Waiting...

I'm waiting for my boy to call me, so to entertain you (and myself) until then, here's my final WinAmp playlist for 2008. (Good riddance, 2008.) This time there's a twist - I've been drinking, so I get to move around to find songs I can tolerate.

1. The Damned, Alone Again Or - Interesting video. A very different sound from them. But the lyrics are captivating. A love made of either self-sacrifice or masochism?

2. Madonna, Drowned World - This song appears on many of the CDs I make. Really? "The face of you/my substitute for love". Ouch. I've felt that way so many times.

3. Siouxsie and the Banshees, Christine - Do I really need to explain this to you? This song is the source of many of my nicknames when I lived in California. Yeah, yeah. Call me "Turtle" now, and see what happens.

4. Garbage, Sleep Together - I really disliked Garbage when "Queer" was released. I knew that the musicians, not Shirley, were record producers, so I disgarded the band entirely. Man, what I moron I was. I now own every record the band released, and have friended Shirley Manson on Facebook.

5. Sarah McLachlan, Hold On - Probably not the best song for New Year's Eve, but I love it regardless. It reminds me of when my cat, Boo, died. It was October 13, 1995. My life changed. I may never forgive myself for the circumstances around it. I cried for weeks on end. I'd had that cat since we lived in Kansas, which would have been 1979 or so.

6. Britney Spears, Crazy - Who couldn't love the high school fun in this song? Is there a better feeling in the world than having a crush? The flirting and wondering are sometimes the best part of a relationship.

7. Garbage, Special - I told you I get to pick this time around. This song reminds me of Matt, a guy I dated years upon years ago. There was so much chemistry - too much, perhaps. Once the affair was over, this song saved my life.

8. Talking Heads, (Nothing But) Flowers - This one makes me giggle, and also not feel so guilty about all the cigarette butts I threw out the window when I was a teenager. "If this is paradise/I wish I had a lawnmower". I also never want to do yardwork. Who enjoys mowing and weeding? My idea of camping is not having an ocean view from my hotel suite.

9. Madonna, Oh Father - I didn't really choose this one. But isn't it a New Year song to my new freedom? Goodbye to what's hurt me, goodbye to doubt and fear. HELL-FUCKING-O to my new life of passions, enjoyment, and success, in every arena in which I want it.

10. Prince, Erotic City - I didn't choose this one either. It was sent to me on Twitter. But really, readers...it's hard to find a dirtier song, or one that makes you want to dance more.

Happy New Year, Readers. Thank you for following my crazy life, and for only judging me a little on how I live it. I cannot wait to tell you all the stories from 2009.

Oh, 2008, You Can Just Go Die

And it will, in about 3 hours. It's been a, well, "challenging" year. Does anyone else hate that term when what the speaker really means is "incredibly shitty"?

But it hasn't been all bad. I passed the bar. I reconnected with many friends, and one in particular, who I didn't even realize I missed and needed. I moved. I finally got on track to take better care of myself.

Still, I can't let 2008 go without calling it mean names. Harsh. Claustrophobic. Endless. Unwilling to let me come up for air and figure out a) what's really going on and b) what I can do about it.

Viewed in its entirety, screw you, 2008.

And 2009? Right now, I'm pretty much completely in love with you. Don't try to ruin me like 2008 did. I've learned some lessons; I won't let you make me your bitch. Yeah, yeah, shut up. In the power struggle between me and life, I know who's going to win. But I'll fight like hell this time around.

It Could Happen

Him: Have you ever thought about being a step-mom?

Me: Yes. Yes. The thought has crossed my mind.

Him: I won't say anything else about it then.

Me: Good.

I will never be an actual mother. I could be a step-mother. The bonus of this is that when my boy's son tells me that I'm not his real mother, I can answer that I know.

Holy crap. I know that this has crossed my mind, and more than that, I've discussed it with my friends. But it's the first time that my boy has brought it up.

I will marry him. Or "civil union" him.

Oops

I was talking to an old friend today and was complaining to him about feeling like crap with the supercold that I have, and how I'm postulating that I have consumption.

Me: I'm dying of consumption. Doesn't it seem like a romantic, old-fashioned way to die?

Him: You're eating yourself to death?

People, I laughed so hard that I almost choked. Luckily, he's not angry with me for laughing at him. Unlike this person. Sorry about that, other person.

I'm Thinking...

Because despite my best efforts, I find it almost impossible to turn off my brain.

- I'm hiding in the office today. I've been hiding for a few days. Maybe I'll have more to say to Momma in 2009. Not too likely, but you never know. For now, I prefer the "treat her like a roommate" approach.

- I'm re-reading Overheard in Law School, because I am a narcissist and I wanted to plug the one that I submitted. My very first blog post ever! In this search, I found this post. It reminded me of the CLE I attended last month, where personal injury lawyers seemed excited about the nature of their cases.

- I'll link mine when I find it. Did I mention the narcissism?

- I am physically exhausted from an hour on the treadmill. I kicked my ass, people. I sang along to the music (everyone else there thought it was charming, I swear) and danced on the 'mill when the pace slowed down. 500+ calories GONE! When I got off the treadmill, my quad tried to cramp. This is a good sign, no?

- I wish that when I inserted a link, Blogger already knew that I want the link to open in a new window, so I didn't have to insert target="_blank" in the hyperlinks.

Overheard In The Office

If you're not reading this, start. Right. Now. Even with my fear of the consumptive cough, I can't make myself stop reading it.

Here's a sample (I'd link but it'll change as the site updates, and there's no perma-link that I saw):*

4PM There Are Used Vibrators on EBay (Don't Ask How We Know)

Guy: Me and the wife are going out this weekend. You think you could hook me up with...uhh, some happy fun time shit?

Girl: Are you serious? I don't think I have anything you'd like. How do you know what your wife wants?

Guy: What the fuck? She wants weed, end of story!

Girl: Oh, shit! I thought you were talking about sex toys!

Guy: Why the fuck would I ask to borrow someone else's sex toys?

Girl: I...uh...

Guy (smirking): So you have sex toys, huh? What kind?

Girl: Shut up!

Centennial, Colorado

*Right after I posted this, I found the perma-link, so there you go. I will not hide my mistakes from you, dear Readers.

Gym Etiquette

As in, I have none as of late. Of course, most of the time when I'm at the gym, I'm alone. Here are my most recent peccadilloes. Since I've been sick, I've avoided the gym like the plague. I've had to, because I can barely take three breathes before I cough like I've got consumption. Deep, chest-rattling coughs that hurt to perform and hurt to behold. I am officially a huge fan of Ricola.

But now that I must kick my own ass into shape, I've returned to the gym. Yesterday wasn't so bad, in the sense that there was a House marathon on TV, so I could distract myself from the innate knowledge that I was pedalling for thirty minutes in what felt like an uphill direction the entire time. However, the coughing continued. Now people, there's only so much I can do to cover my mouth when I'm coughing that hard and trying to catch my breath and maintain my balance on the bike (not as easy as you'd think when coughing) and not become incontinent. (Sorry for the TMI.) I wiped down the bike with my towel when I was done, but I don't know how much good that did.

Today I finally got around to loading my new mp3 player with fun-filled songs to know and sing along with. And again, I was alone in the gym, singing, coughing, and biking. If this next part isn't true, I'm going to pretend it is: Singing along with the music while biking burns more calories. Doing the 1-2-3 punch of biking, singing, and coughing eviscerates calories. I forgot to wipe down the bike. Apologies to the person who rides after me. But what could I do? I had to sing along with Beyonce...

Sigh...

Him: I've loved you for almost 20 years.

People, I cannot WAIT to see my boy again. Now, help me out. Keep me honest. I've got three months to whip myself into better shape. If I could breathe more than two deep breaths before coughing so hard my eyes water, this would be easier. But I can do this!

Awakenings

Do you remember the movie "Awakenings"? The basic premise was that there were comatose patients. A doctor figured out that administering L-Dopa would awake them. The downside was that the patients wouldn't be awake too long.

That's what 2008 has felt like for me. I moved back to Alabama. I got a temp job, which, for better or worse far as a job was concerned, paid my bills. I made some friends there. I went crazy, studying, and then passed the bar. My mother moved in. I reunited with the boy.

It's certainly been a year of ups and downs. Yet, nothing of real fruition has happened.

Honestly, it's getting to a point where I think, "Why bother? Why work hard?" Nothing has come to fruition. I spent my day being a good, nice, selfless person. That's all Momma asked of me for Christmas. I'm thinking that that's all I should do.

Get a job. Work hard; pay my loans; just live minute-to-minute. There really doesn't seem to be a purpose in dreaming far ahead anymore.

And you know, aside from the last few minutes today, it wasn't that bad. I've lived for months waiting for the next moment. Yeah, those moments came, but nothing really came to fruition. So maybe it's time to submit. Maybe it's time to just fall into line, to become another automaton who exists to work and pay and work and pay.

It's not that bad. And if it means that the anticipation, which is generally of no use and only disappoints me, goes away, then maybe that's a good thing. Never anticipate. Never dream. Just live moment to moment. After all, that's all we're given, right? We're not guaranteed any sort of future. So why fight so hard for something that may never be?

Holiday-rific

So apparently what I'm getting for Christmas, for realz, is this head cold. Lovely. Hopefully I shared it with all the last-minute shopping meanies at Target yesterday. And hopefully the nice lady who found the Nyquil for me is immune to this virus' charms.

I wish all of you a good holiday. I'm happy this Christmas because it means that we're even closer to 2009, a year I'm anticipating in ways I can't even put to words yet.

I love you!

Because I'm Tough, People!

I woke up this morning far too early, like, say 7-ish. Sure, for those of you with "jobs", that might seem timely, or even late. But my work consists of finding excuses not to clean the apartment, thinking of clever things to tweet, and coming up with blog topics.

So I dragged myself up off the sofa/bed and took my daily Claritin and calcium pills. (Aside: Do NOT buy the tropical fruit-flavored generic Tums if you don't like the taste of coconut.) I fed the cat and wandered back to bed for light napping and watching TV.

About 10-ish, I came more to life. Enough so to notice that my throat hurt. This was a different pain than the one from Saturday morning, where, during an unusually large yawn, I managed to dislocate my jaw. (The joke's too easy, people, so I won't condescend to you like that.)

This pain is more of a soreness each time I swallow. (Yeah.) It's the kind of pain that wants 3-liter bottles of ice-cold Diet Mt. Dew poured over it, because the burning dulls the soreness. Like covering a wound with Merthiolate or iodine. (Can you tell how old I am now?)

Then the coughing kicked in, and then the runny nose. Damn, people, I haven't been sick since right after the bar. But here I am, another proud owner of what Southerners lovingly refer to as "the crud".

Yet, YET, in fact, almost in spite of this dastardly condition, I dragged my sorry self over the gym and coughed my way through thirty minutes of the "Fatburn" setting on the cardio bike. And coughed and almost fainted my way through a shower directly after.

See, lesser mortals would have stayed on the sofa/bed, entranced by the knowledge that they somehow are currently the proud owners of HBO. They would not have gone out in the 20-degree day to improve themselves.

I am tough.

A (Better) Day In My Life...

This morning, I awoke at a reasonable hour, and fortunately didn't re-dream the dream where I beat up a Target customer because the sale on Diet Mt. Dew was so good. I actually awoke pretty cheerful and ready to hit the gym. I did about 45 minutes on the bike, averaging seven miles/hour. Good on me! The best inspiration? Watching the 'Calories Burned" counter. You'd be amazed how fast you can pedal when you're burning a calorie about every minute and a half.

I next went for lunch with Birthday Girl. I might get more cred for this had I remembered it was her birthday before I let her pay for her own lunch. Guess what will be on my calendar next year? Still, I had a great time talking with her and laughing. She is, and will always be, one of the funniest women I know. Happy birthday, again, Birthday Girl!!

Next, I went to see my college roommate at Flying Monkey, a local art studio/educational arena/place to catch up with people I haven't seen in years. Want to guess who I saw first? The DATE. I couldn't believe it either. I looked at him to see if it really was him. I walked further, looked back, and smiled at him. Honestly, folks, it seemed as if he just scowled at me. Hmmm...

I called Karen to see a) where her booth was, and b) to see if it really was the date. She confirmed her location, and told me that he was at the booth next to hers. "Oh, this will be interesting," I thought, and went to see Karen.

He showed up, and ignored me again. Honestly, I don't know if he's mad at me (I was a little toasted the last time I spoke with him) or if he's so ashamed of ditching me. I'm thinking that it doesn't matter.

Karen and I had a great time together! I don't think we've had face-to-face time since 2002. I hope we can remedy that - we're very different people, but our life experiences are frighteningly similar.

Tomorrow, I will photograph the gorgeous bracelet that she begrudgingly let me have, and post her contact info. Trust me when I tell you that the woman is good. REALLY, REALLY GOOD. I've already asked her to price one of her paintings for Cita.

As for DATE? I've got nothing. I was tempted to call him later, but I stopped when I realized that I should have confronted him, if I ever wanted to, at the event.

Still, a very, very lovely day. Clearly, I need to get out more often.

Decorations At My House

Without a lot of family and friends nearby, I generally don't do a lot for Christmas. I used to have a ceramic white Christmas tree with purple bulbs attached, which was handed down by my Grandmother. This year, I have nothing. Momma bought a set of penguin salt and pepper shakers which were to suffice as decorations.

My sister sent us this absolutely adorable tree:



So I thought, why not show you? After all, you've seen photos of the inside of my refrigerator, and my countertops. Earlier, as my manicure fell off in chunks, I planned to photo that mess and post it, until I realized that the nails fell off my right hand, and aside from a few things, my left hand is pretty useless.

Here's another view, with a tinge of the artwork I have in this place:



Maybe I am getting into the spirit after all.

CHEESE!!

Yesterday, the UPS person came by with a package for Momma and me. The return address was from Graham Cheese. It took me a minute to see this, and a minute longer to realize that this was a package that should probably be opened immediately. There's a very good chance that waiting until Christmas to open it would end badly, I reasoned. So, with Momma's permission, I took it into the kitchen and found this:



People, it's a four-pound circle of swiss cheese. FOUR POUNDS. Now, I am a very large fan of cheese - of all things dairy, really. But FOUR POUNDS? Whatever will two people, one of whom is perpetually on a diet, do with FOUR POUNDS of swiss cheese?

But it's for a good cause, as you can see here:



Purdue is an excellent university. I considered applying there at one point in my educational career. I'm not sure who in my family went there, but that's a story for another time. (I've got a great story of how my aunt paid for college that'll blow your socks off.)

So I did what anyone would do in my position. I read the card and saw that this FOUR POUND monstrosity arrived courtesy of my aunt and uncle. Let me just take a moment to tell you that my uncle is one of the few people who can best me in a game of quips. I'm so very proud of my uncle for really upping the ante with this gift.

Next, I found a proper place for FOUR POUNDS of swiss cheese to live:



Go Purdue! And a big AWESOME to the alumni association that decided that offering a FOUR POUND circle of cheese is a great fund-raising opportunity.

Concessions

Although it's a Tuesday, Momma and I had a good evening. We discussed my plans for being an attorney and her plans for moving out.

We also chatted about food we love, the ending of The Biggest Loser, and the kinds of literature we like to read.

The concession part was this: I promised to revisit the organization of my pantry and my cleaning-products cabinets, and she promised to try to remember to put water in the dirty dishes that she (occasionally) places in my sink, and to put her pill wrappers into the garbage.

Really, people, this is a decent move. May the end be in near.

May 2009 be a year where things begin to fall into place for ME and for my Momma as well.

Hell, if we keep this up, I might miss her.

Speaking of people I'll miss, G., I really think you should reconsider your across-nation route and swing by here.

Business Cards

Hey all! I need your help. Along with the mp3 player, the Rihanna CD, and the trip to the dentist, Momma is getting me business cards for Christmas. So, I need your opinion - which of these designs do you think looks the best?

http://tinyurl.com/6myhtk

Thanks!

Worries

Way back, a couple of years ago, I started reading Baghdad Burning. It was the first blog I ever read on a regular basis. Just now, I clicked onto my folder of blogs that are less frequently updated. I pulled up her site to see that there hasn't been an update in over a year. I know it's not unreasonable to think that she might be dead. I hope not.

What I Would Have Asked For

If I had half a brain when my family members and friends asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I would have had a better list. As such, I'm probably getting a gift card from my sister and one of those giant exercise balls from my brother. I know I'm getting an mp3 player (yea!) and the most recent Rihanna CD from my Momma.

I'd also love to have a Dyson (hey! I might vaccuum more than once a quarter that way!), a gift card to Best Buy, the Thriller CD, a housekeeper, enough money to ensure a fabulous trip to see my boyfriend, Clean House to fix my apartment, a job that pays decently and has health insurance, the ability to lose weight every time I sneeze, and calorie-free cookies.

Alas.

Like A Child Again

This morning, I awoke late. By 'late', I mean that I woke up around 4 or 5 and consumed enough caffeine to let me sleep again. Did I mention that I'm addicted to Diet Mt. Dew? Because I am. Because when I don't have enough, I can't sleep through the night. I wake up and chug some, and then go back to sleep because my caffeine levels are better.

This morning, when I finally decided to keep my eyes open, Momma was standing over me. "It's alive!" she said. I waived her away. About ten minutes later, I was almost upright, and she decided it would be a good idea to tell me what to do next. Mind you, I had already decided how to spend my (pseudo-productive) day. She said, "You better get up so you go work out." I replied, "Does it really matter what time of day I go to the gym?" She answered, "Well, the longer you take, the less likely you are to get it done."

True, friends, absolutely true. Yet, if I'm up late, I'm still planning a workout. If I'm up and already into my day, then it is less likely that I'll work out.

I finally dragged myself up, around 11:30, and dressed to go to the gym. As I walked out, she asked me if I remembered my towel, my water, and my book. I said, sarcastically, "Yes, thank you." People, my gym is two buildings away from my apartment. Were I to forget something, I think I could either find my way back, or just suck it up for the day.

This evening, I told her that asking me if I remembered the details was condescending. Her response? "I guess I won't help again."

Really? REALLY???

Tonight, as a final fuck-you to Sunday, I realized that I don't have any Scotch tape with which to wrap gifts. I told Momma that the mailing would have to wait a day. Her response? "I guess the gifts won't get there by Christmas, then." Because a mailing on the 15th is vastly more important than one on the 16th.

I feel like a kid again. It's not a good feeling.

Didn't help when my boyfriend backed her up.

That's it, I'm finding a Sherpa guide and never coming back.

Quick And To The Point

I'm making myself a frozen pizza. Yeah. Because I'm not a good cook and I don't like to cook, regardless.

I'm so glad that K. finished her brief. I cannot even imagine what it's like to do that. Yet, I'd love to try, so congratulations, girl!

Tomorrow I'm heading to Hallmark to find Christmas cards. Some will be generic. Once will be particular. I've looked once for a card for my boyfriend. Yes, I said boyfriend. It happened this week. (Omigod! I know, right!?!) The cards I saw for bf/gf were so amazingly sappy that I just walked out. I'm hoping tomorrow I'll have more patience and they'll have better cards.

I mean, I know it's a huge holiday, but my boyfriend and I aren't at the point where we declare endless love to each other. I'm hoping that I'll find something equal to the Halloween card I sent to him.

Apologies all around. Even writing the word 'boyfriend' just makes me so happy!

Puppies!

If you don't know, now you will. I'm much more of a cat person than I am a dog person. Still, as a little girl, we had an Irish Setter named Kerry whom I adored.

This weekend, I got to visit my friend Cita and meet her new puppy. She and her husband had three dogs, one of whom passed away in the part few months. It was a really sad time for all, and even I had to admit that I really loved Buddy. He would sit next to me on their couch and cuddle. You have to love a dog who did that. Of course, it's entirely possible that he wasn't so much "cuddling" as "trying to get me off his couch".

Here are the photos I took at Cita's house:

Below is Junebug, the new puppy. She's a rescued pit bull, and has the softest fur I've ever felt on a pit. She's sweet and energetic and extremely fascinated with the world:


Next is Colie. I don't know what kind of dog he is. He followed Cita's husband home and just decided to stay. Cita and her husband think he might be part fox. He certainly looks it! The worst thing about him is that he's SO soft and fuzzy, but doesn't really like to be pet:


Finally, we come to Chessa (short for Chesapeake). She's the first pit bull I ever met. I was scared to death to meet her, because I had heard all the horror stories about this breed. I went to Cita's parents' house to meet her the first time. My nerves were obvious. Luckily for me, so were hers. She looked at me, sniffed my hand, and went into the other room to lay down. Chessa is about as dangerous as a towel. Now she and I are best buddies, and every time I go to Cita's, she runs to me and drives me to distraction for pets and to stand close enough to me that she often sits on my foot:


This is a close-up of her adorable head:

Freshman v. Seniors

Yesterday, I judged a competition about civics. Essentially, I listened to local high school seniors give answers to questions relating to the importance, vitality, and changes within the US judicial system. Specifically, the Supreme Court. Many of these kids were nervous. It didn't help that a) this was the first time I've judged such a competition, and my own nerves were palatable, and b) when I introduced myself as a local attorney, I could see their fear.

Still, these kids went through their paces, and many of them were even able to answer the questions I developed and threw at them. I made up these questions as they were speaking. Really, I was impressed. They did no worse than I did when I was called on in law school.

You know those looks. The ones where you know they're watching you, but cannot even listen to what you're asking because you picked them for the torture. Goodness, but what a flashback to having my ConLaw professor call on me.

Today, I went to Momma's school with her and listened to her freshmen give talks about countries they researched for a project. Honestly, it was like listening to someone read the CIA World Factbook out loud. (Aside: I have that site bookmarked. Shut up.) It was pure torture. I actually begged Momma to let me leave. I tried not to openly mock them, and while not entirely successful, I do hope my voice didn't carry.

Now I'm trying to figure out the difference. Is it because of the age and maturity difference? Is it because of the stakes at hand? Momma's kids were doing their reports for some portion of their grade. The competition could possibly lead to a national win.

My thought (not the most p.c. one) has more to do with educational opportunity. The kids in the competition came from more affluent schools. The kids from Momma's school come from much more humble backgrounds. Although I wish it didn't matter, I'm afraid that it does, and will continue to matter. This is something I'd like to remedy. Momma's kids aren't dumb; in fact, they're far from it. But they don't seem to have goals as striving as the kids I listened to in the competition.

Because I Watch Bravo, That's Why

I finally got around to watching the 200th episode of Inside the Actor's Studio. You know, the one where Dave Chappelle was the host. I've always wanted to answer the final questions, so here we go, and I know, I know, another list...

1. What is your favorite word?

Hunnybunny.

2. What is your least favorite word?

Goodbye.

3. What turns you on?

Making people laugh.

4. What turns you off?

Criticism that's intended to hurt me.

5. What is your favorite curse word?

Fuck. In any permutation.

6. What sound or noise do you love?

The sound of waves crashing on the beach.

7. What sound or noise do you hate?

The Emergency Broadcast System siren.

8. What profession other than your own would you like to attempt?

Book editor.

9. What profession would you not like to attempt?

Salesperson.

10. If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates?

You're forgiven.

Disagreements

Last night Momma thought it would be a good idea to suss out my future plans. Her way of doing this was to ask me if I'm moving to be with my boy. I answered as honestly as I could. "Maybe, it's within the realm of possibilities, but it won't be anytime soon."

She then decided to explain to me that he's not worth me and I shouldn't waste any more time with him. Ummm...isn't that a decision I get to make? That's pretty much what I told her. I also pointed out that she doesn't get a vote in whom I decide to spend my time with. She told me that she had witnessed how excited I was about my date and how disappointed I was that he disappeared. (I love it when I get a witness to things that humiliate me. Even more so when it's a family member, considering that my family takes a special joy in shoving pain in people's faces.) See, people, now, with some time and distance (and some information about the date that I didn't previously have), I feel like I dodged a bullet there. Also, anyone who just falls off the map when it comes to interaction with me is probably not someone I want to keep around. That's just a little too much emotional blackmail to me.

Speeeeaking of emotional blackmail, Momma decided to tell me that if I do move, she might just go back to my father. OK, I said. That's your choice. But people, she does NOT get to blame that decision on me. NOT. AT. ALL. I can't carry her mental well-being along with my own. I'm not taking any responsibility for what she does with her life.

She thought it then a good idea to lay into me about my current unemployment. That's about the time I just stopped speaking to her.

Last night was one of the first times that it occurred to me that everything is not, in fact, my father's fault. And to be honest, it was tempting to tell her to just leave.

The Biggest Meme Ever

Despite my occasional crankiness toward Dr. Phil, this most recent series has got me thinking. So since he assigned his guests some homework, I thought I'd do my damnedest as well. Good luck to you who try:

Write down 20 things you’ve started, but not finished:

1. Fallen in love, completely
2. Trusted another person
3. Found a job
4. Trusted myself
5. Financially supported myself
6. Forgiven my father
7. Forgiven my mother
8. Forgiven myself
9. Lost weight

Write five pages on the loneliness in your life:

No-one wants to read 5 pages of my loneliness. I'll still give this a big think. I never felt as lonely as when I alienated my friends from my first year of law school. I wonder, though, how much of it was my fault.

Write five pages on the current deadness in your life:

I have no job.

I'm not supporting myself.

I wonder how much I'm settling.

Write five pages on how you get in your own way in life:

I am selfish.

I work hard to get people to adore me, and then I use them.

List 20 times when you asked for or needed love and were denied:

1. When I was about 6, I followed my father to the garage. He either didn't know or didn't care that I was following him. He closed the door on my fingers. I cried, and cried. He told me that it was my fault for following him.

List 20 times someone asked for or needed your love and you denied them:

Oh, this question will take more soul searching then I'm ready to do at this point.

Write a 65-item “bitch list”:

I'm not sure 65 items is enough.

Judge if you will - then try this meme. Then even consider posting it to the Internet. Or just try to list five instances.

Wow, I am defensive.

Email Exchange

This is what my boy and I are emailing today (context in parentheses):

Him: You are about to enter a new level of hell. (Sends link to hideous website about dog grooming. I refuse to add the link here. It's that bad.)

Me: Either you've got a bit too much free time, or... I don't want to consider the other possibility.

Him: Yeah, I'm going to grooming hideous creatures school! God, I'm BORED!!!

Me: Me too. The bored part, not the grooming part. The phrase 'anal glands' is enough to destroy any of my interest. And will to live.

Damn you, PayPal! Damn you! (Subtle hint that I'm shopping for one of his Christmas presents.)

Me: You are seriously, violently in love with me right now. (Less subtle hint that I found one of his presents.)

Him: Well, yeah!

Fleurs

Most people like getting flowers. I used to count myself among those people. Now, flowers are more work than they're worth.

When Momm first got home from the hospital, my living room looked like a funeral parlor. There were so many bouquets here, all well-intended, all pretty. The problem is that flowers create a giant mess for me to clean up, and are like Christmas and his birthday wrapped into one for Biggs.

Since Momma's been here, I've cleaned up approximately 4000 piles of leaves that fell off as the flowers died. I've also cleaned up about 100 piles of cat yack because he just can't help himself; he must eat every petal and every leaf.

I can't have the flowers anywhere but on my mantle, and even there is tricky if one of my side tables is anywhere near the mantle. He's a clever cat and it took him just under one second to figure out how to get on the table and reach up to the flowers. It took me, unfortunately, about a minute to recognize what was unfolding and stop him from taking down the whole vase.

I'd rather people sent food for Momma. I hate to cook.

Remind Me

And one day, I'll tell you all about the douchebag who used to hit me. Remind me nicely, and I will name names.

(Initials: P.P.)

Oh, and there's a funny story about how years later, I confronted him on it.

Music Defines Me

Here's what I recently downloaded and am now endlessly listening to (feel free to mock, but chances are, you can't do it better than I can to myself):

1. Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten: I love The Hills, and am excited about tonight's episode. This song got to me after watching intros for years. When I was moving from Cleveland to DC, just as I got on the last freeway to the District, this song came on. I cried the entire time it was on, because I felt free and I knew my life was about to begin.

2. Massive Attack - Teardrop: The first time I heard this, I knew I wanted to have a chill room that played this song in an eternal loop. Years later, I watched House, and while I hadn't heard this song in years, I remembered it instantly. I now have a giant crush on Hugh Laurie, and the show as well. Has House been cancelled? If so, was it over a year ago? If no, I'll be writing letters. If yes, I'm an idiot.

3. Beyonce - Naughty Girl: I remember watching this video a few years ago and not even recognizing that her dance partner was Usher. This song jumped back into my head a few days ago, and one of my friends had the thankless task of listening to me sing this because I couldn't remember the name of the song.

4. Beyonce - Crazy In Love: I love the energy and enthusiasm of this song. It requires that whenever I'm driving and it comes on, I attempt to deafen every other person on the road. Yeah. I'm so loading this one into the mp3 player I'm getting for Christmas. From whom, I don't know. But I'm still adding it. How can I work out without this song?

5. Leona Lewis - Bleeding Love: Embarrassing. But, really? "I don't care what they say, I'm in love with you." Shut up.

6. Finger Eleven - Paralyzer: I'm fairly certain I got the lyrics wrong, but if so, I like mine better. "A dark lit place, or your place on my face." C'mon, you know mine's funnier.

7. Vertical Horizon - Everything You Want: I really shouldn't own this one, as it reminds me of the boy who hurt me the most. Still, before he hurt me, I knew how much he adored me, and I used that knowledge. "...but he means nothing to you/and you don't know why." I wish I had recognized that violence was in my future.

I Kept My Promise

I have been telling myself for weeks now that I was going to finally get a key to my apartment complex's gym and work out. I swore to myself all yesterday that I was going to do it tomorrow.

And I did! And not only did I get my key, I even went to the gym and did cardio and weight lifting and my ab exercises. I didn't do all my ab exercises though because I wasn't about to lie on that floor. No sir, no way. But I did about 25 crunches. Only 125 more to do tonight, yea!

It felt good to work out. I'd forgotten about the endorphins and the power I feel when I lift weights.

Now, I just have to go every day. Sounds a bit compulsive, I know, but I've only got a little over 15 weeks before my vacation. I'll be doing a lot of walking and exploring, and I want to be in the best possible shape I can be in.

Also, between you and me, it's nice to get away and take out my frustrations on the treadmill and weight machines than my Momma.

Explain Me To Me

Why am I so concerned about not getting a return phone call from someone I'm not really interested in involving myself with?

Yes, I know, evidence abounds about my endless need for attention. But still, this one? He's not a good distraction. Yet he can read my messy, unattractive parts, and call me on them. I hate that part, yet I need to know.

He's been a friend for what feels like 100 years, but is more likely to be 15 or so. I think it's because we've had crushes on each other since we met. Still, that's not a good enough reason to worry about this.

My best guess is that I'm not very good with people wandering in and out of my life. I fight it with every fiber of my being. I adore them wandering in. I hate them wandering out.

Darling, Darling Boy

It's funny how I fall in love with him, again, every day.

Pick A Topic

I know, I told you that there'd be stories today. Still, I find that I'm blank. So here's my random thoughts of the day:

1. Thanksgiving is a holiday that I generally don't care about. Until the day. Stupid me, I pretend to just blow the day off, but really, I wish I could have the kind of day that I see on TV commercials.

2. I've inherited the insomnia from a friend of mine. I told him this afternoon that I spent all last night cursing his name. He laughed when he heard the whole story. I didn't giggle too much, because I've been awake since 11:30 last night.

3. Oddly, though, I feel pretty good today. I got to harass my boy, and talk to my friend, and I managed to avoid anything relating to Black Friday. (Read: Watched a What Not To Wear marathon. Speaking of which, and relating back to #2, I'm very grateful that there was a House marathon on until 5am. Then I switched to Angel. Upset that The West Wing wasn't on later.)

4. Momma and I went walking today, for the second day. I'm so happy to see her manage inclines and declines. I imagine she's pretty sore.

5. For B. "If I Had A Million Dollars" is playing. I miss you.

6. It's strange that while Wade is closer to me in proximity, we talk substantially less. I miss her.

7. Ooh, I'm getting a Christmas present from my boy. I'd absolutely post what I'm getting for him, but now that he reads this, ummm, not so much. But I promise to post it after I know he has it. Is it bad that I want to tell him what I want?

Greedy

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

btw, I hate it when people refer to today as Turkey Day. I think I hate it in the same vein that I hate it when people shorten my name.

Umm...lots to tell all y'all, but it's a busy evening so I can't talk much tonight.

I don't do anything on Black Friday, so be assured that I will chatter my head off to you tomorrow.

One thing though - I love my boy as much as he loves me. He's a precious gift to me.

Brave New World

Today I'm thinking about the difference that technology has made in my life. I was a late-comer to getting a beeper, I mocked my friends who had early cell phones, and I refused to blog or join social networking sites for years.

This topic came up because a while ago, I updated my Facebook status to ask about some friends I knew from high school. These two guys definitely had an impact on my development, and although we rarely kept in touch, occassionally they'd pop into my head and wonder about them.

One of my friends commented that he had heard about them, and I was amazed. Last night, my phone rang. It was one of the guys I asked about!

This is why I think the techonologies are pretty amazing. Sometimes I feel silly spending time on the sites. Sometimes I think there's a reason the past is past, and I should focus more on my future. Still, I spend a lot of time in this head of mine, and I have always wondered whatever happened to people I cared about at one point in time.

It was great to hear from him; I hope we might try to stay in touch more often. We'll see. You, people, and I know how well that went before.

Watch It, It'll Swing

And so my mood comes back to decent. However, if I have to sit in the front room (read: my bedroom) any more tonight while Momma's there, then I have no guarantees.

Thanks to you who read this and even pretend to understand my strange life.

Now, if you happen to actually know me, calling tonight wouldn't suck.

Tomorrow, it'll be partly cloudy, cold, and have a chance of pedicures. Imagine me driving ~20 miles without shoes. It's pretty funny. But more importantly, what color shall I have my toes painted?

Even, even, even more important question: Do any of you have any good knowledge of PhotoShop? 'Cos I've got work to do, people, work on the new photos! Why let an undoctored photo ever leave your own possession?

What's Wrong Here?

It's raining today, the kind of rain I generally enjoy - slow, quiet, ongoing. The kind of rain that makes me want to curl up with a book and/or my boy and laze away the day.

Today, though, something's off. Instead of being comforting, the rain just feels grey and gloomy. It's making my mood not good.

I think it's because I would rather be alone. And that one thing is what I really want, really need, really crave, yet I cannot have it.

So go out! people tell me. But the problem is not that I can't go out. I can leave anytime I want. The problem is, I will have to come back. Come back to an apartment that I used to refer to as my house. It's no longer mine. Nothing is mine anymore.

And sometimes, even that doesn't bother me so much. What really gets me, what drives this depression and anger, is that no-one asked for my permission. No-one said, "Hey, do you mind if I commandeer your life?" And I'm being overly dramatic here.

But it would be nice to be asked before she takes my clothes.

WADE!!!

I got spend a good chunk of my day with one of my BFFs, Wade. I haven't seen her since around my birthday in March. I had such a lovely day with her, and I also got to remember why I hate that she lives far away.

We went to Best Buy and wished that we could buy Rock Band. I know, again, that I'm a Johnny-come-lately here, but still, I can only imagine the amount of time I'd spend playing that game. Plus, on a couple of versions, there's a song by Garbage. We next visited the appliances. Here's where I know I'm getting old - omigod, I know I'll be dreaming of washers and dryers with settings I never knew existed.

We went next to Target, where she tried almost every sample, and we explored plate settings.

We later took pictures of me for my boy. He's been endlessly begging for recent pictures of me. So we did, and we learned that my camera eats batteries, and that some of those fuzzy shots are fabulous, and that my neighbor was willing to loan us his headlights for the photos. Mind you, he laughed his head off the entire time.

I hate that she lives so far away. Wow, I'd gotten so used to talking to her on the phone that I thought that was OK. Now, what I really really want is for her to move her family back here. Yeah, I know it won't happen, but a girl can dream, right?

For my in-town friends - we need to get together more often.

Things I Listened To

Along my (dating) life, I learned a few things that changed how I live my life. Here you can read a few...

1. Don't chew gum. (My Momma told me this - by way of telling me it looked like I was chewing cud, and then a boy I really liked told me that he also disliked gum-chewing.)

2. Don't have bangs. (I always hated having them as a child, but, again, that same boy said the same.)

3. Wear cute shoes. (More than one person has told me that women are more beautiful in heels.)

4. Wear my hair down. (Apparently, it's sexier to have my hair down than constructed.)

5. Dress well. (One of my friends loves to watch his girl friends try on clothes that flatter them.)

6. Always use eye cream. (My sister has told me this since I was 15. Even though she drives me crazy, she's completely correct.)

YES!

My baby girl, my favorite friend, my crazy-ass woman, B., has PASSED THE BAR!!!!

Not that we thought that she wouldn't.

Congratu-fucking-lations, baby!!!

Now, please, endlessly show me up. Meet me in court and introduce me to my baby steps.

Love And Little White Lies

This is a favorite song from one of my favorite singers...ever. Behold the glory of Marc Almond. Such a gorgeous voice, such amazing lyrics.


(All night, can't you feel my heart?)
Every day I watch my mirror
Getting a little older, wiser, sadder with the years

Missed chances
Forgotten romances
Starting now to loosen with the tears

I could fall in love
Any time, any place, any where
But I spent last night
Treading on valentines
Treading on valentines

You know it didn't mean a thing
I didn't give it give two damns
You know I thought I'd never fall in love
It only worked in films

Response, responsibilities, bravery, hardship
Giving up and giving too

Here's little things I think I mean
Some consequence to you

I'll never get the chance again
Faces heartbreakingly wonderful
All flash by me
Steaming neons in the rain
Diamonds down the memory drain

But you inspire me, fuel and fire me
Never leave me
Or deceive me
We could sit out winter evenings
Laughing over love and little white lies
Sit out winter evenings
Laughing over love and little white lies

Bitter coffee
Stomach aching
Pass the time while our hearts are breaking
I've got faith in you
So don't lose have faith in me

Misty mornings
Damp in sorrow
Love me just the same tomorrow
Something blue and something borrowed
And a bruise inside of me

I'm drunk on your delivery
Intoxicated by your eyes
Got to find an antidote
Before we say goodbye
Car wrecks and romantic moons
With you and I the stars
We're somewhere in a midnight movie
Somewhere off afar

There's no ice cream in the interlude
No sweets or cigarettes
Just you and I
And a cast of thousands
Trying to forget
We could sit singing songs for suckers
Blacked out with hymns of pain and sorrow
Oh kiss me once before you go
I may be dust tomorrow

Every day I watch my mirror
Getting a little older, wiser, sadder with the years
Missed chances
Forgotten romances
Starting now to loosen with the tears
My heart is pulsing brilliant red
And you know red's a colour for sin and danger
Ready now to take my chance
With any handy stranger

People will always
Love and love and love and love and love
But what the hell
We fool each other
When we've suffered through enough

But you inspire me
Fuel and fire me
Never leave me
Or deceive me
We could sit out winter evenings
Laughing over love and little white lies
Sit out winter evenings
Laughing over love and little white lies

Oh can't you feel my heart
Can't you feel my heart

Far Too Influenced

And no, I don't mean far too under the influence. Shut up.

It's been a topsy-turvy day. I enjoyed a morning of solitude. And by "enjoyed", I mean that I watched my TV shows while waiting to hear either the door open or the walker creak. I guess that I'm still overly attentive to the sound that my Momma might need me. Yes, yes, I overworry; that's been established.

I cooked today. That's rare. I made a vegetarian pot pie and some baked potatoes. Not exactly Top Chef, but as we know, I am not a gourmand.

Momma's physical therapist came over today and dropped a new bomb. Context: I decided earlier that Momma could handle more tasks on her own, like plugging in her own cell when it needs charging and getting her own cans of Diet Coke. The new bomb? Apparently Momma is walking too much and shouldn't work so hard.

Every single positive step has just gone to shit. Momma listens closely to what her doctors and therapists say, and does not trust her instincts.

My life just got delayed by at least another 6 weeks.

This angers me beyond belief, and also just makes me want to leave. Choose your own interpretation of "leave", if only because I haven't decided yet.

Ack!

This is my first Twitter breakdown. It's annoying because I want to just be pithy, but I can't here, because blogging and tweeting are two very different mediums.

Waiting, and waiting, and waiting for my boy to call me back. I sometimes wonder if my hatred for his bad phone battery is the reason that his bad phone battery craps out.

Ah, technology.

Contortions

Tomorrow we find out whether B. passed the bar. I know she's tied in 100,000 knots, which is probably about one-half more than I am right now. I just really, really want her to pass. More than that, I almost need her to pass. I'm not sure I could handle the guilt if she hits another wall. It would be incredibly unfair for me to have passed and her not to.

She's so damn good at this stuff. She's got the fire and the eye for detail that's required of attorneys. Me? I've got the interest and the ability. But isn't that such a huge distinction?

As Momma put it, B. has the passion for the work. She really, really wants to do this. For me, it's a job. One I'll be good at, admittedly, but not one that will ever be my raison d' etre.

So join me, all you out there, in keeping your fingers crossed and sending your best wishes to my amazing, beautiful, funny, sarcastic, deserving friend.

CLE-rific

And, my boy, if you're reading this, apologies in advance for using the same subject header.

The class was interesting, as you can see by looking to your right and reading my recent Tweets.

There's a lot I don't know about personal injury law. What I learned today is this: Car accidents are the way to go!

I'm not sure how that works, or what it means, or just how long it'll be before I think precisely the same way.

The best part of the CLE was learning how these lawyers think, as applied to their cases and to their choices.

I respect their work. Still, a very eye-opening day. I'm glad I got to go.

Emergency Broadcast System

I have two older siblings. One is eight years older; the other six. When I was young, they were allowed (read: forced) to babysit me when the parents went out.

It didn't take them long to figure out that the scariest sound in the world to poor, three-year-old me was the sirens that rang out when the Emergency Broadcast System (EBS) came on TV. The sound more than scared me, it turned me into a quivering ball of teary-eyed jelly.

So what did my adored siblings do when the EBS came on? One would hold me down, while the other raced to the television to crank the volume as high as possible. (Yes, I am old enough to remember when televisions didn't have remote controls.) I would scream and cry and try to get away, but a three-year-old's got nothing on a nine-year-old, and even less on an eleven-year-old. Boy.

Even today, the sound still gets me. I instinctively hit the mute button on the TV or change the channel when I see the telltale green screen or the beginning of that dreaded sound. I've been known to run from other parts of the house just to make the noise stop.

The point of this? That damned EBS has been on at least 3 times this week.

No wonder I can't sleep.

How I Know My Day Is Lame

I'm looking at WikiQuote for my favorite TV shows, so I can read other people's ideas of what were good quotes from each episode.

Later, I plan to stick my head in the oven. Feel free to place bets on whether or not I turn said oven on, and if you're a fantasy football fan, you can include the degree amount in your bets. If I decide to turn it on, I'll be sure to leave a note with the exact temperature so someone can win.

Why I Don't Drink Coffee

Unlike apparently 80% of the population, I do not drink coffee. I don't like coffee, and I don't understand why other people do.

I mean, aside from mixers in alcoholic drinks, what other beverage out there causes people to change its flavor from the get-go? I know very few people who drink black coffee. There's creamers, sugars, pseudo-sugars, milk, whatever. If you don't like the taste of what you're drinking, why drink it?

I'm also not a big fan of the smell of coffee. Last week I had to go to Starbucks (ack!) for my sister. She made me order this: Venti skinny cinnamon dolce latte nonfat milk no whip no foam. I felt like I was speaking Latin. Hipster Latin. For the next few days, my car reeked of that mess.

Yup, I'm sticking to my insatiable Diet Mt. Dew addiction. Good caffeine, good taste.

Wow, I Needed This

Via Twitter, I came across this:

Days with My Father.

It really put into perspective what I'm doing with Momma now. I must try to remember the grace and the comfort that comes with caring for another person.

The photos are gorgeous, and the sentiment is so real and so in the moment, that I was completely taken aback.

All of you with parents, especially those with older parents, should really take the 10 minutes or so to read through the site.

Even O. Henry Couldn't Have Imagined This

You guys know that one of my huge fears is that my boy will read this mess of mine. For a while now, so much of what I've written sounds like a love letter to him. (Thanks for indulging me, and still continuing to read.)

The other day, I sent him the link to the page with the most recent photos of Monte Sano. I didn't worry too much because he told me that he's really not interesting in read this. Fine by me.

Cut to yesterday, when I was reading the stats on the blog, and I saw that my numbers had almost doubled from when I last checked. (I am not obsessive compulsive. Really.) I saw that all the most recent hits were from my boy. Holy crap! I about had a heart attack. I called Wade, all freaked out that he would finally realize what a dork I am and run far, far away. I emailed him and said, "You're reading it, aren't you?" He emailed back that he was, just a little.

Last night when he called me, I told him that he had not been reading it "just a little", and that I could see which posts he was reading, and how long he spent on each page. I told him that I knew that he had spent almost an hour reading through various posts.

He seemed more taken aback that I knew all that detail on his activities than I felt about him reading this. I mean, I talked myself down some before he called me. Yes, this is a public site. Yes, I know people read it. And if there's something I want to hide, probably the best way to keep it secret is NOT to post it here.

He even read this post, which is the most honest I've been about how I feel about him. His reaction? "I'm glad I can be your safe place to land."

Ladies and gentlemen, do you see why I adore him so?

For Once, For A Day

It's been a decent day. Apologies for the bitch-fest below. I warned you that I might need to complain. Chances are, it'll happen again.

For anyone else who blogs, does doing this writing sometimes feel like writing a letter? It feels like that for me, for tonight.

Momma's getting stronger. She can get herself up and down (mostly) and is well on the path to being walker-less. According to her physical therapist, this could (and should) happen before the new year. That would be LOVELY!!

Her recovery means that again, I can dream about my own life. The one I was just beginning, the one I want again. I'm feeling greedy that I want my own life. Sometimes I feel like a fake when I'm nice to Momma.

Hell, sometimes I feel like a fake in my own life. Que sera, sera.

I Am A Jerk

This is so hard for me. It's a tricky difference between having my mother here with me, and having to care for her.

If you don't know, let me run through a version of my day.

5am - wake up, because she might need my help to get to the bathroom and back. If she can do it herself, hell, I'm still awake just in case.

6am - hear my phone ring, because that's Momma's and my safety net. If she's not actually calling, I can still hear it. Which means I wake up.

(Also: watching Angel.)

7am - wake up, because I don't know what will happen or where I'm needed. Check in. Pray, and pray, and pray that she's asleep so I might get another hour.

7am - switch to The West Wing. Nap. Wake up. Nap.

10am - Momma gets herself out. Mind you, she's been awake for a while and is bitter that that stays back in the (my) bedroom for that long.

10:10am - I ask what she wants for breakfast. She tosses on her hairshirt. Yet, I get her food.

10:15 - 1 or 2 - try to be nice.

2-3: Pray that she wants to nap. At this point, generally, no, which means we're going to have problems as it relates to TiVo.

4-5: I make her a version of what would be a dinner. She finally wants a nap. I celebrate, because, really people, I need a break!

6-8: She wakes back up and comes out. By now, I'm remembering just how much I like to be alone. I am also waiting for (or dialing) my calls.

8-10: I'm getting her down for bed. Generally, it's closer to 10 than 8.

10-1am: This is my free time. I can catch up with friends and my boy.

If this is/was your life, than tell me about it. If you feel judgmental, then fuck you. This is my life every single day.

Also: I get really tired about hearing that I need to work more to get a job. Really? Are you planning to come over to do my work? (Which I will not expound upon because it's not my business.)

Good Lord, People!

While I'm recognizing the irony of what I'm doing, I do have to ask you questions.

Are you, my readers, reading me because I rabidly blog? Because I can (almost) always find something to write about? Or is it me?

Do I need your attention that much? It seems like a yin/yang situation. To be honest, I do check my readership stats daily. I check because 1) I need to see who's reading, and 2) it's an easy way to see what you find interesting.

So, please, do me a favor. Almost all of you don't comment on what I write. So riddle me this: what do you want me to write about? What would you prefer I never write about again? Anything you want me to specifically address?

Love Letters

In my feeble attempt to clean up my office, I started going through my files. Truth be told, I should not even have to do this, but the geniuses who packed my apartment in DC decided to pull the files from the filing cabinent and put them into boxes, instead of just taping the damn cabinet shut.

Bygones.

The two boxes are pretty chaotic, since the paperwork in the files fell all over the place while in transit. So last night, while talking to my boy, I just started reaching in a box to grab whatever was there. There's a lot of silly stuff; papers I thought I'd need forever, but while most likely be shredded. Well, they'll get shredded as soon as I have a strong urge to take 25 bags of shredded paper to the garbage.

I found some other papers, papers that I will keep. Papers that I immediately recognized, but could not read at the time because I was talking to my boy and it seemed unfair. I also knew I'd get lost in memories and as much fun as that is, I need to focus on now and the future. And I know that the boy is my future.

So, today I'm indulging myself. I found old love letters from three past boyfriends. The letters are amazing to read, not only because it absolutely amazes me that someone loved me enough to put it in writing and mail a letter to me, but also because the letters are such snapshots in time.

The first are from Ryan, who was my first love. The letters are young, silly, and so very careful. It's like he was afraid to express his feelings in writing, which isn't too strange, considering that we were 16-ish. I doubt my letters to him were much better. Still, I have letters and cards from him over time. The first letters are from when I first moved, and the last are from 1997. That's an 8-year affair. Needless to say, our relationship was very rocky.

The next set are from Thomas, who I dated when I was 18-19. His letters are careful, but for a different reason. Where Ryan lived more with his heart on his sleeve, Thomas was more reticent to express his feelings. In later letters, he did tell me his feelings, and I'm so glad that I got to know him during that time.

The last set are from Jim, who I dated when I was 22-23. Jim's letters are gorgeous, because he found it easy to tell me how he felt about me. He also was (is?) a very good writer. He got his inspiration from music and that inform his skills.

OK, enough of that. I hope I get to keep these letters forever. Every few years I like to indulge myself in remininescence, and the letters are a great way for me to remember the girl I was.

Impatience

I'm so glad that Momma is doing better. It's funny to think that my sister is taking all the credit, but whatever.

Finally, after a lot of emails, I got some time with my boy. I hid from Momma and let her watch SVU so I could talk. By the end of the program, I had to get her to bed. No, she doesn't need as much help anymore, but I'm still not going to ignore her to talk.

I told my boy I'd call him back within ten minutes. I did. I got his voicemail. So now I wait, and I hope he will return my call.

I just need to finish our talk.

Yuppie

Today, my brother-in-law needed me to go with him to pick up Momma's car from the repair shop. We went in his rental. My job was to drive the rental back, while he took Momma's car to get the tires rotated and balanced. He rented a Trailblazer.

(I am not a fan of SUVs. If you don't believe me, ask Wade. I give her endless piles of shit for owning an Expedition, which I lovingly refer to as the Exorbitant. [Thanks, The Onion!])

So I backed out of the parking lot. I began to drive this thing, while listening to the station that my sister and brother-in-law had chosen. Of course it was easy listening, but fine, whatever. Like I don't have any cheese in me.

To my surprise and horror and OMIGOD surprise, I loved driving this thing. It was even better when Lionel Richie's You Are came on the radio. I cranked the song and car danced while driving with my knees. I enjoyed the vantage point that come with being in a taller vehicle.

Crap. Crap. Crap. What if my environmental sensibilities just exploded with that drive?

I'm Asking Santa For A New Camera

Because I've got family here, I was able to sneak out and go up to Monte Sano for more pictures. It was great to get away, even if it was later in the afternoon than I had planned. So here's the latest installment of pictures of the mountain.

This is a water fountain, I think. I like the stone work.


Again, I was trying to get the vibrancy of the leaves changing colors.
















And, finally, the leaves beneath my feet.



Now that I'm back at my house, I miss the mountain already.

He Can Read My Mind

Last night was tough. A lot of it was on me, because I made bad choices early which means that I got a lot more emotional than I should be later on. In between conversations with my boy, I got interrupted by my Momma and my sister. Luckily, finally, when I got off the phone with my boy, I decided to call it a night, even though I knew he would call me back.

He did. I was already asleep. I'm glad that we didn't talk again, because I would have picked a mother-of-God fight with him because I was so frustrated with my sister.

Around 1 this afternoon, he called to check on me. I explained why I didn't answer, and he said, "Thank you." I've told you already about a miserable fight we had a few months ago, and how I never want to repeat that mess.

An hour or so ago, he called to check on me again. We had a lovely conversation, and I'm so glad that I decided that not talking last night was a wise decision. Still, it felt like he read my mind. A minute or two before he called, I was thinking of calling him.

It's weird. It's perfect. I, again, cannot wait for my vacation.

Awkward Conversations

Just a bit ago, I saw an old law school friend on Trillian. If you don't know what Trillian is, just look it up.

At the beginning, Kelly and I were pretty friendly. Over time, though, we started to get close to other people. The only time we were friendly after the change was when we would be in the overhangs, smoking cigarettes. Really, people, it's amazing how nice you can be while indulging in nicotine.

Tonight was the first time we messaged since even before law school graduation. Her tone was nice at first, and then a bit short. My tone was needy, and that I wish we could talk the issues over.

I'm sorry for what happened. I think she should be as well. I was needy; she was controlling.

Is there a happy medium? And by happy medium, I mean leave it well enough alone?

(Best part: My boy tells me that I'm stunningly beautiful.)

The Downside To Facebook

I've enjoyed Facebook for the most part. I find it a slightly classier alternative to MySpace, about which I could bitch endlessly. On Facebook, the interface is cleaner, and if you're not me, it's a lot easier to use.

The downside is that people feel safer to add others. The real downside to this is that I've got a lot of friends added from college. College was a long time ago. A really long time ago. As in, I got my bachelors' degrees (Yes, I have two, so that's the correct punctuation) in 1995.

Wait - it's not bad that I have friends from college. What's bad is that friends of my friends scan through those friends' friend lists and find me. When they add me as a friend, I look at the friends we have in common to see if I know them. Apparently I do.

OK, OK, you're right. The downside is that I have such a bad memory that when these new friends of friends whom I ostensibally know contact me, I can't think of a nice way to say, "Do I know you?"

Weekend Plans

Despite my intimate knowledge of the best laid plans going straight to hell, here are mine:

1. Don't kill family members.

2. Take newly-received Alabama State Bar certificate to be framed. Possibly spend far too much money on this.

3. Go up on Monte Sano and take some more pictures. I think the trees are finally good. Plus, my boy sent me photos of the harbor near him, so I want to match those.

4. Ignore hunger pangs.

5. See if I can do more than ten push-ups. That's just a pathetic number, especially when compared to the 150 crunches I do each night.

6. Don't verbally kill family members.

7. Find secret compartment in apartment where I can hide from family members.

8. Dream of Tuesday morning, when I will be rid of visiting family members. Possibly have cocktail before noon, just to show what a rebel I am.

9. Work on new driving CD. Try to figure out why my mp3-to-wav decoder is crapping out on certain tracks. These tracks, incidentially, are the only ones I really, really want on said CD.

10. See if I can get lost in Huntsville. Leave cell phone at home to increase hiding chances.

Sleepy...Not Cheerful

Last night was a long night. No expected phone call, and that sucks because with my sister and brother-in-law here for the next few days, everything will be topsy-turvy. Mom was up at 3am, again at 5am, and my brother called at 8:30am to check on her. Needless to say, I am very tired. No nap for me though! I get to finish cleaning the apartment for the imminent familial arrival.

I really, really miss my life. I miss being alone most of the time. I miss not having to clean up someone else's used Kleenixes. I would give just about anything for some more time alone in my apartment.

My boy invited me up to visit him for two weeks. I asked him if it would be all right if I spent ten of those days completely by myself. And yet, my planned vacation to see him will be about that time frame. I'm nothing if not a contradiction in terms.

I don't know how I can do this all the time for the next few months. I mean, I certainly can - I don't really have a vote. But some days, like today, it drains my spirit to try to be the sole source of support for someone else.

Days like today remind me why I don't want kids. But when my boy asks me if I do want them, I find myself wavering. I guess what I can do is reread this post every time I think I might want to breed.

Sorry for the meandering thoughts. Imagine living in this brain!

All I Ever Wanted

I'm making my vacation plans. I've finally settled on a timeframe to go to Seattle to see my boy. While I'm there, we plan to go to the mountains and ski, or snowboard, or stay inside all day and watch the view.

This means it's time to step up my goals. I'm counting on you guys to keep me motivated and accountable as I work hard to reach my goals. I've got 19 weeks to lose the weight I need to get off, to find a job that will allow me to take 10 days off in late March, and to continue to motivate Momma in her recovery.

I cannot tell you how excited I am to have vacation dates. And because I love all of you, I promise to write about what my boy and I are doing while I'm there. I know, I know, it's 19 weeks away! Still, I'm thrilled for the possibilities and fun we'll have. And if that's what's making me work harder now, well, I'll take it.

So Happy To Be Wrong

Today Momma's physical therapist came by the apartment. He was a wealth of information about what to expect with her recovery. She should feel 100% stronger within the month. This is wonderful news.

It's entirely possible that she could return to work next month. I'm still placing my bet on her returning second semester, but we'll see.

I thought that her moving limitations would be permanent. Right now, she must only move less than 90 degrees latitudinally and longitudinally. I told the therapist that she'd never move as freely as I do. He told me that she absolutely would.

Sunshine and rainbows surround both of us right now. I think I might be more excited than her. Not surprising, since I'm not the one with real pain right now.

I'm just so glad that we had a good day. Momma and I talked about how happy we were to have a good day, so when there's bad days, we can remember that it's not always going to be like this.

New Role - Caretaker

There's a strong chance that the hospital will release Momma to my care today. Does the hospital even consider what a bad idea this is? She had the surgery on Thursday afternoon, and the folks at the hospital think it's a good idea to send her to me? I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm petrified that I'm going to hurt her.

So this new chapter begins. You will read quite a bit about what it's like to take care of a recuperating Momma. You will read about my mistakes (legion) and my successes (few). I will be brutally honest about how all this feels and how her recovery goes.

You will read my complaints about having to do this. You will occasionally think that I'm a completely selfish bitch when I complain. That's fine. Just remember that whatever you think of me, I have already thought of it. I know that I can be selfish and immature and ungrateful.

What I will do is the best I can. I will talk to you because I really don't have anyone else who will listen to me without telling me that I'm doing a great job and it'll all be OK. From this side, I feel like an abject failure already and I think that I will never again have my life back. This infuriates me. I just got my life started and now it's on hold again.

But let's be clear. I don't want Momma to return to her house and her husband. I know I can take better care of her here. I know she feels safe here, and that feeling is important to her recovery. I want nothing more than for Momma to be happy and healthy.

It's bound to be a rocky journey.

Rabbits Rabbits Rabbits

Something occurred to me tonight. Well, to be honest, it's been occurring in my mind since last night. I've spent a lot of time second-guessing myself, worrying about the future and my plans.

Now, I want nothing more than to get the hell over myself. Why am I worried about marketing myself? I'm pretty damn awesome, and I'm good at what I do. Why not show it off?

I've been thinking that my sole role is to take care of Momma. You know what? It's not my only duty. My first and foremost role is to get myself in a good position. It's time to fight for employment, be it in a firm, a small practice, or finally getting out on my own and hanging my shingle.

I really am very tired of being filled with self-doubt and self-loathing. I can only imagine how much I've exhausted my friends, who have given me wells of support and love. It's time to return the favor and become who I'm born to be.

Powerful. Strong. Capable. An amazing woman; one who surrounds herself with unbelievable (and gorgeous) people who care for me.

Thank you to all my friends who have been pushing for this. Thank you to my boy for kicking my ass into shape.

I promise, I will not disappoint.

Tweet-Style Post

Because there's bound be to be many emotions as I go await the surgeon, I'm just going to keep writing as thoughts occur to me. I'll post, then edit, and then rinse, reuse, and recycle.

First thought: I am inexplicably angry at the guy who was supposed to go with me to see NIN tomorrow. For the past few weeks, I've just felt sad and kinda humiliated and abandoned. Now I'm just pissed. I realize that $100 is not a lot of money for him, but it is for me. I was really looking forward to having some fun. I think this feeling is coming from worry about Momma and my lack of control over my life in general these days. However, it could just be that agreeing to do something, and then not doing it, is shitty. It's shittier to do it (or not) without notice.

Am now trying really hard not to get a visual of the surgery. Distraction: check email, continue game of Bejeweled 2.

Was wrong; surgery started just now - 3:45pm.

Now that I've left a VM for my father, am now obsessively watching the door because I'm afraid he'll show up, bringing his crocodile tears and endless need to touch me.

I could eat paint, I'm so hungry.

Made call re: hungry. Hopefully will at least get some fries or something in an hour.

The random guy who changed the channel on the TV in the waiting room is now forcing us all to watch a special on digestive disorders. Suddenly, am not so hungry.

Sorry, folks, it's not as much fun to blog as if I'm Tweeting. If I have a decent topic, I'll blog, otherwise, just follow me.

It's About Time!

After doing my daily surfing, I came across this. Thank goodness I read Fimoculous, because where else would I get my favorite random sites? The MTV site is a welcome break from YouTube, of which I am not a huge fan. I vastly prefer the MTV site because I don't have to remember the names and titles of good songs.

Enjoy!

The Danger of Money

The other day, my friend B. sent me an email telling me that her boy mentioned that he might be having financial issues. Because she is awesome, she would really like to help him.

A few months back, my boy and I were discussing his possible return to school. He really should continue his education. I really, really want to help him pay for it. I offered, and he was delighted, and that was about the end of that conversation.

A few days after my offer, I began to reconsider. Money creates messes where none need to be made.

I would feel ownership in his education if I paid for my boy to return to school. Also, I think that giving him money would create a power imbalance in our relationship. It's one thing to treat a friend to lunch, or buy groceries, or fill a gas tank. It's quite another to find thousands of dollars to spend for another's education. It would be different if we were married, or close to it. Then it would be an investment for both of us.

I think my boy was mulling the same thoughts, from the opposite prospective, because after a while, we stopped discussing my paying for his school. It's just too messy. I don't want him to feel indebted to me. Of course it would be a gift and not a loan, but the feelings would still be there.

I never want him to feel obligated to keep me in his life. I never want to feel obligated to keep him in mine. For now, things are best as they are - we provide emotional support and advice to each other, and keep financials out of it. I think B. made the same decision.

Money sometimes sucks.

Monte Sano

I've been trying to get better at photography. I took some pictures of the snow in DC last year, and I thought they were decent enough. Lately, I've been going up on the mountain to try to get pictures of the tree leaves changing colors. That's the best part of fall. When the timing's right, a drive from Huntsville to Cullman on 65S yields some of the prettiest foliage.

Here's what I got today. They're not fabulous, because the trees are not cooperating yet.


I liked the height on this one. Still, pretty generic.


When I get better, you'll be able to see that there's a view behind these trees. Well, I'll get better, or the leaves will fall off.


I like the marking on these stones. The wall leads down to an open-air theatre. Pretty cool for climbing, or if you're a chicken like me, for watching kids climb.


I like the angle of the tree on the right. I was also trying to show, again, the height of the trees.


This one reminds me of an opening shot from Tales From The Darkside.


This was the only tree even trying to cooperate with my attempts to find color.


Since the tree wasn't playing along, I made it do so. Thanks, Photoshop!