Friday, February 27, 2009
This post is more along the lines of the latter. It's a message with a specific recipient, but that specific recipient is someone who I'm pretty sure will never read this message. At this point, though, I really just want to send these words out into the ether and get them out of my head.
I still think of you every single time I drop my keys (which, unfortunately, as you know, is daily). I start to smile, thinking of that joke we had, and then I'm punched by the sadness of knowing that you're not around to share it with.
I'm waiting for the time that I will not think of you every single day. It doesn't hurt when I think of you, but I am tired of being reminded that you have become a part of the default settings of my mind.
Today I thought of the time that I asked you when you knew for sure that you loved me, and then we got distracted and started talking about something else. A while later - 20 minutes, half an hour, I don't know, out of nowhere, you said "When you went to Chicago a few months after we started dating, and I missed you so much. That's when I knew for sure that I loved you."
I think that moment is when I knew for sure that I loved you.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
So, I had recently murdered Austin and hidden her body underneath the bed...
But did I have you going? Probably not.
So I'm sitting at my desk, studying very very hard (aka stalking people on facebook while wearing absurdly large clown sunglasses and/or cat ears), when I hear a noise coming from behind me. I'm pretty sure that I had thought I was alone in the room up until this point. So I hear this noise, and I turn and look over my shoulder, convinced that Elizabeth was finally right, and the Phantom has in fact come into the sorority house to murder me, and I see no one behind me in the room. The noise happens again, and finally I say:
and this muffled reply issues from across the room,
"...ummm...where ARE you?"
"...under my bed," she replied...as if this were completely normal.
"Annnnnd, what are you doing under your bed?"
this answer, and the way it was delivered, will always stay with me:
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
I finished 3 shirts before I realized why I wanted to iron in the first place. Dirty laundry? Nope. Sudden obsession with neatness? Unlikely.
I started with a product that was wrinkled and messy. I knew the steps that I had to take to smooth it out. All it took was a little pressure and a little heat, and magically the little wrinkles gave way.
Don't you ever wish you could take an iron to your life?
Monday, February 23, 2009
Bridget... what if i went to my desk right now and walked back in wearing a snuggie?
Brittany... which color?
Bridget... mint green
Bridget... it's the most tasteful snuggie
Brittany... what about blood red?
Bridget... no, that's too flashy
Bridget... no one wants a flashy snuggie
And now, from www.urbandictionary.com:
"a snuggie is someone who exhibits snugness and lives in Snuggieopolis on Snuggieoopiter in the Snuggie Way
'your so snuggie!' 'snuggie snug snug' "
I am shaking right now because I am trying REALLY HARD not to laugh. It's just making it worse.
snuggie snug snug!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Friday, February 20, 2009
a few thoughts this morning:
1) I'm pretty sure the #1 question I have been asking - and continue to ask - in my life is this:
Exactly how long am I going to be able to get away with this?
2) "I'm Christopher Columbus, y'all just the pilgrims" -- this is why T.I. is my boyfriend. We had a little trouble with the whole possession charge, but that's behind this. You know why? Because I can have whatever I like.
3) I currently sit in a mid-sized conference room with roughly 20 other people, jabbing away at our computers 12 hours a day. Weekends too, it's really great. Oh, don't worry, I make boatloads of money so I don't feel bad about selling my soul (this is untrue. i don't make boatloads, and i do feel bad about selling my soul). Anyway, we all sit in this tiny room, secretly plotting ways to simultaneously end the lives of the other 19 people so that we can go to Mexico on vacation full time (wait, is that just me? Oh). The room has 5 tables arranged as such:
I sit at the middle table, as is the natural order of things (I am the center. People naturally gravitate towards me, and sometimes form circles and then revolve around me). So this morning, there was one box of Timbits on the table in front of me and one on the table behind me. And we decided that it was like the war of the Timbits. East side vs. West side. Bloods vs. Crips. As people came into the room and took Timbits from either box, we noted their loyalties. It's about to escalate to an all out brawl.
A girl just walked into the room wearing - I kid you not - what must be a 10 foot long scarf.
Annnnd on that note, I'm out.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
I have learned a lot, I can say that with a pretty good degree of assurance, but why then do I feel more and more like a toddler as time goes on? More and more...please excuse my use of this phrase...but more and more functionally retarded? I'm not trying to be funny, I'm using the words for their literal definitions. Arrested development. Functional retardation. I'm sorry, I might almost be 25, but I still can't help but laugh at the use of that phrase. See? Functional retardation. Evidence.
Anyway, I could probably type about this for hours, but I'll just give you the idea of the thought weighing on my mind and leave it at that for now.
This is what I'm struggling with - I am blessed. There's no getting around that. Yes, I'm cynical, I'm sarcastic, I'm a public pessimist but a private optimist. I just can't help but feel that I was meant to do more with the gifts that I was given. Is this the point in all of our lives when we stop for a moment to do an inventory check and catch ourselves wondering out loud, "Is this it?"
I don't mean to sound ungrateful. I only worry, sometimes, that the hand I was dealt was a blessing and a curse. I am lucky enough to know how lucky I am. Where does that leave me? What does our generation do now, after having been taught all our lives to push harder, reach higher, go further? Do we suddenly pull on the reins and say - No, that's enough, I think I'll settle down here and be comfortable? Who taught us that comfort, that satisfaction, was such a shameful concept? With great power comes great responsibility - what if you're sure you have the power, but not yet sure you can handle the responsibility?
The fact that I'm even thinking about this confirms something for me: I am thinking too hard. And I just reread that last paragraph and thought to myself, you're a whiny baby. I bet if I reread that in 25 years I will still think I was a whiny baby. So, to borrow some brilliance from Winston Churchill - maybe this isn't the beginning of the end. Maybe it's only the end of the beginning. At what point does it become unacceptable to consider yourself a child? I'm pretty sure I'm still getting away with it for now (right?), but at a certain point even I realize that ignorance is no longer bliss, and that it was never a defense against the law. How long can I get away with adolescence?
What if talent, intelligence, etc, are like gift cards, and if at a certain point you still haven't cashed them in, the powers that be assume you aren't going to, and their inherent value expires?
Yep, I need to put myself to bed.
I'll leave it on this note for tonight:
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I was eating a lovely dinner with my lovely single friends when one of them turned to me and asked if I was ok - he had seen on Facebook (aka the devil's workshop) that the most serious of my recent exes was back "In a Relationship" with his ex - the one who sent him e-mails and texts throughout our relationship, telling him she still loved him and asking what I had that she didn't (my sanity?) - oh, and let's not forget about the time that she called me a psycho when we met at a wedding. Brilliant.
Anyway, I've gotta be real here - it affected me more than I thought it would. To be honest, it's really not the fact that he's with someone else, or that he's shouting it from the proverbial mountaintop that is Facebook, it's that he's with her. The girl who made me feel so awful that I went back to our hotel room at that wedding and cried because I had upset her at her friend's wedding. I cried because I felt bad for her. You know, after she tried to steal my boyfriend and then publicly questioned my sanity. I had been the girl - the ex - who wanted her love back. I knew how it felt to look at the "next girl" and wonder - what is it about her?
In hindsight, maybe she was right all along. Maybe I was a psycho to shed tears for such an unbelievable reason. I guess I was just always taught that what goes around comes around - and maybe, eventually, it will. But right now, an outside observer would learn this: Behave like a maniac, try to steal your ex boyfriend back from another woman, and eventually you will succeed. Granted, I broke up with this ex over a year ago because I felt that if we were honest with ourselves, we both knew there was no future in the cards for us - but she still, eventually, got what she wanted. And that bothers me.
Regardless, I e-mailed him earlier and said that I hope she makes him very happy. Anyone who knows me well enough will notice the distinct diction I used in that sentence - I hope she makes him very happy. I also hope she gets what's coming to her.
So anyway, this morning I got up and went to Mass. It was a nice experience for multiple reasons - 1) I dressed like a big girl which I normally do about 5 times a year since I work for a casual clothing company and 2) I got to hang out with Jesus for a while. I had never been to this particular parish before, and the ultra-conservative views espoused during the Homily (regarding sex before marriage, sex with birth control within marriage, and IVF) made me uncomfortable. I am not quite sure that I will go back - especially if those messages persist. Is it awful that I find those opinions to be backwards and ignorant? Ok, I'll give them the sex before marriage part, but the other two just seem so...antiquated. And with the Catholic Church's tendency to redefine itself every few decades, it leaves me wondering why they have turned a blind eye to the benefits bestowed upon the world with the invention of both birth control and IVF. Jesus, are you mad at me for saying these things? I hope not, because it was nice to see You today.
I have always dreaded a certain part of Catholic Mass. The part where I say I am not worthy, you wonder? Or the part where I admit to being a horrible sinner? No. The peace giving part. Peace be with you and all that jazz. It has always scared me. As a person who was raised (I use that term loosely) within the most antisocial of churches, I have always wondered why Catholics feel the need to insert the Happy Hour introductions into the middle of their services. Can't we all just worship separately and go in peace? Can't we just make eye contact and flash a peace sign (this is very popular among members of my immediate family)? Why the handshakes? Why strike fear into the hearts of socially awkward and anxious members of your congregation (aka me)?
So, anyway, today, the peace be with you-ness eventually came along, as it always does, at the same time as it always does, and I managed to participate in a manner that I convinced myself was both successful and socially acceptable. I shook the hands of and bestowed peace upon 5 or 6 people in my immediate vicinity and then turned back to face front like a good Catholic....but I was left wondering - was that enough peace? Should I have been more aggressive with my peace, reaching out to members who stood further away? Should I have made eye contact with people across the pew and mouthed the words at them with a vague gesture of my hand? What is it about this, one of the parts of Mass that is meant to draw the congregation together and fulfill the requirements of weekly Community Worship, that makes me feel the most singled out of all? Anyway, I tried to do my best. Hopefully it's the thought that counts.
I did a few things after Mass including eating alone at Panera (I am a veritable social superstar) as well as going to the library and reading alone (seriously, I can't even tell you how popular I am). Once I returned to my apartment, I started up my computer, and I wrote my ex that e-mail that I mentioned previously. The words were different, but the message was the same - Peace be with you.
So, is that enough peace?
I certainly hope so.
"Okay, smarty, perhaps you already know better than to drink pink wine from a box. But you picked up this book for a reason, so I'll bet that my post-college preoccupations aren't totally dissimilar to your own as you navigate this strange, semi-autonomous period, when you're technically on your own but in no way feel like you qualify as an adult; when you discover that what you thought would make you happy doesn't, and what you thought you wanted isn't what you want at all. When you're afraid that every wrong decision you make now is setting you up for decades of regret. When you not only don't know who you are anymore but wonder if you ever did." it's a wonderful lie by emily franklin
"I just wish I had a syllabus to follow for my life." it's a wonderful lie by emily franklin
"On one level, I didn't expect to fall in love. I saw this other future version of myself, a merciless, lonesome writer, banged up, brooding, bullying her way through life. But honestly, I also felt like this was the person I'd been waiting for. There was a feeling of relief - a feeling of Oh, here you are, finally. And this is what you look like. And this is what your voice sounds like. And this is the set of your childhood memories. I thought I'd been looking, but really, I was just waiting for him without knowing that I was waiting, without knowing that I missed him. I thought the ache was a restless lonesomeness, but it was more like homesickness for a place you haven't yet come to. That's how the story begins. I was twenty-two and my mother said "Don't fall in love with a poet," and I did and we've been together ever since." it's a wonderful lie by emily franklin
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
"Back inside, I opened the door to Josh's bedroom. He'd already turned out the light. I inched forward in the dark. My knee found the bed, and I got in. I lay very still. Then Josh put his arms around me, and it was safe to love him again." p96
"I remind myself that this is what I always say and what I always do. As soon as I'm in a relationship, I promote fear from clerk to president, even though all it can do is sweep up, turn off the lights, and lock the door" p322
"'Very nice' Seth says, and his voice tells me that he doesn't want to hear any more about Vincent and Amanda, he doesn't care about them, and that he's wishing he didn't care so much about me. It scares me. But then I get this big feeling, simple but exalted: He's just like me, only with different details." p 323
Quotes from The Wonder Spot by Melissa Banks
"He seemed kind and charming. His voice promised that he would take care of her, and that a little later he would open up whole new worlds for her, unroll an endless succession of magnificent possibilities," p 16
Quote from Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
Is it so wrong that that quote describes exactly what I want?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Upon closer inspection, I noticed that the hair was PAINTED ONTO THE DOOR. As in, it had been trapped in the paint and would remain there permanently.
It was disgusting.