Friday, May 11, 2007

To Everything, There Is A Season 

Can I tell you something? I don't think bees are this busy.

I wish I could fill pages with the misadventures of the last months of my life, but sadly, the story of those days would fill up no more than a few paragraphs.

I have been about the busy-ness of living a normal, coupled life. Trust me, it's not as exciting as it sounds. My days are filled with the everyday humdrum of routine mixed up with a hint of prayers being answered and dreams coming true.

I can't recall a happier time, though that isn't to say that every moment has been a blessing. I think I have finally found the mix of good and bad and ugly that fits me perfectly. I have a love(r), and a good job (with a growing paycheck), and a healthy body, and a clear mind and a messy room. I also have a button-pusher, and long, exhausting days, and moments of sheer insanity, and let's not forget that messy room.
I am beginning to see myself through the eyes of one who loves me for me. He has a way of focusing on everything that is right instead of my old stand-by way of looking at everything that is absolutely wrong. I can't say he loves my faults but he understands them and appreciates them so much more than I ever have.
He makes me want to be better and because of him I demand more from life than I have in the past. I want to squeeze out every second of joy I possibly can. I want stories and accomplishments and notches on my belt. I want to grow (up) and experience the world in new ways.
Given that challenge, I feel it is time to move on from here. This little diary has chronicled my life for so many years. Good years, formative years but I want to leave the past in the past and face the road ahead with fresh legs. I'm not exiting the blog-o-sphere all together, but I am starting over somewhere fresh. I've got some new ideas, a new approach and I need the space to tell my story in new ways.
I hope you will come and visit, I'll post a link when I'm ready to be hospitable.
Thanks for everything.


Tuesday, January 09, 2007

We are the Boys of Old Florida... 

Photo courtesy of AP/Mark York
Photo courtesy of AP/Mark York
When I was 14, my dad let me stay up late on a school night to watch his Florida Gators, our hometown team, defeat Florida State and claim the National Championship title. I remember that night, the unbelievable feeling of pride and the look of ultimate joy on my dad's face.
Last night, more than 10 years later, I watched my Florida Gators, my alma mater, defeat top-ranked Ohio State to claim the title no one thought they could take. The pride and the joy came rushing back but this time those feelings were all mine. I think I understand them better now, having lived and breathed UF for four years. I went to every home game, knew the words to every chant and cheer, watched Spurrier leave and a dynasty end, stood arm and arm with fellow fans to sway en masse to "We are the Boys". I called my dad with three minutes left to go in the game, shocked and estatic, without words to describe the small miracle playing out on the field.
At the end of the game, as the confetti began to fall, the crowd began to chant the one statement I know to be fact, "It's GREAT to be a FLORIDA GATOR!"


Friday, October 27, 2006

A History of Lovers 

My boyfriend left this week for a five day jaunt through the woods in the rain and cold to celebrate the birthday of a life-long friend. Not necessarily my idea of a good time but to each his own, I guess.
Cell phone communication was cut off last night and before I go any further, you should know that, yes, I am THAT girl. You know the one. The girl so nauseating in love with her boyfriend and her relationship with him that if she tells you one more time about how he hung the moon and said the funniest thing while doing it, so help you God, you just might have to rip your ears off. Yeah. I’m THAT one. I admit it freely. I have no shame.
Normally, in the course of the work day, I’ll talk to him about 6 times:
-the Morning hello
-the Pre-Lunch conversation
-the Post-Lunch recap
-the Midafternoon check in
-and the I’m-Going-Home-Now-Call-Me-When-You’re-On-Your-Way chat

Even before we were dating, we spoke almost everyday so this whole out-of-range, unable to talk because I don’t get reception in the middle of all these trees thing is a bit out of my realm of understanding.
In case you aren’t getting this, I don’t do well with distance.
Now, I realize that I am a whole person, with or without my boyfriend, and that the world has not ceased its rotation because he is off tromping around the forest. I am not so entirely self-involved to realize that there are children starving in Africa who have not yet been adopted by an A-list celebrity who could care less about my relationship issues. But they aren’t likely to come across this site, now are they?

My point – I miss him terribly and I wish he would come home already. He is the most special thing I’ve found on this planet so when he goes away I feel as if I’m missing something very important. You see, he has this uncanny ability to make anything funny. And he knows how I take my coffee. And he can make me feel so good about myself with one look. He’s my very best friend and the source of about 90% of my everyday entertainment. He pays for my meals and he holds me so tight I wanna unzip his chest and crawl right inside. He even lets me hold the remote.

Also, did I tell you about the time he hung the moon?


Wednesday, August 30, 2006

Sing, sing a song 

Last night, in the midst of our early evening television marathon, we found the most amazing spectacle now known to Americankind, "Celebrity Duets." Glory, glory, hallelujah, this show was AWESOME! D,E,F and G lists celebrities singing their guts out on live television, dueting with some surprisingly well-respected recording artisits and trying desperately to keep their bright and botoxed faces in the fading spotlight. Last night, after two amazingly awful rounds of one tone deaf celebrity after another, the judges, Marie Osmond, Little Richard and some Cowelesque record producer I've never heard of, voted off WWE superstar Chris Jericho.
Amazing! Two hours of pure celebrity pandering, complete with a whole lot of ass-kissing, truth bending and straight out denial of the fact that songs are written in one key and are not meant to be sung in another.
I'm telling you, it was the best thing I've seen since I don't know what.
The show returns next week on Wednesday night.
I can hardly breath from excitement.


Monday, August 28, 2006

Courtesy of Non Sequiter and Wiley


Monday, June 19, 2006

So Happy Together 

Here comes the sun,here comes the sun, and I say it's all right 

Little darling, it's been a long cold lonely winter.  
Little darling, it feels like years since it's been here. 
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right. 

Little darling, the smiles returning to the faces.  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been here.
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right. 

Little darling, I feel that ice is slowly melting.  
Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear.  
Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say it's all right. 


Tuesday, March 14, 2006

All Our Times Have Come 

A few weeks ago, I came home to find the back door of my apartment wide open. After freaking ever-so-slightly and checking the apartment for valuables, I was convinced that nothing was missing and settled in for a nice long night of double chocolate brownies and some high quality WB programming. Hours and hours later, I realized that my fat cat had failed to waddle up to me when I walked in the door and, come to think of it, hadn't waddled up to me all night. I searched all of her usual hiding places, some not-so-usual places and the impossible to get to due to her enormous girth kind of places. She wasn't anywhere in the house and when I realized this, I completely lost it. My cat is not an outside cat, has no outdoor survival skills whatsoever and, due to her adorable face and smooshy sides, could easily fall prey to an eight-year old girl who would put bows on her head and carry her around to tea party after tea party. I found myself imagining I might never see her again and the sobs spilled without a second's hesitation. My grief was immense and the pain was almost unbearable. I stood outside screaming her name for what seemed like hours until finally she poked her head around the fence and sauntered up to me as if she did this everyday. Her puzzled face seemed to say, "Woman, what IS your problem?" I scooped her up and covered her with kisses and went back inside to recover my composure and regain my dignity. Though I have her back, safe and sound, the threat of such a loss haunts me and my heart has lost bits and pieces I don't know I'll ever reclaim.
A few months ago, I was told that my grandmother was diagnosed with lung cancer. The initial evaluation found only a small spot and the disease was thought to be treatable, beatable. A few days later, further tests revealed spots on her brain, in her bones and throughout her liver. The words "Stage Four" entered our conversations and the idea of chemo and radiation suddenly seemed useless and unnecessary. Life went on but the inevitable now dominated the hearts and minds of all who loved her. My relationship with my grandmother had recently taken a bitter turn but the realization that we were looking at less than a year to find final moments devastated me in a way I don't think I could ever describe. I thought of everything we would never experience together. I thought of the moments that had once seemed so banal and commonplace that would soon be altered by the void of her presence. I thought of my grandfather, who I love and respect more than most men I know, and the life he would lead after she was gone. Depite the grief, we were able to enjoy Christmas in our regular fashion and life quieted down in a new type of normal. In February, I was told that they were moving her into a hospice because the care she was receiving elsewhere was not enough to sustain a comfortable quality of life. There had been other setbacks - allergic reactions to her chemo, scans that revealed that nothing was working and the cancer was spreading, the inevitable loss of her hair and her body mass and her lively spirit - but this was a blow that suddenly signaled the beginning of the end. She goes home tomorrow, comfortable and prepared, knowing that the end could be sooner than we all had hoped. This time, there will be no return to safe and sound. She will never come back to us fully and completely and life will never go on as if this was only a brief interuption. This time, my grief is merited, justified. This time, the loss is very, very real.


Monday, March 06, 2006

Some thoughts from the weekend:

So, Brokeback Mountain was run over and left for dead by Crash last night at the Academy Awards. Along with probably 99% of the population, I say, "I DON"T CARE! NOBODY CARES!" With the exception of the post-Oscar commentary given on NPR today by Fred Willard and John Michael Higgins, I really don't care to hear another word about that or anything else directly related to the over-worship of celebrity in this culture.

Good bars are the bars you walk into and are greated immediately by a beer and a big hug.

My friend Ashley is GETTING MARRIED! YEAH!

I have heard it said that love is never having to say you're sorry. To that I say, "BULLS#@T." Love is making every effort to admit when you're wrong, to acknowledge your mistakes and caring enough to ask for forgiveness.

I bought a skateboard. Everyone seems to question this decision, especially my mother who said that my accident-prone inability to walk down a hallway without running into the wall seems to be slightly inconsistent with my visions of throwing my body onto a small board with wheels and safely propelling myself down the street. She obviously has yet to see how cool I look just standing on the thing.


Thursday, February 09, 2006

Despite my best efforts at living frugally, I seem to be bleeding money. And not like a surface wound kind of bleeding but more like a deep, gushing, amputate now to save the life of the patient kind of bleeding. I downsized my life for the express purpose of saving money, but it seems as though life with a roommate in a apartment that I HATE is having exactly the opposite effect. Granted, I have twice the number of bills living here than I ever did on my own given my roommate's need for satellite TV, broadband internet, and local and long distance phone service. Add to that a utility bill almost equal to the amount I pay on my just-like-new car and I have an idea where my money goes to each and every paycheck. I'm so frustrated, I could spit.


Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Excuse me while I kiss the sky 

For those of you who have been coming to this site day after day since August, hoping to find some new witty insights only to be disappointed by one ridiculously drawn out unexcused silence, today is your lucky day. For the rest of you, consider yourselves providentially blessed as well.
I put some serious thought into leaving you all for good, permanently closing the window into my very boring, very predictable little life. After 4+ years of writing, what more could there possibly be to say? How much "woe is me" should one audience be forced to intake? Obviously, if you know me at all, we have yet to reach the point where I have nothing to say. And, for every tearful, miserable entry, there are others that recount to more positive sides of life. Like the one you happen to be reading right now.
So, I've been busy trying to get my life in order after failing to land safely on my feet when my job and security net were pulled out from under me. I floated for a while, moved apartments, tried my hand at substitute teaching (which, p.s., is one career that should come with a Surgeon General's warning. CAUTION: Substitute teaching may be hazardous to your health and if not yours than almost certainly the health of the children/demon spawn you happen to be teaching) and relentlessly continued to throw myself at the feet of employers. Do not think for a second that I handled this time well at all. I was MISERABLE and can't remember a more depressing era in my life. After what felt like an eternity, my hard work and serious pleadings paid off and job opportunities came flooding in. FLOODING. Like Noah and the ark kind of flooding. So, now I have a new job and it's great. I'm doing what I went to school to do in the career environment I wanted and I'm getting paid. It's fantastic and absolutely amazing to see the power of prayer.
There are other aspects of life that have yet to work out and the turning of the year seemed to have brought some of those issues to light, but I would say that I'm handling things much more capably than I did before. I have faith that things will work out. And though they may not work out the way I had originally intended, situations are almost always resolved in ways that make me better and stronger.
So, I'm back, for now, whether you like it or not.


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