And So It Goes

To Everything, There Is A Season

2007-05-11T16:50:00.000-04:00

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.

Mandy

We are the Boys of Old Florida...

2007-01-09T12:11:00.000-05:00

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!"

A History of Lovers

2006-10-27T17:14:00.000-04:00

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?

Sing, sing a song

2006-08-30T18:33:00.000-04:00

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.

2006-08-28T12:46:00.000-04:00

So Happy Together

2006-06-19T19:45:00.000-04:00

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.

All Our Times Have Come

2006-03-14T14:51:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-03-06T21:25:00.000-05:00

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.

2006-02-09T20:10:00.000-05:00

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.

Excuse me while I kiss the sky

2006-01-03T20:00:00.000-05:00

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.

Spent all my rent, girl you know I enjoyed it

2005-08-08T20:22:00.000-04:00

How to navigate the job search experience:
1.Work hard and build considerable experience
2.Craft skillfully worded resume and cover letters
3.Post online
4.Apply for jobs time after time after time
5.Pray to God that someone calls
6.Dryclean your suits and business attire
7.Interview time after time after time
8.Smile pretty and play nice
9.Pray to God that someone calls
10.Get overlooked time after time after time
11.Repeat as necessary

I hate this. Can you tell? The fact that my job status will soon read unemployed never really hit me until today. When I did, in fact, come to this realization, I panicked and seriously considered life as a gypsy or commune hippy. A life spent traveling the country in a Winnebago pleading for hourly wages or growing my own food and living nude in a house with 30 other people suddenly seemed very appealing. No more worrying about rent, or car payments, or health insurance but instead living a life deplete of responsibility and in total denial of my hard earned education. I think I would fit right in, don't you?

She Falls Apart in the Avalanche

2005-07-23T13:20:00.000-04:00

I have a rather lengthy string of explitives running through my head at the moment. Real words are totally unable express the feelings spewing from my gut, so I've had to resort to the four-letter variety.
My job is gone. Not utterly and completely as I still have some options open to me at my current employer, but the position I've held for the past nine months failed to gain renewal a few weeks ago. I received the awful news on an already diffult Monday and took everything in tremendous stride. Barely any tears and an upbeat proposal from my boss made the news easier to take, especially the bit where I was told that everyone else on the project was renewed except for me. Ouch. Apparently, my efforts were not enough to entice the contractors to keep their current funding level going into the new year. Instead they've sliced the budget in half and decided that two people are more than enough to cover the state. I can't say I was taken completely by surprise, it seemed to go right along with the fact that every other aspect of my personal life has gone to total shit as well.
I wish I had some cool story to tell about my loss of gainful employment, like I got "dooced" or told off my boss in some Norma Rae type fashion. But, the simple truth is that I got screwed. Hard. In the a-s-s.
I'm a hard worker, I'm very good at what I do, but for some reason, this whole job/grown-up/responsible member of society thing has proven to be quite impossible to navigate successfully. My father has been at the same job for 15 years, my mother is reaching the ten year mark with her employer. I, on the other hand, have not been able to hold onto a paycheck for even a year at a time. What does this say about me? Maybe that I'm meant to marry rich and shop all day, maybe these employers are intimidated by my incredible beauty and ridiculous charm. Whatever the problem, I'd like to get it resolved ASAP so that I can continue to set city-wide fashion trends and have a car to terrorize fellow drivers. I have becomed very accustomed to the roof over my messy head and the ability to pay for the few meals I manage to eat a week. Losing these rather material things would devastate me, but not nearly as much as packing it up and moving back to my parent's home, defeated and completely embarrassed. So far, this is not even close to becoming an option (Thank GOD) but the way things have played out to this point, I may be closer to this than I want to accept.
Don't get me wrong, I love my parents. I do. But their house is no longer my home. My home is the two-bedroom apartment in the sleepy riverside community with the gorgeous hardwood floors currently smothered in piles of clothes needing to be laundered. My home is the city with its four malls and five Targets and the church filled with people who truly, truly care for me. I love this city, these people, these floors. I know I haven't written much about my time here and what little I did pen seems to be somewhat negative. The truth is that I have spent the last nine months falling in love with this town and the fantastic life provided for me here. And though it seems as though that life is crumbling to bits around me now, I wouldn't take a single second back. Not one.
Now that life has to go on, move forward, even if just one second at a time. Looking too far ahead of that knocks the wind right out of me. So, one second at a time. That's manageable, right?

Yesterday, All My Troubles Seemed So Far Away

2005-07-12T13:38:00.000-04:00

Here are some pictures of me as an innocent young child, as yet untouched by the uber-harsh realities of this world. I'm posting them because they make me smile and remind me of happier, more blessed times. So much has happened in the past weeks, I don't even know where or how to begin expressing it and I'm not quite sure I'm ready to talk about things yet, so until I am, I'm going to remind myself and all of you how good I look when I can eek out a smile.

Closer To Fine

2005-07-08T14:17:00.000-04:00

Don't tell Tom Cruise, but today I started on my first course of Zoloft. Not able to find the magic vitamin pills he speaks of and sick and tired of feeling like I was headed for a padded room, I summoned the courage to talk to my doctor and take a proactive step in my mental health. For several months now, I have been plagued by anxiety attacks caused by a panic disorder I was too afraid to talk about. Not wanting to be labeled, I suffered rather publically without disclosing what I feared may truely be causing my troubles. I blamed it on stress, on the heart condition, on overdosing on caffine, but I never dreamed of coming out and telling people the truth.
Until today, that is. Last night, and not for the first time, a good friend implied that I could control my illness if I truely wanted to. Little did he know this is not true, not without some help at least. This morning, I cried my way through a doctor's visit and tearily confessed that, despite my best efforts to prove otherwise, I am not well. She made the diagnosis I feared and prescribed the course of treatment I desperately need. For the first time since this all began, I feel like the doctor really heard what I was saying. Maybe that's because for the first time I was really honest about what I am dealing with.
I've gone back and forth as to whether I wanted to come out and talk this publically about my struggle. I still fear the "crazy" label but I think it's important to talk about things like this. People who have spoken out about their own struggles with their own illnesses were the ones who inspired me to seek help. If I could be that for someone else, it would make anything worthwhile. Without them, I may have continued on without treatment for a very long time and who knows where that secretive path might have taken me.
For now, though, I'm trying to be optimistic. For now, until the shaking starts and the heart pounds right out of my chest, I'm trying to think positively about the fact that this could put an end to my panic attacks, to my misery and my own personal hell.

Battle of Who Could Care Less

2005-06-30T11:27:00.000-04:00

Does anyone else think that Penelope Cruz is thanking her lucky stars that she ditched Tom before he went to the dark side of crazy? I would be. Seriously, the man is a loon. Also, wouldn't you all agree that this relationship with Katie Holmes is a little suspect? Come on now. I think you would have an easier time convincing me that Sigfried and Roy are just really close friends than you would getting me to believe that Tom Cruise is truly in love with Joey. It doesn't strike anyone else as odd that he has spent the entire press tour for 'War of the Worlds' professing his love for a B-list, sub par actress under the Eiffel Tower and ranting about Brooke Shields and the psuedoscience of psychiatry? Could it be he is trying desperately to distract us from how crappy his movie will be and convince us that he still has a plausible career and is still important in the eyes of the world? He reminds me a bit of the children I used to babysit, who, when I was otherwise distracted, would stamp their feet and scream, "Look at me, LOOK AT ME!!!" And then, when I had had enough of the screaming and would redirect my attention towards them, it turned out they only wanted show me how capable they are at hopping on one foot for the 100th time that hour. Annoying when done by a child, just plain tragic when done by a fully grown** man.

**Please note that, despite his short stature, Tom Cruise can in fact be considered fully grown.

Let Your Dreams Be Dreams

2005-06-17T15:59:00.000-04:00

Careful kids, some dreams really do come true.

Do I Ever Cross Your Mind?

2005-06-16T14:09:00.000-04:00

Maybe this could help explain things.

Deep, Dark Secrets of His and Her Brains

Taken from todays LA Times, written by Robert Lee:

"...Witelson is convinced that gender shapes the anatomy of male and female brains in separate but equal ways beginning at birth. On average, she said, the brains of women and men are neither better nor worse, but they are measurably different.

"What is astonishing to me," Witelson said, "is that it is so obvious that there are sex differences in the brain and these are likely to be translated into some cognitive differences, because the brain helps us think and feel and move and act. Yet there is a large segment of the population that wants to pretend this is not true."

No one knows how these neural differences between the sexes translate into thought and behavior — whether they might influence the way men and women perceive reality, process information, form judgments and behave socially. In the last decade, studies of perception, cognition, memory and neural function have found apparent gender differences that often buck conventional prejudices.

Women's brains, for instance, seem to be faster and more efficient than men's. All in all, men appear to have more gray matter, made up of active neurons, and women more of the white matter responsible for communication between different areas of the brain. Overall, women's brains seem to be more complexly corrugated, suggesting that more complicated neural structures lie within, researchers at UCLA found in August..."

The Hardest Button to Button

2005-06-16T08:32:00.000-04:00

I'm an avid dreamer. At night, when I tuck myself in, wrap the duvet under my legs, and attempt to put the day behind me, I look forward to the moments about to play out in my mind. Nightmares are seldom and tend to be the recurring kind, so dreaming is often pleasant and, at times, much more bearable than the real worlds I inhabit during the day. My dreams are never surreal, always full color, full of emotion and made up of the real people I see day in and day out. Some mornings I struggle with separating the fact from the fiction, the actual timeline of my life versus the courses I take in my dreams. I remember an episode on tv one time when a terminally-ill woman was fighting her family and friends because she wanted her doctors to induce a coma to allow her to live the remains of her life in dreams. There are days when I cannot blame her. But, there are also days, like today, when I wake up and could never imagine choosing such a life. Not necessarily because my waking moments are so pleasant but rather because the dreams aren't always so satisfying.
Last night, I dreamt that I had a knock-down, drag out screaming match with a close friend and, because we couldn't reconcile our differences, the relationship was over. The moment was painful and loud and when I woke this morning the hurt and the fear of actually having such an encounter were still very, very present. Those feelings have lingered through the day, brought me low and knocked the wind right out of me. I wish I could say this is rare, that dreams never affect me in such an insane way, but, this is actually a somewhat regular occurence. Some mornings I feel energized, full of excitement and happiness. Other days, I'm so angry I can hardly speak. All because of the life I live and feel in my dreams.
Dreams like the one last night and mornings like today are the events that make you take a step back, drop to your knees, and pray to God that those events never play out in real life. It makes you happy for what you have, sad for what you could lose, and willing to work hard to keep moments like that at bay. I think those dreams also speak to the bigger emotions tucked away in my subconcious that come from living with people and dealing with relationships.
Relationships are hard because people are hard. For all the time that I have spent in my life attempting to study human communication, I've come up short in the struggle to understand human behavior and, much more difficult, the workings of the mind and heart. My dreams allow me to work through my own issues, but real life rarely gives me the same insight into the thoughts and feelings of other people. I can infer the meaning of a touch or a tone, but inference and assumptions are almost never correct and tend to only add to the confusion and elevate the emotion. Added to the choas is the attempt to communicate with and understand the other sex. Women admit to their complexity but can, sometimes, easily understand the thoughts and actions of another woman. Men claim to be simple but are really just as screwed up and complex as women, giving them a rather unfair edge. When brought together, there can be no end to the frustration that comes from attempting to eek out some straight answers. Yes never means yes and no almost always means the exact opposite. Maybe might be a no, it could mean yes, but, especially when dealing with men, it generally tends to mean, "I haven't really thought about it that much to give you a real answer." I hate maybe's.
Communication aside, women and men want and need very different things from the other. A woman, for example, wants to talk because she needs the emotional connection. She closes her eyes when she kisses a man because she feels the moment. She goes out of her way to provide for someone because that is one way she chooses to express the affection she has for the recipient. All she really wants is for a man to understand her, accept her, and give back at the same level he receives. On the other hand, you have a man who wants to talk because-wait, has that actually ever happened? A man wanting to talk? He closes his eyes when he kisses a woman so he can picture Angelina Jolie without the distraction of another's face. He goes out of his way to provide for someone because he generally wants something from the recipient and can't think of another way to go about getting it. Supposedly, all he really wants is one thing and every action and every word is aimed at procurring a little tail. I don't mean to be harsh (well, maybe I do a little) but this is just what I've observed so far in my study of human interaction.
Not that this is any kind of breaking news. I don't think I've asked anything that people haven't been asking since the Garden and the Fall. Do you think Adam ever really got Eve? Do you think she came with a manual that he forgot to pack on his way out of Eden? I'm pretty sure that until real life is like dreams and we can manipulate people and situations with the flick of the mind, we'll continue to dance around these issues and problems. And it won't be like a waltz or the foxtrot, something elegant and magical. It will probably be something a bit more frantic and obnoxious, kind of like Flashdance or the macarena. Stupid macarena.

2005-05-06T20:58:00.000-04:00

I read a story today that said twelve penguins in the San Francisco Zoo died after a long battle with chlamydia. That's right folks, those slutty little nutters finally got what was coming to them. It would seem they contracted the clap from a local sea gull. My question, how did the bird get an STD? I think we all know how a sea gull, in San Francisco, got chlamydia. Sadly, this story was a long time coming and can teach us all a valuable lesson. Do not have sex with birds. They're ugly, filthy, and obviously sexually immoral.

Love and Some Verses

2005-05-02T14:11:00.000-04:00

Iron and Wine

Love is a dress that you made long to hide your knees.
Love to say this to your face, I love you only.
For your days and excitement, what will you keep for to wear?
Someday drawing you different, may I be weaved in your hair?

Love and some verses you hear
Say what you can't say
Love to say this in your ear, I love you that way.
From your changing contentments, what will you choose for to share?
Someday drawing you different, may I be weaved in your hair?

2005-04-09T22:50:00.000-04:00

Fester, fester, fester. Rot, rot, rot.

2005-04-08T08:57:00.000-04:00

This morning, as I was checking in on the world, a news headline flashed across the screen that left me, well, a little confused. It read, "John Paul II Worried About Health." As his funeral is later today, I would say that those concerns may be a little justified if not too little too late.

It's Always Better When We're Together

2005-04-06T15:49:00.000-04:00

"One of the most precious ways a person can show affection for someone else is by investing time in them. Time is our most valuable human asset, and choosing to sacrifice that to pay attention to someone else's life and involve yourself with them emotionally is, if anything, a gift. Because you certainly can’t give something like that for the sake of getting the same in return, you can only give up such a commodity out of your own kindness and good intentions." ~Sarah Hatter

2005-03-30T17:14:00.000-05:00

I've had alot on my mind recently, so much to say to so many people. Rather than take the time and effort to confront them one by one, I've addressed each and every issue in an open letter to the following people:

The Girl Scouts of America- This is getting a bit ridiculous. Last month when I purchased two packages of your mouth-watering, can't-wait-to-get-home-to-tear-open-the-box chocolate and peanut butter cookies, I nearly attacked the green clad scout who informed me that these small bites of heaven are now $3.50 a box. Three dollars and fifty cents!? To add insult to injury, there were only 15 cookies in that box. Do you know how long it takes me to eat 15 of your cookies? About three and half minutes. Seriously, ladies, you're just taking advantage of us now and I might have to think about possibly considering purchasing fewer boxes next time.

Truck drivers of America- Please stop. Not only do your road-clogging, filth-spewing vehicles get in my way, slow me down, and cause serious amounts of road rage every single day, but you, drivers, are all generally obnoxious as well. Please note that honking, waving, making kissy faces and winking in my direction will not ever result in anything but complete disgust. Also, GET OUT OF THE LEFT LANE!

Downstairs neighbors- You people are seriously starting to piss me off. You're old, your food smells awful, and your dog shits all over the yard. Please do not come to me to complain about the amount of noise my cat makes in the middle of the afternoon or that the sound of my breathing kept your mother up for hours last night. I've had made some serious efforts in pretending that you and your family do not exist, I only ask that you do the same where I am concerned. Also, I've noticed that the number of felines prowling around outside your door has mulitplied exponentially since the time I moved in five months ago. Please note that cats are not and should not be collectible items unless they are made of glass.

The gentleman brushing his teeth rather energetically in traffic yesterday - Please don't stop. You are the funniest thing I have seen all week. I especially enjoyed the part where you swished your mouth wash for 25 minutes and then capped it all off with a good gargle.

Retailers of America (particulary Banana Republic, Lucky Brand Clothing, Calvin Klein, and TARGET) - Please stop accepting my credit cards. I can't control myself. Me, my quickly declining bank account and future credit score are all counting on you. P.S. I love you.

Chik-Fil-A - Your food is delicious. I noticed that you've started offering Diet Dr. Pepper and for that you have my heart. Fantastic chicken, waffle fries and my beverage of choice, what more could a girl want. Thank you.

Apple Computers - Was it absolutely necessary for you to lower the price of your 4 GB iPod mini only weeks after I purchased mine for $250? The way I see things, you owe me. Big time.

Your consideration in these matters is greatly appreciated.
Sincerely,

2005-03-29T09:40:00.000-05:00

Looking back

Unbreak My Heart

2005-03-09T21:30:00.000-05:00

The weather here has taken a turn for the frigid, leaving everyone slightly shocked and trembling in their Bermuda shorts and sleeveless tees. Only days ago the mercury was rising and the temperature was sitting pretty at 70. Saturday was absolutely gorgeous and the park down the street was host to hundreds taking advantage of the glorious day - cute families flying kites, a couple or two lounging in the greening grass and a small wedding party gathered to preserve the moment by the riverside. Today, the skies were gray and angry, not a trace of beauty to be found. The weather inside was dismal as well, clouds darkening the moods of almost everyone. I spent the day on the edge of tears, often giving way to the welling flood of hurt and self-pity. Iron and Wine and Ray Lamontagne spent most of their day breaking my already shattered heart.
My entire world, physical and emotional, seems to be centered around issues of the heart these days. My heart, as in the organ that pumps blood and generally tends to keep you alive, is actually broken due to a slight defect. I’ve had this condition for a few years but in recent weeks things seem to have taken a turn for the unpleasant. Symptoms that once made appearances every few months have now started to occur every few days. Three doctors and a bevy of ER nurses can only offer sympathy, of which they have very little, and a buffet of medications that really don’t work and have the most excruciating side effects. The one thing they don’t have is answers. Why is this happening? How can I fix it? No one seems to know and their remedies resemble a band-aid attempting to cover a gaping wound.
My other heart, as in the emotional center that loves and lives and generally tends to keep you alive, is in a fragile state as well. The past five months have not been easy but they haven’t been tragic, either. I suppose I’m still struggling to find some security, trying to plant myself somewhere safe and lasting with the kind of support that you can only get from people you love and love you in return. In the time I’ve lived as a bona fide adult, I’ve managed to ask a lot of questions and have come up short time and again on answers. But, you know, I think Jack Johnson put it best when he wrote, “Love is the answer, at least, for most of the questions in my heart. Why are we here? Where do we go? How come it’s so hard? It’s not always easy and sometimes life can be deceiving. I’ll tell you one thing, it’s always better when we’re together.”
Make no mistake; I’m not after your pity. I have the market cornered on my own. I know that tomorrow, when the sun shines out from behind the gloom, life will seem much brighter, much lighter. I know that my hearts will mend and answers will come. I know that everything worth wanting takes time. Most importantly, though, I know that grace only comes to the broken.

The Wish

2005-02-26T15:32:00.000-05:00

I wish that I could be someone else sometimes
I understand that I'm not supposed to feel like this
I should be happy inside I'm trying, honest I am,look how busy I am
but I might not learn how to fix it or even change it

Well I might try opening up
sometimes I can be angry inside
I'm fine, I'll do it myself like I've done it before
and I won't need anyones help I mean anyones help
but I might not learn how to fix it or even change it

~Josh Canova

Bedshaped

2005-02-23T17:10:00.000-05:00

I'm writing to you from the me-shaped hole forming in my mattress. I've been in this exact spot for almost three days, making only a few brief appearances in the outside world. Short trips to work, the doctor, the emergency room and two fairly miserable attempts to be social were all my tired little form could handle. I'm not exactly sure what has placed me in bed, certainly not your run of the mill flu as I have none of the usual symptoms. Swollen glands, a fever that comes and goes and a righteous case of fatigue have made this mystery illness a bitch to beat and has left me desperate for the runny nose and hacking cough of influenza.
On Monday, after a seven and a half hour trip to the ER for unrelated problems, I wretched myself from bed and into the office. I lasted only an hour, my limbs bruised and aching and my body screaming for sleep. By the evening I was able to pull myself together enough to make an appearance at my friend's birthday dinner but was back in bed before 10. Tuesday I made it a bit longer, but was sent home after lunch due to a raging fever. This time Motrin and more sleep tricked me into a secure sense of wellness. That lasted only a few hours and I was wiped before I even hit the social scene. This morning, after almost 12 hours of sleep, I was barely able to make it to the doctor on time. He checked my glands, still swollen, checked my fever, still raging, and ordered more blood to be taken and checked for whatever is toying with my immune system. Still no real diagnosis, only conjecture and a whole lot of, "Let's wait and see." On the upside, I did leave with a free stash of Allegra and yet another follow up appointment where I pay him money and he gives me NOTHING.
So, the inventory for this week thus far includes six incredibly painful needle scars, 34 hours spent in bed, three weeks worth of free Allegra, half a box of Motrin Cold and Sinus, four cans of soup and $65 down the drain(taken by doctors who tortured me for hours and diagnosed me with NOTHING). Impressive, I know, but what can I say. We can't all be this forunate.

America's Most Wanted

2005-02-18T14:10:00.000-05:00

One day, during a pajama laden day in the midst of my summertime unemployment, I called my mother in the break between daytime dramas. I don't really recall what we were discussing, probably some inane banter about the fruitlessness of my life, but I began to notice small clicks interrupting her as she spoke. When I questioned her about it, she said she hadn't noticed and mentioned it must be on my end. I suggested someone had tapped our line and was listening in on our conversation. Unlikely, she said, but to prove my point I said ratherly loudly that I was glad I had decided against my plan to plant bombs in the neighborhood sewers. We laughed and laughed until a third voice popped in on the line. "Hello?" he said. "This is the phone man and we're just checking the lines." Startled, almost speechless, I screamed into the phone, "I was only kidding! There are no bombs! I was just kidding!" He never answered me, never assured me that he understood my ridiculous attempt at humor. Instead, there was only silence and a growing pit of fear that somewhere on a watchlist in the offices of the FBI sits my name in giant bold letters.

2005-02-09T15:43:00.000-05:00

This is infectious mononucleosis.
Doctors suspect that this unwelcome virus has nestled in for an extended stay.
Stay back, folks, I could be contaminated.

At Last

2005-02-07T16:38:00.000-05:00

Look how pretty!

Our Endless Numbered Days

2005-02-02T16:39:00.000-05:00

Another dollar, another day spent in doctor lobbys and hotel rooms. Another course of meals taken at tables for one and another night spent away from friends and family and just about everything else that I love. But I signed up for this when I took this job so, until I am otherwise employed, this is my life.

Today, in the waiting room of my last appointment, there was a steady stream of people seemingly on their last legs. It was like sitting aside the runway of some medical equipment fashion show. Instead of 4 inch heels and bangle bracelets, these models sported all the lasted trends in aluminum walkers and oxygen tanks. There seemed to be so much pain with every step and I couldn't stop myself from trying to find the past in each of their crinkled faces. When I was standing in line for the bathroom, I noticed a small man waiting near the door of the ladies. How odd, I thought, until I noticed an equally small woman hobbling out of the stall. He placed his hand on her back and steadied her as she made her way back to the lobby. I wondered what their love looked like when it was new and I wondered how my love will look when it's old. Years from now, when that elusive he and I take slower and slower steps through life, will our faces have traces of the early years, will our hands still tingle at the touch of the other, will our eyes still glitter at the sight of our beloved? My heart heaves a happy sigh to think of the one who at the end of our lifetime, will place his hand on my back and love me then the way he did when I was beautiful and young. I have ridiculous amounts of love welling up within me and I find it tremendously difficult, almost torturous, to keep it all inside. Intense thoughts for the waiting room of a doctor's office, I know. But there was so much beauty and knowledge and wisdom in that room, hiding under a dense layer of failing bodies and aching bones, that I couldn't help but be touched.

If Only I Don't Bend And Break

2005-01-25T16:01:00.000-05:00

January marks three months at my not-so-new job, a milestone to say the least. Three months employed and on my own in a place that becomes more and more familiar everyday. A lifetime has passed since I drove into town, my little head full of big ideas, and yet it's really been only a handful of weeks. It has been quite an adventure, full of the peaks and valleys you always have to overcome in life. I must admit to a modicum of pride from having blazed this trail almost entirely on my own. Of course, it’s always better if you have someone to travel that road with you, helping you when the highs are too high and the lows too low, but I would say I’m managing fairly well on my own. I do have to say, though, it hasn’t been easy.
Nothing is perfect, you know, and sometimes I think I expect perfection too often from the people and circumstances surrounding my life. I’ve struggled with the crippling nature of disappointment, expecting entirely too much from people and finding it nearly impossible to forgive when they fail to meet the bar. Despite my relentless pursuit of the unattainable, I have gathered a small group of people that I care for tremendously and I’m surprised by how many of them have actually managed to stick around, putting up with my ridiculous moods and forgiving me time and time again.
I struggle the most with the fact that nothing ever stays the same here and I've never been an advocate for change. Instead, I thrive under the watchful, secure eye of constancy. I'd like to think that when change inevitably comes I can roll with the punches the same as everyone else, but the horrible awful truth is that change shakes my world and devastates it the way earthquakes might rip apart 3rd world countries. Unfortunately for me the past three months have brought more change than the previous twenty-three years of my life. I often find myself desperately seeking the security I’m addicted to and making a dramatic and elaborate show of the process. There are days when I can hardly catch my breath.
I’m highly optimistic that things will start to settle in the coming weeks, that the path that has been laid out before will become clear. Things can only get better because I would hate to see myself should they take a turn for the worse.

Heck Yes

2005-01-24T10:12:00.000-05:00

Deb
(Please rate my quiz)

Which Napoleon Dynamite character are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Happy New Year

2005-01-01T16:16:00.000-05:00

...

...

Happy New Years, from me (on the right)!

2005-01-01T14:48:00.000-05:00

So, maybe I spoke to soon. Shortly after the previous entry was posted, plans were formed, hair was curled and I left the house to celebrate New Years as any single girl should. Nothing too elaborate, only an intimate gathering of me, some friends, the guy I served on jury duty with a couple of months ago, one or two reality television celebrities and about 2,500 fellow Tamponians and Outback Bowl tourists. We all piled into the clubs and courtyards of the downtown waterfront district and anxiously awaited midnight's promise of a ball drop and fireworks. In the meantime, we entertained ourselves with over priced and watered down mixed drinks and an informal parade of New Year's attire, ranging from mullets and members only jackets to sequined ball gowns and purple pimp suits. As judging people based solely on their outwards appearance happens to be one of my favorite pastimes, the evening was ripe with enjoyment. Minutes to midnight, we found our way to the parking lot to watch the rockets' red and green and blue glare. 2004 passed away moments later, drowned out by party horns and noisemakers and the slow pop, pop, pop of the rather unimpressive fireworks display. Airwaves were jammed with the requisite celebratory calls from one party to another, making it all but impossible for me to reach out and touch the people who matter most. I mean, what is a New Year's party without a few drunken dials and slurring, "HAPPY NEW YEAR" in a voicemail for someone you hope is your sister.
We soon found our way back to the car and out into the streets crowded with taxi cabs and party buses. Someone from the charter coach in front of us threw a bottle onto the hood of the red Eclipse waiting to turn in the next lane. The unbelievably short and hot headed driver in the Eclipse took the next logical step to answer such an act and proceeded to ram his car into the side of the bus. He then got out of his car, screamed a few choice words in the direction of the bus's driver, got back in the car, ran the red light and sped off into the night. The poor bus driver could only amble onto his next destination as the drunken revelers aboard his coach would not stand to waste another second of their night with reporting the incident. They went on to party and I was soon topping off the night with a couple episodes of Cops and a restless nap on the couch of a friend.
All in all, an enjoyable evening, though not exactly the celebration that memories are made of. I may have broken the streak and only 364 more days to see if this change of New Year's luck continues.

Should Old Acquaintace Be Forgot?

2004-12-31T19:45:00.000-05:00

I really, honestly, can't stand New Year's Eve. Never in my 23 years of observing the passing of one year into another have I enjoyed the madness that tends to mark this so-called holiday. There was one year, maybe two, that stands out as being less miserable than all the others, but most have been the stuff that sad, pathetic romance movies are made of. Take for example the year I watched the ball drop alone, hugging my ragged little bear and sitting on the floor of my living room, my entire family having chosen to sleep their way into January. Or the year I spent fighting off three rather foul smelling Asian men on the dance floor of some random club, unable to leave due to the fact that I was at the mercy of my host and his horribly flaky date. This year looks to offer no break from my awful streak of bad luck. After making tentative plans with several people, it appears those plans have all fallen through, leaving me "celebrating" alone at home yet again. Not even Dick Clark will be joining me this year.
There has got to be more to it than this, something I'm missing or maybe just misunderstood. Maybe there is something lacking in my approach to New Year's that makes each and every occurence an in-depth study into human misery and unmet expectations. Or maybe, just maybe, everyone else on this planet was born with a "Happy New Year" gene and by some weird genetic mutation I was born without this vital DNA strand thus making it physically impossible for me to enjoy myself.
Whatever the cause, my heart is heavy tonight. Because as much as I can't stand this holiday, I want SO badly to savor every second of it. I would LOVE to ring in the new year with good cheer and a genuine smile and be able to understand why people celebrate. But for now, I guess that understanding will just take a little longer.
Hope you have a Happy New Year. Have fun and be good.

Baby, It's Cold Outside

2004-12-29T20:01:00.000-05:00

Well, not so much anymore as the temperature here in Central Florida has sky-rocketed up to 70 over the past few days. I'm working in Orlando this week, killing time in between holidays and making entirely too frequent trips to the many malls this town has to offer. Four, at least. I don't know why this impresses me so much, Tampa has just as many, as does Jacksonville. I guess the lonely nature of business trips seems to heighten every emotion. Empty hotel rooms, tables for one, solitary wanderings around a town I've grown to dislike immensely. I miss my house, my bed, and the people I've come to rely on and care for deeply. I've taken to Jacksonville unbelievably well and I've become accustomed to the complete contentment my life provides.
Christmas was good but brief. Three short days then it was back to the grind as though nothing really extra ordinary had taken place. Now we're just days away from another new year and I don't know really how to feel. This was a great year. God was good to me and has provided for me in ways I could never deserve. A new year, a clean slate makes me nervous. Hundreds of new days to fill with greatness but, in reality, I'm much more likely to use that time to screw up. I can't see what's coming and I don't know what to expect and I'm terrified of being totaly blindsided by the curveballs coming in my direction. On the other hand, I could spend the next year being pleasantly surprised by the completely unpredictable nature of things. But isn't that what life is really about? Taking the good with the bad, catching everything that life has to throw at us and doing it all with what little grace and dignity we are provided. The problem, I'm about as graceful as an elephant doing ballet. So, we'll see I guess.

Smile Like You Mean It

2004-12-10T13:10:00.000-05:00

The halls at work today are eerie and empty as most of the staff has off to prepare for tonight's Christmas party. After a morning full of rain, the skies have cleared and the air has cooled. The mood inside is still considerably dark, though, as the clouds have yet to clear from above my head. This has been a considerably unsettling week, leaving a rather unpleasant knot sitting hard in my stomach. Things have started to unravel, both professionally and personally, and I find that the harder I try to hold onto things the more I lose my grip all together.
So today in this empty office, I shut my door, turned up the music and sobbed. I've heard it said that crying is only an expression of self-pity and I have to say that I can't disagree with that. Today I cried because I feel alone and unloved. I cried because I feel like my best is not enough. I cried because I'm hurt and frustrated and disappointed and tired. I had no idea how exhausting it is to fake your way to happiness, how overwhelming it can be to slap on a happy smile when all you want to do is sink further into bed. My life feels as though it's falling apart and I cried because I won't burden anyone else with helping me pick up the pieces nor do I feel like anyone would if I bothered to ask.

Kathy's Song

2004-11-16T14:39:00.000-05:00

I hear the drizzle of the rain
Like a memory it falls
Soft and warm continuing
Tapping on my roof and walls

And from the shelter of my mind
Through the window of my eyes
I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets
To England where my heart lies

My mind's distracted and diffused
My thoughts are many miles away
They lie with you when you're alseep
And kiss you when you start your day

And a song I was writing is left undone
I don't know why I spend my time
Writing songs I can't believe
With words that tear and strain to rhyme

And so you see I have come to doubt
All that I once held as true
I stand alone without beliefs
The only truth I know is you

And as I watch the drops of rain
Weave their weary paths and die
I know that I am like the rain
There but for the grace of you go I

-Paul Simon

God Bless America

2004-11-03T09:57:00.000-05:00

(Photo Courtesy of AFP/Tim Clary)

Home is where your key fits in the lock

2004-10-22T22:27:00.000-04:00

After living out a suitcase for two weeks straight, I relieved to be back at home amidst family, familiar furniture and boxes upon boxes of my packed belongings. This weekend marks the true beginning of my life as an adult, complete with bills and my own apartment and an entire new start without any financial help whatsoever. I'm estatic and anxious and oh-so-ready to be out on my own.

The Morning After

2004-10-06T23:07:00.000-04:00

As wrapping things up here in town has to happen quickly, my days have turned into marathons. Packing, sorting, saying goodbyes. I think I like it that way. Being so focused on completing the task ahead has allowed me to completely block the bigger picture, and all of its unpleasant emotional baggage, from view. That is until tonight.
The excitement that drove me through most of the day has given way to anxiety and fear and hundreds of questions. The fact that I have this great new job has yet to sink in but the realization that I'll be moving away from everything and everyone I know and love has nestled into a large knot in my stomach. I'm not doubting my decision to take this job, I love this job, but what if the rest of my new life doesn't fall into place as easily as this position? It won't take long to find out, I guess.

2004-10-05T20:32:00.000-04:00

Well, I've decided and I'm moving. Not in a month, not in two weeks, but this weekend. Even more exciting than the sudden move is the reason why. I GOT A JOB! A real job, a PR job, a job that uses my skills and degree and pays me an unbelievable sum to do so.
They called on Thursday and wanted a phone interview the following afternoon. I, of course, agreed and that interview obviously went well because they called me in for a sit-down discussion on Monday. So, after a weekend of sweating bullets and biting nails, I made my way over to their office and gave it my all. Thirty minutes later, I walked back out, took a drug test and confidently drove back to await their call. Hour after hour, I waited. I cried, I called every person I could think of, I made every excuse in the book, and then I gave up. But then, at 7:45 pm, the phone rang and the voices on the other end finally asked if I would agree to meet again the next day. I couldn't say no, their offer was too good, so I said yes and then went to the store to buy new shoes. So this morning I rose bright and early, slapped on my "I can do this" face, and drove the 90 minutes back to their office. They had two questions. The dicussion took 20 minutes and then I was back in the car. I think I spent more time waiting in the lobby than I did in the hot seat. Before leaving they told me to expect a phone call sometime between then and midday Wednesday. In the car again, this time not so confident, I played every possible senario in my head, accepting with professional enthusiasm and taking the bad news with grace and understanding. Regardless of the outcome, I had prepared myself for a long wait. That was until 3:30. I was still in the car when I got the call. "Congratulations," they said, "the job is yours. You earned it and we are excited to have you on our team. Oh, and can you be here by Monday?" The professional enthusiasm gave way immediately to girly squeals and when I caught my breath I assured them that one way or another I would be there by the start of next week.
So, I'm moving. Not in a month, not in two weeks, but this weekend. To a town where I've never lived, to a place with few friendly faces, to a home filled with amazing opportunity and a clean slate. Ready or not, Jacksonville, here I come.

2004-09-26T15:33:00.000-04:00

For the love of God...

#24

2004-09-24T14:01:00.000-04:00

November 3, 2001, I'm standing high atop Ben Hill Griffin Stadium watching my Florida Gators beat the pants off Vandy. It's late in the third quarter and most of the crowd, comfortable with the home team's untouchable lead, has wandered out to properly celebrate yet another Gator victory. I, however, cannot take my eyes off the field. More specifically, I can't take my eyes off Vandy's #24 and the most beautiful head of curly hair I had seen to date. Even from the top of the stadium I could follow every move that hair made. Slumping over the bench, humiliated, running onto the field, determined, returning to the sidelines, defeated. It was blond and beautiful and I had to have it. Late in the 4th, my friend Ashley and I made our way down to the first row, leaned over the edge and screamed his number. After a few cries, he heard, looked back and gave us the most disgusted look I've ever seen. Maybe he thought we were taunting, maybe he was embarassed by his less than stellar performance. Despite the excuse, though, he was rude and his hair was about the only feature he had going for him. The attitude was a joke, the face was a mess, but I walked out of the stadium that night knowing I would never forget that hair.

September 24, 2004, I'm laying in bed, watching re-runs of the Real World in Philadelphia. As the cast is being introduced, a familiar mess of blond and curls flashes onto the screen. It takes a moment for the facts to sink in, for ends to meet, for the thought to click. MTV's MJ, the hard body lady killer with a heart of gold, is the one and only #24. For a moment I'm back in that stadium, back on that ledge. Same old face, same old attitude, same unforgettable hair. Only now, that once free flowing and wild tangle of curly locks has been chopped off and matted down with product. It was like running into your high school crush years after graduation and finding out that he's fat and bald and sells timeshares over the phone. I was so disappointed, I could have cried.

Painfully Obvious

2004-09-22T20:22:00.000-04:00

Well, looks like New York is a bust. For now, at least. I've allowed myself a week to hope, to hold my breath, to dream big. That week having past, it's now time to get a grip, move on, and try again.
I have decided that with or without a job, I will be moving sometime in the next few months. Where, I'm not exactly sure. I've made a list of possibilities-some realistic, some not so much. There is nothing left for me here, just a lot of hurt and rejection and missed opportunities. I am ready to reinvent myself, to start over from the beginning and make something of my life. I have a lot of thinking to do over the next few weeks, a lot of researching and soul searching. But right now, I'm at a complete loss as to what to do and where to go. So, here's the list, in no particular order, let me know what you think.

New York
San Francisco
Philadelphia
Denver
Nashville
Charlotte
Atlanta
Jacksonville

No news is good news, right?

2004-09-14T18:53:00.000-04:00

It's been over 24 hours since I sent off my resume and I've got nothing. No emails, no phone calls, nothing. A little depressing but not so much as out and out rejection. I am trying my hardest not to jump to conclusions, but me being me I've already run through every possible outcome, twice. I've cried in the shower, pleading with God to let this happen only moments after pricing new furniture and finding plane tickets home for the holidays.
They say insanity is repeating the same action time and again expecting different results. Should that be true, mark me down as certifiable. This manic-depressive approach to job hunting has been my trademark. I've been in this place so many times before, frustrated by the silence while building up the outcome until, ultimately, it becomes painfully obvious that the answer is NO.
I'm not quite ready to accept that yet. I want this job, I love this job, but most importantly, I CAN DO THIS JOB. I can kick this job's ass. So keep it up with the praying, and the crossing of the fingers, and the sending of the vibes. I won't go down without a fight.

Signs

2004-09-13T16:43:00.000-04:00

“There are all different ways you can tell that there's someone really there watching out for us. You see signs. Sometimes they're little ones. You think of someone. The phone rings. They're on the phone... Sometimes they're big, like fourteen lights hovering over Mexico City. What you have to decide is what kind of person you are? Are you the type who believes in miracles and looks for signs or are you the kind who believes, things just happen by chance?” ~M. Night Shyamalan,Signs

Friday night I sat at home, steeped in misery and spending yet another evening on the sofa in the living room of my parents home (pathetic, I know). Tom Brokaw was chronicling the tragic story of Aron Ralston, the dashing young adventurer who cut off his arm to save his life. He was somewhat attractive and ridiculously rugged, so I did what any woman in my position would do, I googled him. In the midst of my search, I stumbled across a job opening. A great job, a perfect job, a job I have possibly spent my life preparing for. I took the weekend to get my stuff together, to rewrite my cover letter, to adjust my resume, to research cost of living and the feasibility of relocation. By Sunday night, I was ready; but, not wanting to seem unprofessional, I decided to wait until early the next morning to send everything. This could have been a problem. As my joblessness ensues, my chronic insomnia is settling back in and mornings rarely start before 11. Last night, sleep came easliy and this morning, amidst dreams of big cities and apartment hunting, I was awoken by Katie Couric introducing her next guest. Aron Ralston was sitting across from her. It was 8:30 am. I took this as a sign.
I would never have woken that early on my own, despite the fact that I had wanted to send my application by 9. Ralston was the reason I found the job, and then, because of him, I wake up early when I never would have otherwise. Little things...leaving the tv on NBC the night before, waking up at precisely the time he came on the screen. I have to believe this isn't just coincidence. I need to know that miracles are out there.
So, cross your fingers, say a prayer, send some good vibes out into the final frontier. I really don't think we're alone in this world, but I'd rather not take any chances.

Three Years

2004-09-11T13:44:00.000-04:00

Take time today to hug someone, to smile at a stranger, to say I love you. Thank God today for the good moments and the bad. Find a moment today to reflect on what we have overcome. But, most importantly, LIVE today. Fight for goodness and light. We owe it those who can no longer struggle.

Blown Away

2004-09-08T16:32:00.000-04:00

Well, the winds have stopped, the rain is long gone and the pile of yard debris sits rotting at the curb. People all over town are still picking up shingles and siding and dragging downed trees to the chipper. Frances was a bitch, to say the least.

Update

2004-09-05T16:43:00.000-04:00

We're smack in the middle of Hurricane Frances, a little windswept but amazingly still standing and with power to boot. The heavy wind and rains moved in around 10 last night and have only gotten worse as the storm has almost stalled on top of us. My house is surrounded by dozens of enormous oak trees, towers of branches and leaves and spanish moss. They dance and bend in the tremendous amount of wind but are standing firm, branches intact and dumping only moderate amounts of debris. The rain is coming down in sheets that go wherever the wind does. Cabin fever set in hours ago and is only getting worse as the prospect of leaving the house stretches out into tomorrow afternoon. Alot of storm left to go, I'll see you on the other side.

2004-09-05T16:40:00.000-04:00

Hurricane Frances

This is just a tad ridiculous

2004-09-04T17:50:00.000-04:00

The news stations around here can hardly believe their luck. Two major hurricanes in the span of a month. I think a few of the weathermen may have actually pissed their pants with excitemnt. Channel after channel with all day newscasts, replaying the same stories every other hour and not providing any real news except when the NWS provides new storm tracking information. They have, however, managed to work people into quite a frenzy. Neighbors have boarded their windows and Target was a madhouse of people stocking up on bottled water, batteries, and buy one get one bags of Cheetos. I have taken no precautions and have only a healthy store of DVD's and Diet Dr. Pepper. Here's hoping the power doesn't go out.

I'm Gonna Wash This Job Right Out of my Hair

2004-08-26T16:56:00.000-04:00

"...work is just a thing that you do when you’re not doing the things or people that you love most. It's what I do when I’m not trying to convince my mom that we are actually going to need to split a bottle, not a glass, of wine; when I'm not making silly birthday cards with construction paper and Elmer’s glue; when I'm not trying to bite my boyfriend’s chin, tease him about his lack of Scrabble skills, or invent absurd stories we can tell people about the way we met. It’s not your life; it’s just how you fund it." ~smitten

I've been so wrapped in the misery of this ridiculous job situation, I'd forgotten that having a life means so much more than making a living.

Which way to the soup line

2004-08-23T20:32:00.000-04:00

So, I got fired today. Well, not so much fired as asked firmly to resign. I can't say I'm surprised, I knew it was coming. I was supposed to be smack in the middle of a two week probation but apparently by two weeks, they meant one. I found out as I was sitting in the cafeteria of the county courthouse, smack in the middle of my first day of jury duty. Could I come into the office at the end of the day to "talk"? I agreed then promptly called my mom/career counselor to talk strategy. Thank God I had a box in the back seat of my car, just waiting for this moment to come. By 4:30 I was out of the jury box and off to face the music. By 6 I had cleared out my desk, given them a few pieces of my mind and was on my way home. I was upset, who wouldn't be, not so much at the loss of a job that I hated more than anything or the implied failure that comes along with it, but because I hadn't managed to get a new job while I was still employed at the old. I'm not sure what to do next or where to go from here. Things could be worse. I could have spent the last 5 months the way I spent the year before that. Help, anyone, please.

2004-08-13T09:53:00.000-04:00

Just in case you were wondering, hurricanes suck.

Obsession

2004-08-10T14:33:00.000-04:00

Listen, you'll understand.

2004-08-05T21:14:00.000-04:00

So I was standing outside P.F. Changs on Tuesday, taking an ill-deserved break from work with my friend Michelle, when my favorite reality star ever walked out the door and into my sight line. I was cool, making brief eye contact and offering a small wave. He was cooler, and much better looking than he appeared on TV. After a brief interruption, he came over and introduced himself. "Hi, my name is Troy," as if I didn't know. We chatted about Trump and his mom. He wanted to linger, I could see it in his eyes. Or maybe that was fear, I can never tell.

2004-07-19T19:29:00.000-04:00

This weekend, I attempted to go on a beach retreat with my family. Forty minutes after arriving at the run-down resort, I decided what I really needed was a retreat from my family. (Preferably on a deserted island with cable tv, and free massages, and dozens of beautiful men to shower me with presents and kisses and to wait on me hand and foot.) I love my family, I really, honestly do (most of the time), but 2 days in 2 rooms proved to be a tad more trying than I originally expected. Add to that ten members of my extended family offering their well-meaning "advice" as to what I should and should not be doing with my life and I completely lost it. For once I was pleased that work was calling.

Allison Schieffelin is my hero

2004-07-12T18:57:00.000-04:00

Today she and the EEOC leveled a $54 million bitchslap against her former employers for being insensitive, sexist pigs.
Today at lunch, the men in my office walked down the stairs and out the door, heading downtown for a "business lunch" so they could make company changing decisions in the privacy of their boy's only club. One of them actually said "No estrogen allowed," as he was shutting the door. I would take it as the joke they intended if these men didn't have meetings like this almost every day, locked away in a room upstairs, rarely including a single woman. I would chuckle along with everyone else if I didn't see that every high-paying, executive position was held by a man.
Today, Allison Schieffelin in my hero.

Yeah, I'm Gonna Have to Move On...

2004-06-29T18:14:00.000-04:00

All right, I've had it, I'm done, I'm moving on. The Boy has had his moment and after a month of unreturned phone calls, broken plans and trying too damn hard to catch his eye, I've decided to just let go. Now onto bigger boys, to better boys, to British boys...unless he calls.

2004-06-22T14:30:00.000-04:00

Keane

My sister says I'm a stalker, but I prefer to use the word fan

2004-06-22T14:28:00.000-04:00

Hotel in downtown Atlanta: $200
Three tanks of gas to cover 400 miles: $75
Ticketmaster tickets for one night only: $47
Front row center at the concert of the your dreams: Priceless

KEANE!! Friday night at the Cotton Club was SO AMAZING. Made some great new friends, but best of all got up close and personal with three of Britains newest rock stars. I've loved them since last summer so getting to hear them, see them, TOUCH them was like a dream. Tom was brilliant, Rich was funny, and Tim told me he was so impressed I knew the words to every song. I left that night, floating, with a set list, an entire roll of pictures and a whole second day of KEANE to look forward to.

Saturday afternoon at Tower Records, in hindsight, started much earlier than necessary. After a hurried lunch and a quick dash into one fantastic little shop to pick up some treats, I made my way to Tower to wait, and wait, and wait. With all that waiting, I had plenty of time to browse the ample shelves and buy a few too many presents for myself. About 45 minutes before showtime, I ran into Greg, the beautifully hot merch guy/personal trainer from New Zealand. We chatted for half an hour about his homeland, how he lived with Tom, whether or not I would make a good surfer and why Florida SUCKS. The boys finally came out and delivered yet another unbelievable show. Front and center once again and I swear Tom was singing to me. They came back out later to sign records. I gave Rich the Chocolate Hob Nobs I had bought for him earlier that day with strict instructions from Greg that they had to share and couldn't eat them until the next day. Tom mumbled that Rich had eaten every Hob Nob on the bus the day before and Rich was so excited to see that red little tin that he lept to his feet and threw his arms around my neck. Further down the line, Tim and I chatted about Krispy Kreme, the band's plans to tour the states again in September and the need for them to come to Florida ASAP.

My friend and sister practically dragged me from the store, but not before I went to say goodbye to Greg. It must pay to know the merch guy because he waved back by throwing me two of Rich's drumsticks.

Driving home was miserable. Eight hours after I started, I finally rolled into the driveway. Now all there is to do is wait until September.

2004-06-10T13:40:00.000-04:00

The Stanley Cup paraded through downtown yesterday, bringing with it the 20+ people who helped bring it here. Somewhere in the parade was a little yellow zamboni and somewhere on that zamboni was a cute bearded boy. He smiled and waved and threw a commemorative puck in my direction but still refuses to accept my invitation to lunch. I must admit to being slightly confused, more than a little disappointed and really at a loss for what to do now.

In other news, today is my birthday. A family friend approached me on Sunday, placed his hand on my shoulder, tilted his head to the side and said, "It's all right Mandy, you still have time. There are plenty men out there and you aren't that old." Apparently he misinterpreted 23 to mean 45 and he didn't even soften the blow with a present. You, however, can avoid his mistake and spoil me rotten with an untold number of presents.

Go Bolts!

2004-06-07T23:21:00.000-04:00

(Photo courtesy of Yahoo/CP)

Be careful what you wish for

2004-06-05T18:10:00.000-04:00

It might just come true.

He called, only hours after I pitifully bemoaned my meager existence in this awful little town. He called and invited me, ME, to watch Game 3 outside the Forum on Saturday night. It was a intimate occasion - me, and him, and 3,000 other fans sporting face paint and thunder sticks. Though I might have preferred something a bit more personal, I really didn't mind losing him to the charms of ice and pucks, cheap shots and the potential for some serious fights. He's a GUY and, worse, a FAN, so expecting him to turn away from a finals game was rather like expecting Vincent D'Onofiro to show up on my doorstep and drop to one knee. Despite the game, things went well. There were lots of side glances and secret smiles. At the end of the night there was even an invitation to join him later in the week for another game.

We haven't talked since then, but I'm suprisingly all right with the way that we've left the situation. I'm playing it cool, as cool as possible, and making deliberate yet seemingly casual moves towards progressing things away from the friendship tip. Things will happen if they're supposed to and I'm learning to accept that as fact.

2004-05-28T14:49:00.000-04:00

I'm having a crisis of faith. Recent events may seem to have brought it on, but, really, it's been coming for almost a year now. This revelation came last weekend when I met a boy. Seems silly, but that's the sad, pathetic truth.

When I moved back into my parents home, back to the town that I swore I would never habitate again, I had a plan. It was a simple plan-work, earn money, save said money, move as far away from here as realistically possible. The end destination has changed from time to time, but the rest of the plan has remained steadily intact. No where in that plan did I mention meeting a boy, falling for said boy, and driving myself crazy trying read his mind. Imagine my surprise when all of these feelings began to surface only hours after seeing each other for the first time. Yes, he is beautiful, even with the shaggy beard grown for playoff superstition. Yes, he is incredibly nice, and open, and just the type of guy I would love to be with, but I HAD A PLAN. Maybe it's delirium brought on by excessive loneliness, maybe I'm gagging for a good snog, but I haven't stopped thinking about this boy since we said goodbye. Nothing really too upsetting, yet. Nothing that could possibly bring on something as strong as a crisis, yet.

That is until Tuesday, after the previously mentioned delirium had drained all rational thought from my head, I called him. I know, I know, I said I was crazy. I called him and left a message, a casual message, a friend-type message inviting him to lunch sometime this week. The crisis comes from the fact that he hasn't called back. Still not a big deal, for some people, but for me, it's been devastating. I can only remember one time being this emotional over a boy, OVER A BOY. Granted he is a very special boy, but his seeming rejection touches on something hiding just under the surface.

The plan may have amazing possibilities, with enough money and some serious focus I could land anywhere my little heart desires. But the plan also has a Jeykll-like quality in that focusing only on the end result has meant sacrificing myself to loneliness. Enacting the plan proved to be an ordeal all its own and landing a respectable job turned out to be a hell of a lot harder than I originally imagined. After almost a year, I managed a find a desk and a paycheck to suit my temporary mindset. Instead of feeling fulfilled, though, the lack of people to share my time with has made life almost unbearable. I've attempted to replace people with workaholism, alcoholism, pilates and retail therapy, but only end up broke and sore with a ridiculous headache.

When the boy came along, I thought, "Finally, at the very least, a new friend." It seems God, however, has other things in mind, or rather, things on His mind other than my happiness. Steady, reliable friends have been unattainable, a boyfriend unthinkable, and despite almost constant prayer and meditation on the subject, misery seems to have taken up permanent residence.

I am so sad, sad because rejection always sucks, but even more sad because I feel abandoned and my faith has taken a nose dive. I only hope things turn up soon before I hollow out completely.

Pray for me.

Theme Song of my Life

2004-05-26T08:51:00.000-04:00

"Stones taught me to fly, love taught me to lie, life taught be to die, so it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball."

~Damien Rice

2004-05-25T20:24:00.000-04:00

Go buy Keane's "Hopes and Fears." You'll love it, I promise.

2004-05-14T20:47:00.000-04:00

On days like today, I really don't like my job. During weeks like this week, I can't help but dream that I were far, far away. In a life like this life, I can't help but wish I were someone else entirely.

2004-05-09T20:51:00.000-04:00

I miss college.

2004-04-16T21:28:00.000-04:00

So, some years ago I bought a novelty shirt from Abercrombie proclaiming my geek status. Tonight, I took a test that confirmed my right to wear that shirt on a regular basis.

My score-26.0355% - Total Geek. What's yours?

2004-04-10T19:29:00.000-04:00

God, I'm lonely.

2004-04-06T20:41:00.000-04:00

My desk sits in a dark corner of an old house on a quiet street two blocks from the bay. Though barren for a time, the walls and tabletops are now littered with momentos and the remnants of my obvious untidiness and penchant for scrap paper. On nice afternoons we eat lunch on the front porch or walk downtown for a sidewalk cafe picnic. The workload is either all at once or not at all, so in the downtime I busy myself with these, or this, or whichever DVD happens to be packed away in my briefcase. My boss, a fine , upstanding family man, was once a guest on a pre-sleaze episode of the Jerry Springer Show on which he discussed the drawbacks of allowing women wearing G-strings to sell hotdogs. Every morning and every night, I spend almost an hour fighting idiots over the 15 miles between work and home. My position commands minimal respect and I have worked hard to change that. So far, I've had little success.

Best of Show

2004-03-22T20:30:00.000-05:00

The stage was dark and the show was 10 minutes from starting. The small crowd of people, gathered to rock out to future stars, was pushing towards the front, elbowing for better views. While most were focused on the random roadie checking sound and tweaking amps, my eyes were locked on the figure standing in the back hall. Summoning every ounce of cool I had managed to store over the past 22 years of my life, I grabbed my camera, walked slowly towards the rear and locked eyes with the man who would soon take the stage and blow everyone away. "Damn, there are some beautiful girls in Florida," he said, toothbrush hanging from his mouth, to a random bandmate standing with him. The blonde standing next to me, also armed with film, introduced herself and asked for a quick picture. "Sure,"he said, "but I have to get this guy something first. Do you guys want to follow?" Like he had to ask. Before the guard could stop us, we were out the door and walking through the alley behind the club. Lizzie, the blonde, me, and a couple who had driven that night from Georgia, followed him excitedly around the corner and to the door of his bus. He struggled with the keypad but finally opened the door. Turning to us, he grinned, looked me in the eye and said, "After you." Once inside there were quick introductions to more band fellows and a short tour of his cramped quarters. I snapped a picture then we were headed back outside. In the dark, I almost missed the step but couldn't help but see his hand reaching up to help me down. Back on the ground there were more pictures, a side hug or two, and a heartpounding run back into the club to share this unbelievable news.

2004-03-17T18:01:00.000-05:00

I promise to write about my recent foray into the office realm, but right now, I'm still adjusting to the early, early mornings and the ridiculously crowded commute.

2004-03-08T17:30:00.000-05:00

It's official, I am now a bona fide member of the working class. After only ten months and three days of somewhat steady searching, I have a job and a paycheck and a health plan. I start Monday, wish me luck.

2004-03-07T17:27:00.000-05:00

Still no word on the perfect job, however, I do have an offer for second best. Holding my breath for the first has started to result in a bluish tint throughout so I will most likely accept the second and the green that comes along with it.

2004-02-25T16:14:00.000-05:00

I'm tired. Not from the continuing plague of sleep deprivation (which doesn't help matters) but rather from the constant mental warfare of unemployment. Circumstances are not entirely bleak. I had a second interview today for a job answering phones and a staffing agency nipping at my heels, anxious to place my skills and experience and years of education in a position doing exactly the same. A week ago, despite the mundane and brainless tasks both positions would imply, I would have pounced on either. But then, completely out of the blue, I get a call and a preliminary interview for a REAL job, an important job, a job that would actually make use of the degree I worked so hard to earn. And I thought I nailed that interview. I thought I was witty and intelligent and absolutely on top of my game. I thought I was perfect for this position. But they haven't called me back. And now I'm crushed, defeated and puffy from hours spent giving into the misery.

2004-02-15T21:11:00.000-05:00

Okay, so, now that the loveless and lonely angst of yesterday has past and to show you all that I have not given in to the bitter dark side of chronic singleness, I have compiled an impressive yet hardly exhaustive list of things that I love(or happen to like slightly more than most other things).

a nice hot cuppa tea

presents

shopping

sleeping

saturday morning cartoons

this show, and this one, and especially this one

a good purse and a nice pair of shoes

chinese food

cold days

spa days

doormen

diet dr. pepper

airports

starry nights

seasides

"the sound of music"

good books and great bands

tulips

a bargain

big cities

cocoa puffs and corn pops

and chocolate, in any form, whatsoever

Anti-Valentine

2004-02-14T12:08:00.000-05:00

As I have no one special to smother with love today, I thought instead I would create a list of things that I hate. I hate politics, and roaches and rush hour traffic. I hate uber-feminists and sleezy men who tell me that I'm beyond high maintainence. I hate rodents, and parrots and things flavored blue razzberry. I hate when pregnant women curse and cheesy proposals on national tv. I hate it when people say, "What it is is...." I hate mothers who give their children mullets and anyone who wears cartoon characters on their jeans. I hate clutter, and bad poetry and soft-porn romance novels. I hate my alarm clock. But, most of all, I hate my mother's jeans. They're tight and old and taper to a sharp point.

2004-02-12T20:09:00.000-05:00

Just when I was beginning to believe that true love really does last forever, this comes along to shatter that into tiny little pieces.

Be Mine

2004-02-11T18:15:00.000-05:00

In honor of the upcoming "holiday," I would like to introduce you all to the man I have spent practically every moment of every day of the past week with. Role model, philosopher, poet, musician, and a dancer.

Honestly, what more could a girl ask for?

2004-02-07T14:06:00.000-05:00

A small note to Mr. Brad Brothen, my twelfth grade creative writing teacher: You will be proud to know that I have completed the assignment you gave to me at the end of our last semester. I can now tell you, without Jeremy whispering the answer to me during passing periods, that Kevin Spacey is Keyser Soze. The movie was just as good as you predicted it would be. Thought you might like to know.

2004-02-06T15:21:00.000-05:00

I used to be terrible with rejection. Aftershocks always included crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth followed by extreme amounts of chocolate and ice cream (they call it comfort food for a reason), vodka, and Manilow's "Mandy" on constant repeat. Now, in a time where rejection letters are the first contact I have with many employers, I'd like to think that I have learned to handle defeat in a much more mature, ladylike way. I'd like to announce that after many of months of practice I have practically eliminated the teary-eyed rants. This change was not without serious amounts of personal sacrifice and growth and I may have had to increase the intake of sugar and liquor, liquor injected chocolates and chocolate flavored liquor, but let us not fail to appreciate the steps I have taken towards a more adult, emotionally disabled me.

2004-01-22T16:27:00.000-05:00

I wish that I could say that my silence has the been the result of a hectic worklife, or some unbelievable "Alias" type adventure involving guns and intrigue and gorgeous spies running through Europe, or that I met the man of my dreams and rushed off to Fiji to elope in a romantic sunset ceremony. But, no, sadly, I can only say that the past few weeks have involved only rejection, small crying children(in a strictly non-Michael Jackson sort of way) and mind-blowing amounts of tv, shopping and chocolate.
I have become rather adept at dreaming up complicated, romantic schemes to get out of this horrible rut. I have yet to figure out how to follow through on a single one.

2003-12-31T14:15:00.000-05:00

So, here we are, on the edge of yet another new year. I won't bore you with solemn reflections of the year soon past. Nor will I waste our time with hopeful outlooks on the year to come. I will only say that I am hoping for brighter days, bigger paychecks, continental experiences, and for that someone to kiss when next year's ball drops.

Happy New Year!

2003-12-25T16:46:00.000-05:00

Happy Christmas, folks.

2003-12-19T23:54:00.000-05:00

For the first time since my drinking debacle on my sister's birthday in September(a rather unpleasant weekend spent huddled on the floor of the bathroom after a rather naughty run-in with a bottle of tequila, two shots of vodka and a glass or two or three of wine) I went out drinking with some friends. The bar was dark and smoky and filled to the brim with lawyers and bankers, assholes and rejects, liars and short men overcompensating for their size. I, too, was dark and smoky- clothes were tight and trendy, boots were tall and pointy, hair and makeup were properly primped and flawlessly styled. The night went well, compliments were plenty, drinks were free, and former MTV competitors were friendly and forgiving of my over-enthusiasm. Eventually, though, as final call ticked closer, I watched as friends paired up and left me to nurse my import and make polite conversation with strangers about college and unemployment. I suppose I don't really mind coming home alone at the end of the night. After all, who wants their fairy tale romance to begin, "Once upon a time, in a bar far, far away, I was totally wasted after a night of drinking my troubles away when, all of a sudden, this random guy told me he could see himself in my pants and I knew. It was love." Avoiding that nightmare, however, doesn't make the hurt of romantic voids and an empty bed any less.

2003-12-17T00:22:00.000-05:00

This morning, as I was lying in bed and attempting to draw myself out of comatose, I was terrified to realize that I have no direction for the coming year. For 22 years I followed a rather distinct, well-cut path and now it seems as though I've taken an awful turn and have no idea where to go. I find myself in this situation far too many times, though in a less symbolic manner. I'm terrible with directions and often have to think much to hard to distinguish my left from my right, only in these situations a simple phone call to my father, a human atlas of sorts, seems to fix things quite well. I've been living under the same roof as my father for seven months now, an amazing feat all in its own, and am no closer to finding my way. Human atlas my ass.

2003-12-10T23:10:00.000-05:00

So, a few weeks ago, during my weekly trip to Target, I ran across this little diddy. That's right folks, now that US Weekly and ABC have successfully branded the chubby cheeks and charming smile of Bachelor Bob on the innermost recesses of America's memory, we can, for only $13.99, also ingrain his schreechy voice and poorly written, overly sentimental musings on love, loss and the heartbreak of rose ceremonies.

2003-12-03T23:20:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been looking at yourself in the mirror, thinking you look unbelievably hot, when your mom walks in, flicks the switch and asks why you're sitting around in the dark?

'Tis the Season

2003-11-30T23:48:00.000-05:00

In light of the fact that Christmas carols have taken over the airwaves, almost 30 over-sized plastic candy canes have sprouted in a neighbor's gardern, and the line to hoist local children onto the lap of the mall santa was over an hour long today, I have only one question- how might one go "a-wassailing?"

2003-11-27T22:28:00.000-05:00

Un-American as it may seem, I don't really like Thanksgiving. I have my reasons, something to do with eating luke-warm food off my lap as I sit on the cooler outside my aunt's double wide. Or maybe its replaying the same conversation fifty times, once with everyone family member present and then once again for the forgetful. "No, I don't have a job. Yes, I am looking. Yes, of course I remember the time last year when I was drunk and ran into you at Chili's. Why, no, I hadn't thought of looking for work at the mall. I'll look into that as soon as I get home." Or maybe its fighting traffic piles and red lights for almost two hours, each way, only to come back home and have to forage for corn dogs.
The sentimental me, the one who used to love Thanksgiving, really wanted to put the ghosts of holidays past aside and relish in good times and great food. Well, sentimentality seemed to get lost among the sale-paper tablecloths and 80 degree weather. Thanksgiving itself seemed to pale in the looming shadow of the "biggest shopping day of the year." My equally cynical younger brother agreed that today was less about giving thanks and being with family than it was just another Thursday with an over-abundance of holiday themed food.

Here's hoping your Thanksgiving was everything mine wasn't.

2003-11-21T20:57:00.000-05:00

This week, under the guise of getting a start on my Christmas gifting, I went on a three day shopping binge in Orlando. I've never really needed an excuse to shop, but excessive generosity and the rapidly approaching holiday season provides the perfect cover for the outrageous spending I foresee in the coming months. Though I did manage to pick up a few gifts for those I love, or like alot, or even like just a little, I came home last night with a great many more gifts just for me. It's a terrible burden being so generous but, you know, somebody has to give.

Not that I have an aversion to taking. In fact, I could very possibly enjoy taking more than I enjoy giving. So, those of you who love me, or like me alot, or like me just a little, here are a few items I would enjoy taking, very much.

2003-11-15T21:57:00.000-05:00

I've spent the last few days in what can only be described as absolute hell. Fridays are not meant to be spent reining in four little terrors completely incapable of sitting still or shutting their mouths. Saturdays shouldn't be wasted away at Chevy dealerships pushing poor, helpless people into a circle of rabid car salesmen while the perfect day slips from your fingers. Had I been capable of saying no, I might have avoided the ten-hour workdays that tick away with the speed of drying paint, the suicidal thoughts, the homicidal rages, and the backaches that just wont quit. At the end of the day, after I dragged myself through the door and onto the couch, where I should have been all along, my mother presented me with the only thing in the world that could possibly have made the day better: a giant slab of Yoder's chocolate cake smothered with half an inch of their delicious chocolate icing. The only thing capable of saving me from my present hell was heaven itself. Thanks, Mom.

2003-11-14T00:34:00.000-05:00

My friend in L.A. got Paris Hilton's phone number the other day and gave it a call. Unfortunately, as most of L.A. had managed the same feat, her voicemail was full and the number promptly disconnected. Poor little rich girl.

2003-11-14T00:02:00.000-05:00

Before things between us go any further, there are a few things about myself I really think you should know.

Number 1: I cry at just about everything, and I don't mean dying puppies and broken hearts. By everything I tend to mean sappy phone commercials, discussions about student loan payments, there was a moment in Elf the other night when I felt a little teary, a few weeks ago I practically started sobbing when a cute little kid drew me a cute little picture to tell me he loved me, etc.

Number 2: I could eat Chinese food any hour of any day. A good date needn't include overpriced French food, but rather a perfectly ordered takee-outee special.

Number 3: I talk to my pets in an odd little voice. Worse than that, I respond for them in an even odder one.

Number 4: I am terrified of birds and some flying insects. Terrified, like stop-in-my-tracks-and-shudder-with-fear kind of terrified.

Number 5: Despite the fact that I have a very healthy sense of humor, there are a number of things I take incredibly seriously. The short list includes television and movie viewing, shopping, chocolate, and the over-commercialization of most major holidays. Don't even get me started on that last one.

Number 6: I have a growing affinity for Tom Jones.

and, Number 7: I have a very rural family. They grew up in a small farmhouse in Alabama and now most of them inhabit double wides in north Florida. When we're all together the speech rate tops out at about 10 words a minute and we eat things like cornbread and collard greens and pinto beans. I generally have a love-hate relationship with this part of myself but ultimately, deep, deep, deep down, I too love comfort food and speak with a Southern drawl.

2003-11-12T23:56:00.000-05:00

Best line on TV tonight: Drew Carey -"I don't know if it's the pajamas talking, but I'm going to sit here and watch my stories.'

Sadly, in case you hadn't noticed, this sums up the last six months of my life.