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.