Going Steadily Single

I can't seem to get past page one

2012-03-19T13:51:00.000-07:00

I have a curse. I'm not going to make some snarky joke about having the curse of irresistible beauty, however true that fact may be. No, my friends, I have a real curse. Like that of The Brothers Grimm.
Since roughly the spring of 2009, I've not had a relationship/fling/what-have-you that lasted more than a month. Right now, I count five-ish serious relationships in there. Five. Sure, one of those relationships technically lasted a couple months. But I don't count the months following the first one since the day before our one month anniversary he went to jail. I feel like an idiotic high schooler who dates someone for a day and claims they are madly in love with them and inevitably breaks up with them a week later. I mean, I'm honestly embarrassed.
Today, I asked one of my exes (who wishes to remain nameless [he didn't actually say that] and who also doesn't consider our several month relationship to be a relationship at all, but more of a messed up friendship) if I could blame him since he is the last person to last more than a month. He agreed though he didn't have a choice since I'd already typed most of this.
So here's to me pulling a Sleeping Beauty and holing up in a castle, just chillin' in bed, waiting for some hot prince to come save me with a life-saving makeout session. Or, ya know, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and remain an unsavory companion.

We found love in a hopeless place

2012-03-06T00:26:00.000-08:00

So, there's this kid. And I kind of like him. And his name is Ian.
If you don't know Ian, take my personality, subtract the bitterness, add testicles and a lot more goofiness. That's Ian.
I work with this kid. That's how we met. I know, I know. You're thinking "No bueno. No good can come of a romance in the workplace." And I'd probably agree with you if you weren't wrong. Hell, I almost did worry that something negative would happen immediately. But, like I said: You're wrong.
Everyone at work loves us as a pair (as well as individually, I might add). If you are reading this and are from work and do not love us as a pair, chances are a.) we probably don't like you and/or b.) you're a sad, lonely person who can't be loved or love another person because you don't truly love yourself. You choose.
Anyways. Kasey is like a proud mom about it. "I knew as soon as Ian started working here that you two would get together! I'm like a millionaire matchmaker!" Sadly, I'm not a millionaire, Kasey. And neither is Ian. Though that would make the relationship that much better (jk [just in case]).
And even AmyFisher, THE BOSS, said that she knew about us before we even knew about us. And she approves! Talk about being given the blessing!

And just think, if this kid had never threatened to touch me, I probably never would have texted him to tell him that, no, he cannot touch me. And then I wouldn't have continued texting him. And I wouldn't have given him the worst hug in the history of mankind. And we wouldn't have talked through out my entire trip to Florida. And the day I got home from Florida, I wouldn't have visited him at Rutter's. And that night, I wouldn't have gone to a crappy bonfire with him and AndyMay. And I wouldn't have held his hand under a blanket. And I wouldn't have impetuously kissed him. And we wouldn't be as blissfully happy as we are now.

I forgot what else I was going to say about this kid. Oh, yes: he's cute. And I like him. And he thinks I'm pretty. Because he's smart.

Also, I know that being in a relationship kind of ruins the "Going Steadily Single" name. But I will consider myself "unsingle" when I'm married.

Thank you. That is all.

Run your mouth more than anyone I've ever known

2012-01-19T01:13:00.000-08:00

I just read a blog post by a used-to-be friend saying that I was her enemy. The whole post was about me and how horrible of a person I am and how I'm mean to everyone and how I stab everyone in the back. Dude, completely dead-on.
Not.
This one goes out to you, Brittni.
I won't lie, I am mean to everyone. I don't mean it in a hurtful way, I mean it in a "I don't really care what you think of me" way.
But calling me a backstabber? That's truly the gem of the post. I never once stabbed you in the back. I don't know if I ever purposely stabbed ANYONE in the back. You wanna talk about backstabbing? How about telling people that I'm a whore? How about spreading around that I cheat on all my boyfriends? How about telling my other friends that I'm a "horrible person" to the point where I'm alienated? How about denying all the things that multiple people have told me you said about me? How about that?
I don't know how I ever, EVER treated you badly, or rather, worse than others.
That time when you cleaned my house WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO while I was at work and then you insisted that I bring you a pizza to thank you? No. I told you not to. When I saw you did it anyways, I thanked you. But I'm not buying you a pizza when we had no agreement. I guess you could construe that as mean, but you I see it as some kind of contractual entrapment, and that was just dumb of you.
And what people are you closer to that I also apparently hurt while we were, as you put it, "friends?" Because frankly, you were one of the only people I ever talked to back then. Is it your exboyfriend? Ha. Probably not. Because really, he's the only person I can even imagine "hurting" way back when, but he and I are cool and I know that you two certainly aren't.
And you're saying that people told you that you weren't a mean person when we were together? Hilarious. Because as I recall, many people told you that you were a (pardon my language) bitch when we were together. Not because of me, because, really, we were kind of inseparable, but because you felt the need to act like you were in some kind of control of everyone.
So you've grown from the experience of our friendship? God, I sure hope so. Because when we were friends, you were the rudest, most abrasive, most obnoxious person I had ever had the delight to be acquainted with.
But you still can't spell "per se."
Oh, and when your "enemy" says hello to you in passing, you say it back. You don't roll your eyes and act like they don't exist.
And just so you know, you're not my enemy. I don't even really care about you, besides the fact that you have nothing courteous to say to or about me, even though we'd been friends for a couple years. My enemy is the spread of unhappiness. Wait, yeah, I guess that would make you my enemy. :)

So, just so everyone knows, I'm aware that the blog post that I mentioned was likely posted knowing I would probably see it and have an adverse reaction. You're welcome. I don't like proving people wrong.

"Hey, are you done with that?"

2012-01-10T21:03:00.000-08:00

I have a feeling this is going to be a short, angry, passive-agressive post.
Let's talk about SloppySeconds. I don't mean the urbandictionary.com definition of SloppySeconds. I mean the little more moral SloppySeconds where you date someone else's exes. No, not someone else's one ex. EXES. Plural.
It's not okay. Well, sometimes it's okay, but I'll get to the exceptions at the end.
Right now, one of my exes' exes is dating one of my other exes. Reading that, it makes little to no sense... So let me try to clarify. I was in a relationship with "Frank" for a couple of months. We broke up. He started dating "Denise." I started dating "Horace." Horace and I ended things. Frank and Denise got engaged. Frank and Denise then broke up. A couple months later, Horace and Denise are now dating. Do you understand now?
I mean, I guess I should be flattered. Denise obviously wants to follow in my footsteps and make the same mistakes I did (no offense to my mistakes, if you happen to read this). And she is an obvious downgrade (no offense to the downgrade, if you happen to read this [Who am I kidding? I don't care if you're offended.]) so it kind of makes me feel good about my decision to end things with Frank and Horace.

So, you want my hand-me-downs, Denise? Fine. I'll make you a list. After Horace, there were Miles, Roger, Sebastian, and Abraham, but none of them ever really amounted to anything more than flirting and maybe a kiss. Oh, and between Frank and Horace was Issaac. He's in jail now, but he kind of seems to be your (well, really, OUR) type, so I wish you luck. And before Frank, the more important ones were Albert, Ezra, Jason, and Theodore. Three of them are married and one is on a church mission. Best of luck for those, too. Oh, and please don't give ME the stinkeye when you come into MY workplace. I have to be there. You don't. And, really, I see no reason for you to hate me. Unless your suitors talk about me nonstop. Then, hate away.

I almost forgot to list the exceptions for why SloppySeconds could be okay:

There are only a handful of survivors from a plane crash stuck on an island and they eventually run out of people to be romantically exclusive with who haven't dated everyone else.
You're a member of the Mormon YSAs in a few-and-far-between area and to survive you must date everyone until you find The One.
The end.

Send me away with the words of a love song

2011-12-21T20:33:00.000-08:00

This is morbid. I'll start out by saying that.
With all these people young people dying in car accidents and such lately, I need to make sure things are taken care of if I pass suddenly. See, I told you it was morbid.
To start, I don't want to be buried in something ugly or sad. I want to be in my red and black flannel shirt, a band shirt, my grey henley, or tiedye. I hate going to funerals and seeing the lost dressed in their worst church wear.
Speaking of clothing, NO ONE is to wear black or grey or depressing colors to my funeral or viewing. I want happy colors: yellows and pinks and neon greens and sky blues and lavenders. No black anything!!
To get in, you must bring a balloon. I don't care if it's mylar or latex (if you have a latex allergy, sorry: you probably should come see me) or a balloon animal or one of those punchy balloons. The first two must be filled with helium. Bonus points if you have a helium filled balloon animal. If you don't bring a balloon, you need to find one. If you can't find one, you need to try harder. If you really, really can't find one, you must make a ten dollar donation to the ASPCA.
If anyone brings an invisible dog, they also get bonus points. And if you come without the wire leash thing and just say "The dog is around here somewhere..." you get points taken away.
I don't really know what points I'm talking about, but I trust that the people who love me will figure something out for the points.
If anyone insists on a vigil, I need you to sing Johnny Cash, 3Oh!3, Frank Sinatra, The Ready Set, and Gavin Degraw. Even without a vigil, you need to sing.
And don't think you can get in without following my set of rules. There will be a bouncer there. Trust me.
And don't think I'm joking about any of this. I hope that since you read this, that means you care and that you want to make me happy. And the above would make me happy. So make sure this happens. Yameen?
The end.

Also, if anyone decides to be dramatic and let go of their helium balloons after I'm in the ground, I swear I will put together a band of ghouls and we will haunt your butt for the rest of your life. You're hurting our environment. We're going to make you pay.

Don't want your bad, bad Bromance

2011-11-10T01:21:00.000-08:00

So, I know it's been awhile since I've released bloggily. And, okay, I know this deviates from my usual theme of dating. So let me justify: I do not want to date someone like this.

Seriously. This has been getting on my nerves lately. Like to the point where I might get violent.

What I'm talking about here is ManHugs. You know what it is. When men hug for just a little too long.
So why do I hate this? Because. It's disturbing. And before any homosexual males who may read this by some freak coincidence where they were actually trying to read a fabulous friend's blog and stumbled onto mine by mistake by switching a letter around, let me clarify for your sparkly sake: I'm referring to when two STRAIGHT males hug. Gay guys hugging is a natural thing for me (I was in colorguard, so there's that). And I'm not bothered by the quick half-second rap on the back hug. But when to straight guys hug for more than 4 seconds, I hate it. They think it's humorous. It's not humorous. It may be slightly humorous at Second 5, but after that, you make me feel uncomfortable, and I know I'm not alone. If you need to hug another man for that long, you need to come out of the closet. I promise. Are you trying to impress the girls? Well, you probably think it's working since they're laughing. Wrong. We're laughing because we're trying to diffuse the awkward situation you're insisting on creating.
And then when to men stand with their arms around each other. I don't mean around the shoulders. Around the shoulders is a camaraderie thing set aside for pictures, drunken singing, and huddles. It shows that you are willing to work as one and is respected by the public. That's fine. And one man with his arm around the shoulders of another while latter stands there usually involves two separate generations, be it grandfather and grandson or pedophile and JV football player. One is acceptable, while the other is not. But that's not what I'm getting at.... When two men are standing with their arms around each other's waists, once again, it's a little gay. There's probably more laughing from the girls, but not the good laughter.
I could berate some more, but I need to go to bed. So, remember keep the length of the hug to a minimum.

Exceptions:

Friend is leaving for a long time. (Only one long hug permitted)
Friend has just returned after a long time. (Only one long hug permitted)
Friend just saved your life/ you just save the friend's life (Hug must not exceed 6 seconds)
Friend had a recent death in his immediate family (One to two separate hugs permitted)
Finding out your friend is actually an immediate family member (One long hug permitted)
Friend just won the Super Bowl or lottery (As many long hugs as will get you the proper hookups)
Friend is dying from debilitating disease (One long hug permitted)
Friend has fully recovered from debilitating disease (One medium length hug followed by many high fives)
Friend has just been stricken with lock jaw and can't move his body (Finish out the hug and then safely remove him from your body)
Friend has passed out from illness while hugging you (Safely recline him as soon as possible)
Friend has passed out from inebriation while hugging you (Get him off you as soon as possible, no matter how forceful you must be [you should also probably shower])
You didn't listen to my advice and you hugged for so long that your friend died from natural causes while hugging you (and, obviously, without your knowledge) and rigor mortis has already set in (I don't really care. You don't care about my advice anyway.)

And why we're patient, no one knows.

2011-07-31T13:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not meant to wait. Not for anyone or anything. I'm completely impatient. I don't know if I can make it anymore simple than that.
I couldn't wait two years for a guy. I can't wait four months for a guy. Hell, I don't even want to wait an hour for a guy.
So let's talk about that, guys. If you knew we were supposed to hang out at a certain point, don't be late. And if you really know me, you should be early. Let's make an example. Hmmm. Ok, so let's say you, me, and some friends were supposed to go to a festival (yeh, I know that's a weird choice, but it applies) at 5pm. I call you at 4 to see if we could go a little early. You tell me that that wouldn't be possible because you're actually going to be late because you're hanging out with one of your bros twenty minutes away and you still have to come home and shower and you're not done hanging out yet. Well. That doesn't fly. Here's why: You knew we were hanging out at that certain time and you have a very poor reason as to why you can't be there on time. Also, I had to call YOU to find out you were going to be late. AND it makes me feel like a jerk when I tell my friends you're not coming because I'm not waiting for you because you're stupid.
So if I wouldn't wait for something like that, what makes you think I would wait for someone who isn't ready for a relationship with me. Best excuse that I've heard? "Well, I don't know if it's going to work out with me and Brandisha." (I don't actually know a Brandisha so I'm using that name) If you're not interested in being with me now and would rather be with someone else "temporarily," that means you don't want to be with me ever. At least that's how I'm going to take it.

So, I walked away from this for a few minutes and now I've lost where I was going with it and it would be a shame for me to even try to finish it. So you're just going to have to deal with how it is.

You're too bad, you're too rude.

2011-06-22T23:20:00.000-07:00

You wanna know what? Do ya? Yeh, you bet your asphalt you do.
See, now I bet you were drawn into this blog solely based on that first line (or not). It's threatening, yet seems pretty harmless.
I'm sick of the guys like that. I've dated my share of Bad Boys. Let me tell you: big mistake. Big. Huge.
Bad boys aren't all they're cracked up to be.
"Oh! He smokes!" Yeh, well, there are cooler ways to die than your cells not knowing when to stop growing. (Example: Sting ray barb straight through the heart.)
"Oh! He drinks like a fish!" Yeh, because alcohol makes you really act like an adult.
"Oh! He drives fast/ a crotch rocket/ a fast crotch rocket!" Yeh, let's hope you're not in/on the vehicle when it goes careening out of control. And don't tell me that crotch rocket owners are super safe. You want a safe ride on two wheels? I suggest looking for a guy with a Schwinn. That or a vintage Harley, 'cause you know he's gonna take care of that sucker.
"Oh! He's in/ been to prison!" Yeh, a criminal is really something you want to live with. Sure, he says he's learned his lesson the hard way, but has he really? I mean, he shouldn't have even had to learn a lesson. And if he really did, he probably belongs on a short bus.
"Oh! He's covered in tattoos and piercings!" Yeh, tell me how he looks when he's 76 (if he makes it that far) and that skull and rose chest piece (complete with nipple piercings) he got done when he was in his twenties is down around his belly button.
"Oh! He's into illegal drugs!" Yeh, I shouldn't need to explain that. And if you do need me to explain it, stop reading my blog and head over to the local Planned Parenthood because I have no hope for you.
"Oh! He swears like a sailor!" Yeh, I'm just gonna go ahead and guess that he's not all that bright and doesn't really have much to say if he uses an expletive in every sentence.
"Oh! He wears dark sunglasses all the time!" Yeh, so this guy is one of the following: blind, always hungover, prone to migraines in fluorescent lighting, or hiding a perpetual case of pink eye. The only one out of those that I would find acceptable is blindness.
"Oh! He wears a leather jacket!" Yeh, unless he's portraying Danny Zuko or Uncle Jesse (Full House, not Dukes of Hazzard), no dice. I wouldn't even say yes to Uncle Jesse.
I'd list more, but I'm growing bored.
But as you can see, those are the more physical things. There are the other things: constantly ditching you, talking to you one second and then pretending you don't exist the other, pretty much any mental or physical abuse, etc.
And I know I'm not the only one who thought she could change a Bad Boy. You think you can get him to calm down. Sometimes, for a while you think you've succeeded, but really, you've just gotten used to his ways. The only way I see change for the better happening is extreme behavioral therapy, and maybe a few (legal) prescriptions.

I know no one really reads this, but here's hoping someone does and it helps them see the guy they're dating, thinking about dating, or used to date for what he is. Unless he's not a bad boy. Then you're fine.

Does this rag smell like chloroform to you?

2011-06-03T19:54:00.000-07:00

I've come to realize that guys must have all taken some secret class in middle school or something to teach them how to (poorly) get girls. Or they all have this little hand book or something that tells them what to say. Or they hold a weekly (maybe monthly) meeting where they say "Hey, this line totally worked for me! I bet it'll work for you too!"
I mean, really. Every guy I've dated has used the exact same line on me (and for some unknown reason I still dated them). It goes something along the lines of "I've never met another girl like you." Gag me with a fork.
I just picked up on their little trick about three beaus ago. One guy said it to me and I instantly had aforementioned epiphany. I called him out and he went on to further explain how I was different: how I'm insecure about who I am but I still stand strong; how I know I'm beautiful; how I deserve better than any guy has ever treated me; etc and etc. After we broke up, I reread that text (yeah, I saved it) (yeah, the fact that it was a text should have been my first tip-off) and realized he had made a generalization about every single girl in the entire world.
And I guarantee every girl has heard or will hear that there's no other girl like her. Well, duh. Thanks for pointing out the obvious. Everyone is different, just like everyone else. None of us are made the same, so of course you've never met anyone else like me.
I don't know why they feel the need to say it. I'm guessing that line is in the "Seal the Deal" chapter. I dunno. But since my explosion of knowledge, I feel the need to call them out on it (and I encourage you to do it as well). And I do love it when they try to rationalize their statement. It shows that they're in it to win it.
So, in closing, remember that you are an individual, though you need no help remembering that when a flirty guy tells you straight up.
But, in all actuality, I'm just like every other little girl.

I just know he's the wonder what his name is.

2011-05-15T11:20:00.000-07:00

There's a difference between "settling down" and "settling."
Settling down is meeting that one person you cannot live without and starting a life together and living so happily ever after.
Settling is meeting some person that you weren't really looking for and thinking "Hey, might as well..."
Settling down is confidently putting down roots in something you have full faith in.
Settling is surrendering your faith in yourself for something that is foolish.

This is something I feel strongly about. You can't just give up when it comes to looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with (or longer, depending on your beliefs). If you're submissive about who you date/marry, I can almost guarantee you're going to be miserable, whether you are single or in a relationship. Also, if someone comes along, whom you barely know, and you seemingly hit it off, and decide to get married in a matter of days, that's called desperation. Which is not good. Deciding your life's path in a state of despair, when you NEED to find love, is not the best way to go. But that could just be me.
It could be that I feel this way because I've met so many Mormon missionaries, right off of their mission who are nearly ravenous to find a spouse, because they've been stuck with a companion for two years straight and now they don't know how to be alone. Yeh, that's healthy.... Not. Some of these guys will ask every person they go on a date with, convinced that she has to be The One since she was interested in going on said date in the first place. Or they do the creep on all girls, hoping that The One will be sifted out of all the others. Or they do nothing, complaining about how there are no pretty girls around to date, but when one shows interest, they clam up and don't know what to do. Yeh, guys, good luck with that.
I hope I never make the mistake of settling. If you know anything about me, you know how much I hate making a decision, thus I never settle for second best (or third or fourth, etc.).

Your relationships come and go, but what makes a difference is how you take advantage of the flirting eyes

2011-04-14T19:55:00.000-07:00

So, today's prompt (pulled from the SuperCoolBlogBasket) is "Happy & Single." You have no idea how appropriate this subject is for how I'm feeling today.
To begin, let me quote from a couple of posts back.
So, in case you're unaware of my "relationship status" (I'm still trying to come up with something that sounds remotely official), let me clarify for you: I'm single and happy. Not happy because I'm single. Not single because it makes me happy. Just single AND happy in two different contexts. They don't go hand in hand (all the time). I could still be happy in a relationship. I could still be single and miserable. But for now I am single and happy.
Thinking about it, I've really already blogged the hell out of this topic, but I can't leave a sleeping dog lie (if you really knew me, you'd know how true that is). I need to go more into it. So here it is.
I do not need to be in a relationship to be happy. I know I feel that way when I'm just in a mopey mood (and especially if I just broke up with someone), but that's just me being dumb. Because, really, I've been single for the better part of seven months, and these have been some pretty great months.
In relation, I don't have to be single to be happy either. Let's face it: being in a relationship can be pretty blissful. I like being in love.
And I don't know why people are always so upset that they're single. Look at it this way: You're on an adventure! You get to go out and search (passively or assertively [your choice]) for someone who can make your heart melt! Weeeeee! Also, you should be happy you're not with So-and-so who broke your dear little heart, because, obviously, things weren't working out. Who wants to be unhappy in a relationship? See how no one's raising their hands...
As I've said before, your "relationship status" should not affect all your emotions. Be sad after a breakup. That's fine. But being forlorn and hopeless about your life months after is no way to be. I don't want a friend like that, so I don't want to be a friend like that. And most people don't want to walk up and chat with a sad person, no matter how attractive they are, so that means you're not gonna get asked out (more like consoled [not the same thing and also not a good plan to get someone to talk to you]).
Moral of my ~~story~~ post: If you really, really try, I bet you can be happy (unless you've got an icebox where your heart used to be [then you should probably worry and not sing about it]).

We'll see who's laughing when my geek is their boss

2011-04-06T20:59:00.000-07:00

I'm a dork. I know it. You know it. Just embrace it, ok?
If you didn't guess, Blog Prompt Numero Tres is "being dorky." Why? Stop being impatient and read.
If I meet a guy and he isn't dorky, it's not gonna happen. And you may say "Well, everyone is a bit geeky from time to time..." and my response to that is "Exactly!"
When meeting someone, within the first half hour of knowing someone, I need to know that they have a dweeby side. Within two minutes is no good: that's way too "different." More than two hours, also no good: you're tring to make a suave first impression.
And why is dorkiness an important part of a relationship? Because.
Everyone is silly and open nerdiness is a sign of being comfortable in one's own skin. That's why.
The Dorky Things I Adore
Vintage Ts.
Frank Sinatra.
Purposely bad dancers.
A guy who can pull off Chucks in a tux.
Old school cartoons.
Reading.
Super heroes.

That's just a small list. I could probably go on, but I tend to make too many lists.

And that's all I can think of for now. I thought this post would be longer, but my concentration is almost nonexistent right now.

You could put the ring up on my middle finger

2011-04-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

Prompt #2: My Ultimate Breakup Mixtape.
I believe music is one of the top remedies for a bad (or not so bad) breakup, because it's good to know that someone else knows how you feel. My mixtape (yes, actually, I do have one [yes, I know, I am cool]) highlights the three main stages of recovery for a broken heart. I don't feel like expounding anymore on this, mostly because I'll expound on some or all of the songs. I haven't decided yet.

Stage One: Sadness- Everyone's been in at least one relationship where they bawled their eyes out for days, maybe even weeks. I see that as totally healthy. Because even if it ended well, it's still an end to something important in your life, and sometimes the only way to accept it is to be sad.
1. Everybody Hurts by R.E.M.   This is an awfully depressing one to start out with but it gets the point across that you're not alone, that everyone has had some emotional breakups and that you'll get through it.
2. Another Lonely Day by Ben Harper.   I like this one because it says "it wouldn't have worked out any way," which is something we always tell ourselves, even if we don't believe it.
3. Breakable by Ingrid Michaelson.   This one doesn't sound very sad, but if you know the lyrics you know why it's on my playlist. Once again, it tells how everyone can break, no matter what they do to prevent it.
4. Torn by Natalie Imbruglia.   I like this one because it's one of those "Sing as loud and emotionally as you can while driving in your car by yourself" songs. And sometimes that's just what I need to do when a guy broke my heart.
5. Nothing Better by The Postal Service.   This song is on the edge of sadness and the next stage. It's kind of an angry sadness.
6. Goodbye to You by Michelle Branch.   Again, a song you can sing along to. This song has gotten me through a lot. End of story.

Stage Two: Rage- This is the time to take out your anger on whoever broke your heart and wasted your time. Because really, what made either one of you think that they deserved someone as good as you??
7. This Bitter Pill by Dashboard Confessional.   This song can in no way be mistaken for a love song to the person it's sung to. If someone were to sing it to me, I'd know that I wasn't well liked.
8. Hate (I Really Don't Like You) by the Plain White Ts.   I was going to put one of the lyrics right here but I couldn't decide which one. Because each of them could be the best thing to say to your ex (but probably shouldn't).
9. Revenge is Sweeter (Than You Ever Were) by The Veronicas.   This one's great because everyone wants to give their bf/gf the benefit of the doubt. And then you find out the truth (about anything: cheating, money, habits, the past) and you're like "What the heck? That was obviously more important to you. Thanks for telling me."
10. Kerosene by Miranda Lambert.   Because you can put everything you have into a relationship, but sometimes the results are negative. Also, "you can't hate someone who's dead" is great, because most of my exes are dead to me (or close).
11. Fighter by Christina Aguilera. A grateful hate song. Every ex you have is just another lesson that you can learn from.

Stage Three: Self Empowerment- In order to find someone new, you have to find the ability to live for yourself again. And to do that, you have to be able to pick yourself up and think you're the shiz.
12. I Will Survive by Cake.   This one may be hard to find, but it's great. If you can't find it, go for the classic by Gloria Gaynor. Works the same. Either way, it's a good mood lifter.
13. With a Little Help from My Friends by Joe Anderson or the Beatles.   Don't forget about your friends. They should always be there to help out, and if they're not, they're probably not friends. Friends are my number one breakup remedy. (note: single ones tend to be better)
14. Survivor by Destiny's Child.   A "I don't need you because I'm amazing" song. Enough said, ya hear?
15. Stronger by Britney Spears.   I think the title says it all. Also included, because I used to love this music video, way back in the day.
16. Goodbye to You by The Veronicas.   Unlike the "Goodbye to You" in the Sadness list, this one is extremely happy. Which, of course, is needed.
17. Single Ladies remix by Nicki Minaj.   So the original will do just fine if you can't find this one, but I suggest you search high and low for this one. Why? Because it's got most of the original in it, plus the absurdity that is Nicki. Obviously.
18. Here Comes the Sun by The Beatles.   The finale that kind of wraps it all up. It needs no explanation.

I hope you found that helpful. But you probably didn't.

These shoes rule. These shoes suck!

2011-03-29T20:42:00.000-07:00

My first blog using my NewSuperCoolBlogBasket is about.... drumroll, please: Shoes. And I know, you're probably thinking, what the hello do shoes have to do with dating? Well, read on and you'll find out, my little impatient ones.
This is one of the weirdest blog prompts I came up with, but a good one nonetheless, because I developed a theory, as you will come to find out.
A man's shoes say a lot about him. They can usually tell you the kind of guy you're dealing with, based on his "everyday" footwear (what he would wear on a leisurely trip to the grocery store, or say, the post office). The following lists the shoe type and what you might find out about the fellow.
Dirty work boots- This man is obviously a hard worker. He works hard all day & can probably doesn't take the time to relax until well after dinnertime. You can usually count on him to bring home a good amount of bacon.
Pristine work boots- This is one I'd run from. If he's sporting Timberlands that are debris free, I can guarantee he doesn't know what a tough job is but he swears up and down that he sweats all day. Probably because he stands in front of the fry dump all day.
Sneakers- Although I should have a good opinion about a guy wearing his Nikes out, I don't. Sneakers should only be worn in the gym/during physical fitness, around the house for some reason, or if your job requires it. Maybe I just think this because I have some unexplainable vendetta against sneakers. But if you do see a guy wearing them, I can't really help you but to advise you to take cues from his other clothing and the amount of visible sweat.
Cowboy boots- One of my favorites because there are two extremes concerning cowboy boots. To make sure that he's an authentic cowboy (or close enough to not worry), ask yourself two questions: 1.) Are they dirty or rather scuffed? 2.) Are they an unnatural color of leather (anything not brown or blackish)? If you answered yes to the first and no to the second, proceed with slight caution. I only say that because you must once again read the clues given by the rest of his attire and accessories. Examples: Are his jeans naturally worn looking? Good sign. Does he have a belt buckle the size of a dinner plate that reads "Bodacious?" Bad sign. Are there spurs on his boots that jingle every time he walks and reflect all light that hits them? Bad sign.
Converse- This guy is a dork. Don't even argue with some excuse like "He's got the body of a Greek god! He models for Abercrombie!" I promise you: he's a dork. Which, in my opinion, is a good thing. He's probably fun to be around and likes to be comfortable. Like all shoes, check the wear-n-tear. If the white is actually WHITE, this guy is most likely trying too hard. That is, unless they're new shoes. You might want to ask to see if that's the case. Also, take note of the color. If they're classic black and white, he's down to earth. If they're any other color, he might like the classics, just his way.
Skate shoes- You know the ones I'm talking about. Etnies, DC, and the like. As much as I love a skaterboy, that's not someone I would want to settle down with. A guy who always wears skate shoes probably hasn't reached a good level of maturity. Check back in three years. If he's still wearin' 'em, just give up.
Sandals- Truthfully, I can dig when a guy wears sandals. But every day might be over kill. Unless you live on a beach. Which my town is not, so there's no excuse. When it is okay to wear sandals: Barbecues, before and after swimming, around the house, etc. To paraphrase something Demetri Martin says, you don't want to get chased in flipflops. So, if a guy does wear them constantly, he may be impractical. Also, most guys' feet are not pretty, so take note of this. Also, does he seem to be a hippie? This is one exception that you can take or leave.
I have a few more, but this post has gotten kind of long and I'm running out of original, non-repetitive things to say, so I'll close now.
Yes.

'Cause you like me too much and I like you

2011-03-26T15:54:00.000-07:00

So, the other day, I was feeling creative. I try to be more creative, more often, but that doesn't happen.

So, what did I do with my creativity? Well, hold on and I'll tell you. Wait for it... Wait for it... I made a Blog Prompt ~~Jar~~ ~~Box~~ Basket. To sum it up, it's a bunch of ideas for me to blog about.

It took forever. Okay, a couple hours. It would have been easier if I didn't stick to one theme. What is that theme, you ask. Love, romance, dating, relationships. All that junk. And you're probably thinking "What the hell does she know about any of that? And if she does know anything, it's obviously the wrong stuff, because she's single. Who wants to hear about relationships and dating advice from someone who can't keep a boyfriend?" Well, that's kinda mean, dontcha think? I don't really consider it to be advice. I consider what I say to be opinions and what I've learned about the L word in the almost 22 years I've been alive. And if you don't want to read about what I have to say, you must be confused because you're reading a blog...

In other news, it's my best friend's day of birth. She's 20 now. Wow. That makes me feel old, even though she's only two years younger than me. I can't believe we're grown-ups now. How does this happen??

And because she's my best friend, she'll probably read this, so I thought I'd post the most flattering picture of us. And just so you know, BEEF, I love you. You're the best friend I could ever ask for. That's the corniest I'm going to be.

I can feel his approach like the fire in my blood

2011-03-21T21:01:00.000-07:00

Recently, I was asked what I'm "looking for in a man." I didn't really know what to say besides the generic stuff like "good sense of humor" and "reliable" and "hasn't done drugs in the last six years." Why? Because I never really took the time to think on it that much. I mean, don't get me wrong: I had ideas and guidelines, but never had the specifics for my Perfect Man. So, if the person who asked reads this, here ya go. To all others who read this, keep an eye out for this guy and let me know where he is. Like all my lists, these are in no particular order.

Someone who REALLY loves soup, because that's my specialty.
Someone who can cook for himself if necessary, and who wouldn't mind cooking for me as well from time to time.
Someone who I can look up to, literally and figuratively.
Someone who loves and respects his mother but doesn't have to run to her for every tiny thing.
Someone who can understand that sometimes I can be a little irrational but can totally tolerate it.
Someone who can bear my humor with all of its corny and sarcastic glory.
Someone who finds my quirks endearing and has a few of his own.
Someone who knows what they want in life even though I'm still working on that myself.
Someone who's not embarrassed when I (poorly) break out into song and might even join in. Unless he knows it's a powerful solo meant for only one voice.
Someone who's not afraid of flaws.
Someone who loves my friends a little less than I do and has friends that I can love as well.
Someone who can appreciate my eccentric taste in fashion and decorating styles.
Someone who sleeps on the left side of the bed or is willing to because I will not.
Someone who doesn't like blankets or likes having their own because I need to be wrapped up in my own.
Someone who doesn't care that I can't take a serious photo to save my life.
Someone who's a lefty, although this isn't an absolute necessity.
Someone who doesn't mind me correcting their grammar or who already has adequate grammar and rarely (or never) needs corrected.
Someone who I can make fun of and who can make fun of me (to an extent).
Someone who knows that when I say I hate surprises, I'm lying a little.
Someone who needs a menagerie of animals (and maybe a child or two) in their life.
Someone who doesn't care that I love all (or most) things Disney.
Someone who wouldn't mind living in an Airstream trailer for a few years while we travel around the U.S.
Someone who assists me in finding happiness, no matter where or what it might be.
Someone who embraces my argumentative side.
Someone who is always ready with a clever (but not hurtful) comeback.
Someone who will simultaneously groan at and applaud my punniness.
Someone who will not be offended by me, especially when that's what I want.
Someone who understands I am a woman and realizes that it's very likely that I'll be in a pretty pissy mood every 28ish days.
Someone who can accept that I have different levels of beauty from day to day or someone who can easily disguise their disgust.
Someone who can respect that sweatpants are a staple part of my existence.
Someone who can eat sushi one day and then something artery clogging the next.
Someone who knows it's imperative that I have seventy different shampoos in the shower and that he can use the cheapo bulk ones or get his own.
Someone who doesn't care if I don't shave my legs every day because sometimes I don't care and/or I'm lazy.
Someone who knows that the Chapstik/lip balm in the check-out lane at Walmart is targeted at me and I must buy one.
Someone who is always in search of new music. Or old music he's never heard.
Someone who can accept my love of almost all beverages and sometimes humor it.
Someone who loves the outdoors and can force me outside.
Someone who doesn't snore. Plain and simple.
Someone who can go out with the guys when he needs to and not worry about me surviving without him for a short amount of time (hint: I will).
Someone who knows I need time for me every so often.
Someone who will text me something stupid, even if I'm sitting right next to him.
Someone who doesn't mind that I tend to think waaay too much.
Someone who accepts my unconventional sleeping habits and schedules.
Most of all, someone who can be my best friend.

You want somebody, just anybody to lay their hands on your soul tonight

2011-03-20T16:02:00.000-07:00

Being raised Mormon and around Mormons really skews someone's perspective of what success is. That may be kind of harsh, but I feel it's the truth, and if you know me at all, you'd know I have this thing where I like the truth.
You may be thinking "Well why do you say that, Marissa?" (but you're probably not because you know that I'm going to tell you anyway).
Mormons and their view of love and marriage is nuts. I'm just now coming to see this, even though I sometimes still find myself with the same views.
I've met so many people who need to find love. Not want, but need. Sometimes we can't distinguish the difference.

It's put into our heads that: (in no particular order)
We need to date and date and date frantically to find The One.
When dating someone exclusively (there's actually no other way to date someone in Mormonese), you must rush the relationship to the point of either uncomfortability or instant love.
When/if you do fall in love, you need to speed along and get engaged as soon as possible.
When/if you become engaged, the engagement must be less than six months.
If you are engaged while you are still in college, you should absolutely get married in college because waiting until you're ready to actually start a life is completely irresponsible.
The less time you spend getting to know the person you are dating/engaged to, the better.
You should and must date as many people as possible, even if you have no interest in marrying them.
Meeting and starting to date someone on the same day is totally acceptable.
Getting engaged to someone you aren't even dating is even more acceptable.
On the first date, you should move way too fast and be way too romantic.
It is not possible to be friends with people of the opposite sex unless you a) are in a relationship already, b) have already tried dating them, c) have been denied by them, d) are currently interested in said person, or e) are interested in someone else (probably a mutual friend).
You cannot date a friend's ex, no matter how briefly they were together.
Always introduce a romantic interest to your parents as soon as you can, that way, you don't have to do it later.
If you're not married or in love or engaged AS SOON AS POSSIBLE, you've failed.

This isn't all I've come up with but I can't remember the rest.
Just so you know, I do still think the same way about some of those things. I'm constantly suggesting to others how to act in the name of love or "love." My best friend is constantly pointing out that not everyone was raised Mormon.
And I have friends who have done one or more of the above. To those friends who read this by chance: I don't want you to be offended, even though you probably are anyways

He gets drunk and then tries to eat the lasers at the dance club.

2011-03-14T20:23:00.000-07:00

I wanted to make this post very honest and angry and blunt. But I can't do that. I wanted to call out the people who have been the most artificial and self-righteous. But I won't. I wanted to let words that have been building up for weeks rush out the only way they could. But they can't. I wanted people to read this and have some kind of revelation (even a minuscule one) and change the way they treat me and the way they treat themselves. But they wouldn't.
I can't because my ire is based on the ignorance of others. Even if they believe that they know better, they don't know it all. Even if they think they do. And I don't want to waste too much time on the people who wouldn't waste any on me.
I won't because that wouldn't be fair to them. Just because only a few people read this, it doesn't mean that no one does. And to "publically" accost someone just isn't as classy as I want to be.
They can't because what I would want to say just won't orchestrate itself in any way that would make sense. If you've ever been this irritated, you would know how I feel.
They wouldn't because people don't like to be told that they're wrong. I know. I'm a person too, in case you've forgotten.

This post wasn't meant to benefit anyone. And if I had to say it was, I'd say it was for me. Because getting my feelings out there is what I have to do sometimes. Even if they're not all that specific.

And I'm on my way to believing

2011-02-27T21:34:00.000-08:00

"Single" is such an ugly word. I hate that that's a relationship status, that's how people categorize their dating situation, or what have you. Just because I'm "single," that doesn't mean I'm alone. Do you have any idea how many people in the world who are my age are single? Yeh, I don't really either, but I imagine it's a lot.
And so what if I don't have my relationship status listed on my Facebook page? If you're really my friend, you would know. And if you didn't know, you would probably ask or find out from someone who does know. I would prefer "devotionally independent." Or simply "NOT in a relationship."
And don't get me started on "relationship status." Too late. "Status" is defined as "the state or condition of affairs" (ironic, right?). So, in my humble opinion, a suitable status would be "happy" or "miserable" or "apathetic." "Single" is the circumstance or definition of your relationship. Also, single doesn't even count as a relationship, unless you're referring to a relationship with yourself, which has it's own spectrum of mental health. Facebook should really be saying "This is where I am in the department of love:" and then have a fill-in-the-blank OR a drop-down panel that consists of more than just "single," "in a relationship," "engaged," "married," "it's complicated" "in an open relationship," "widowed," "separated," "divorced," and "in a civil partnership." I think they also need to include "nunya" and "sleeping around," plus a couple others.
And since you're reading this, it probably means you care about my life. So, in case you're unaware of my "relationship status" (I'm still trying to come up with something that sounds remotely official), let me clarify for you: I'm single and happy. Not happy because I'm single. Not single because it makes me happy. Just single AND happy in two different contexts. They don't go hand in hand (all the time). I could still be happy in a relationship. I could still be single and miserable. But for now I am single and happy.
Just so you know.

Now's your moment, floating in a blue lagoon

2011-02-21T01:01:00.000-08:00

I've kissed 8 guys. To me, that seems like a lot, but according to some gum commercial, the average person has 28 first kisses. Personally, I want to know who they've been polling, and I think they should have a follow up question that asks how many times they've been in love or thought they were in love.
I'd like to address the guys from my past kisses. Not to critique them on how well or poorly they smooch, but to just tell them what I think. Because, I may be old fashioned, but a kiss does mean something, especially if it occurred while both parties were sober (which, to the best of my knowledge, all of mine fall into that category). And just an FYI, I'm not going to use their names, but I will address them chronologically.
The First- First, let me say that I can't believe, of the two of us, you got married first. That came as a pretty big shock, and to not only me. But moreover, you will always have a place somewhere near my heart. Maybe the spleen. I know I hate you a lot. I probably spend way too much time not liking you, and not enough time remembering the good times we had in the nine months (total) that we were together in high school. Because looking back, the bad doesn't really outweigh the good, nor vice versa. And there's not really a balance of the two. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you exist.
The Sweetheart- Out of all of them, I was hoping you were The One the most. Sorry that didn't work out. I want to be bitter towards you, upset that you found love elsewhere, rueful that I ever talked to you. But that's just not fair to you. I'm the one that broke it off after you'd been nothing but loyal for two years (like you really had a choice). I'm the one who couldn't make up my mind and toyed with your heart. Sorry about all that. I am happy for you, I really am. It hurts that I let you go, but in all honesty, I would have been a fool not to. You came back as a person I can't recognize, and I know I've changed more than I can realize. You're not my fairytale ending and I'm coming to see that. You'll always be my first love, and as I'm coming to learn, love can change from cutesy and romantic to appreciative and respectable. Just don't rub your happiness in my face. I don't want to hear about how the two of you first said "I love you" and all that nonsense. Oh, and don't invite me to your impending wedding (because, let's face it: you're an RM; you're getting married ASAP). Some of us aren't so successful with the affairs of the heart.
The NCMO- You scared the hell out of me (or based on the aftermath concerning my thoughts on religion, perhaps you scared it into me). I had just started to trust humans again and then you come along and force me to makeout with you. I don't know how they do things at BYU, but that's not how things happen around here. You are so lucky that my friend didn't bash your absurd noggin with her heavy-duty flashlight, because really, I was ready to let her. And maybe I should be saying these things on a blog, but do you really think I care?
The Underdog- I know that term is a little more negative than I want it to be, but I couldn't think of a better word to describe our relationship. I never really knew if you would come out on top or not. I mean, you had people rooting for you, but you just didn't have the history. That's just how it goes sometimes. You were always a great friend to me, always there when I needed someone to shamelessly flirt with, or just talk about random stuff like "Do you think a dolphin is slippery if it's not wet?" Too bad things couldn't have worked out with us. We would have been one heck of a pair. I wish you well with all your future conquests and I hope your wife knows how lucky she is to have you. It's a shame that when she finally decided she wanted to be with you, she wouldn't let us talk. I always have something I want to tell you (like how much of a clown your brother is or how there's a funny video of a panda that you need to see) but I have to suppress it.
The One Night Stand- So, that's not really what you were, but it really only was one night. Maybe it was the fact that I had a crush on you freshmen year and then you moved away, never to be seen again. Or that I was incredibly lonely. Or that I was feeling like nothing really mattered. Or the mix of all three. Don't get me wrong. I was glad I got to catch up with you after four years or so. I actually had a blast walking around the golf course in the middle of the night. But when we kissed... I can honestly say you're the closest one to meaning absolutely nothing. You should be proud.
The Jailbait- That was a joke between us. Not that we joke anymore. Or talk. Or even acknowledge the other's existence. That's a lie. I mention you in passing from time to time. And, surprisingly, it's usually good stuff. We used to think it was funny, how I was "robbing the cradle" even though you were technically "legal." Those were good times. I had fun with you, I promise. I wish you didn't need to hate me. You were great to talk to, sometimes. Mostly the times when you weren't being cocky. And I know you don't want to believe it, but I never cheated on you. But if you consider me talking to guys cheating, then I did. All the time. Multiple times a day. I apologize for having guy friends (just kidding, I'm not sorry). Maybe one day we can have a reconcilliation. I doubt it, but I'm crossing my fingers.
The Rebound- I knew that's what you were and I'm pretty certain you knew it too. It started from me randomly saying "Wanna make out?" while we were both bored. I'm happy you didn't take me up on that. Otherwise, you might not have been there for me during a pretty bad fight with an ex and I thank you for that. I still think it's funny that your way of consoling me was to offer a kiss. It's unfortunate we didn't try to start something under different circumstances. I still have a kindergarten crush on you.
The Inmate- You kind of came out of nowhere. A blast from the past that I'd never really considered. I didn't really plan on falling for you as hard as I did. I wish I could know where we might have ended up if I stuck it out while you were in the big house. I'm sorry I strung you along during the lengthy time it took me to make a decision about what I was going to do about you. In the end, I figured it's not fair to either of us if you're living the rest of your life making up for the lies and I'm unable to trust you. And reading that last sentence again makes me feel like a jerk, but I just need to be honest. You know how I am.

So there's all eight. Before I started typing the statements, I really didn't know what I was going to say. But they all seem like the best thing I could possibly say, likely because of their candidness. I'm sorry if some of it comes out a little too frank. But I've never been one to beat around the bush.
Unless Michael Jackson is playing and there's a shrub in my way.
Snaps to anyone who thought that was humorous.

Sweeter as Fiction

2011-01-30T22:24:00.000-08:00

My boyfriend is in jail.
I'm honestly not sure if I ever mentioned that on here.
This is not what I had planned. And if you really knew me, you would know that everything, including my spontaneity is planned.
Caleb has been in prison since our official one month anniversary. Great present, right? And since you probably don't know when that was, it was Sept 29th.
I know I'm not at fault, but I blame myself. It was the one day of that entire month that I was not with him and had not had the chance to call him and check in. Maybe if I would have talked to him, he wouldn't have been so irresponsible.
I'm going to tell you what I know about what happened, because I would be curious if I was an unbiased party reading this.
I was on my way to institute and got a quarter of the way there when I got this strange feeling that I shouldn't go. So I turned around and started towards his house. I called his mom and she said he wasn't in, but she'd tell him to call me as soon as he got home. So I figured he was working on his car at a garage that's just down the road. I got there but there was no one around his car, so I texted his sister, Casey, asking if she knew where he was. She never responded, so I ended up going to my Bestie's apartment and hanging out and being mopey because my boyfriend was AWOL. Well, about three hours later, Casey texted back and said that he was arrested and that she wanted to tell me in person but figured that would be a day or two and it was better for me know asap so I didn't think he was abandoning me.
I'm still not exactly sure what he did. Part of me wants to ask, but most of me doesn't even want to know. From what I pieced together from hearing his sister and other people, he was working on his car that day and normally, the owner of the garage would let him borrow some tools and what not and Caleb would pay him for any parts that Fred had laying around. They had an agreement of sorts. Well, apparently some stuff started to go missing and they figured it was Caleb. So, when he showed up, they called the cops. When the cops showed up, they found a few of the missing things in his trunk or something.
And I know this is me being kind of hopeful that maybe it wasn't so horrible, but I think he's taking the blame for someone else. My dad stopped by that garage one night (that's where we get our cars serviced and junk) to pick up his truck and he saw one of the mechanics walking among some of the cars, looking kind of suspect. And dad talked to Fred about the whole Caleb thing, asking if he should tell me to run. Fred said that he dropped the charges because this had been going on for a while, before Caleb even started coming to the shop. So, I know that means Caleb still had to have something to do with it, obviously, since his trunk had some evidence. But it does make me feel better that he's not the only one to blame.
And in case you're wondering Well, if the charges were dropped, why is he still in prison? Well, darlings, let me get to that. The only reason he's still in is because he broke probation. You see, the judicial system is kind of like an angry girlfriend. Everything is fine and dandy until you piss her off and then she brings back all the stupid stuff you've done in your life and punishes you for it.
Which is kind of what I did. I didn't go see him for the first two and half months he was there. I didn't even consider him to be my boyfriend. I didn't write him. I barely wanted to talk about him. And then I felt generous and went to the prison and got to see him through the bullet-proof glass and talk to him through a crappy phone. And three weeks ago, I got to actually hug him and hold his hand and kiss his inmate face.

I was going to end this differently, but I can't figure out what I want to say and what feels right. But then again, nothing really feels right anymore.

Passion for Publication

2011-01-27T20:30:00.000-08:00

I have serious delusions of grandeur. For some reason I always imagine myself one day becoming almost famous, right on the edge of fame. Not for anything specific. For music, or poetry, or a radio talk show I'm meant for, or for a restaurant that I hope to have one day, or a novel I haven't even written yet. It's not so much that I want to be famous, it's more that I want people to recognize me.
And I know that I actually have to be motivated and do something if I want to be noted. I haven't overlooked that fact. But it's good to dream, right?

Let's talk about how I've got an unhealthy addiction to Ben & Jerry's Milk and Cookies ice cream. Well, really, there's nothing to discuss about that. I just thought you should know.

Is it bad that I want to go back to my senior year in high school when I was adorable and not-quite-emo but was in love with all the straight-haired boys in the punk bands? Is it bad that I feel just like a teenybopper when I hear and see some of these bands now? If you feel the same way, I've got some bands you need to look up. Better yet, I'll update my playlist on this thing so you can share in my love.

I have a zillion books that I need to read and I keep putting them off. I don't know why I got them. I don't really have the time, even though that's a lie. I've already read the one before, but I didn't really get to enjoy it. It was a library book and I felt rushed, but enjoyed it thoroughly. Water for Elephants. Look it up. I know it's going to be a movie. And to make myself feel better about myself, I have to tell you: I read it months before it was announced to be a movie. But you need to read it. It's about carnivaly, circusy, sideshowy, menagerie-y goodness.

I really had nothing to say today.
I love you kids, even though only I know that one person (maybe) reads this.

Stuck in 1863

2011-01-25T16:29:00.000-08:00

If I'm visiting your state and you know it, you can ask me what state I'm from, but not the town. Because will give you this reply:
"Well, I live in Reading Township, but my address says East Berlin. But if you've never lived in Adams County or a surrounding county, you've probably never heard of it. So, I'm just gonna say Gettysburg, since everyone's heard of Gettysburg. But that's still kind of small and no one ever knows where that is. So let's go with Harrisburg. That's the capital and I'm only an hourish away from it. But you probably still aren't very familiar with the geography of Pennsylvania. So I'm just gonna tell you Philly. Because we're about 45 minutes closer to there than Pittsburgh. And I know it's two hours away from where I really live, but you're probably more likely to have heard of AND know where Philly is. And if you don't, I'm from New York City."
That's something that just really annoys me. The only way it's acceptable to ask the town or general area of where someone else lives is if you say "Oh! I used to live in _name of town_! Is that close to where you're from?" or "My mother (or someone else you know very well) lives there. Where about?"
And the people that say "Oh really? Where?" They really bother me. I know they don't mean it in the same context, but it just sounds like they're testing me, that I'm not really from PA.
And I know I do it sometimes. Like Florida. That's the only place I'm ever interested in knowing where someone lives. 'Cause chances are, I've been there numerous times. And I live there occasionally. So, see? I'm acceptable.

A post on hate.

2010-12-23T18:51:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-10-08T19:22:00.000-07:00

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

2010-09-18T18:04:00.000-07:00

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

2010-08-05T21:12:00.000-07:00

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

2010-06-18T11:08:00.000-07:00

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

2010-05-03T16:56:00.000-07:00

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

2010-04-29T17:12:00.000-07:00

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?

2010-03-31T18:46:00.000-07:00

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

2010-03-28T22:17:00.000-07:00

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.

2010-03-20T22:43:00.000-07:00

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"

2010-03-09T20:21:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-03-03T20:25:00.000-08:00

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

2010-03-01T22:23:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-02-23T22:45:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-02-10T18:36:00.000-08:00

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?

2010-02-05T20:21:00.000-08:00

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

2010-01-31T19:41:00.001-08:00

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.

2010-01-25T21:55:00.000-08:00

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.

2010-01-12T22:41:00.000-08:00

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.

You Suck, Loser.

2009-12-15T21:44:00.000-08:00

That would be the name of my childrens' book if I write one (even if it's about a little girl that dreams she visits a magical world where there are unicorns and candy trees and singing daisies and then she wakes up and finds that it was all a reality). I'll dedicate it to Jordan Singer.

I smell really good. Like REALLY good. I think I smell better when I wear mens' cologne and stuff. So I do. Thank you Old Spice and Hollister.

My cat is bugging the bejeezes out of me. I try to love her all day and she looks like she wants to kill me. Now I don't even want her near me and she's all up on me and in my face. Freakin' Goober (yah, that's really her name).

Why do people feel the need to creep upon me? Seriously. Not to be rude, but I'm out of their league. Or I'm not even in an appropriate age range for them. OR, ya know, I HAVE A BOYFRIEND! Eighty-eight year old guy in a nursing home. Thirty-something year old guy who comes into work. I don't even understand that one... This guy, Roger, comes in and "flirts" (or what he thinks is flirting) with me. Not okay. Not only is he weird, but he has no idea how old I am. I look 14. Seriously, dude: That's illegal. And there are the kids who ARE actually 14. Yeh, THAT's gonna happen...
Then there's the kid that I haven't talked to since 9th grade. P.S. Kid, my boyfriend is awesome. Thanks for asking.

Let's skip the holiday festivities this year. I got carolling out of my system for another year. I don't really want to do the presents thing. I don't want to do the huge feast thing. The only other thing that I want to do is go to my sister's church Christmas Pageant. Then it's time to start dying eggs.

So, if I haven't told you [excitedly], I have an audition on the 7th for Disney. It's for princess/fairy/character look-alikes. Superpsyched for that :)!!

What was the point of this post? Nothing. Just felt like telling you random things I've been thinking about lately.

I have so much to say and I'm hoping that your arms are open.

2009-11-05T17:30:00.000-08:00

So, this post is going to be a mini-autobiography.

People tend not to know the real me; the little things that make me who I am. This will hopefully clear up any questions you may or may not have had for me in the span of time you have known me.

I was born in a blackout. What the heck does that have to do with who you are? you are probably thinking. Well, to tell the truth: nothing. But that's where I begin. And that's just one piece of trivia I thought you should know about me.
I love animals. Most kinds (not the ones that could tear me limb from limb usually). My first job was at a farm park. It was the best job I've ever had. Animals are more human than a whole heck of a lot of the population. I was raised around them and with them and by them. For a year or two in elementary school, I had no real friends. I had goats. I loved those goats more than most people I knew. Natasha was my shadow. I'm pretty sure she was schizophrenic but I loved her for her. She saved my life one day. I was walking around the large goat field barefoot (as is natural for me) and was stung by a bee. I climbed on to Natasha's back and steered her to the barn. She was always there for me. I love my dogs and my cat. I constantly try to hold conversations with them about intellectual type things. They always look like they understand exactly what I'm saying. I promise that I'm not crazy.
I have depression. It's not all that awful. I can have my days. Most days are pretty good, actually. I've tried two or three different antis but everything is too large a dose for my size or my body rejects it and I physically feel like I'm dying. I joke that when I tried to take the stuff, on the way to the toilet to throw up, I felt like skipping.
I think a lot. More than is actually healthy, I think. It's one of those depression things. I tend to start a thought and then dissect it for hours or even days on end. My mind doesn't shut down. Like ever.
I have attention deficit disorder. Yes, I know that kind of clashes with the whole obsessive thought thing. You think that hasn't crossed my mind? It can get kind of fun when I'm not actually stuck on one concrete thought. My brain races a mile a minute and I'm jumping from subject to subject in seconds.
I tend to change my hair whenever I feel like I need to change my life. In fact, I dyed it just tonight. It's been bright auburn, black, strawberry blond, dirty blond, my natural brunette and now it's "Sweet Cola." I guess it's how I cope with my times.
I have the awesomest sister in the world. She's there to get me through everything. Even though we're twenty-ish years apart, it only feels like a year or two. She dropped what she was doing and came over tonight to help me put highlights in (except they're invisible now...).
I love to sing. I sing all the time. At work to my boss (she doesn't appreciate it). At home to my dogs (they don't either). To my best friends (sometimes they do). Actually, singing is the only thing that can get my mind off of whatever it's stuck on. Music is my therapy.
Poetry is sort of my thing. I have notebooks full of stuff I've written. Most of it was in high school when I was a thousand times more confused with life than I am now. I haven't written a good thing since.
I'm not as sarcastic as everyone thinks. One day I simply answered the phone and my sister freaked out that I was being sarcastic. "I just said 'Hello...'" I promise that I'm not. I have an incredibly monotone voice 74% of the time that I talk. Sorry to any of you that have been mistaken by this.
I have a stupendous memory. I remember things that seem impossible to. Actually, it's not so much the memories. It's the details.
I have a lot of scars. I'm pretty clumsy. I fell off an Amish buggy when I was 5 or so and now I have a scar on my chin. In second grade, was skipping around recess with my friend Brittany and I tripped and fell on the tanbark and now I have one on my shoulder. I was lacing up my spikes for springs in 8th grade and someone bumped me and I dug the spikes into my knee. I fell off my porch (only a foot off the ground) and scraped my ankle. I was pushing prop palm trees around the stage during a rehearsal of South Pacific and one fell on me.
It looks like a 6 year old girl lives in my room. One wall is pink, another yellow, another orange, and the last one is white with those colored blocks... There are butterflies, fairy wings, dolls, flowers, stuffed animals, children's books, and tons of sparkly stuff. What can I say? I like happy things.
I need people to know how I feel about them. It's as simple as that. I don't straight up tell people I don't like them. I feel obligated to let people know when I like them. It's kind of annoying.
I can hold a grudge like no one I know. If you do me wrong, you might think that I've forgiven you but whatever you did is definitely in the back of my mind.
I'm an observer. I like to watch people for their actions and reactions. When going out with a group of friends to bowl or what have you, I would rather sit and watch and take it all in.
Sometimes I would rather imply things than admit them obviously. Maybe that goes hand in hand with my true sarcasm.
I love to talk. I love to talk so people who I know are listening in are entertained. I've had many conversations with friends, solely for the people around to listen. It sounds weird, I know, but I like to be that one conversation you overhear and laugh at and tell your friends about later.
I'm not a very sympathetic or empathetic person. I can't even explain that one for you. I'm just not.
I know when I'm beautiful. I'm not going to say, "Ooooh, my hair looks horrible" or "This makes me look (fat, lumpy, disproportionate, etc)" or "I'm so gross right now." No. I know I'm amazing.

I'm starting to run out of things to tell you.

Frustration at its best

2009-09-12T21:24:00.000-07:00

Marissa's Help Desk is officially closed. Not forever. Just for a week or two.
The deal: A bunch of my friends are going through weird and/or tough times lately. They (I'm assuming they started some kind of club that I'm not aware of in order to decide to do this) have turned me into their own personal counselor. I have listened for hours about their problems. I have been a sponge, constantly absorbing everything they say, yet I have sealed all of that away, not telling another soul. I have given more advice than I have ever been asked for. I have worried for them and about them. Now, I'm just done with it.
The advice I've given has totally been thrown by the wayside. I say one thing, they do the complete opposite. I'm trying to be a good friend. Obviously, they don't think I'm capable of giving profitable advice, so why do they keep asking?
I have my own problems and anxieties. I know that they don't compare to their problems in any way, but that doesn't make them any less real. What do I do? I hold my thoughts in. I don't tell anyone because my peers are too absorbed in what to say to whom that they can't take a second to deal with what I want to tell them. Then, when I feel that I can talk to them, I'm too afraid that they will look at me a different way. That they'll see me as weak or stupid or immature or obnoxious or conceited. I can't tell them because I've tried that before and it only results in my secrets being spread.
I've already started turning people down. A friend told me that they were done, that they couldn't do their job, that their relationships were going to hell, they were just done. What was my answer? "I have no idea what I'm supposed to do for you. For anyone, for that matter." What was their reply? That my answer wasn't fair.

Yeh, well, tell me about.

Here in the dark, I stand before you

2009-08-16T12:06:00.000-07:00

It's been forever since I've done anything with this thing...

So last night, I had a dream that I was at this YSA Conference funded concert. The group was, like, twenty people and was called something like Soul Voices Combined (maybe, maybe not). Anyways, after one of their numbers, they asked for volunteers. I was thinking Wow!! I'll get to meet members of my FAVORITE GROUP EVER!! I'll do it!! (I was like a teenybopper) So I frantically wave my hand in the air and since I was in the first row (what are the odds), the see me first and one of the members picks me. After a while, each of the members has one audience member, so forty people on stage. Then the cast members run off to the back of the stage and leave us volunteers there. Then the host (yes, actually, it does become a reality show...) comes out and says that they will pick people to sing a whole song by themselves. Of course, they picked me first again. Everything went black except for the one spotlight on me. Then I just started singing Here's Where I Stand (which I'm pretty sure is on my playlist on here). I think I nailed it. Which got me pretty psyched when I woke up.

The end.

I've got the marbles I could sell for money

2009-07-21T13:36:00.000-07:00

So, this is going to be a totally random blogging. I have a couple minutes before I need to stop procrastinating and twelve weeks to rant about.

I've lost two very best friends in the same weekend. Well, I didn't lose them. I know exactly where they are. And it's probably for the better. The reasoning: sex, drugs, lying, Hershey Park, gossip, picnics, almost step-brothers, work, me no longer wanting a relationship with someone who is not George Raymond Wolf, going to the movies, bracelets. The usual.

Oh well. This gives me a reason to latch on to other people and make even awesomer best friends.

I made a realization weeks ago. One of the above BFFs was talking to me and I was being vain (but in a fake way, FYI). He said, "Well aren't you just God's gift...." and I said, "Everyone is God's gift to the world." At first I was joking, and then I decided I needed to prove it to myself just in case he decided to argue it (he didn't. He just rolled his eyes [he's not so big on God])
Everyone really is. Even the rapists and terrorists and child abusers and drug dealers and crack addicts and serial killers and bank robbers and cranky people who yell at you because there's no coffee made in your convenience store. Even the guy that tried to kidnap me when I was ten. They're here to make us stronger.

So, right now, I'm making up this list. Intriguing, right? Just wait till you hear what it is! It's a list of all the people in my phone. You know why? I doubt it. Let me tell you. I'm going to say what I think of each of them and put it on here. Of course, I won't be putting there name next to it. It will be completely random.... I'm not that courageous.

I need to be on stage again. I was supposed to audition for Willy Wonka Jr... and then they changed it to ages 7 through high school senior... I could pass for that, right? Maybe I'll find something where I don't have a bad history with the director or there's no age restriction or you don't have to be a "priveleged" person (i.e. you spend a couple hundred bucks to join an "academy" acting class but really you're just buying yourself a part because you really, really suck at acting AND singing). Lisa, my sister, told me to just do set with her. That is not me. I am on stage, in the spotlight. Or behind the person in the spotlight. Or to the side of the stage with a dinky spotlight on me because I'm singing back-up for the person who is really in the spotlight. Nevertheless, that's where I need to be.

So I finally found the Readers' Cafe. It's some small bookshop-slash-coffee place-slash-beatnik club (I think) in Hanover where on the first Monday of every month, they have open mic night for poets. I'm thinking about going. I've wanted to go since 10th or 11th grade but I've never been able to find it. So, who wants to go with me??

I think I'm done for now. I've forgotten everything important and uplifting that I wanted to share.

Yes.

Mr. Trebek

2009-06-30T20:11:00.000-07:00

So, I need to add this picture.

Kayla is going to be a junior in high school. She is wise far beyond her years. She is amazing.

friends and lovers

2009-06-27T19:56:00.000-07:00

So, I need some advice. Who wants to be awesome and attempt to give it?
Let me know if you're up for it, one way or another.

Hmmm.

2009-06-19T19:02:00.000-07:00

It's been a horrible week. Like completely horrible, dreadful, gruesome, repulsive, abonimable, lousy, loathsome, unkind, heinous, odious, and any other thesaurus.com word you feel appropriate.
My boss has been a b-word. One of my co-workers had a freak-out and said I never do anything. I'm losing friends left and right from time, distance, and plain stupidity. I can't muster up the enthusiasm to write to George. My parents think I'm suicidal. I've been completely miserable.
I'm done with putting on this tough, Bring it on, I can take you face. I'm sick of it.
Last night around 10, I was laying in bed, texting Josh, totally restless. I needed to drive. I think best when I'm driving. That's why I hate taking people to institute. That's my time to sit and think.
I went out to my living room and announced, "I'll be back around 12. I'm going for a drive."
My dad asked me if I was sober. My mom asked me what was wrong. Then I started crying. Dad didn't want me to leave because he was afraid I was going to drive off a cliff or something. Mom kept asking what was wrong. I told them I was fine and I was just overwhelmed.

I went to my happy swings. It's a crappy swingset in Lake Meade at the top of the dam. It would be a whole heck of a lot better if they overlooked the dam but they just look at a house or a Verizon shed (depending on which way you're sitting, of course).

Josh showed up to play basketball with two of his friends. He told me I'm not the kind of person to let little things and stupid people bother me. He told me I'm not the kind of person to just sit and pout and not do something about it.
I know I'm not that kind of person. I try not to be her but I don't want to anymore. I can't do anything when there's nothing to do.

Tonight, I sat in my basement and watched Charlotte's Web and cried my eyes out.

The one person I counted on to care couldn't any less.

Thanks.

Hahaheeheehahaho

2009-06-15T15:03:00.000-07:00

Things are going well. That's all I can really say at the moment.
I've of so many things to say in the last month or two, but by the time I get to sit down and put it on here, I've completely forgotten.

Hooray.

I love that voice!

2009-05-10T18:43:00.000-07:00

I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today! I got to talk to George today!

So, if you haven't heard, I got to talk to George today!
He called his mommy for Mother's Day and demanded that I come over and talk to him.
His mama called me and told me and then said, "I'm not too happy about this. You only get 10 minutes." TEN MINUTES!! He had more than an hour to talk! What are they going to talk about for a half hour (Emy and David were there too)?? I should at least have gotten 20 minutes! I mean, I'M going to be the one he spends the rest of eternity with voluntarily!!! Geez.

I was so nervous... I hadn't talked to him since the day before he left.
I got on the phone and it was just like he was calling me when he was home. It was so nice.

I only have 472 days left!
Big party in a couple days. It'll be a Only A Year and 100 Days Left Party!

=) =) =)

2009-04-17T19:23:00.000-07:00

So, less than a half hour ago I had a mental and emotional breakdown. For hours, I've been on the verge of tears for no definite reason. Then, all of a sudden, I just started bawling. What finally triggered it was the stupidest of reasons: I have nothing to send to George.
Yesterday I got a Happy Birthday/Anniversary package from him. He sent me a sock monkey (I've always wanted one and now I have three), a little kid tshirt that says "Someone who loves me went to San Francisco and got me this," a picture of him (so vain), and a day planner that I sent him and told him to fill in like a journal.
At first, I was kind of pissed because I'm always the one to send him something first but this time I procrastinated and waited to the very last second to get it all together.
And now I feel like I'm not sending him enough, even though I know that anything will be more than enough for him.
I'm sending him some pictures I took in Florida, this Kodak picture book of all of our pictures together, and this book called "I Love You Because..." and there are all these little prompts that you fill out about your relationship.
I have this bear that I want to send along that's holding a heart that says "I miss you," but it doesn't fit in the Flat Rate envelope and I don't have enough stuff to fill up the F.R. box.
That's what made me cry.

That and the fact that I feel like everyone is growing away from me.
My best friend has a boyfriend and all these other best friends and I feel like I never get to see her for more than an hour a week. And I felt selfish because I was bugging her that I never get to see her when I got to see her twice this week. We used to be completely inseperable.
Then there are people who want to be around me but I just can't right now. I feel horrible because the more they try to hang out with me, the more I have to push them away.
And I know that things will never be the same.

And when I need certain people the most, they can't or won't be around. And no one else will suffice because I just don't want them to because they're not my original Shoulders.

You know, it's the first time in months that I've cried. I feel like a baby because I'm taking these silly little things and blowing them out of proportion. But then again, I don't because this has all been building up for weeks and weeks and it's about time that I just let the tears roll.

2009-04-09T20:13:00.001-07:00

So, if you love me or even if you know me, check out my poetry page on deviantart. This is stuff that I've written over the years (mostly in high school). A lot of it has the same theme or idea but all of it is different.

It's
spacecdt07.deviantart.com

Oh, time for a quick story (more for me [so I don't forget it])!

So, I was at my Great Uncle Bud's viewing tonight and my parents were visiting with my dad's Uncle Norman's sister-in-law, who also happens to be my dad's exwife's sister (No, my dad was not married to Norman's wife. There are three sisters.). Dad saw this lady and was in the middle of saying, "Kathy who is that?" when the lady leaned in and said, "I'll see you later, Kathy. Call me later to tell me how Gaylin (her husband) is doing." Dad just looked at the lady and had this Well that was kind of rude to interrupt a conversation look on his face. The lady left and Dad finally got out, "Who is she?? She looks really familiar!" and Kathy said, "What? Are you kidding me? C'mon Hobe." and Dad said, "What do you mean, 'what?'" Should I know her?" and Kathy exclaimed "You were only married to her for ten years!!"
Dad totally didn't recognize Juanita! I had only seen her once, eleven years ago at my grandmother's funeral, so I was keeping an eye out for her just to jog my memory. I remember that she had a face lift, red hair, and dressed all fancyschmancy.
Well, when she walked in to the room, I saw her and asked my mom if that was her and Mom didn't think so because she was chunkier and shorter than the Juanita that she knew and told me to ask Dad, so I leaned over and said, "Hey. That lady over there hugging Raymond. Is that Juanita?" and he looked and said, "Oh, no. That's not her" and that was the end of that.

Poor Dad...

Even better is the fact that my uncle works at the funeral home as an escort and stuff and he even held the door open for her and didn't know it was her.

I can only hope that I get my mom's memory genes.

Faster, faster back to Lampson Avenue

2009-04-01T12:44:00.000-07:00

Yesterday at work, a man came in and tried to order a hotdog from me, only to be told that he would have to order off of the screen at the kiosk. He said, "Oh, nevermind. I don't know how to work those things." I offered my help and together we walked over to one of the screens and I began to show him how to order. Before I could even get out "Here are all your options," he said, "Can you do this all for me? I don't know how to read or write."

I don't know what I would do if couldn't read or write. I would never be able to let my thoughts go. That's what I do. Whenever I get these deep thoughts or I want to tell someone something but am afraid to or even just thoughts that I can't let go of, I grab a notebook and a pen and just go from there. I have zillions of notebooks full of my thoughts and what I should tell people. Without writing, I would be a bigger headcase than I already am.

That's all I had to say, really.

The End.

Yes.

Your lamps will call me home

2009-03-25T14:10:00.000-07:00

Oh. My. Gee.

On the way home from my dentist appointment, I had this super epiphany about something surely incredible and I couldn't wait to get home and put it here for the entire world to be enlightened.
Well, of course, I had to tend to various things before I could even touch the computer.
Now I have no earthly idea as to what I could have discovered.
I know that it was quite philosophical and could edify the nations. Heck, it could have been the true meaning of life or how to end hatred.

Oh well. You'll have this.

Do you think it's too late for me to be a boxer? Or an artist? Or a gymnast? I've always wanted to do that stuff, I just lack the motivation, ya know?

I think I'm going to apply to a make-up artist school. That's something I've wanted to do for years now.
But then again, I've wanted to own a restaurant called "The Soup Place." I've wanted to go to 'beauty school.' I've wanted to be a photographer. I've wanted to be a horse dentist. I've wanted to write novels. I've wanted to be a mother (and I still do).
But make-up? That's something I know I won't get tired of. It will be something new everyday. I love make-up. I want to do prosthetic make-up and special FX make-up.
Dos problemas: For a make-up kit alone (in some schools) it's about $5,000 and there are a limited number of schools.
Right now, I'm looking at Joe Blasco (in Orlando),Westmore Academy (in Los Angeles), MUD (in NYC), Complections (in Toronto), and Studio Makeup Academy (in Hollywood).
People I've talked to about this choice think that I'm going to have a problem with monstery thing because I'm not one for scary things. I don't think I will. If I'm the one creating it, I'll be perfectly fine.

I don't know.

Just saying.

Yes.

Oh my gee

2009-02-20T16:23:00.001-08:00

Do you ever give advice to someone, completely not knowing that you need it more than they could ever appreciate? Yeh, me too.
I just (kind of) gave advice (by commenting her blog) to my friend (this is a shout out to you, if you ever read this).
She was saying how she's barely scared that her boyfriend is going to find a new girl when she goes off to school. Then, she said how she was much more afraid that she would meet a boy because she'll be in a new place with new boys.
Here's what I said:

you want long distance? try 3,078 miles (give or take, ya know).
and don't worry about the glorious prospect of new boys... I was completely single out in Idaho, surrounded by a basquillion guys who should have been perfect for me (and plenty who definitely were not) and I only had one guy on my mind the entire time, fully intending on coming back to good ol' pennsyltucky and being with that boy.

So, I see now in reading this again that I sound kind of cocky. But as I sat thinking about what I told her, I realized that I needed that most.

Another thing...
I'm listening to a CD that I asked Ivan (another shout out) for. There's a song on it that George wanted me to listen to forever ago, way before he left. Well, I finally got around to asking for it. The one song is about how this kid is dreading the end of summer because he has to leave or something (for his mission, presumably) and he has to leave his girl behind and doesn't want to say goodbye.
That got me to thinking... George and I dreaded the exact same thing because he left in August. We tried to savor each tiny, silly, dramatic, unusual, or average moment we had together. Then, BAM! it pops in my head: Duh, silly girl! Now, instead of dreading the end of summer, instead of it going so gosh darn fast, you should be so excited for it to get here! That means he'll be home in a year! And then NEXT summer!! My golly! He'll be home in no time!"

I'm such a wishful thinker. Do you think summer will go fast? Heck no. It's not like I'm going to be a high school student who has all summer to have fun and is then obligated to go back to school, forcing the summer to fly by. PSSSSSHH. I wish.

But it's not even spring yet. I don't know why I'm worrying about this now.
I guess I need something to worry about.

Attention: Miss Shaylynn Kilfoyle

2009-02-10T19:22:00.000-08:00

I would like to make a public apology (yes, I know this sounds like some kind of celebrity press conference, and yes, I know it's completely immature for me to not apologize personally, and yes, I know that less than four people will ever read this).
The apology goes to Shaylynn Kilfoyle.
I'm sincerely sorry for the way I acted. I was being ridiculously juvenile. I was trying to ignore the fact that I could lose a friendship and that is exactly what I did. I felt like I was to blame (again).
You have to understand how I feel, though. I've ruined so many relationships. I've broken up so many couples and I have no idea how. I've had friends fight over and about and because of me. It makes me think that I'm doing something wrong. It makes me question whether I should have friends because I don't want to make anyone else upset.
People wonder why I'm not social, why I only associate exclusively with the few people in my little "clique," why I seem so unfriendly. Sure, I'm shy to a point. The real reason? I hate losing people. I'm afraid of feeling like the cause of contention among friends.

I had so much more to say but I lost it all.

I'm sorry.

It's gonna be a "no"

2009-02-04T20:24:00.000-08:00

I was asked on a date.
I can't do it. I can't.
I have it in my head that I can only date (yes, I know that TECHNICALLY going on a date is different from dating) people who I can see myself marrying. That may seem completely irrational, but I don't care. I've always felt that I was the only one who thought that way because everytime I explain it, people look at me like, Are you crazy? A date is like a free meal! And it's just fun!
No, I'm not crazy. And no, it's not a free meal. If I wanted a free meal, I would go to a soup kitchen. It's not free because people go on dates in hopes of finding loooove. I guess it's fun, but I can have fun coloring or going bowling with friends.
I finally finally finally heard someone say what I thought!
It was on the Real World. Chet went on a date with some chick and when he came back, Ryan asked, "So do you like her?"
"Well, yeh. We're going to see each other again."
"Okay, well just from tonight, could you see her being in your future? Like as your wife?"
"Psh. No. Definitely not."
"WELL THEN WHY WOULD YOU DATE HER IF YOU COULD NEVER SEE YOURSELF WITH HER IN THE LONG TERM??"
Then, he continued to rant.

I guess it is kind of hypocritical of me to say all of that. I've dated plenty of guys I never would have wanted to marry. Ever. I didn't love them. It was just what I said above: crazy, free, and fun.

If the person who asked me on the date reads this, I'm sorry.

Sorry... Just kidding!!

2009-01-31T20:47:00.000-08:00

Once again, I am led to believe that I am in the wrong.
I don't know what I did. I don't know what I do.
I bring out the worst in people. Apparently, I do that a lot.
I'm sorry that I bring out the sarcasm, negativity, and other not-so-nice things.
Wait. No, I'm not sorry.

Where are you?

2009-01-28T19:56:00.000-08:00

Surprise!
I need to talk to someone who will be completely nonjudgemental. Like completely.
Not someone who will listen to me and then tell me what THEY would do or what they did do or tell me that they've never had to deal with that. Not someone who would be biased about choices I have or have not made. Not someone who is going to lecture me.
I don't want to deal with someone who is of authority over me.
Then again, I want someone to tell me that these things happen; that everything will be okay in the end.

I don't know. Is that person out there?

Too much life running through my veins

2009-01-24T16:36:00.000-08:00

I feel so strange. I don't know how to explain it. I'm feeling a million zillion different things as we speak. Let's list them, shall we?
Incomplete, taken advantage of, unappreciated, lost, ungrateful, destitute, haunted, nostalgic, naive...
And most of all apathetic (which is the most ironic).

I know I won't feel totally complete until George gets home.
How do I feel taken advantage of? I'm not going to answer that. I just do.
Same for unappreciated.
Lost kind of goes with the George thing. It also has to do with the fact that I have no idea what I want to do with the rest of my life and the rest of my life is fast approaching.
I feel ungrateful because so many people are trying to make me feel better about myself and I'm completely ignoring and/or throwing it away. Probably because those people are the same people who treat me horribly.
Destitute goes with incomplete.
I am constantly being reminded of the stupid mistakes I've made in the last couple of years.
Speaking of the last couple of years, I've been wishing I could go back and just relive some things. Not necessarily redo them. Just go through it again.
Naive. Oh, I could account for so many examples of how credulous I can be. I could give you forty examples from today alone.
And overall, I don't even care.

San Fran, CA...

2009-01-14T18:08:00.000-08:00

Do you realize that San Francisco is everywhere?? Seriously, it is.
Everywhere I look, there's San Francisco. Commercials, advertisements, books, movies, tv shows, chocolate, everything.

Some telephone commercial
Full House
Ghirardelli
Monk
The Alchemist (a book)
Mythbusters
Just Like Heaven
The Pursuit of Happyness
The Princess Diaries
Eli Stone
Dharma and Greg

okay, i had a ton more... but i currently forget them.

this has turned into a mostly pointless entry...

Teach you...

2009-01-13T14:24:00.001-08:00

I'm such a princess. Let me tell ya. Tiara and everything. If I don't get things my way, I throw a hissy. If people don't pay full attention to me, heads will roll. Oh, wait. That's not me.
I guess I really should apologize.
I'm sorry that I'm honest. I'm sorry that I want what's best for my friends. I'm sorry I say what's on my mind when it's completely necessary, though not completely appropriate. I'm sorry I'm immature. I'm sorry that I tend to spite people when they say incorrect things about me. I'm sorry that I love my friends.

Anyhow, I would like a horse-drawn sleigh ride. I'm watching a rerun (of course, since they don't run it anymore) of Gilmore Girls and Lorelai organized sleigh rides for everyone in the town. I wish I knew a quirky lady in my town who ruled the entire town with her... quirkiness. Maybe that could be me one day.
Nah. I'll be the curmudgeony lady who arrives only to spite those who thought she wouldn't show up and hangs in the shadows and mumbles and is generally... curmudgeony.

I think not

2009-01-07T15:57:00.000-08:00

I'm not usually one to believe in coincidences. I'm always the skeptic.

Well, I'm still the skeptic but I think it's possible to believe in coincidences at the same time.
How is that once something horrible, traumatizing, frightening happens to me, I see everyone for who they really are? I see that best friends can't keep your secrets. I see that friends really don't care about you. I see that people who I never really took for close friends are the most honest with me. I see that the people I think are good and respectable can be the scariest. I see that I really am a tiny person who can't defend herself physically or even mentally.

For the second time in my life, I'm terrified of people. The last time, I was almost kidnapped. The other day, some kids I didn't know tried to talk to me and I wanted to run for dear life. I'm worried that anyone could be watching me at all times, ready to pounce. I feel like I have to put on this strong face because that's who I am, when really I just want to let it all go and bawl my pretty little face off.

Is it a coincidence that the moment I start to trust everyone, this happens?
Is it a coincidence that I was feeling so completely understood and now I feel the exact opposite?
Is it a coincidence that the people I need the most just happen to be the people I see the least?