A post on hate.

Let's get something straight.
I don't hate very many people. Chances are, if you think that I hate you, I probably don't. I probably just have high distaste for you.
I don't hate old friends. I don't hate exes (or wives and/or girlfriends of exes). I don't hate the stupid customers who complain about not having coffee made, even though I say that I do.
And let's get another thing straight.
If you hate me, you probably are a very confused person. Now, I don't mean that in a conceited way. I just mean, that I don't relish in people abhorring me. I don't wake up in the morning, stretch, and then say, "Gee whiz, today would be a great day for malevolence." I promise.
So, to the ex-friends that hate me, I'm sorry that you think that you need to do that to feel that the end of our relations is justified in some negative way.
To the exes, there's probably a reason (or many) that we didn't end up together. You should be happy that we're not together.
And to the significant others of exes... Really. You hate me (or at least, pretend to)?... No offense but I feel that you are the most confused of all. I'm honestly happy that you are able to fulfill what I couldn't with my ex. The only reason that I can see that you should hate me is that you feel that you don't stack up to what I once was to him. And if that's the case, maybe you should rethink either your hatred for me or your relationship with him. But you probably don't want my advice.

Now that I've gotten that off my chest, let's all have a Merry Christmas and a fantastic New Year. I know I will.

Where have all the cowboys gone?

When I was little, I never really imagined where I would be. I never really planned my future out. I never had dreams of getting married (to someone other than JTT), raising children (not just puppies and kittens and foals), having career, or ever really growing up. I was always in the right here, right now. I just wanted to get through my day and play with my goats.
Here I am, fifteen years later, and I still feel just as nonchalant about my future. I would love to get married someday, sure, but today just doesn't feel like the day and tomorrow isn't looking so great either.
Every now and again I see the cutest toddler and I think, Gee whiz, my kids are going to me three times as cute as that kid, at least. And then a minute later I see some mom with a two year-old and a baby and they're both screaming and she's got a somewhat deranged look in her eye and I think, Gee whiz, I'm so glad that I'm nowhere near having kids.
And let's be realistic: I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. One day I want to be a librarian, the next a wedding planner, later a stuntwoman, and by Saturday I'm completely convinced I'll be a veterinarian assistant on a horse farm.
I wish I could mentally grow up. I guess I have slowly. I've been in serious relationships. I've had the same job for two and a half years.
I just wish I could go to NeverNeverLand. Seriously. Captain Hook would be cake.

Hold on there, Thorgeous

Hi there. It's been a while. So much has happened in the more than a month since I last posted. Ok, not really THAT much, but still.
Updates:
I've got a boyfriend. His name's Caleb and he's pretty darn cool.
George is no longer in the (or any) picture when it comes to the Book of Marissa.
I finished (mostly) my Halloween costume. It's amazing. Seriously. Like, "How could I possibly create something so spectacular?!"
So, yeh. That's a poor list compared to the list I had in my head, but really, I can't think of anything else that's nearly as major.

So, Caleb. I'll tell you the story, because I know everyone likes to hear the story of how a couple met. Here goes: We rode the same bus for a couple years in middle school. I don't think we ever talked. Like, ever. Not even in high school or the years following. Then some time last month, I was working out at Planet Fitness with my bestest friend and I saw Caleb and one of his comrades lifting together. I thought nothing of it because I was constantly seeing fellow Bermudian alumni at PF because it's cheap and so are we. Well, I got home and had a Facebook friend request from him and thought "Oh, what a coincidence!" and then I saw that he had sent it AFTER we saw each other. So, once again, I thought nothing of it. Then he IM'd me and we started texting regularly. And then we started hanging out. And, tada! Here we are. What a fun story, right?

So, I would like a chandelier. I need something just as tacky as I feel. I don't want it for my room now. I need it for my future home. So, if you just happen to have a spare chandelier just lying around, I would really appreciate the donation. Thanksomuch.

I'm not sure if you know this, but I want to be a pinup girl. Thought I'd share that little tidbit of info with you.

Well, I think I've shared enough for the time being. Hopefully I'm not a stranger now as much as I have been.

P.S. I need to get the new Tinker Bell movie.

Yes.

Damn your sweet memory

I don't know what I'm doing. If you were ever under the impression that I had the slightest clue, you were either horribly mistaken or easily fooled. Seriously.
One second I've got hopes and dreams for this beautiful future with a missionary in San Jose and then hours later I'm knowingly ruining any of those chances by having delusions of grandeur about someone here. I
I know it's going to get me in trouble sooner or later even though it already has numerous times.
I blame it on not writing anymore. I always knew what I was going to do with my life when I would write everything down. And even if I wasn't quite sure, I would still write about what I didn't know and that made everything feel a little simpler.
I haven't written beautiful words in what seems like a literal eternity. The closest thing I've gotten to it: I was falling asleep the other day thinking about how a friend was sick and losing her voice. And then I came up with this quote/mantra. "You can lose your mind, your marbles, and your balance but you should never lose your voice." As in, you can physically lose your voice, but you should never lose your opinion. Ya meen?
As per usual, I forgot the mind-blowing purpose of this post. And will now end on an awkward note.

This is where I am

I need to blog more. I don't do it nearly enough anymore. It's just that there are so many things that I want to say, but I know most of them could get me in trouble with numerous people.

I always thought I had good karma. Ok, maybe not GOOD karma, but I knew it certainly wasn't bad. Well, I'm finding out that bad karma can be instant. Like, I do one questionably not nice thing and BAM! I get punched in the face with gaiety and retardation in less than 5 hours. I prefer my unbiased karma.

I can't believe this year is almost half over. I feel like I've completed nothing. This happens, I guess.

I forgot all that I wanted/could say. Maybe next time, eh?

Picture perfect memories scattered all around the floor

So I'm packing up two years of my life. Everything that has to do with George. It's not that I want it out of my life. I just can't look at it right now.
I don't even want to be home a lot. Everything reminds me of him and I don't want that. As long as I'm out or with friends, it's all hidden away. It's a lot easier that way.

I need to get some new FChucks. Fake Chucks, if you are were unaware. You know, kind of like Frada is fake Prada (a shout out to Taylor Buerger who coined the term since you can't really omit the "ch" and sound polite). But yes. I need some more. My pink ones are on their last leg (Buh-dum-chh [think comedian cymbal hit]). They've turned a not-so-pleasant shade of extra-orange salmon. I'd like to wash them but that might ruin the feathers. I dunno. I'll give it a go, perhaps. And my rainbow ones are worn every day at work. I just need another pair to share some of the work.

If anyone wants to volunteer to give me a back massage, I will take it, gladly. All my muscles ache. Probably because I have such poor posture. And I stand all day.

I work 10 hours tomorrow. I don't even know if whoever scheduled me realizes this. I have to be at work at 6am and I'm not going to be able to relax until I get to institute at 7pm and I won't get to bed until 12ish. Aaaaauuuggh!

It hurts to want everything and nothing at the same time

So, no more George posts. We're not exactly together anymore. I'm not really sure what our relationship is and where it might go, but maybe that's for the best.
Things didn't end badly (at least, I hope not). Too many things have changed between us. I'm pretty certain we were holding on to the people we remember the other being.
For the first time in my life, I prayed and got a 97% definite answer almost immediately. I don't know what was more heartbreaking: that it was the answer that I didn't want or that it was the answer that I knew I would get.

On a much more positive note.
I've finally got a new group of friends starting to form. I call it Cool Crew 2.0. We've got Anastasia, Todd, Derrick, Ivan, Ronnie and whoever else shows up. I completely love these kids. I'm usually not happy if I'm not spending the weekend around them. I blame Ivan, of course.

This is an incredibly short post. I wasn't really sure what I was gonna say. Ah vell.

Where'd you get the pink fifties?

Today was one of those Things Are Going To Be More Complicated Than Necessary days. Fuh realz, yo.

It started when I woke up and began putting in more job applications. All kinds of ridiculous "strongly agree, agree, disagree, strongly disagree" questions were asked. Examples are as follows:
"I would rather be lost in the ghetto than unsettled Wyoming."
"If Jim is older than Ron, Ron is thinner than Dave, and Dave is shorter than Everett, then Paco must be the father of Samson."
"I often misspell 'opportunity.'"

Then, I helped my father move the partitions in our horse trailer. The stakes that hold the hinges together wouldn't come out. One stake smashed my thumb and it bled profusely. Finally, the hammer that dad carefully placed on a small ledge fell off of the ledge and landed safely on my foot.

This evening, I had to take my car in for inspection and pick up Mom's. I drive my car over. I get there and her car is nowhere in sight. I ask the mechanic if it's done. He said no and that they left a message at the house. Of course, I left my cell at home. I ask to borrow his phone so I can call Dad. He pulls out his cell and dials the number and hands me the phone. No one picks up. I tell him they must be outside. I hit END. He reaches for the phone. Before I can dial Dad's cell, I see that the background of his phone is a nude chick. He apologizes thoroughly (Because, obviously, I've never seen a naked woman... Please...). I immediately regret using this nice man's phone. Dad never answers his cell. I take my car back home. Dad's not home. Mom calls him and tells him the predicament (minus the cell phone debacle [I think that's the first time I ever found it appropriate to use 'debacle' in anything I've ever said]). Dad says he'll meet me back at the garage. I drive back to the garage. Dad's not there. I drop my key off and wait for Dad. Dad picks me up. The End.

I hope you enjoyed that. I know I did.


Memory numero seis. Sorry it's muy poco.

April 25, 2009 George and I went to an '80s dance. It was the second day that George and I had been dating and the first time that I had met a majority of the Institute folk. He had been showing me off most of the night and at this point, he was talking to some of his friends and I was talking to his sister, Emy and Brittni. I saw that he was pointing me out to Pitzer. A minute or so later, Pitzer walks up to me and stands right up against me and asks, "Are you Marissa?" probably trying to throw me off by being so close. I went with my first instinct and quickly said yes and threw myself in for a hug. I won the Awkward Off.





Here's another memory, though it's not George-related.

I was in marching band. Well, color guard, really, but I consider it all to be the same group... Anywho, one afternoon, the one director was working with the woodwinds or something and everyone else was just kind of standing in place, hanging out, waiting to get back to business. Well, this two minute wait turned into a 15 minute wait and then turned into an eternity. I was talking to my friends and then we heard the entire drumline yell for Cory (their instructor). I almost died of laughter. Cory couldn't see them. All he saw was their drums on the ground. He was freaking out, yelling for them, thinking they were in the woods behind him or something. It was too perfect. What they did: they had all set their drums down. They noticed that the sunset was just perfect that it was setting a long shadow behind the drums. They lined up the drums just so and laid down behind them, in the shadow. It was one of the funniest things I think I have ever witnessed.


And just because I'm in an extra reminisce-y mood...
A memory that involves me, Stacey Loski, Ben Thompson, and some Brent kid.

Stacey: Brent, have you met Marissa?
Brent: No.
Marissa: Hi. I'm Marissa.
Brent: Hi. I'm Brent.
Ben: You guys are idiots!!! That was the worst introduction ever!! The names were blatently mentioned, but yet you have to go and introduce yourselves!! "BRENT, have you met MARISSA?" What is wrong with you?! You're so dumb!!
Brent: ... Dude, it's too late now. We've already met...
Marissa: Yeh, seriously... Maybe you should just calm down...

But a rose won't blossom from the ground of desert sand

So, it's been a few days.

Update:
I'm home from Florida for good. Basically for good. I won't be going for winter anymore. I'm going to be having this wonderfully wonderful guy in PA, so why would I want to be there? Maybe I'll go on vacation there some time.

I've become a Heroes addict. I don't even know how. I saw that four seasons were on the internet so I thought, "Why the heck not?" It's not even really my kind of show. There's a lot of blood. I am not a fan of a lot of blood. I can do a few drops here and there. But not a couple times a show. Or when Sylar cuts open someone's head. Or when Claire has to push her ribs back into their rightful place, through the skin. Not my cup of tea. But yet I'm glued to the show. I can't even look away for that.

I've been having dreadful dreams about George's homecoming. I guess "dreadful" isn't the appropriate word. We're going to stick with it anyway.
A couple nights ago, I had a dream that I was at a wrestling match or something. Maybe it was bowling. I dunno... Some sport that I suck at (that doesn't even begin to narrow anything down). Anyways, surprisingly, George came home that day and he came to the game/match/meet to see me. Crazily, I wasn't excited to see him. Not to say that I wasn't happy. I just wasn't over-the-moon with glee. I walked up to him, hugged him, and went on with the game. Like I hadn't just seen the love of my life for the first time in two years. And you should have heard dreaming me yelling at dreamee me over my dreamscape intercom. "What is wrong with you?! Don't you see that gorgeous face?? You don't even like softball/ synchronized swimming/ cricket!"
Then, last night I had a very similar dream. I was at work or something. I'm actually not sure what I was doing. I think I was doing landscaping at a house near my home. Moving on... I got a voice message that said "I can't wait to see the most beautiful girl in the world" (and yes, I do think highly of myself when I dream). It was George Raymond and I was totally excited because that must of meant that he was home. So I waited. And waited. And waited. And he never showed up. So, I think I had Ivan or someone contact him, but they couldn't get a hold of him. So I ended up going on an adventure with Stephie from Rutters. We found out he was living at the Tropical Treat with this kid we met the summer before our senior year. And he had gone total hick on me. Dip/chew and all. And then I woke up.
So yeh. None of the dreams I have about him coming home are very positive or welcoming. Let me just say that my reaction will be the exact opposite.
That is all.
And I didn't include a memory because I quite clearly remember these dreams.
Yes.

Shut your eyes. Feel the chemicals collide.

Oops... haven't reminisced bloggally in a while... Need to get on that.

Soooo... memory number four... what should I choose...

This is a small one. I hafta do it in script form because that's the easiest to imagine it happening...

Scene: Amber, Heather, and I are in their kitchen eating something, probably nachos. Dustin calls.
Amber: Hey Babe! What? What? Okay? Uhm, Marissa? Dustin has a message for you... He says... Ha ha, Babe, we already knew that. Is he there with you? Ok, sorry, I'll tell her. Dustin says that George says that he likes you. (pause) Straight up.
Me: Straight UP?
Heather: STRAIGHT up?
Me: Like totally straight? No curves at all?
Heather: Like the straight and narrow?
Me: Like the Iron Rod?
Amber: Did you hear them Babe? (pause) He says shut up.
End Scene.

That was a fun one. George wasn't directly involved in that one, but it's still a good one. :)


Since I'm such a terrible blogger, I'll throw in an extra memory to make up for all that time that I didn't. Plus, I'll thank me later.

Memory #5

Our junior year (way way way before we even thought of dating) , George, Dustin, Hailey, and I all had seminary at Dustin's house and it was taught by his mother, Melinda. Okay, now I need you to imagine a clock. That's going to be the kitchen table where we sat. George sat at 12, Hailey at 3, me at 6, Dustin at 9, and Melinda was somewhere above 1 (if that makes sense).
Well, after a month or two, Melinda got it in her head that George and I were meant for each other. I don't know why she would think a thing like that. Any time that George and I ever talked, they were venomous, sarcastic comments. One time he even made me cry. If that doesn't scream chemistry, I don't know what does.
So, Melinda sat George next to me one morning. So imagine the clock again. Now he's at 7 and I'm at 5. Or somethin' like that.
One day, I must have said something especially snarky and he subtly reached down and pinched my leg. So I kicked him. Then he kicked me back. So, of course, being a trouble maker, I yelled OUCH! Melinda looked straight at George and asked him what he did. He said he didn't do anything. Then she asked me what he did. I told her he kicked me. She scolded him, "George Raymond..." And he replied, "She kicked me first!" I gave Melinda my most convincing I would never... look. Totally bought it.
And that's how love starts, little ones. Take notes.

And yes, I realize that last one totally sounded like we were in first grade. But look at me. Do I look like I'm not 6?

"I think that's a guy in an airplane suit"

Memory numero tres

One night after doing who-knows-what who-knows-where, George, Katelyn Elizabeth, and I were all driving home. I was taking Katelyn home first because she lived the farthest away from me. We were taking the dark, windy (windy as in curvy, not as in blustery) backroads (something I'm very accustomed to doing as everyone I know lives in the middle of nowhere and because that's just what you have to do if you want to get anywhere in our boondockish area). George and I got into one of our nonserious fights again. What it was about, I have no idea. Anyways, it escalated to the point where I told him to get out of the car at the next stop sign. He asked why he couldn't just get out while I was driving. I reminded him that I wanted him to get out, not get hurt. Well, the stop sign came, and he actually got out. It was some time in April and it wasn't all that warm out. He started walking. Well, of course, now I felt bad and I rolled down the window and told him to get back in the car. He argued that no, I wanted him out of the car and he didn't want to disobey my wishes in my current state of confusion. Then Katelyn started yelling out her window. If you know Katelyn, then you can probably guess that her yelling was not helpful in the least and was more humoring to George to keep walking. After about a half mile of George walking and me slowly driving behind him, I tried to be more convincing/annoying to get him in the car. Then, he decided that he was actually walking on the wrong side of the road and switched over to the opposite lane. Finally, I got out of my car and begged him to get back in the car. He asked me what was in it for him. I told him that if he did, I might love him forever. After some time, he obliged. He got in the car and I put the child lock on the door so he could not get out on his own. He asked why I so strongly insisted that he get back in the car. I told him that I wanted him in the car because he has no sense of humor and cannot take a joke and we needed to get Katelyn home before her mother killed me. And then I added the fact that I did not want him to get raped and/or murdered.

The end.



So, I didn't want to finish my post. I just wanted to say that I was a pretty emo kid back in the day. Like, seriously. If I was an adult and some kid would have handed me the kinds of poetry I used to write, I would have been genuinely concerned for that child's life. Like, 79% of the poems were about heartbreak and crying and just horrible scenes. Looking back, I did have a lot of drama and love problems in high school, but my poetry just makes me look suicidal. Check it (if you want).
http://spacecdt07.deviantart.com


Ok. That is all.
Yes.

I don't want just red lights. I want more of these nights.

Note: Do not read the following if love makes you gag.

Memory numero dos.

(Again, this is multiple memories strung together, but they're all collusive.)

George and I were saying our "goodnights" one night. We were quiet and out of nowhere he said, "I love you." I told him I loved him too. He was so shocked. It was the first time we had said it. He looked at me and said, "You know, that's not the first time I said that to you..." And, yeh, I did. One night we were talking on the phone. We were about to say goodnight when he said, "Just a sec" and put me on hold. Then he came back and said "Well, I hafta go. Bye. 'Night, love you" and hung up right away. I just sat there completely stunned because we had only been dating for a little over a week. I called Katelyn and was like "What's it mean? Isn't it too soon? Did he really mean it or did he just let it slip? If he did mean it, why did he hang up right away?" etc, etc. So, talking about it later after our initial ILYs, apparently he put me on hold because his mom wanted to talk to him before she went to bed, then when she went to bed he said "'Kay, 'Night, love you." Then, his sister was going to bed and he said the same thing to her, so he said it out of repetition. After he said it, he realized what he had said and didn't know what to do, so he just hung up as fast as possible. So, yeh.
And he thinks he's all special because he (accidentally) said ILY first. Well, he's not. In the first couple of days of us dating, I was leaving his house one night and as I was walking to my car, he yelled out the door "Goodnight!" and I said "G'night, lo-" and mumbled the rest. Again, it was one of those habitual things because when my parents go to bed, I always say "'Night, love you."

A flower pokin' through the sidewalk crack

So, until George comes home, every couple days I want to post a favorite memory I have with or of or concerning him. We'll see how long this lasts.
Memory number one: We were at a bi-stake church dance when we were still in high school. We weren't dating, but we might as well have been, so we drove up to Carlisle together. My parents were asked to be chaperones, so we all went together. The dance was kind of lame. We only knew a couple people. Amber and Heather (sisters), their parents (also chaperones), Dustin, and Stacey. We sat out most of it (except for the slow songs) because they played ridiculously bad music. Dustin and Amber (those two were dating), George and I would all sit around and talk until a slow song came one and then we would claim our respective partner. They played "My Heart Will Go On" and the groan through out the gym was just barely audible. George and I started dancing and a couple bars into the song, I hear him humming along and just choose to ignore it. Then he starts singing quietly and I can't help but laugh. Then he started belting "NEAR! FAR! WHEREV-". I threw my hand over his mouth and just stood there. People were staring. I told him I would remove my hand if he would prettyplease stop singing. So he did. For half a second. Finally he agreed to cease for good after I forced him to stop again. I only had one question for him: How did he possibly know all the lyrics to the song? He took the blame route and said that his mother would play the Titanic soundtrack over and over again. Yeh. Sure.
One of the songs, you were supposed to switch partners whenever they rang a bell or something. George and I decided we didn't want to do that. This chaperone couple chided us and told us we HAD TO switch. So, the next time the bell rang, I let go of him, turned around and started to walk away. He did the same thing, and then I turned back around and grabbed him and started dancing again. We continued that the rest of the song. The couple still wasn't happy and said that we never switched partners. I told them that we tried, but no one else was available. He looked at the guy and said, "Would you let someone like that go?" :)
So, after the dance was over we were saying our goodbyes to our previously mentioned friends. We were walking over to where my parents were waiting in the car when I remembered I had to tell Amber or Heather something. So, I turned around and went back. George says, "Hey. Where are you going? Get in the car. We're going home." I said, "Oh, hold your horses, I'll be right back." So he says again, "Get in the car. Now." I ignored him. I walked over and started talking to Amber again and George continued with the "Let's go"s and the "Get in the car"s slowly raising his voice. So finally I turned around and yelled, "You know what? I'm going home with Amber and Heather and Dustin" and got in their van with them and locked the doors. Then he really started yelling. Amber told me I had to get out because it was crowded and that I really couldn't go with them. So then I got out and started yelling about how I would talk to whoever I wanted whenever I wanted and he started arguing about how he had to get home because he had church meetings early in the morning. So, finally I started to storm over to the car and he pushed me gently and I stopped and started yelling at him for that and we started arguing and yelling about that. Then this girl passing by in her group of friends turns to one of them and audibly whispers "Oh my gosh! Are they fighting?" Well, we both heard it and George looks over and not yelling but with a raised voice says "Yes, we're fighting. How 'bout you mind your own darn business." The group just stopped and watched us. I yelled at him for being so rude to that girl and that she deserved an apology and said that I was rude to be disturbing everyone with my yelling. We continued arguing loudly as we finally got in the car and my dad drove us out of the parking lot. The minute we were on the road, we busted up laughing. We laughed about half the way home. My mom had started laughing when we first started arguing and was still laughing that entire time. I kind of felt bad for the girl George told off. I'm certain she was genuinely worried. She probably thought he was going to beat me or something.
Seriously. I don't think he and I have ever shared that much consecutive laughter before or since that night.

And yes, I realize that that is technically several memories linked together, but it was only one night. So... there.

I can make the buildings dance. Whole cities move because of me.

So, I've got these photos hanging all over my walls. It kind of makes me look like a stalker.... But it's cool: 46% is me, 50% is George Raymond Wolf, and everything in between is the other cool kids in my life (like, two of them, at least) and George Raymond's mission people. But yeh... They're slowly falling off the walls because I don't want make wholes in the paper I call walls AND apparently I don't know how to work that blue tackystuff.
Speaking of pictures, I need to start taking more. Ten years from now, I'm going to be sitting in my rocker (I'll be 30, and yes, I'll be sitting in a rocking chair because it's good for your abs if you do it the right way) and thinking, "Oh, I don't remember much about February 2010. Let me look at my albums that are organized chronologically to refresh my memory." So I'll pull out the first album labeled 2010 and the first photo in the book will be from May or June and I will think "Why didn't I take more pictures? Now I'm not quite sure what I was doing at that time. I could have been in the circus and I don't even know it." So, yes. I need to take more pictures. I've only taken, like, 7 pictures since December and 5 of them are on my phone.
The dog next door will not stop barking. I don't even know why it started. There's probably a burglar/rapist lurking outside my window. Or the dog is just retarded.
I do feel bad for the dog. It barks a lot, actually. The owners keep it in a kennel in the very back corner of their property, next to our pasture. During a chance meeting with the puppy (not really a puppy... all dogs are puppies to me), I found out he or she is really quite nice. It barks because it doesn't get attention, I'm sure. The owners feed it him/her and all, and I guess the pay attention to it somewhat, but still. If you can't give it the attention it needs, you might as well not even have the dog. I dunno. Just me.
So, I read a spoof on the Twilight books, Nightlight. It wasn't as funny as I thought it would be. It was kind of annoying, really. Like, I was expecting it to be.... uh, spoofier? And I just kept reading, thinking that I couldn't stop reading because what if I stopped right before the best part of the book and I loved it and it changed my life and stuff? Yeh, well, let me tell ya, that didn't happen. Maybe I just don't have a sense of humor.
Speaking of humor, none of the old people understand that a twenty year old girl can be funny. Like really. Apparently I'm not allowed to have dry humor or be sarcastic. Because all us whippersnappers are serious and mean all the time. They just look at me like, You were born yesterday. Or at least seventy years after me, so that means you have no knowledge of anything. And why are you lifting hay bales and caring for the horses?? Don't you know that's not women's work? Go scrub floors or darn socks. I hate technology.
Oh old people. I'm going to have dementia or alzheimers when I'm old. Hopefully I'm not violent. That would be tragic. Though I probably couldn't hurt anyone (unless I decide to follow my dreams of becoming a bodybuilder).
If you didn't take my advice via my FB status, go rent New York, I Love You. It's amazing. Life-changing. It's rated R (gasp) but I swear that your eyes won't bleed and Satan won't come out of the television (just guessing, though). But seriously, it's sooooo good. A ton of big names are in it. And yeh, it's kind of loveydovey, but not the loveydovey that makes cynics vomit. It's just kind of true love. I don't know how else to describe it. I know of one person that probably shouldn't watch it. That's about it. Go watch it.
Kristen Bell is my idol. I really do admire her. I don't even know what else to say about her. She's hilarious and bubbly and short. She was brilliant in Veronica Mars and I've wept every day since it was cancelled. I hope to be like her some day (i.e. famous and naturally blonde).
The dog stopped barking

Well, I think this posting of blog is done. It was more of a rant, but c'est la vie.


No wait, just kidding, he or she is barking again. And some other dog has joined in.

Just kidding again. All is silent.
creepy

Near. Far. Wherever you are.

So, I've got this fairy tale kind of love. Sounds like a stretch, I know.

I met my Prince Charming long, long ago when we were just little, far before he was a prince or even charming and I was still an ugly duckling.

Years had gone by without one seeing the other and by coincidence, we bump into each other. There is no attraction (as far as I know) but there is friendship.

Even more years go by and under some influence of friends, we realize how perfect we are for each other.

We fall nauseatingly in love, complete with cute little birdies and cheesy soundtrack.

We must be separated from each other. He must go thousands of miles away on an adventure of the unknown and I must stay home.

He will come home. There will be a tearful reunion. We will confess our undying love for one another.

And we will live happily ever after.

She's my best friend, best of all best friends. Do you have a best friend too?

So, I've got this best friend. Her name is Katelyn Elizabeth. And before you can ask, Yes, actually she was named after me.




We met about 46 years ago. Wait, no...
We met because of color guard. I was in 10th grade and she was in 8th. We had both signed up to be part of the Blonde Inferno's guard. She signed up because her cousin Ashley had been in color guard. I signed up because I was naive.

Well, truth be told, I didn't even really realize Katelyn existed until the summer after. Once again, we both signed up marching band. One day during a break between sets, a couple of us were having a discussion about near death experiences. Annabanadana had just shared a thrilling recount of the time she was at camp and was crossing the road and a logger truck didn't see her and almost ran her over. There was silence. Katelyn cleared her throat, put her hand in her pocket, pulled her hand back out and said, "I have quarters." I knew at that moment we had to be best friends.




We've done everything together. We've laughed. We've cried. We've gone to Disney World. We've gone to WallyFantasticWorld. We've gone sledding. We've illegally placed a note in a mailbox. We've sung so loud that we couldn't talk the next day. We've led cheers of encouragement. We've led cheers of sarcasm. We've done it all.
We even got to do a duet together (after asking our guard instructor every single day for two years)!


We made a documentary about this boy we love(d). His name is Checkered Shoe Boy. Actually, his name is Sergio. But really, it's Clayton. The title of our film is "Girl Jeans and Checkered Shoes: The Search for Sergio." Most of you have probably never seen it... But we're big in Croatia. I promise.


Sadly, Katelyn and I do not share our love for Sergio any longer.


Katelyn loves a new boy. His name is Tomas. But he's not Latino. He's a hippie. And a skateboarder. And a chimp. I approve (Don't tell Katelyn.).



She also loves the boy that I love, but not nearly in the same way. And they both love me! What are the odds?! They like to be goofy together when I'm not around. I would worry but the short bus stops at my house next.


If our film-making doesn't take off right away, we're going to be rockstars. We even have a band name picked out. MMKJ Peacey Puffs.


This is our tattoo. No, I do not have it. Katelyn has it. I designed it. I am a part of her forever. She went through a lot of pain to get it. What sucks is that if we ever get in a huge fight and declare each other enemies: She'll have to go through another dose of pain just to remove it. :)

We have a Mexican! Actually, we HAD one. Border Patrol came and took her back. Her name is Leticia Sanchez Angeles. She likes to wrap her hair in plastic bags and smell urinals (but not at the same time). At one point she had cornrows and sang. She went by Leticia Keys. You might have heard of her. A lot of people try to sing like her and copy her name. One of her hits was "I Keep On Failin'"

Katelyn made this for me. She knew I needed it.

Because I love her, I decided to reciprocate the photo editing/making. I made this for her because it's absolutely true.

(If you can't read it, it says "When we're old ladies, let's race. I'll give you a head start. You'll need it.")

Even though we call each other some not very nice names (Whoreface, Stupidhead, Beeyotch, Retard, you get the idea), I love her to death. We've come so far in the last 5 years. We never get to see each other anymore but that hasn't changed anything (I hope). We've got plans for our future. We're going to buy a large duplex. Like really large. We're going to marry our boys. Our kids are all going to be BFFs. As soon as one of us gets pregnant, the other better get busy. My son is going to fall in love with her daughter. Her twins are going to be Peanut and Butter and my daughter will be Jelly for Halloween. Speaking of Halloween, every day we're dressing our kids up in costumes. No regular overalls (unless those overalls are accompanied by fairy wings).

Katelyn, I know you're reading this because you're the one who told me to do a post about you and I wrote on your wall to read this.

Just know that I love you. I know we're not the kind of friends that gush about how much we love the other because that's pretty retarded, but just know that I do.

Hi Tom.

P.S. If you want to check out one of our World Famous Videos, check out http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=31190479

Picture yourself on a boat on river

Fact: I can't take a good picture to save my life.

Wait, I take that back. I can't TRY to take a NICE picture to save my life.

Yes, that's better.

It's true, my friends. I can't take a "serious" picture that doesn't turn out looking like I'm on some kind of drug or mentally retarded.

My best pictures are when I try to look horrible or mentally handicapped or stoned. Those are masterpieces.

Sure, I do happen to get a few good ones where I'm smiling and cooperating with the camera, but that's after many DELETES.

There are the friends that try and try to get me to take a good picture with them...

And then there are the friends who have learned to deal with my disability and they help me be my best by trying to adapt to my lifestyle...

Either way, I will continue to take my terrible (on purpose) photos. I don't care what you say: I'm beautiful.

Did someone drop an awkward bomb? It's getting weird in here.

Wow.
I just realized that I do a lot of awkward things that I could probably very easily prevent...

1. I make hugging me awkward. I cower. I mean, if I went to hug someone and they cowered, I'd be like, "Uh, oh. Uh, sorry?"
2. I tell people not to touch me. I don't know when or why I started doing that. I really don't mind being touched. Someone gross probably went to touch my arm or something and I said it.
3. I cringe when people are moving with in four feet of my face. I think that started my freshmen year of high school. My friends used to get really close to my face when they were explaining stuff and they liked to illustrate with their hands... Also a result of colorguard.
4. I tend to whimper when trying to maneuver through large crowds. I didn't even realize this one. My sister pointed it out a couple years ago. I just never gave it up.
5. I say "ew" or other related words when people (that I know well) cough, sneeze, or clear their throat.
6. When people I don't know sneeze, I go out of my way to say "bless you" because no one else ever does.
7. I stare people (again, only if I know them well) right in the eye when I know that it makes them uncomfortable. My old boss hated it.
8. I keep a straight face when someone is going way out of their way to be impressive.
9. I look like I'm not paying attention when people are talking in general.
10. When people are explaining something to me that is a really simple concept, I give them a very confused look. It's been coined "The Stupid Look."

You're probably thinking, well that's obnoxious as heck. I'm really not trying to be obnoxious.
So why do it? 1 through 4, 5, 8, 9, and 10 are all habits that I don't realize that I do. I just do. 5, 7, and 10, I guess, are obnoxious but I really don't care. 6 is just common courtesy that people aren't used to.

So, yeh. If I do any of this around you, I'm probably not trying it. Just tell me to knock it off and continue to attempt to hug me and such. You know, unless I really insist that you don't touch me. Then you probably shouldn't.

I've got an imaginary friend. Wait, no, it's a missionary.

I just bore my soul to another blog site. For over an hour, I told it everything that I've been afraid to say. I told it that I'm afraid of the future. I told it things I've not told anyone. What did it do? It deleted it all. It didn't save drafts every thirty seconds. It didn't even save them every ten minutes.

So, here's everything I wanted to say, more or less.

I truly am afraid of the future. Mostly this August.

Things aren't the same with George and I. We're drifting apart, I guess. Moving in two different directions. He's changed a lot. I've changed even more.
(I guess I can't really say that I've changed. I'm just living out what I've always felt, ya know?)

Christmas Day was supposed to be one of the best days ever ever ever. It was pretty awesome, I guess, but 50% of it sucked mucho.
I was supposed to talk to him on the phone for 10 minutes or maybe more and we were supposed to be happy and lovey and I was supposed to fall for him all over again. Yeh.
Instead, one of the first things he asks me is a question he asked in every letter, but I always choose to ignore it. Well, how was I supposed to ignore it now? (He's a sly one...) I answered truthfully. What followed was one of the worst silences I have ever heard. Ever. After that, the conversation was just awkward small talk and awkward silence. The most awkward 6 minutes I have ever been a part of.
Afterwards, I went home and listened to the tapes he sent me. They were pretty good. I listened to them more for his voice than what he was actually saying. Then, at the end, he dropped the bomb. "Babe, don't be mad at me but I don't want to see you at the airport when I get home."
My thoughts were as follows: What??? What the hell are you talking about?? I've only been planning to be at the airport since the day you left! I want to see your plane as soon as it touches down. I want to be the first one to spot you on your way down the hall towards baggage claim. And what do you mean you don't want to see me? Do you want me to hide? Do you want me to sit on a bench and pretend to read a newspaper? Do you want me to mill around in the chaos and watch from a distance??
His reasoning was that he didn't want to feel the temptation to hug me and he didn't want me to feel the same way.
My thoughts were as follows: Thanks. Thanks for not believing that I have the will power to not attack you as soon as I see you. That's awesome. But you know what? I don't care if you want me there or not. You'll just have to man up. I'm going to be there. I'll be holding a neon green (or maybe yellow or pink or orange) sign that reads "Welcome Home Elder Wolf!" I'll be wearing a yellow dress and red high heels and I'll be the prettiest girl in the world until I see your beautiful face and I start bawling my eyes out. But I'm still gonna be there smiling through the tears. And guess what? By that time, I'll have gone 730 days, give or take, with out touching you. What's another couple hours? What's another day? So, you're just going to suck it up between now and then.
I may or may not have written that last part in a letter I wrote him.

Do I still love him? Uhm... YES! I don't think I'll ever not love him. He's taught me so much. He's taught me what true love is. He taught me that you have to lose your inhibitions in order to love. He taught me that when someone loves you, it is possible for them to forgive you. Even when you've messed up royally and you can't even forgive yourself.

I don't know what will happen. Every day, I feel one step closer to him, but then again, two steps away. I guess we'll see.