything, pre divorce. I remember the house we lived in, the three of us, and my friend who lived next door with a pool. I remember my childhood bedroom, and the cardboard ice cream stand that i would play in every day. I remember this little camera that I had that I thought was the coolest thing in the world. I remember what the house looked like, the rooms and a lot of how they were decorated.
But if you ask me to tell you my first memory of my family, together, the three of us, them married, us a traditional family, I could not do it. And that sometimes makes me sad.
Post divorce, many memories are very vivid. I remember my mom living with my grandparents shortly after it happened. I remember her and I sharing a bedroom, each of us in twin beds. I remember my dad moving to a new house. Wednesday nights with him, early Thursday mornings driving back to my mother's. Weeks shared, divided, back and forth, to each house. Car rides with my dad, to my mom's. Friday and Saturday nights at my dad's, driving to my mom's at 12pm on the dot each Sunday. Shared holidays. Christmas Eve's at my dad's, late Christmas morning going to my mom's. Thanksgiving one year at my mom's, the next with my dad.
I remember specific times with each parent, post divorce. I remember one Easter, taking a walk with my mom. I was in new patent leather shoes and an Easter hat. She was in a dress; I'm pretty sure. I remember that day, in my grandparent's neighborhood. I can feel the spring weather on my skin right now, the breeze in my hair. I can smell the grass, and see the pavement with the many cracks that I tried to avoid. I remember taking that walk together, my mom and I, before it was time to go to my dad's for the remainder of the holiday. All of this is so very vivid.
With my dad, I remember a specific time of us driving in the car, and O was upset, at something. Probably something silly and little, but that seemed like the hugest deal to the ten year old me. Life is a Highway was my favorite song at the time, and I remember that song coming on the radio and my dad trying to cheer me up, raising the volume and saying, "it's your favorite song!" I remember being angry. Not caring, or eat least trying to seem like I didn't. And getting teary. I remember trying to not enjoy the song because I was trying to appear angry with him, but wanting to sing anyway.
The pre divorce years, and how I cannot remember them, makes me sad when I really think about it. I try and try to just remember, just a spec of an ounce of something with the three of us, pre divorce. Us three at dinner, a holiday together, a car ride. Try as I might, I just can't seem to get a visual. I can totally imagine, conjure up an image in my mind of what it must have been like. But the real thing, I just can't place it. Freudians would eat this up. Analyze how I must have had some awful childhood, that I'm trying to repress something. That my id, ego, and superego are working to help me rationalize something. Protect me.
But that couldn't be further from the truth. It was never bad. Not at all, in any way. I don't remember any fighting, no yelling, no arguments. I don't remember any tears, no bad times at all. I don't remember much of anything. Pre divorce.
Post divorce I remember so much. The smell in my dad's new house. My mom's new apartment after she moved out of her parent's house. How when I was younger, right after the divorce, my dad would lay out an outfit for me on a Thursday morning. socks, underwear, pants, and a shirt. I'd put these clothes on, eat some breakfast, and we'd go to my mom's. I remember getting there, and finding an outfit. Laid out. On my bed, for me. From my mom. The same thing. Socks. Underwear. Pants. And a shirt.
I remember wearing two pairs of underwear to school because I felt guilty not. To choose just one pair, would be to pick between my dad and mom. And how could I possibly choose, between the two? I couldn't. I wouldn't and I didn't.
Soon after, i didn't have to. I imagine I must have told my mom one time about how I did this, the underwear thing. And I imagine she must have had a talk with my dad, because thereafter, the double outfit thing was no longer an issue. I will always remember this. My mom and I joke about it to this day, yet thinking about it sometimes makes me sad. Of me as a little girl, not wanting to choose.
I still don't want to choose. Now I don't have to. I am an adult now. My father lives on the West Coast, my mom here in the same state as me. Holidays are no longer split between two parents. No more running around, back and forth, car rides to and from their houses on the same day. No more choosing who I will stay with for Christmas Eve. No more leaving a holiday dinner early to go to the other families house. I am who I am today because of my childhood. I don't look back with any regrets. I had a great childhood, and if the tone of this seems melancholy that's not all it should be. I feel sad for the memories that I cannot produce, but I feel utterly filled with appreciation for the ones I have. I would not change a thing of my childhood if I could. I have an amazing relationship with both of my parents, which I believe is somewhat directly related to the individual time I was afforded with both of them given the circumstances.
I have a picture in a safe place. It's of my mom and my dad on their wedding day. I am wearing a diamond necklace today. It was given to me by my mom two Christmas' ago. It is a gorgeous piece of jewelry. But it's so much more than just that. The necklace was made from the diamond that my father gave to my mother when he proposed to her. Her engagement ring. Something that they shared, just the two of them, is now mine. This is one of the most treasured things I own. So special to me and so meaningful. a little piece of both of them that I can always carry around with me.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
The Secret
I'm reading this book; Oprah loves it so it, so naturally I hold it in high regard as well. It's a best seller and sold out everywhere, and my father sent it to me two weeks ago. When he asked me last week if I had started reading it yet I told him how I was finishing up with something else and would get to it soon.
I should have gotten to it sooner.
The book is everything positive that it claims to be. It's all about the law of attraction, positive thinking, all that jazz. You know, envisioning what you want (the perfect man), picturing yourself actually having it (not sleeping in the middle of the bed anymore), and then being ready to receive it (because the book guarantees it will happen).
I'm all for positive thinking. I think there is so much to be said for it. I once dated a guy who was pretty much the definition of the glass half empty. Everything was woe is him. His job. His apartment. His mother. His body. His finances. Cry me a freaking river. And I felt bad, I did. And I would try to cheer him up. "Look on the bright side of things," I'd say, all of the time. Telling him if he thought more positively about things, more good would happen in his life. ("Get a freaking grip," was what I often thought.) But I was supportive. In the best most tolerable way you can be with someone who is a downer so.much.of.the.time. Man, it takes a toll dating someone like that. He comes to mind as I've been reading this book. I think it would do him wonders.
It talks about the idea that when you think a thought, you are attracting similar thoughts to you. So if you say, "I'll never meet a good guy," you are in essence, attracting not meeting good guys to you. You'll then end up meeting losers, because that's all your focus is on- how you keep meeting losers. The author talks about how your thoughts become things. Using examples such as imagining you are going to get a good parking spot, picturing yourself in the spot, and then it actually happening. The Law of Attraction.
Being a pretty positive thinker myself, a lot of the ideas in this book I already kind of knew about. I'm kind of a self help book fiend, so many of the ideas have been touched upon in other stuff I have read.
Nevertheless, it's a good book and I recommend it. Who can't go for a little positivity in their lives?
I should have gotten to it sooner.
The book is everything positive that it claims to be. It's all about the law of attraction, positive thinking, all that jazz. You know, envisioning what you want (the perfect man), picturing yourself actually having it (not sleeping in the middle of the bed anymore), and then being ready to receive it (because the book guarantees it will happen).
I'm all for positive thinking. I think there is so much to be said for it. I once dated a guy who was pretty much the definition of the glass half empty. Everything was woe is him. His job. His apartment. His mother. His body. His finances. Cry me a freaking river. And I felt bad, I did. And I would try to cheer him up. "Look on the bright side of things," I'd say, all of the time. Telling him if he thought more positively about things, more good would happen in his life. ("Get a freaking grip," was what I often thought.) But I was supportive. In the best most tolerable way you can be with someone who is a downer so.much.of.the.time. Man, it takes a toll dating someone like that. He comes to mind as I've been reading this book. I think it would do him wonders.
It talks about the idea that when you think a thought, you are attracting similar thoughts to you. So if you say, "I'll never meet a good guy," you are in essence, attracting not meeting good guys to you. You'll then end up meeting losers, because that's all your focus is on- how you keep meeting losers. The author talks about how your thoughts become things. Using examples such as imagining you are going to get a good parking spot, picturing yourself in the spot, and then it actually happening. The Law of Attraction.
Being a pretty positive thinker myself, a lot of the ideas in this book I already kind of knew about. I'm kind of a self help book fiend, so many of the ideas have been touched upon in other stuff I have read.
Nevertheless, it's a good book and I recommend it. Who can't go for a little positivity in their lives?
Saturday, March 24, 2007
how come?
I hate these reminders of you. There's so many freaking reminders. You know, for the longest time, I felt good that I was in a new place. A new apartment, somewhere you'd never been in, we'd never been us in. There was never an us here. No shared moments in the kitchen, cooking a meal together. Nothing shared on the couch in this place, my head in your lap as we watched a movie together. We shared my bed, but not in this new place. No shared bed memories here.
And so for a while, the no shared moments, together, here, that was all good. With the newness, there was no you, no us. I didn't have to worry about looking outside at my driveway and remembering us kissing there. Didn't have to see the upstairs shower and remember what we did there.
So the newness, it was all pretty good. Because it didn't evoke memories of you. But then, the newness, the fucking newness, reminded that it was lacking you. Devoid of you. Never once was there a memory here of us together.
And sometimes it's everywhere. Sometimes you are still everywhere. You are in the way that my body falls asleep at night. The way I still bring a glass of water to bed. It's in the way that I leave the door ajar in the bathroom while brushing my teeth. It's in the way I put my hand on the passenger seat of the car.
I used to do all of these things, in the anticipation of you being there. The bed. The water for you. Expecting you to join me to brush our teeth together. Me putting my hand on your leg when I drove us somewhere.
The thing is, you're not here. You never were. Which makes it so weird, for me to still be doing these things, as if you were. As if it's going to ever be this way again. Why still, all these memories? Why still, can I feel your presence here, when you were never here to begin with? How can you miss something that you never had?
Why must you keep turning up all over the place? In places you don't belong. That you weren't ever before?
Go away. Please?
And so for a while, the no shared moments, together, here, that was all good. With the newness, there was no you, no us. I didn't have to worry about looking outside at my driveway and remembering us kissing there. Didn't have to see the upstairs shower and remember what we did there.
So the newness, it was all pretty good. Because it didn't evoke memories of you. But then, the newness, the fucking newness, reminded that it was lacking you. Devoid of you. Never once was there a memory here of us together.
And sometimes it's everywhere. Sometimes you are still everywhere. You are in the way that my body falls asleep at night. The way I still bring a glass of water to bed. It's in the way that I leave the door ajar in the bathroom while brushing my teeth. It's in the way I put my hand on the passenger seat of the car.
I used to do all of these things, in the anticipation of you being there. The bed. The water for you. Expecting you to join me to brush our teeth together. Me putting my hand on your leg when I drove us somewhere.
The thing is, you're not here. You never were. Which makes it so weird, for me to still be doing these things, as if you were. As if it's going to ever be this way again. Why still, all these memories? Why still, can I feel your presence here, when you were never here to begin with? How can you miss something that you never had?
Why must you keep turning up all over the place? In places you don't belong. That you weren't ever before?
Go away. Please?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
something so small
sometimes? someone totally random will do something totally uncharacteristic, something out of the blue, and it will have a way of adding a little needed sunshine to your day.
and if you're real lucky? this will happen when you need it most, and often.
when this happens to me, i can't help but feel very grateful and appreciative. on a bad day, where things just don't seem to get off on the right foot, from the get go, and continue to spiral down a shit path throughout the day. it's during these days, when nothing is going right, you are feeling your ugliest, your fattest, your most undesirable. you're overwhelmed, stressed, emotional, and all together feeling just off. wrong. shitty. when someone dishes a compliment on one of these off days? doesn't it then feel like things are all just a little bit better?
at least it does for me.
and when this happens on a really good day? the type where the morning starts off good, it's a friday even, your hair actually does what you want it to, it's finally warm out, you're feeling like you look good, well that's just wicked great. your day is already pretty much a 10, and a compliment comes your way, and it only gets that much better.
but then i start to think. imagine the people that have the latter of the days mentioned, most days? or people who don't have work colleagues who are very nice. who don't have special friends who dish compliments just because. don't even have family that they can depend on. no special someones in their lives at all. and, maybe they don't have much money, or motivation, or means to look and feel good about themselves as often as they'd like. imagine how a compliment, a random act of kindness would change their day?
i think about this notion, often. how much a random act of kindness really can affect a person. change someone's day. just a smile even. how much of a tremendous impact that can make on someone's day. how it can change their outlook.
and imagine if that's directed towards someone who never experiences that kind of thing? a smile. something so small, but isn't it something that we sometimes take for granted?
after thinking about this recently, and a lot today, i have decided to really go even more out of my way to extend those random acts of kindness to people. a compliment. getting the door for someone. leaving an extra tip. smiling at a stranger. sending a thinking of you card for no reason. telling a friend that i'm there for them if they need to talk. paying a little more than your share. surprising someone with a coffee. for something that can take such little effort, it can hugely impact someone in unthinkable ways.
at least it did for me.
and if you're real lucky? this will happen when you need it most, and often.
when this happens to me, i can't help but feel very grateful and appreciative. on a bad day, where things just don't seem to get off on the right foot, from the get go, and continue to spiral down a shit path throughout the day. it's during these days, when nothing is going right, you are feeling your ugliest, your fattest, your most undesirable. you're overwhelmed, stressed, emotional, and all together feeling just off. wrong. shitty. when someone dishes a compliment on one of these off days? doesn't it then feel like things are all just a little bit better?
at least it does for me.
and when this happens on a really good day? the type where the morning starts off good, it's a friday even, your hair actually does what you want it to, it's finally warm out, you're feeling like you look good, well that's just wicked great. your day is already pretty much a 10, and a compliment comes your way, and it only gets that much better.
but then i start to think. imagine the people that have the latter of the days mentioned, most days? or people who don't have work colleagues who are very nice. who don't have special friends who dish compliments just because. don't even have family that they can depend on. no special someones in their lives at all. and, maybe they don't have much money, or motivation, or means to look and feel good about themselves as often as they'd like. imagine how a compliment, a random act of kindness would change their day?
i think about this notion, often. how much a random act of kindness really can affect a person. change someone's day. just a smile even. how much of a tremendous impact that can make on someone's day. how it can change their outlook.
and imagine if that's directed towards someone who never experiences that kind of thing? a smile. something so small, but isn't it something that we sometimes take for granted?
after thinking about this recently, and a lot today, i have decided to really go even more out of my way to extend those random acts of kindness to people. a compliment. getting the door for someone. leaving an extra tip. smiling at a stranger. sending a thinking of you card for no reason. telling a friend that i'm there for them if they need to talk. paying a little more than your share. surprising someone with a coffee. for something that can take such little effort, it can hugely impact someone in unthinkable ways.
at least it did for me.
Monday, March 19, 2007
signals
I'm not good always, at feeling out whether a guy is interested or not. I used to be better at it. Now, sometimes, I just don't know. I don't read these signals well. Sometimes I misread them, thinking that when he asked for my number he really wanted to get to know me, was genuinely interested, and didn't just want to sleep together. Other times I'll misunderstand and be totally aloof and not even fathom that a guy like that, could be into a girl like me.Because I have not done so well at reading the signals lately. Therefore, lately, I don't always know what the right move is. And it makes me more reserved, and I hate that. It's partly because of the guy that I went out with a couple weeks ago. I met him the night of the speed dating, not at the event but after. I should have known when I joked with him that he probably regularly attends these events to pick up the girls at the end of the night who haven't left or coupled off, that that actually was the case. His sly little laugh and smirk should have told me better. When I met him for drinks and appetizers the following week, I should have known that he wasn't what I was looking for based on his incessant grilling of me to come back to his place to "watch a movie" after only spending about an hour together. No thank you.
I should have read those signs. But the date was one of the best I've ever had. There was laughing, flirting, kissing. It was really good, and fun. And promising, I thought. At least of something fun, a dating thing, which is what I was looking for from this. Not necessarily anything serious. I would have considered a second date.
Well apparently that's not what this guy wanted either. Which I learned the following week, when he and his three friends met us at the same place as the week before, and a group of ended up going back to his house with everyone for a little gathering. Words that shouldn't be mentioned outside of a serious relationship and the comfort zone that I may or may not get in with someone, were whispered, in sketchy, skeevy, whiskey laden tones in my ear. He didn't want to date. He wanted sex. And want to have me do things to him, in his upstairs guestroom. Just real quick, they'll never know. I'm no Charlotte, and I'm not freaked at the occasional dirty talk, in the right situation. But this was obscene. Gross, really. Inappropriate and such.a.turnoff.
And here I am, thinking things could be fun, dating like fun. A cool guy, funny and friendly and sexy. No, wrong. Again, me, wrong. With the signals. What gives? Am I just not able to read them? I'm usually good at that kind of thing.
So this is the issue. How do you know when a guy is looking for just sex, or something more? When he asks you out to eat, how do you know what kind of eating out he may have in mind? Do you just go with it, and see what happens? And that's how you learn? Then why did he even bother with the drinks, the appetizers, the family talk, acting like he gives a shit about that stuff?
I guess I'm just not sure. Some guys, they just have a vibe about them. You know that they aren't looking for dating, or a relationship, and sometimes you're still interested, and that can all be well and good. Some guys, appear to want the dating thing, yet surprise you like this one did. Others, you just fall into a relationship with, it's easy and fun and you both want the same thing, things just seem to go along so nicely, it's no work at all and you're just consumed by the goodness of it all; it almost feels too good to be true. Or maybe that's just a daydream of mine.
And maybe lately my signal reading has been a little off. And maybe this is most definitely one to add to the come on list.
Oh well.
Saturday, March 17, 2007
St. Patty's Day
I'm Irish and I love this day. Taken from City Wendy, here are some of the cool things I like about St. Patrick's Day:-An excuse to drink during the day (as if I needed a holiday to do that)
-Because I love kelly green, and any green really
-And why not drink Irish car bombs?
-Or drink Guiness, even though it's really not my favorite, I will do so with a smile today
-I've learned that they really don't wear anything under those kilts
-Bag pipes, Danny Boy, and the Irish Blessing
-Today, maybe I really will have the luck of the Irish
-Green beer
-My nails, painted green today, and today only
-And the green eye liner and shadow that I will bust out today and people will feel is so appropriate, when any other day they just wonder, "is she wearing green eye makeup?"
-Because I am Irish, the phrase does apply to me, so come on...Kiss Me already
-Being with friends, and family, celebrating being Irish, even if they aren't at all.
Happy St. Patty's Day!
Wednesday, March 14, 2007
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
come on!
as opposed to this and what i'm a sucker for, i say..
COME ON to:
dry contacts, running out of contact solution at a bad time. getting something in your eye.
the light just turning yellow, and the person in front of you actually slowing down for it.
running late for work, and realizing your gas light is on. shit.
cd wrappers, so annoying. and dvd wrappers too.
and things in that plastic kind of packaging, the kind you really can't get into, and end up with severe cuts on your hands when you finally do.
bringing your digital camera with you to a special event, and it dying on contact with no battery left.
craving a glass of milk and finding less than a sip left. an empty ice cube tray on a hot day.
forgetting to put my ipod in my gym bag. or worse, my headphones. forgetting the combination to my lock.
how easily i bruise; i look abused half the time.
my hair breezing into my lipgloss. and chapped lips. running out of my favorite shampoo.
getting snuggled into bed, and realizing i forgot to take my pill. being in bed, and obsessing about whether i bolted the door or not.
only having thongs to choose from, or worse, period undies (yes, i went there; it's not gross, it's the facts), when you just want a fucking comfy pair of regular ones.
thinking you paid a bill only to get a double whammy the following month. budget billing for the gas bill almost doubling.
not having a disposal anymore. how much trash accumulates because of it.
checking my home email from work, and then getting home and still receiving them all as "new"
forgetting to wear one of my rings. forgetting mascara. i feel naked without either.
when the bottom of pants get wet half way up your calf in the rain or snow. stepping in something wet, with socks on.
music that's too loud, even if i like it, and it's my favorite band.
chipping nail polish, it's gross and i hate it on myself, and more on others.
dry skin in the winter. oily sunscreen.
overflowing trash.
someone beeping at you when you're at a red light that clearly states, "no turn on red."
being at a store, with a sale, and realizing i left my gift card at home. losing my dunkin donuts gift card.
unreturned phone calls. or texts, when a phone call is more appropriate.
pink, the singer.
reruns when you just want a new episode. the summer when all shows are on hiatus.
blogs not refreshing to the current post.
hearing the word cunt.
late fees.
too much heat, in a car. or not enough.
too ripe bananas. waiting for a one to get just ripe enough.
getting a piece of the shell in the pan from an egg.
no more sex and the city. or felicity. or party of five. and 90210, yeah.
needing a new battery, for whatever, and being all out.
COME ON to:
dry contacts, running out of contact solution at a bad time. getting something in your eye.
the light just turning yellow, and the person in front of you actually slowing down for it.
running late for work, and realizing your gas light is on. shit.
cd wrappers, so annoying. and dvd wrappers too.
and things in that plastic kind of packaging, the kind you really can't get into, and end up with severe cuts on your hands when you finally do.
bringing your digital camera with you to a special event, and it dying on contact with no battery left.
craving a glass of milk and finding less than a sip left. an empty ice cube tray on a hot day.
forgetting to put my ipod in my gym bag. or worse, my headphones. forgetting the combination to my lock.
how easily i bruise; i look abused half the time.
my hair breezing into my lipgloss. and chapped lips. running out of my favorite shampoo.
getting snuggled into bed, and realizing i forgot to take my pill. being in bed, and obsessing about whether i bolted the door or not.
only having thongs to choose from, or worse, period undies (yes, i went there; it's not gross, it's the facts), when you just want a fucking comfy pair of regular ones.
thinking you paid a bill only to get a double whammy the following month. budget billing for the gas bill almost doubling.
not having a disposal anymore. how much trash accumulates because of it.
checking my home email from work, and then getting home and still receiving them all as "new"
forgetting to wear one of my rings. forgetting mascara. i feel naked without either.
when the bottom of pants get wet half way up your calf in the rain or snow. stepping in something wet, with socks on.
music that's too loud, even if i like it, and it's my favorite band.
chipping nail polish, it's gross and i hate it on myself, and more on others.
dry skin in the winter. oily sunscreen.
overflowing trash.
someone beeping at you when you're at a red light that clearly states, "no turn on red."
being at a store, with a sale, and realizing i left my gift card at home. losing my dunkin donuts gift card.
unreturned phone calls. or texts, when a phone call is more appropriate.
pink, the singer.
reruns when you just want a new episode. the summer when all shows are on hiatus.
blogs not refreshing to the current post.
hearing the word cunt.
late fees.
too much heat, in a car. or not enough.
too ripe bananas. waiting for a one to get just ripe enough.
getting a piece of the shell in the pan from an egg.
no more sex and the city. or felicity. or party of five. and 90210, yeah.
needing a new battery, for whatever, and being all out.
Monday, March 12, 2007
speechless, at the right time
I remember when you first told me you loved me. We were in your car, we had just gotten back to your house and we both had our seats back. Some song was playing, I can't remember what. We were holding hands. As I leaned over to kiss you, hug you, touch your face, I remember us laughing that the damn e brake got in the way. It was quiet for a minute, and that's when it happened. You had me in your arms and you said it. That you were in love with me.
How long is too long, to sit with the silence, before it seems awkward that one hasn't responded to a first "I love you?" Ten seconds? Thirty? It wasn't as if I didn't hear you. I did, you knew that as I looked up at you and kissed you, squeezed you tighter, breathed you into me more.
I did feel it then, but too many seconds had passed and I felt like the moment had gone. Too late to say it. It slipped into the heater vents as I deeply exhaled it out. But no words came. I could have said it. At any time, really. When we went back inside and cozied up on the couch with each other and a movie; I could have said it then, I just didn't. Not because I didn't feel it. I did. I let the moment pass me by. That moment, when I should have said it, was gone.
But then? As I'm writing this now, I feel like that was a cop out. I must have not said it fora good reason. I also think, when you love someone, you should tell them, right then, right there, in the moment. Given the moment is appropriate and all. No amount of seconds or minutes or hours that pass should equal the time frame of a missed chance. I felt it, but I just didn't say it. I don't know if what I'm feeling is described as regret.
I remember though, feeling it, earlier that weekend. We were at the mall and I had dragged you into girly accessory stores, and you didn't complain, not a bit. At least not that I remember now. You were adorable the way you were, with me, that day. I just wanted to eat you up. I remember it was crowded and after a while, we both just needed out of the place. We couldn't find we where parked, looked on every floor, not remembering where we had been just a couple hours earlier. This made us laugh. We said "screw it" and decided to go get something to eat and have some beers and figure it all out after. And we did, and I remember our way of walking to the car, finally finding it, me giggling, tipsy and warmer from the alcohol. It was cold that day and you took my hand and we headed for no direction really, to look for your car, somewhere. I remember, then, at that moment, was when I started to feel it. It was at that moment. It came over me in a huge wave and I remember thinking, God, I am in love this guy. I hadn't felt that, well, ever. Not like that, so sure of it. Not before you.
When we finally found the car, there was traffic, tons of it, getting out of the garage. And I was flustered and hot. And some song, I don't remember what now, was on the radio. I remember us turning it up, and we blasted that sucker. You opened the windows, all of them including the sunroof, and we blared that rap shit, and I wore your hat. We were both laughing, hysterically really. It was at that moment, that I wanted to say it. Scream it. Over the music I wanted to scream out, "I love you!!" And I didn't. Although the timing seemed so right, something held me back.
And something held me back that night in the car. In one instance the timing didn't feel totally right, the other couldn't have been more perfect. In neither situation did I have the nerve to say it.
All along though, I felt it. Maybe I should have said it, in those times. For the first time, then, that night back to you, or the next day to you, first. I didn't.
And I don't really know what all this means. I know what I feel; I just couldn't seem to get it out.
How long is too long, to sit with the silence, before it seems awkward that one hasn't responded to a first "I love you?" Ten seconds? Thirty? It wasn't as if I didn't hear you. I did, you knew that as I looked up at you and kissed you, squeezed you tighter, breathed you into me more.
I did feel it then, but too many seconds had passed and I felt like the moment had gone. Too late to say it. It slipped into the heater vents as I deeply exhaled it out. But no words came. I could have said it. At any time, really. When we went back inside and cozied up on the couch with each other and a movie; I could have said it then, I just didn't. Not because I didn't feel it. I did. I let the moment pass me by. That moment, when I should have said it, was gone.
But then? As I'm writing this now, I feel like that was a cop out. I must have not said it fora good reason. I also think, when you love someone, you should tell them, right then, right there, in the moment. Given the moment is appropriate and all. No amount of seconds or minutes or hours that pass should equal the time frame of a missed chance. I felt it, but I just didn't say it. I don't know if what I'm feeling is described as regret.
I remember though, feeling it, earlier that weekend. We were at the mall and I had dragged you into girly accessory stores, and you didn't complain, not a bit. At least not that I remember now. You were adorable the way you were, with me, that day. I just wanted to eat you up. I remember it was crowded and after a while, we both just needed out of the place. We couldn't find we where parked, looked on every floor, not remembering where we had been just a couple hours earlier. This made us laugh. We said "screw it" and decided to go get something to eat and have some beers and figure it all out after. And we did, and I remember our way of walking to the car, finally finding it, me giggling, tipsy and warmer from the alcohol. It was cold that day and you took my hand and we headed for no direction really, to look for your car, somewhere. I remember, then, at that moment, was when I started to feel it. It was at that moment. It came over me in a huge wave and I remember thinking, God, I am in love this guy. I hadn't felt that, well, ever. Not like that, so sure of it. Not before you.
When we finally found the car, there was traffic, tons of it, getting out of the garage. And I was flustered and hot. And some song, I don't remember what now, was on the radio. I remember us turning it up, and we blasted that sucker. You opened the windows, all of them including the sunroof, and we blared that rap shit, and I wore your hat. We were both laughing, hysterically really. It was at that moment, that I wanted to say it. Scream it. Over the music I wanted to scream out, "I love you!!" And I didn't. Although the timing seemed so right, something held me back.
And something held me back that night in the car. In one instance the timing didn't feel totally right, the other couldn't have been more perfect. In neither situation did I have the nerve to say it.
All along though, I felt it. Maybe I should have said it, in those times. For the first time, then, that night back to you, or the next day to you, first. I didn't.
And I don't really know what all this means. I know what I feel; I just couldn't seem to get it out.
Thursday, March 08, 2007
I carried a watermelon
The other night, I carried a watermelon. Well, not literally. My girlfriends and I use the "I carried a watermelon" phrase to describe a situation where we probably didn't say the best thing. A foot in mouth kind of thing. Where you say something, quickly, either in response to a question or even as a conversation starter. But what you say isn't smooth. And really not suave, not in the very least. Actually, you end up feeling like an idiot, and probably sound like one. It's that, did I really just say that, outloud? feeling of embarrassment. You know what I'm talking about.
Ok, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about. So I'll setup the scene of the phrases origination, and even post a little visual aid as well. It's about 4:00 minutes in. But watch the whole scene, because who doesn't love Dirty Dancing?
Ok, maybe you don't know what I'm talking about. So I'll setup the scene of the phrases origination, and even post a little visual aid as well. It's about 4:00 minutes in. But watch the whole scene, because who doesn't love Dirty Dancing?
Baby goes into the staff quarters with Johnny's cousin. To get in there she well, carries a watermelon. Johnny's cousin is juggling two up the walkway, when Baby walks by, sees him struggling, and offers to help. Cousin tells Baby she can't go with him, she talks him into it, and they enter the staff quarters where everyone is, well, dirty dancing. Johnny notices cousin and Baby standing on the side of the dance floor, and is all, "Yo, cuz, what's she doin' here?" Cuz says she's with him, and Baby says the first thing that comes to mind, blurting out, "I carried a watermelon." Johnny just looks at her, in his too many unbuttons undone white shirt, and says nothing, and walks (dances?) away. Then we see Baby, mocking herself saying, "I carried a watermelon?" In complete disbelief that she actually just said that, to him, out loud.
Now go ahead, watch for yourself:
That's the scene in the movie. Baby thinks Johnny is cute, she gets nervous, and says the first thing that comes to mind. Which is exactly what I did the other night.
If you haven't heard of Jim Bianco, you must. Google him. Download him. Make him your screensaver or wallpaper. I did. If I had to say my "type" of guy, it's him. His clothing, his hair, his whole way. His body and his vibe. Man, and his voice. His sweet, raspy voice. And he plays the guitar. Lord knows I'm a complete sucker for a guy who can play the guitar.
He has toured with the likes of Joshua Radin, Joe Purdy, Rachel Yamagata, Kate Havnevik, Cary Brothers, Schuyler Fisk, Imogen Heap, and Gary Jules. I saw him this fall at the Hotel Café tour and when I saw he was in the area again I couldn't miss the opportunity.
Much as I couldn't miss the opportunity, after his amazing set, to scope him out in the back of the lounge, and go up to him, to say something. I had no idea what. Nothing that came to mind seemed even the least bit appropriate. I don't usually get nervous, generally, around guys. About what to say or do or whatever. But this was different. He is so talented, and so incredibly good looking. I was totally into his performance and HIM, so I had to take this chance to at least say... something.
You were good. That is what I said as I "pretended" to walk to the ladies room and accidentally "noticed" him on the way there. Yeah. I carried a fucking watermelon. Who says "you're good?" And that's pretty much all I said. He smiled, nodded. I got fidgety and put my hands in my pocket and touched my hair too much. I quickly went on to tell him that I had seen him at the other tour, and that they were good then too. He smiled, but didn't say anything. I was Baby and he was Johnny. Then he looked up, asked my name, and extended his hand. Yes! We touched. I introduced myself to his band member buddy, and told them, for the third time, that they did a really good job.
And I carried a watermelon. Sure, I sounded completely dumb and nervous and I looked fidgety. Maybe that's just me. Around someone like that. I couldn't help myself. But at least I got to meet Jim Bianco. Even if I was a Baby about it.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
weekend in review
Oh, my weekend. Ruby reminded me that an update was due. Well I had just the most wonderful time ever. My Almost Sister and her hubby are two of the greatest people in the world; if only we lived closer. Not that an hour flight is really that far at all. But for a girl who is so much on the same wavelength as myself, who at the drop of a hat would do anything for anyone, with whom I am constantly laughing with, and really, how we just get each other, who makes me constantly smile... well, it would be nice if she lived say, an hour DRIVE away. It is a great trip to make though- quick and easy to get to, and always worth it.
Friday Almost Sister and I did some shopping and saw Music and Lyrics. I really like Drew Barrymore. I forget that every time, until I see her in a movie where I am reminded of it. And Hugh Grant. I'm not my mom, who has a HUGE thing for him, but the guy does have an accent, a good body, and isn't bad looking, at all. I enjoyed him in this movie. Saturday we picked up Almost Sister's brother. He came in to spend the night and we got on the same flight for the next day. Anyway, the rest of the weekend was spent drinking lots of Sangria (homemade even), and eating, lots of eating, and laughing.
Now I'm not a big meat eater. Not at all. I pretty much stick to chicken as a staple. Now and then I'll make some meatballs, oh and I love tacos. Infrequently I'll eat an occasional burger. That's mainly only enjoyed on a trip to Reno at this place that has the best burgers ever. And I'm not a big steak eater. I love it, when I have it. But I don't order it. Or make it. Steak tips I love, but other than here, which is probably the last place I had them, I seldom eat tips. Well that all changed this weekend. I ate, more meat than I have ever eaten in a sitting, ever. We went to this really great Brazilian place. It's a set price for the meal, pricey, but sooo so worth it. You put these coaster type things, with one side that's red, and one green in front of you. Green means keep the meat coming. Red= you need a break. They come around to the table with the hunks of meat ("hunk of meat" doesn't make it sound all that very appetizing but it SO is), and they cut it right there in front of you. And it's so fresh. And juicy. And altogether delish. For someone who hardly ever eats meat, I was in total heaven. Mmmm....
And the weekend just goes by so quickly when I'm visiting them. I was there three days and it was over before I knew it. I was hoping to meet up with Kristen while I was there, but the time just got away from us. I had a wonderful time though, surrounded by wonderful friends, with new, wonderful memories.
Friday Almost Sister and I did some shopping and saw Music and Lyrics. I really like Drew Barrymore. I forget that every time, until I see her in a movie where I am reminded of it. And Hugh Grant. I'm not my mom, who has a HUGE thing for him, but the guy does have an accent, a good body, and isn't bad looking, at all. I enjoyed him in this movie. Saturday we picked up Almost Sister's brother. He came in to spend the night and we got on the same flight for the next day. Anyway, the rest of the weekend was spent drinking lots of Sangria (homemade even), and eating, lots of eating, and laughing.
Now I'm not a big meat eater. Not at all. I pretty much stick to chicken as a staple. Now and then I'll make some meatballs, oh and I love tacos. Infrequently I'll eat an occasional burger. That's mainly only enjoyed on a trip to Reno at this place that has the best burgers ever. And I'm not a big steak eater. I love it, when I have it. But I don't order it. Or make it. Steak tips I love, but other than here, which is probably the last place I had them, I seldom eat tips. Well that all changed this weekend. I ate, more meat than I have ever eaten in a sitting, ever. We went to this really great Brazilian place. It's a set price for the meal, pricey, but sooo so worth it. You put these coaster type things, with one side that's red, and one green in front of you. Green means keep the meat coming. Red= you need a break. They come around to the table with the hunks of meat ("hunk of meat" doesn't make it sound all that very appetizing but it SO is), and they cut it right there in front of you. And it's so fresh. And juicy. And altogether delish. For someone who hardly ever eats meat, I was in total heaven. Mmmm....
And the weekend just goes by so quickly when I'm visiting them. I was there three days and it was over before I knew it. I was hoping to meet up with Kristen while I was there, but the time just got away from us. I had a wonderful time though, surrounded by wonderful friends, with new, wonderful memories.
Thursday, March 01, 2007
long weekend
Tomorrow I leave for NY for the weekend to see my almost sister, and her wonderful hubby. Sucks we're getting some snow, and knock on wood that it won't f-up the flight. I'll try and take some pictures and maybe will post some here next week. I'm very much looking forward to a little getaway.American Idol results show is on tonight. My favorites so far are: Blake Lewis, Chris Richardson, and Lakisha Jones. I think Sanjaya is outa there this week. And what's her name- the one who sang the Celine Dion one with the 70's number on last night, who has posed nude or something.
Oh, and Anna Nicole's "Final Journey Home" is on tomorrow. Just in case you care.
I cannot WAIT until this coverage is done with.
Hope everyone has a happy Friday and a great weekend.
**UPDATE**
Uh oh. Guy from Mass just got booted off. So much for representing.
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Anticipation.
Know what's pretty sweet? The fact that I'm going on two trips within the next 2 months, and needed to pay all of $10 for them. That's two flights, one this weekend to NY to see my beloved almost sister, and one to Nevada in April to see my dear Daddo.
So that's all so exciting, but right up there with jump up and down excitement is the trip I've booked to Myrtle Beach with the lovely ladies who I intend to still be friends with 35 years from now.
I always say, I've always thought, that half the fun of a trip is the anticipation of it. Like when I went to Miami this past October. Although the intended dates of departure needed to be shifted due to circumstances beyond our control, I got to stew with excitement, times two. Unfortunate that it didn't work out as originally planned in August, but none the less, I got to experience what I like to call pre-trip foreplay, twice. So even though I didn't actually vaca, in August, I pre-trip foreplayed for it. Oh, and it was amazing. Kind of along the same lines as mixed drinks + flirting, making out + pawing at each other, pre-trip foreplay is totally my thing. Lest it seem here that the analogy I'm trying to make means that I see actual foreplay as always mandatory, let me just state the fact that I sometimes prefer getting right down to business. Anyway, I'm getting away from the subject at hand.
The point is, I love the pre-trip foreplay. The booking of the trip. The planning process of it all. Looking for the perfect hotel, the right flight, departure times, car rental. What gets me off even more (I'm talking about the trip still), is the excitement that is the planning of the outfits. The shopping pre-trip. Looking for that special bikini, although perhaps not as fun early March in unfortunate lighting illuminating ghostly white skin. But finding the perfect dress. That fits just right and you just feel amazing in. Maybe you'll never wear it again, but you have it for the upcoming trip and you're damn amused as you strut into your apartment trying it all on. The strappy sandals with the new halter and skirt. You rub a little Banana Boat sunscreen on your arm and you close your eyes and picture Jimmy Buffet and you and your girlfriend's sipping a beach cocktail with the waves crashing ahead of you.
And as the time nears closer, you get more and more antsy, fidgety, just waiting for it to come. The trip that is.
You can't control yourself. You count the days, x them off in your work agenda. Get your out of office reply ready, gather the magazines and books you've been wanting to read for forever, and probably get the highlights you've been putting off for a month or so. You book your mani/pedi and it's only one more day, and you can barely sleep. So you don't sleep. You stay up that night before, blasting the stereo in your living room as you and your roommate pack, doing fashion shows of what you should wear the next day to the beach. It's probably late now, and you're probably drinking a celebratory martini, because, well, you can. And it's almost here. Finally, you decide you should at least try to rest, just a little. So you're in your bed and you're awake, thinking, likely giggling out loud imagining the next several days of GLORY.
It's finally here and the excitement is at an all time high. You're heart is racing and you are envisioning the blue ocean, the pretty drinks you will throw back too many of, the smell of a far off hotel room, the balcony that you can only imagine will overlook a serene scene. You arrive at your destination and the pre-trip foreplay has brought you to an amazing climax. And for the next several days you are in heaven. Oh this feels so good.
Man, how I love a vacation.
So that's all so exciting, but right up there with jump up and down excitement is the trip I've booked to Myrtle Beach with the lovely ladies who I intend to still be friends with 35 years from now.
I always say, I've always thought, that half the fun of a trip is the anticipation of it. Like when I went to Miami this past October. Although the intended dates of departure needed to be shifted due to circumstances beyond our control, I got to stew with excitement, times two. Unfortunate that it didn't work out as originally planned in August, but none the less, I got to experience what I like to call pre-trip foreplay, twice. So even though I didn't actually vaca, in August, I pre-trip foreplayed for it. Oh, and it was amazing. Kind of along the same lines as mixed drinks + flirting, making out + pawing at each other, pre-trip foreplay is totally my thing. Lest it seem here that the analogy I'm trying to make means that I see actual foreplay as always mandatory, let me just state the fact that I sometimes prefer getting right down to business. Anyway, I'm getting away from the subject at hand.
The point is, I love the pre-trip foreplay. The booking of the trip. The planning process of it all. Looking for the perfect hotel, the right flight, departure times, car rental. What gets me off even more (I'm talking about the trip still), is the excitement that is the planning of the outfits. The shopping pre-trip. Looking for that special bikini, although perhaps not as fun early March in unfortunate lighting illuminating ghostly white skin. But finding the perfect dress. That fits just right and you just feel amazing in. Maybe you'll never wear it again, but you have it for the upcoming trip and you're damn amused as you strut into your apartment trying it all on. The strappy sandals with the new halter and skirt. You rub a little Banana Boat sunscreen on your arm and you close your eyes and picture Jimmy Buffet and you and your girlfriend's sipping a beach cocktail with the waves crashing ahead of you.
And as the time nears closer, you get more and more antsy, fidgety, just waiting for it to come. The trip that is.
You can't control yourself. You count the days, x them off in your work agenda. Get your out of office reply ready, gather the magazines and books you've been wanting to read for forever, and probably get the highlights you've been putting off for a month or so. You book your mani/pedi and it's only one more day, and you can barely sleep. So you don't sleep. You stay up that night before, blasting the stereo in your living room as you and your roommate pack, doing fashion shows of what you should wear the next day to the beach. It's probably late now, and you're probably drinking a celebratory martini, because, well, you can. And it's almost here. Finally, you decide you should at least try to rest, just a little. So you're in your bed and you're awake, thinking, likely giggling out loud imagining the next several days of GLORY.
It's finally here and the excitement is at an all time high. You're heart is racing and you are envisioning the blue ocean, the pretty drinks you will throw back too many of, the smell of a far off hotel room, the balcony that you can only imagine will overlook a serene scene. You arrive at your destination and the pre-trip foreplay has brought you to an amazing climax. And for the next several days you are in heaven. Oh this feels so good.
Man, how I love a vacation.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
I want to photograph you with my mind, To feel how I feel now all the time
Gentle. Compassionate. Loving.
The fact that I am 25 years old, and you still slip me money when no one is looking, speaks volumes to the amazing man that you are. When I was 16 it was for movies with friends, nights after football games at Applebees, accessories at teenage stores like Claire's. In college, at 20, it was for laundry, money to put on my card, for the coffee shop and for midnight snacks, sometimes for dollar drafts. Now, at 25, living on my own, making my own money, it's for gas, for a weekend away with friends, for groceries and rent, sometimes a martini or three.
Thoughtful. Tolerant. Affectionate.
When I look at you, inevitably, at some point during our visit, my eyes will fill up. I am completely overtaken with emotion. With love. So much that I cannot hold it in sometimes. You are, the most precious, genuine, kindest man I have ever known.
Patient. Cherished. Adored.
You are an amazing husband. I see the way that you look at her, the way you smile and listen to her, even though sometimes I know you can't always make out exactly what it is she's saying. She speaks softly, and you can't always hear her. I see the way you pull out her chair for her, then tuck her into the table. How you hold the arm of her coat as she slides her arm in, adjusting her just right. The way you pour her coffee and prepare it just so, and how you tell her to take more food on her plate, that she should eat all she wants. The support you give her, the encouragement. The admiration that is so very evident in your blue eyes for her. Your care and concern that she is protected and well taken care of. Your amazing, overflowing love for your precious wife.
Gracious. Happy. Sincere.
You are a wonderful father. I see the way your eyes light up when your three daughters are with you. I hear how you talk to their significant others, accepting them unconditionally. I see how you have tremendous pride in them. I catch you looking at them, when they are not looking at you. And I see the way your face lights up at that moment. The joy and genuine concern you take in their lives. The way you embrace them, not just physically, but emotionally, and in all ways really, unconditionally and always.
Cheerful. Exceptional. Funny.
You are, simply the best grandfather ever. I cannot imagine my childhood, and now my adult life, without you being a part of it. The way you slip me that money. How you tell me that I will always be your girl as you squeeze my hand. How you say to me, that you like my shoes, and comment that I'm a "hot ticket." How you show genuine interest in my life, my friends, my job, and anything that I'm pursuing. How you ask if I will always be your Valentine. The way you make me feel like the most special person ever when I'm with you. The love that I feel when I'm with you and around you, near you and beside you.
I am so lucky.
You are the most giving, kindest, most genuine, humble man that I will ever know. Your love for your family and your friends just fill my heart to the brim. You are amazing. And wonderful. And really any word in the thesaurus for extraordinary and special and sweet and caring and charismatic, it's all you. I cannot even write this without tears filling up, because I have an uncontrollable abundance of love, admiration, and honor for you. And I just can't keep it all in.
I think of you all the time. When I'm with you and when I'm not even, I think of you. I think of you as I have known you throughout my lifetime. I think of you and who you were when I never even knew you. What you were like at my age. How you were as you courted my grandmother. What kind of a son and brother you must have been. What you are doing on a Friday night while I am sipping wine, out to dinner with friends. What you did today. What you're eating for dinner tonight. What you and she are doing, right now. What you're watching on tv, and what book you are currently reading. What you are wearing and how sharp you look. Yes, I said sharp. How you have a way of touching every single person's life who you encounter, and how truly profound that is.
And I don't know if you realize this. How completely and truly wonderful you are. You have to know you are loved, because I have a feeling my words here, would be nodded and echoed by those whose lives you have touched. You are an amazing man. I feel I cannot say it enough. I think that if I repeat that, these words and these thoughts, over and over, how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how purely genuine and special you are, that maybe, just maybe, that will just keep you around here forever.
You need to be around forever. A life without you is completely unimaginable, unfathomable really.
You need to be around forever. And ever. Forever, and ever and ever.
The fact that I am 25 years old, and you still slip me money when no one is looking, speaks volumes to the amazing man that you are. When I was 16 it was for movies with friends, nights after football games at Applebees, accessories at teenage stores like Claire's. In college, at 20, it was for laundry, money to put on my card, for the coffee shop and for midnight snacks, sometimes for dollar drafts. Now, at 25, living on my own, making my own money, it's for gas, for a weekend away with friends, for groceries and rent, sometimes a martini or three.
Thoughtful. Tolerant. Affectionate.
When I look at you, inevitably, at some point during our visit, my eyes will fill up. I am completely overtaken with emotion. With love. So much that I cannot hold it in sometimes. You are, the most precious, genuine, kindest man I have ever known.
Patient. Cherished. Adored.
You are an amazing husband. I see the way that you look at her, the way you smile and listen to her, even though sometimes I know you can't always make out exactly what it is she's saying. She speaks softly, and you can't always hear her. I see the way you pull out her chair for her, then tuck her into the table. How you hold the arm of her coat as she slides her arm in, adjusting her just right. The way you pour her coffee and prepare it just so, and how you tell her to take more food on her plate, that she should eat all she wants. The support you give her, the encouragement. The admiration that is so very evident in your blue eyes for her. Your care and concern that she is protected and well taken care of. Your amazing, overflowing love for your precious wife.
Gracious. Happy. Sincere.
You are a wonderful father. I see the way your eyes light up when your three daughters are with you. I hear how you talk to their significant others, accepting them unconditionally. I see how you have tremendous pride in them. I catch you looking at them, when they are not looking at you. And I see the way your face lights up at that moment. The joy and genuine concern you take in their lives. The way you embrace them, not just physically, but emotionally, and in all ways really, unconditionally and always.
Cheerful. Exceptional. Funny.
You are, simply the best grandfather ever. I cannot imagine my childhood, and now my adult life, without you being a part of it. The way you slip me that money. How you tell me that I will always be your girl as you squeeze my hand. How you say to me, that you like my shoes, and comment that I'm a "hot ticket." How you show genuine interest in my life, my friends, my job, and anything that I'm pursuing. How you ask if I will always be your Valentine. The way you make me feel like the most special person ever when I'm with you. The love that I feel when I'm with you and around you, near you and beside you.
I am so lucky.
You are the most giving, kindest, most genuine, humble man that I will ever know. Your love for your family and your friends just fill my heart to the brim. You are amazing. And wonderful. And really any word in the thesaurus for extraordinary and special and sweet and caring and charismatic, it's all you. I cannot even write this without tears filling up, because I have an uncontrollable abundance of love, admiration, and honor for you. And I just can't keep it all in.
I think of you all the time. When I'm with you and when I'm not even, I think of you. I think of you as I have known you throughout my lifetime. I think of you and who you were when I never even knew you. What you were like at my age. How you were as you courted my grandmother. What kind of a son and brother you must have been. What you are doing on a Friday night while I am sipping wine, out to dinner with friends. What you did today. What you're eating for dinner tonight. What you and she are doing, right now. What you're watching on tv, and what book you are currently reading. What you are wearing and how sharp you look. Yes, I said sharp. How you have a way of touching every single person's life who you encounter, and how truly profound that is.
And I don't know if you realize this. How completely and truly wonderful you are. You have to know you are loved, because I have a feeling my words here, would be nodded and echoed by those whose lives you have touched. You are an amazing man. I feel I cannot say it enough. I think that if I repeat that, these words and these thoughts, over and over, how much I love you, how much you mean to me, how purely genuine and special you are, that maybe, just maybe, that will just keep you around here forever.
You need to be around forever. A life without you is completely unimaginable, unfathomable really.
You need to be around forever. And ever. Forever, and ever and ever.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
questions of science, science and progress, do not speak as loud as my heart
there were times when i clearly remember thinking that i would never ever be the same without you. and that scared me. i didnt want to be me, without you. there were days that i would walk around in a bit of a fog, because of nights spent kept awake reaching for your body that was no longer there, searching for your lingering smell on my pillow that was now gone. weekends we once spent together, were now filled with coffee shops, girlfriends, cocktails, and many tears. the journal that i started when i first felt the pangs of uncertainty about us, was being scribbled in on a daily basis now. to read it now would show a script of a very tumultuous time.
months went by and things did seem to get a little better. then a slip up. a picture would fall from the pile on my nightstand. looking through email archives id find the lyrics to love songs you used to send me. and for the next several days, it was rough. tears again, and fears. fear that, shit, no way, really? again? im going backwards? and i thought i was doing so good. ive been here before but it was months ago. why am i back here? this pattern would happen. things would be okay, then another damn slip up. and then the tears. and fears. and questioning.
then more time would go by. and weeks turned into months with no real missing you pangs. well not that brought full on tears anymore at least. i still missed you. id be kidding you if i said it was a quick and easy thing, to get over you. over us. it wasnt. it still isnt.
i dont think about you too much anymore. and when i do, at first its your smell and your arms that i miss, or your hands. then its your yelling and anger that i dont miss, and your meanness.
and i realize how far i have come.
i used to not be able to imagine me, without you. i used to not want to be me, without you. now, almost a year later, i cant imagine me with you. i cant imagine someone like me, who i have become, who i have changed into, being with someone like you.
and that's progress.
months went by and things did seem to get a little better. then a slip up. a picture would fall from the pile on my nightstand. looking through email archives id find the lyrics to love songs you used to send me. and for the next several days, it was rough. tears again, and fears. fear that, shit, no way, really? again? im going backwards? and i thought i was doing so good. ive been here before but it was months ago. why am i back here? this pattern would happen. things would be okay, then another damn slip up. and then the tears. and fears. and questioning.
then more time would go by. and weeks turned into months with no real missing you pangs. well not that brought full on tears anymore at least. i still missed you. id be kidding you if i said it was a quick and easy thing, to get over you. over us. it wasnt. it still isnt.
i dont think about you too much anymore. and when i do, at first its your smell and your arms that i miss, or your hands. then its your yelling and anger that i dont miss, and your meanness.
and i realize how far i have come.
i used to not be able to imagine me, without you. i used to not want to be me, without you. now, almost a year later, i cant imagine me with you. i cant imagine someone like me, who i have become, who i have changed into, being with someone like you.
and that's progress.
Thursday, February 22, 2007
To Text or Not to Text, what the hell?
The fact that we even refer to it as a slang already, is pretty unfortunate.
A "text" or "TM"... "I'll text you" or, "Didn't you get my text?"
More unfortunate is the fact that people are seriously using this form of communication to replace a phone call nowadays. Okay, there are certain situations for which I think a text is appropriate. Let's deal with these first.
When a "text" is okay:
-I'm on my way home. We're all out of milk. Did my roommate get it or should I stop?
Appropriate text: "Do we need milk?"
-You're on a date. Or we can't talk, but you have info. We obviously can't have an update over the phone that will really cover much, and clearly a text won't say much either, but we can get the point across. I wonder how your date or your night is going.
Appropriate text: "It's going well. 7/10. Good enough to miss Grey's for."
-I miss you. Yes, we just talked on the phone ten minutes ago. But your voice sounded so sweet, and I miss you in my bed. And I want you to know this.
Appropriate text: "I miss you in my bed."
-A funny one liner needs to be relayed. It doesn't require a whole phone call. In fact, it will be funnier if it's in a text which can be saved and referred to for a laugh at a later date.
Appropriate text: "I'm sitting next to a guy wearing tapered leg jeans and socks with sandals."
-American Idol is on and you want to vote for your favorite male vocalist.
Appropriate text: "
-Lastly, I would put anything in this category that is something short, to the point, quick, and that doesn't need a phone call for. If you know someone isn't near email, or can't talk on the phone, but have something quick to say. A nice comment, an "I miss you," a "hello friend," a compliment.
These are acceptable.
When a "text" is not okay:
-I'm at the bar. You're cute and you give me your number. First of all, ask for my number buddy, and call me. But giving me your number and suggesting I text you? Not mature.
Inappropriate text: "Have a good night. Here is my number. Text me if you want."
That's a turnoff. And inappropriate. And a zillion other things that do not equal a date on the horizon.
-Making plans over texts. I'm talking big plans. It's a stretch if it's something small even, but fine. Switching a time for meeting up for drinks, saying you're running late and asking if that's okay. All fine.
Inappropriate text: "Do you have plans Saturday night?"
Wrong. Don't make date plans with me over a text. And I'm really expected to engage in this back and forthness? I will probably throw my phone. This is not how to woo a girl. Pick up the phone and call me. Show some decency and take the time and effort to actually engage in a conversation. If you call me you appear interested; if you text me you appear lazy. Recognize the difference.
-Texting, binging back and forth with God knows who, constantly.
There's really no further explanation here. If I'm out to dinner with a girlfriend, I will not be texting someone else all night. If we're on a date, I don't expect you to be texting someone else all night. A little appropriate text, fine, two at the most, explained above, can slide. More than that is getting into rude territory. You appear uninterested in the one you're with, and that's also unattractive.
-You need to say something to someone. It's important. It's news. Or maybe it's not important but you want to keep in touch. You have things to say; you want to catch up.
Inappropriate text: "Hey, how are you? I hope your week is going well. Want to do something Sunday? Did I leave my sneakers at your apartment? Hope your week is going well. I have been so busy with work and everything else."
This is too much. Too long, too much info for one text. In fact, it will probably be rejected because it's too long. Or separated into two texts, and who wants to get two, choppy texts? Email me with this. Or call me. Or stop by my place and tell me. Remember, I'm getting charged for your text. Thank you very much.
I'm not totally opposed to texting. I think, like anything else, there is a time and place. There are clearly some very appropriate situations where it's called for. Probably many, many more instances where it is not. I will admit, I have probably been in the inappropriate category before. I have learned my lesson. Maybe it sounds picky, but it's the facts.
I firmly vow, here and now, to follow these above outlined rules from here on out.
This is my list. Do you have some additions?
A "text" or "TM"... "I'll text you" or, "Didn't you get my text?"
More unfortunate is the fact that people are seriously using this form of communication to replace a phone call nowadays. Okay, there are certain situations for which I think a text is appropriate. Let's deal with these first.
When a "text" is okay:
-I'm on my way home. We're all out of milk. Did my roommate get it or should I stop?
Appropriate text: "Do we need milk?"
-You're on a date. Or we can't talk, but you have info. We obviously can't have an update over the phone that will really cover much, and clearly a text won't say much either, but we can get the point across. I wonder how your date or your night is going.
Appropriate text: "It's going well. 7/10. Good enough to miss Grey's for."
-I miss you. Yes, we just talked on the phone ten minutes ago. But your voice sounded so sweet, and I miss you in my bed. And I want you to know this.
Appropriate text: "I miss you in my bed."
-A funny one liner needs to be relayed. It doesn't require a whole phone call. In fact, it will be funnier if it's in a text which can be saved and referred to for a laugh at a later date.
Appropriate text: "I'm sitting next to a guy wearing tapered leg jeans and socks with sandals."
-American Idol is on and you want to vote for your favorite male vocalist.
Appropriate text: "
-Lastly, I would put anything in this category that is something short, to the point, quick, and that doesn't need a phone call for. If you know someone isn't near email, or can't talk on the phone, but have something quick to say. A nice comment, an "I miss you," a "hello friend," a compliment.
These are acceptable.
When a "text" is not okay:
-I'm at the bar. You're cute and you give me your number. First of all, ask for my number buddy, and call me. But giving me your number and suggesting I text you? Not mature.
Inappropriate text: "Have a good night. Here is my number. Text me if you want."
That's a turnoff. And inappropriate. And a zillion other things that do not equal a date on the horizon.
-Making plans over texts. I'm talking big plans. It's a stretch if it's something small even, but fine. Switching a time for meeting up for drinks, saying you're running late and asking if that's okay. All fine.
Inappropriate text: "Do you have plans Saturday night?"
Wrong. Don't make date plans with me over a text. And I'm really expected to engage in this back and forthness? I will probably throw my phone. This is not how to woo a girl. Pick up the phone and call me. Show some decency and take the time and effort to actually engage in a conversation. If you call me you appear interested; if you text me you appear lazy. Recognize the difference.
-Texting, binging back and forth with God knows who, constantly.
There's really no further explanation here. If I'm out to dinner with a girlfriend, I will not be texting someone else all night. If we're on a date, I don't expect you to be texting someone else all night. A little appropriate text, fine, two at the most, explained above, can slide. More than that is getting into rude territory. You appear uninterested in the one you're with, and that's also unattractive.
-You need to say something to someone. It's important. It's news. Or maybe it's not important but you want to keep in touch. You have things to say; you want to catch up.
Inappropriate text: "Hey, how are you? I hope your week is going well. Want to do something Sunday? Did I leave my sneakers at your apartment? Hope your week is going well. I have been so busy with work and everything else."
This is too much. Too long, too much info for one text. In fact, it will probably be rejected because it's too long. Or separated into two texts, and who wants to get two, choppy texts? Email me with this. Or call me. Or stop by my place and tell me. Remember, I'm getting charged for your text. Thank you very much.
I'm not totally opposed to texting. I think, like anything else, there is a time and place. There are clearly some very appropriate situations where it's called for. Probably many, many more instances where it is not. I will admit, I have probably been in the inappropriate category before. I have learned my lesson. Maybe it sounds picky, but it's the facts.
I firmly vow, here and now, to follow these above outlined rules from here on out.
This is my list. Do you have some additions?
What do you do for fun?
Well, I alluded to my slight interest in it, and last night was the night.
Speed dating.
That's right. I did it. With one of my dearest friends, my red headed beauty. We got to the event, donned our name tags with our names and "number" and ordered our first rum and diet. Scoping the room, it looked as though it could be promising. Maybe. Who knows, but we were up for whatever the night had to bring, and we were keeping an open mind.
I had six dates. Each person is "supposed" to have eight, but three guys, apparently ducked out early, leaving each round with three ladies, speed-dateless. Leaving me, sipping another drink, chatting with the bartender, for two speed dates worth, sixteen minutes. He was nice, and something about him kind of intrigued me, from the get go. Like you can imagine though, a bartender at an event like this... well, it seemed like lots of the girls there were into him, and he seemed pretty into himself.
The six men I did meet were interesting. All, in their own ways. I guess, maybe, I'll check "second date" for one. After a while, repeating what I do for work, what I like to do for fun, etc., got a little old. However, I would rate the night a... 6/10. I had a good time, it was a fun, different, unique way to meet new people. I just didn't leave feeling all too enthusiastic about anyone in particular. Hmm. Maybe I just have very high expectations. I don't know.
I have the bartender's number. He wants me to text him. Yes, he actually suggested that I text him. That's a whole other subject which I clearly need to address soon. Men lately and their damn texting. What the hell is that all about? Ask for a girl's number and freaking call her, damnit.
So there you have it. All in all, a fun night. Would I do it again? Sure. In no real rush though. It was amusing and interesting, but nothing too spectacular. My red headed beauty did meet two potential second dates though, lucky her.
Speed dating.
That's right. I did it. With one of my dearest friends, my red headed beauty. We got to the event, donned our name tags with our names and "number" and ordered our first rum and diet. Scoping the room, it looked as though it could be promising. Maybe. Who knows, but we were up for whatever the night had to bring, and we were keeping an open mind.
I had six dates. Each person is "supposed" to have eight, but three guys, apparently ducked out early, leaving each round with three ladies, speed-dateless. Leaving me, sipping another drink, chatting with the bartender, for two speed dates worth, sixteen minutes. He was nice, and something about him kind of intrigued me, from the get go. Like you can imagine though, a bartender at an event like this... well, it seemed like lots of the girls there were into him, and he seemed pretty into himself.
The six men I did meet were interesting. All, in their own ways. I guess, maybe, I'll check "second date" for one. After a while, repeating what I do for work, what I like to do for fun, etc., got a little old. However, I would rate the night a... 6/10. I had a good time, it was a fun, different, unique way to meet new people. I just didn't leave feeling all too enthusiastic about anyone in particular. Hmm. Maybe I just have very high expectations. I don't know.
I have the bartender's number. He wants me to text him. Yes, he actually suggested that I text him. That's a whole other subject which I clearly need to address soon. Men lately and their damn texting. What the hell is that all about? Ask for a girl's number and freaking call her, damnit.
So there you have it. All in all, a fun night. Would I do it again? Sure. In no real rush though. It was amusing and interesting, but nothing too spectacular. My red headed beauty did meet two potential second dates though, lucky her.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
these thoughts are not foolish
In this one you are contemplating something. You have to be, right? Your eyes are telling a story here. I just don't know what the theme is, exactly. I can't pinpoint it. I am sure that you are happy though; I can sense that. You look very comfortable, and content. Your body language is saying that you are at ease. You are sitting beside your best friend. Your eyes in this picture... you look like you've got a story to tell. What is it?
I wish I was there when this picture was taken. What were you doing at the time it was taken, or right before? You aren't flashing a full smile, but you look so happy. And pretty. Do you know that you have that capability? To just sit there, and maybe without noticing that a picture is being taken of you, or without a big grin even, you look remarkably beautiful, just being there?
Your eyes tell a story and I wonder what it is. I can sense all that I have mentioned, but I have so many questions, still. Where was this taken? Who took it? I think that I own that same exact jacket, another similarity we share among a thousand others. Where did you get it? How did you feel when that picture was taken?
You mailed this picture to me. In the real mail, with a letter you had handwritten me. Since then, I've seen many other pictures of you. It is this picture though, my friend, that sticks out in my mind. When I think of you, this is the image that comes to my mind. It is the first picture I ever saw of you. It's what I "picture," when I get a letter from you in the mail, an email, a text message, or a phone call.
There's a saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Well this picture is no exception. Seeing this picture, after corresponding with you for several months, gave me such a good feeling inside. I can't even really describe it in the words that would be able to capture the emotion that I feel when I look at it. When I first saw that picture, I could tell that you were kind, and warm. Happy and intelligent. Fashion savvy and confident. Humorous and easygoing. Content and at ease. You seemed, back then, like someone I would be friends with, in real life. We started out as penpals, but I honestly believe we have developed a friendship that will last a lifetime. Although we have never met in real life, I wait in eager anticipation for that day. We will have the best time together. I just know this. I can tell, based on that one picture of you. We were destined to be friends.
I wish I was there when this picture was taken. What were you doing at the time it was taken, or right before? You aren't flashing a full smile, but you look so happy. And pretty. Do you know that you have that capability? To just sit there, and maybe without noticing that a picture is being taken of you, or without a big grin even, you look remarkably beautiful, just being there?
Your eyes tell a story and I wonder what it is. I can sense all that I have mentioned, but I have so many questions, still. Where was this taken? Who took it? I think that I own that same exact jacket, another similarity we share among a thousand others. Where did you get it? How did you feel when that picture was taken?
You mailed this picture to me. In the real mail, with a letter you had handwritten me. Since then, I've seen many other pictures of you. It is this picture though, my friend, that sticks out in my mind. When I think of you, this is the image that comes to my mind. It is the first picture I ever saw of you. It's what I "picture," when I get a letter from you in the mail, an email, a text message, or a phone call.
There's a saying, "a picture is worth a thousand words." Well this picture is no exception. Seeing this picture, after corresponding with you for several months, gave me such a good feeling inside. I can't even really describe it in the words that would be able to capture the emotion that I feel when I look at it. When I first saw that picture, I could tell that you were kind, and warm. Happy and intelligent. Fashion savvy and confident. Humorous and easygoing. Content and at ease. You seemed, back then, like someone I would be friends with, in real life. We started out as penpals, but I honestly believe we have developed a friendship that will last a lifetime. Although we have never met in real life, I wait in eager anticipation for that day. We will have the best time together. I just know this. I can tell, based on that one picture of you. We were destined to be friends.
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
I'm a sucker for...
Stolen from my friend Brooke, who stole it from Ari (who I was going to steal it from anyway).
I'm a sucker for...
-My mom's voice, and her hugs.
-Falling asleep in someone's arms. Cuddling. Maybe in bed, on a rainy afternoon. Maybe on a summer afternoon, in the middle of the park, reading a book together, on a blanket.
-A man in a button down, blue shirt. With a nice pair of shoes, and appropriate socks. An old spice scent or otherwise yummy/clean smell. This is a turn on.
-Kissing the top of a baby's head.
-Making out.
-Maine.
-Having my hair played with, or brushed.
-The ache after a good workout.
-Unhealthy pub food. Beer battered mozzarella sticks. Nachos. Spinach and artichoke dip. Jalapeno poppers. This, on a chilly day, tucked into a corner booth in a towny bar. With pitchers of beer and good friends.
-Strappy slingbacks. Sandals. Flip flops. Knee high boots.
-Shoes in general.
-The smell of fresh cut grass.
-A crisp, professional outfit with a spec of sass. An understated lacy cami under a cardigan, or a blazer. A crisp shirt, a skirt, and knee high boots. A bold color mixed in with black. A tiny touch of bling.
-Autumn.
-Banana Boat sunscreen, that coconut smell mmmmmm.
-That spot on a boy. In that under chin/neck/collar bone area. The nook. The spot.
-My morning coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and the employees there. They barely speak a sentence of English but they are the friendliest people in the world, and they are genuine. They make my morning, every morning.
-Taking pictures. Black and white, for certain ones.
-Candles. Yummy ones, from Yankee Candle, or Bath and Body Works even. And aromatherapy ones.
-Nice lighting.
-Spinach, feta, and egg white omelets.
-Thongs from Victoria's Secret. And those IPEX bras, you know the ones. Way too expensive, but so good for the girls.
-Doritos, really, either kind. I seldom eat them, but when I do, I can rip through a bag like none other.
-Full house re-runs.
-Any, and all accessories.
-Chick flicks. Lifetime movies.
-And ohmygod, Jason Lewis.
-My alone time in the car, 45 minutes to and from work each day.
-Moisturizing.
-Willard Scott and his Smucker's birthdays.
-Handwritten letters and cards.
-Pumpkin seeds. Pirates booty.
-Sex and the City, obviously.
-Lip gloss. I will never have enough.
-A man with a good head of hair. That I can touch and play with. With not too much product, at all, gross.
-Unexpected phone calls, or texts.
-The ocean.
-A big glass of chocolate milk.
-Joshua Radin.
-My best friends, their smiles, and laughter.
I could go on forever, and ever. Are you a sucker for anything?
I'm a sucker for...
-My mom's voice, and her hugs.
-Falling asleep in someone's arms. Cuddling. Maybe in bed, on a rainy afternoon. Maybe on a summer afternoon, in the middle of the park, reading a book together, on a blanket.
-A man in a button down, blue shirt. With a nice pair of shoes, and appropriate socks. An old spice scent or otherwise yummy/clean smell. This is a turn on.
-Kissing the top of a baby's head.
-Making out.
-Maine.
-Having my hair played with, or brushed.
-The ache after a good workout.
-Unhealthy pub food. Beer battered mozzarella sticks. Nachos. Spinach and artichoke dip. Jalapeno poppers. This, on a chilly day, tucked into a corner booth in a towny bar. With pitchers of beer and good friends.
-Strappy slingbacks. Sandals. Flip flops. Knee high boots.
-Shoes in general.
-The smell of fresh cut grass.
-A crisp, professional outfit with a spec of sass. An understated lacy cami under a cardigan, or a blazer. A crisp shirt, a skirt, and knee high boots. A bold color mixed in with black. A tiny touch of bling.
-Autumn.
-Banana Boat sunscreen, that coconut smell mmmmmm.
-That spot on a boy. In that under chin/neck/collar bone area. The nook. The spot.
-My morning coffee at Dunkin Donuts, and the employees there. They barely speak a sentence of English but they are the friendliest people in the world, and they are genuine. They make my morning, every morning.
-Taking pictures. Black and white, for certain ones.
-Candles. Yummy ones, from Yankee Candle, or Bath and Body Works even. And aromatherapy ones.
-Nice lighting.
-Spinach, feta, and egg white omelets.
-Thongs from Victoria's Secret. And those IPEX bras, you know the ones. Way too expensive, but so good for the girls.
-Doritos, really, either kind. I seldom eat them, but when I do, I can rip through a bag like none other.
-Full house re-runs.
-Any, and all accessories.
-Chick flicks. Lifetime movies.
-And ohmygod, Jason Lewis.
-My alone time in the car, 45 minutes to and from work each day.
-Moisturizing.
-Willard Scott and his Smucker's birthdays.
-Handwritten letters and cards.
-Pumpkin seeds. Pirates booty.
-Sex and the City, obviously.
-Lip gloss. I will never have enough.
-A man with a good head of hair. That I can touch and play with. With not too much product, at all, gross.
-Unexpected phone calls, or texts.
-The ocean.
-A big glass of chocolate milk.
-Joshua Radin.
-My best friends, their smiles, and laughter.
I could go on forever, and ever. Are you a sucker for anything?
The Sounds of Silence
"I got grossed out, danced some more, some guy poked me with his boner for an entire song, got grossed out, gave a fake number to some guy who asked me, his name was Boston, left this bar around 7 in the morning."
This is why I love this girl. B may be oceans away, six hours apart, and while she's sitting in a cafe for lunch eating fruit, and cheese, and a baguette, I'm hitting snooze and coming up with an excuse to skip the gym. But this, emails that contain contents such as the sample above, are why I know that no matter how far apart, how long I don't see this girl, how many weeks we go without talking, that she is one of my very best friends, and will be, forever.
This is why I love this girl. B may be oceans away, six hours apart, and while she's sitting in a cafe for lunch eating fruit, and cheese, and a baguette, I'm hitting snooze and coming up with an excuse to skip the gym. But this, emails that contain contents such as the sample above, are why I know that no matter how far apart, how long I don't see this girl, how many weeks we go without talking, that she is one of my very best friends, and will be, forever.
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