I love to admit when I am wrong

I went to lunch with Kyle, and it was not what I expected.

In a good way.

I expected feelings, and such. I expected to have to restrain myself and make sure I behaved.

But none of that happened.

Talking to him was bland. Seeing him was bland. He even ordered a bland sandwich, which makes me sad. I love a good sandwich.

Kyle is boring, and simply put: I no longer have any feelings for him.

I think that this is wonderful, and I know it took all this time harboring over what could or might have been for me to get to a happy place in my own life without him to be able to see that he never really mattered. He only mattered because I needed him too.

I needed someone, anyone to matter.

I am pathetic sometimes.

Now, I am happy knowing that there is no chance of redemption; he doesn't need to change for us to be happy. He and I are not happy. And we aren't meant to be together, here or there.

And now the only other man on my mind and in my heart is Harry Potter. But, to get technical, Tom is the other man to Harry, he was there first. And I'll love him forever.

a real blog for once

I'm sorry for being so MIA, I'm sorry for beign so trite.

Recently (note: two days ago) I joined a weight loss site, and they have a blog system on there. I sort of love it. I love you still, but I have been in a weird place with you lately where i don't know where to go.

I'm here to fix that.

Today, on the weightloss site, I found a place for journal entries... and since I never do anything in private (I love being a blogger) I thought I'd post my first Journal entry here. Also, it's kind of a big deal what happened...

Here ya' go:

Dear Journal,

You have never before existed, except in that awful thing I finally threw away from sixth or so grade where I write horrible stories about mermaids and talk about how much I love Ian and Derrick... Thank you for letting me start clean. Although you provided a good laugh to my friends when I randomly would find you, you embarrassed the poo outta me, I can't have that happen again.

Also, sixth grade Denise, thank you for growing up, but being hilarious while you existed. I am not proud of being you, but I adore you for your hilarity.

Moving on...

What is there to talk about but the men I love???

Now I am realizing how ironically embarrassing it is to have a journal, start to write a post about how lame I was, and then be more lame once I actually get to what I wanted to post about.

God, I'm a big pile of entertainment and embarrassment all wrapped up in a cute little internet package for myself ten years from now who will still be worrying about boys and how to fit her boobs into cute clothes without looking like a hussy...

Ten years from now Denise, remember, you are just as lame now (2011) as you were in sixth grade. And you don't give a shit. I hope you (2021 Denise) don't care either.

So, the email:

Once upon a time I internet dated, and it was a blast for many reasons. I got a lot of free dinners, I met people crazier than myself, and I had the best sex of my life, many many times. I met a boy who explained to me, without even trying, how much chemistry two people could actually have. He showed me that I don't need to be a size 10 to get sexy men, and he showed me what a man should do to a woman when it comes to getting down and dirty.

He also showed me what it meant to be hurting, and lost, and trying to find a substitute to being alone. He was more broken than I was, and I was broken.

I was coming from depression, anxiety, and insomnia so bad that I hadn't slept properly for almost a year. He was coming from a relationship ended by his fiancé having cheated on him. His depression was great, and he wasn't getting help.

I tried to help him, and I think in small ways I did. I loved him, I was good to him, and we spent a lot of time together; easy time, the kind you have in long term relationships that comes from comfort and familiarity, only we only "saw each other"

(note: nothing official...)

for about four months. He was easy, we were easy, but neither of us was really happy.

I wanted him, I was over my break up, in therapy, and on medication that made me feel alive again, and helped me sleep properly for the first time in what seemed like forever.

He wanted her, but not her now, her before she cheated. Her before his heart was broken. Her before everything.

But I wasn't her, and he couldn't be with me.

We enjoyed each other more than either of us imagined possible, but it still wasn't right. Wrong place, wrong time. More hurt feelings.

We stopped talking about four months ago, I remember it perfectly because it was the day I got my acceptance letter in the mail for nursing school, and just after Tom and I started dating... and today is mine and Tom's four-month-iversery.

This morning, I woke up next to Tom, all cuddly and spoony like he loves to sleep, and checked my email.

There it was, from him. From Kyle. From the man I wanted nothing more than to be with forever, apologizing for the way he had treated me, wishing me well, and saying he hoped I remembered him.

The only thing I could do was read it again. And again.

Could it be real? Could the only other guy I think about besides my boyfriend really be emailing me, thinking I'd forgotten him?

So I emailed him back.

Naturally.

The thing I hate most is when people don't answer. So I refuse to be that girl.

I told him I miss him, and that I of course remember him. I told a few bad jokes and informed him of my updates. I told him that there was no need to apologize because I understand where he was coming from and it was my own fault for thinking I could make him happy. And I gave him my phone number.

Told him I would love to see him if he wanted.

And now I am here, writing, waiting, and hoping that the easiest "relationship" I ever had really isn't over and I can at least continue a friendship with him. Because I do miss him,

And in a completely warped and unhealthy way, I loved him too. Still love him.

And miss him terribly.

And want him to be happy again.

I want to know him when he is happy.

-Denise

look what I got in the mail today!

#winning

I feel like I've been really melodramatic lately, and for that I apologise. Things really aren't that bad, in fact, they are quite well; I just tend to write more when I'm blue than when I'm not.

Two days ago I went bowling with Tom and Harry, and out of the three games we all played, I beat both of them twice! And, I beat Tom all three times, I also won over all and had the best stats with about a 0.39. If you know me, you'll know that I'm not naturally that competitive, I just like to play, and that's what's fun. But, Tom is obsessive when it comes to winning, so it was nice to wipe the floor with him. When we went mini golfing he beat me by one stroke... I feel that it's my duty to the world to diminish his gigantic ego from time to time; also, with his head size almost inhibiting him from using normal sized doors, I'm doing it for his own good.

I promise.

: )

Yesterday I did a power point for one of my classes, one of those, "getting to know you," projects, and because I have little other than my nephew in my life I care very deeply about, I devoted two of the six slides to my blogs...

When I told Tom about it, he asked if he had been in it, and while I had actually considered it, I had decided not to since we literally have no photos together. And I did it about my family. Tom may be pretty special, but we're not family.

Speaking of Tom and family...

Society makes me laugh, but for the main purpose to avoid crying. People are depressing, it's a wonder it took me this long to need therapy, I must have had my eyes closed for a really long time.

Christianity is based on the fundamentals that God is God, and he is perfect, and his word is law; redeeming yes, but law.

The golden rule states that we are to love others as we love ourselves.

So, by the transitive property, Christians should be the most loving, accepting, understanding, and caring group of people on the planet. Right?

But, as we all know, they are the most judgemental, hateful, stubborn, stuck up people. It makes me very sad to think that they share the same belief system with me, but live such hypocritical lives.

Just an observation.

This doesn't diminish my opinions of Tom's family. I still really like them, and like I said, it does make me laugh.

spiraling into the abyss

Alternate title: my period and how it ruins my life.

Now, I'm not going to complain because I'm bleeding or having back pain or anything like that. I'm a strong (black) woman, like Kathy Griffin

       who, by the way, I have tickets to see on October 23rd!

and I do not blog about things like the monthly war raged between my ovaries and my uterus. I'm above that.

What I'm not above, however, is talking about my emotions. You're welcome.

        By the way, is anyone else on blogger? I hate the new set up.  

Recently I've noticed that my emotions are sluty bitches who ambush me in the hallways and steal my lunch money. I fear them, I try to avoid them, but somehow they always find a way to sneak up behind me and catch me off guard. It sucks. And it's because mother nature makes me all touchy feely when my ovaries decided they want knocked up again, which is every single month. I cry when I don't want to, I get upset at jokes that aren't meant to hurt me, I get super stressed by everyday qualms. Currently I am having major shoulder pain because I carry the weight of the world on my left one... and it's started spreading to my right.

I know that a few days from now when my estrogen levels are back to normal and I have more control in hiding the crazy I'll be fine, but this past week I have had to be very cognitive of feeling depressed. I have to make sure I don't go to bed and lay awake for hours thinking about all the ways I can and have and will fail. I have to make sure that the stupid shit that causes me stress every day, such as loosing my wallet last week and still not having a debit or credit card available to me, don't knock me out.

Yesterday I wanted to make Tom and I dinner, because I love dinner and I like Tom. I also love cooking, I really wanted to do this. So, I go to the store and try to buy groceries... but guess what? They don't accept checks. And the bank was closed so I couldn't cash a check... So I felt like a piece of shit.

Also, I need a break. I've been going to school every week day then coming to work straight after for over a month now, skipping my lunch break and just eating discreetly at my desk when I can... I'm getting overwhelmed.

I think that is the first key to noticing when I am becoming depressed again... "overwhelming" is a far to overused word in my vocabulary.

Hope this is enough of an update. Have a nice weekend.

the apology, and why it mattered

The last time we spoke I was having an awful week. Stress at work, accumulated with the fact that I'd decided I no longer needed my depression/anti-anxiety medication and hadn't taken it in over a week meant that I was feeling really weird, and unable to deal with it well.

I was very sad, despite the lack of any real trigger, I was super anxious about everything, and I had a bunch of homework I decided to get drunk and half do.

Last week I had a paper to write, which I did not write. It was the last assignment for a class that was only a month long, and because I didn't do it (and did really poorly on the two tests I took last Friday as well) I got a 76% in the class, which is just passing in the nursing program.

But I didn't care.

I still don't mostly because I know I can't change it, but the fact that I was insurmountably anxious and still had no real care about the paper (which only had to be two pages by the way, it would have probably taken me an hour) scared me.

One thing I may or may not have ever talked about is the amazing motivation my medicine gives me. Before I was taking it I was exhausted all the time from my year of insomnia, I was melancholy about everything, and I didn't really do anything because I just didn't care...

After a week of being off it I was almost back in the same mental state, and that scared me. Scares me. I don't want to be an unmotivated blob who cares so little about everything. I don't want to be sad all the time for no reason, and anxious just because I exist. I hated that. I still do, but after three horrible days in a row, Friday of last week being the final straw, I started taking my medicine again and within two hours I felt better.

I stopped because my doctor said I could if I was ready, she said that most patients take it for six to nine months, and since I was at the six month mark and felt like I could do without it, she said that was fine.

But it was not fine.

Obviously.

Which brings me to what Tom said, and why it hurt so much.

Tom has said this to me before, and every time it infuriates me to the point of almost writing him off as a waste of space, I'm not kidding. He says it at the worst possible times, and in doing so makes me feel like literal crap.

He says, "aww, are you going to cry now?"

It's mocking, it's condescending, and because he says it when I'm actually getting mad (or any other form of strong emotion) and am probably actually on the verge of tears, completely horrible in timing. I cry when I get angry, it sucks because people just think I'm hurt, but it's really just because I am so good at holding my feelings in (note: why I still need a therapist) that when something pushes me over the edge, my body takes full advantage of my lax guard and turns on the Bitch Tears. If I'm crying, 80% of the time it's because I'm really pissed off, and calling me out on it is usually enough to make it happen.

I hate crying, not because it makes me feel weak (it does, I can just accept that about myself) but because it gets in the way of getting my point across, it reminds everyone that I am a woman and sometimes unable to control my emotions, and those two things I do hate. When Tom mocks me by asking if I am about to cry, it's a direct hit to my mental stability.

I can take a lot of crap, it's something I know I shouldn't do but have always done, however, I cannot tolerate someone insulting my sanity.

So, I gave Tom a day, and I went over to his apartment under the pretense that he would apologise to me. And he did. And he knows that if it ever happens again I will leave him, because it's unacceptable. And he has been given reasons and chances and I am not going to tolerate that sort of treatment from someone who is planning on falling in love with me in the future.

Especially since I really like him, and his opinion means a whole freaking lot to me.

Thornton Wilder said that he who loves the least wins.

And I don't mind losing.

But I have lines, and if they are crossed I'm fully prepared to do what if right for me, even if it's walking away.

everyone is allotted a post like this every so often

School is kicking my ass... and like every good college student I've decided to blog instead of do my homework.

Today has sucked. The computers were down at my work which caused more than my daily amount of stress, this bag-o-douche man kept me on the phone for 20 minutes after we closed to educate me on a law that not only doesn't apply to him or his situation, but also comes from a third party I'm positive had no business sharing. I hate when people are glad they could "teach me something today". Because my day is obviously filled with so many moments of non-learning I should be so dammed thankful for his help.

I hate chauvinists. I hate men who think they know everything. I hate people who belittle me or mock me or treat me as though I'm any less of a person based on my age or my gender or the fact that I'm their girlfriend and let them get away with far too much far too often.

Tom also royally screwed up tonight.

He is hurtful, and he is oblivious.

He also doesn't listen and doesn't take any responsibility for the words he says or how they make me feel.

I have too much work to do to keep wasting time blogging about how upset I am. Tomorrow is my last day this week, and it couldn't come soon enough.

blame it on the booze

My little sister told me the other day I need to blog more... and because she is taller than I am and a little scary, I have to do what she says.

In light of recent events in my life that I haven't blogged about, I shall continue with the 30 days of truth, and I'll start with a few little stories.

1. I actually turned in a paper yesterday saying this:

 It was a paper about budgeting and where my money goes, so it was okay that I wrote this (see why teachers love me? I keep them on their toes), but it's true. I waste money on drinking.

Alcohol: another big dollar waster. I am not going to stop drinking, that is silly; I am only twenty-two, but I need to not go out as much. Drinking-out is exponentially more expensive than drinking-in, and when you drink-in you do not risk you or anyone you love deciding to drive intoxicated. Drinking-in is smart and fiscally responsible. I will not be drinking out any time in the near future.

2. I got very drunk a few weeks ago and kept calling someone named Caleb, Kyle.

Yes it was because I couldn't get him off my mind, yes drinking makes me randy and being randy makes me think of him, yes, Caleb is Tom's friend which means every time I did it I got a look from him that was a mix of anger and being hurt. Not to mention that during this drunken evening I kissed Merry and made out with her ear and neck area, in front of everyone. Sometimes I just don't know about myself.

3. A few more weeks ago I went to a bar with Merry to celebrate her being-twenty-one-ness. Not so long into the evening I was unable to find her because a) I was drunk at this point even though I tried not to because I was driving home and b) she had found a gentleman suitor who major fancied her and had her up against a wall (don't worry, she liked it) and was making friends all over the place (and goo goo eyes at some cuties who were making goo goo eyes back.) I was also dancing with people I don't even remember their names, some guy tried to take me home, the bouncer (who I may or may not have previously made out with once or twice) kept taking my modesty bandanna (modesty: the bandanna covers my too much cleavage when I wear low cut shirts) and turning it around so that it was no longer helping me keep the girls under cover. I made out with some girls neck so she would give me a cigarette, then I made out with her ear so she'd give me a light... then I flirted with the bar tender and got free drinks for me and my smoking friend.

Needles to say, I'm a fucking class act when I drink, and while I am not entirely proud of all of these moments, they provide good blog material and even better stories to tell the next time I get drunk.

So, how do I feel about drugs and alcohol?

Alcohol is my friend. It makes me happy and lets me forget how to be normal. When I am uncomfortable (say, all those first dates I went on back in my match dot com days) a drink or three makes me even funnier than I already am and less nervous to talk to people. It also makes me warm, and coming from an Ohio girl, trust me, you can't put a price on being warm.

Alcohol also makes other people funnier, and society less tragic. I laugh so much when I drink, and since I've been drinking people don't know its at them. I love people when I drink, sober I just feel sad for them.

But I do not think that under age people should drink. That includes you little sister. I'm old enough and smart enough to know my limits, know when things could potentially get dangerous and therefore leave, and am not suffering from Misunderstood Youth Syndrome (that thing angsty teens have between 14 and 20ish where their parents are idiots and no one wants them to be happy or understands them) so I am not reckless when I drink for the sake of being reckless. I am legally allowed to drink, which also means that I run no risk of getting in trouble for having a drink in my hand (provided I am not walking down the middle of the street) and I know how to keep my legs closed and my shirt on, (and if I decided to not do those things, I'm fully aware of the consequences so I make damn sure there is a condom between me and whoever’s boy part I decide to play with for the evening).

I don't regret my decisions, I don't drive intoxicated, I am older and wiser, and that is why 16 year olds are not allowed to drink.

Booze are fun, in moderation and with intelligence, as long as the individual has a real horizontal drivers license.

how do you like the new header?

Obviously I've done a lot today...

with the new header and all...

and class and stuff...

You know, the classes I'm taking right now aren't that hard. I have all my homework done for this week, and I had it done yesterday. I'm trying to get ahead though, so I still study. Getting ahead now prevents me from getting behind in the future.

Look at me, all philosophical and stuff.

Good news: Ellen is home. Finally, the heavens have opened up and allowed me to have my best friend back. Tom makes me happy. I spent a significant amount of time with his mother this weekend, and I think she likes me. Really, it's important to me that she likes me, his dad is whatever. I'm pretty sure his dad hates women, so I will just be normal around him, and if he likes me than we win, if he doesn't nothing changes.

Tom's mother is my new favorite person. She is a strong woman, and smart and funny and I love her. I say that with no hesitation. She loves her family, she knows that she is absolutely vital for the function of it and she doesn't take crap from Tom's dad (and he dishes it out, did I mention he may be a male chauvinist?) (My dad is too, but he loves us and that's all that matters to me).

Tom's mom is amazing; it makes perfect sense why I like her son. And, Tom's little sister is also wonderful. I don't know his brother too well, but from what I do know I like. I'm not saying anything more than the actual words on the paper screen, but I really like being with Tom and his family, and if I had to chose someone to be close to their family, Tom's is pretty boss.

David's family made me feel weird, I liked Dan and Alyssa, but his dad made my uncomfortable, and his mother... I can't describe it. I think she just always wanted to be her son's number one, she saw no room for me.

I think Tom's mother has come to the conclusion that since her son loves being in relationships so much (Tom is never single, like, ever) that he will eventually decide to be with someone... she doesn't see his girlfriends as a threat, she sees them as people who make her son happy, and therefore make her happy.

first day of school: down

Today was my first day, I had one class that began at 10:30 and I was almost late because Tom drove my car yesterday and put my emergency break on, I never freaking use my emergency break, and it too me 6 minutes of trying to push it down before I realized you must pull it up a bit before you can push it down.

Sometimes I revel in my womanhood and am proud of my vagina, others... not so much.

So, about school, I wasn't late, just barely on time actually. I am lucky that I am anal-retentive when it comes to being on time places, because if I wasn't I would have been five minutes later, but I was freaking out hard in my car trying to get the break to turn off. Sometimes my life is just so embarrassing when I'm alone, I need to tell people about it.

I get there just on time to find that my first class is mega full, it's a computer class and there are only a few left open in the entire class. We talk about what we're going to learn, I'm pretty sure I already know everything, I made a few friends... and the day was over. We didn't really do anything, I am super tired because of how bored I was, and now I'm back at work blogging and waiting for five o'clock so I can see Thomas.

Tom got switched back to days and while I'm really happy about it, I was sort of looking forward to never having to worry about keeping him entertained during the week. Now that he and I will basically have the same schedule again, I'm worried that he'll be more of a temptation that I was prepared to deal with. We'll see, I just like him a lot.... it's hard to say no.

We went golfing yesterday for the first time, it was hard, but I think I'm getting better. My arms hurt so much though, golfing is not easy, I'll tell you that. Hopefully I get amazing and can beat him and then hold that over his head forever, or not. I'm not very competitive, it's what makes me so nice.

Hopefully tomorrow will me more entertaining, because I like to learn, and I like to be entertained.

Changes

Woo Hoo!!! Look at me, I'm blogging again.

Weird, I know, but it had to be done.

The break, and the rebirth. Well, not rebirth exactly... more like a bunch of things in my life have been changing, are changing, and therefore shits about to get real.

I've read five books since we last spoke, I tested out of my math credit so I no longer have to take that class, I got lot's of hearts for the bf... all of which are real. I invented a pie recipe, and obviously by invented I mean reinvented because I just made it better, I am starting nursing school on MONDAY!!!

And, through all of that I had no inspiration to write, whatsoever.

And you know what? I ain't got no shame.

Oh, and coolest thing, I (and Merry) have been entered into a karaoke contest by a happy accident where the two of us decided to go singing one lowly Thursday night, and I have the potential to win five hundred dollars, which will all go to my gas tank because gas is up to $4.15 as of my lunch break today.

Fuck you Ohio, fuck you gas....

The sky's are blue, the wind is blowing, and I just cracked my back in about seven spots. Life is good, and I'm not even nervous about starting school, because my schedule is easy and I have lots of study time every day.

Also, summer is almost here, which means lazy days by the pool reading about whatever I can get my hands on.

Hunger Games side note: Oh my gawd, you must read these books as soon as humanly possible. Seriously, it changed me. But be prepared to not know what to do with your life the minute you're done, I'm still wandering around aimlessly bumping into walls.

I'm trying to get a serving job so I can bring in the dollah dollah bills, but right now everyone and their mother are also trying to get a job, so just keep your fingers crossed and hope one of these places calls me back.

I learned how to use liquid eyeliner, and any woman can attest, that stuff is hard to use. But, Merry is an excellent teacher, and I look as cat-eye-tastic as any one girl can look and it's hot (just don't ask Tom, he doesn't like it).

I bought a bandanna for my neck and have decided it's now part of my look. I hate having a naked neck sometimes, and my boobs are just too large to not be a major distraction, but wearing a scarf is too hot... cut to: hanker chief! It solves the over boobalicious problem, keeps my neck warm but not sweaty (yumm) and it makes my head look good by not accentuating the fact that it's smaller than each of my boobs, individually.

I've written eleventy billion essays for scholarships, and I'm hoping that if I can't get a proper job, I'll get a scholarship, because, you know, gas is $4.15 a gallon, and I don't see it being less within my lifetime.

Remind me to sell my children for gas money when the time comes around.

I hope that you can forgive me for my absence, I think that my back-in-school blogging will prove to be as hilarious as it is educational, and for the time being, enjoy the sun and good smelling air. I love the smell of outside, yes I surely do.

Oh, and to send you off right, here is a photo of my nephew I took with my cellular. Doesn't he just melt your heart?

a spatula bigger than your mom

Have you ever written an essay for a scholarship application to then realize you don't qualify? I read two words: food and blog, I figured since I blog and I am a whore for food I obviously qualified for this scholarship... low and behold I missed the "college hosted" in front of the word "blog" and now have no one to share my funny story with.

But wait! You still exist, my little bloggy readers, so I will share with you.

The essay I will never be able to submit:

American. Pie. American Pie. Pie holds a warm place in Americas hearts be it a sweet apple pie filled to the brim and oozing all over the plate before anyone can even take the first bite, a tart cranberry pie with a cobbler like topping and hardened sugar on top of that making every bite melt in your mouth, or a secret family recipe that is so easy a four year old could make it. In fact, a four year old did make it, and I was that four year old. I won’t get into the specifics, but imagine chocolate mousse, melted peanut butter, a graham cracker crust, and enough whipped topping to support a small girls fancy for at least an hour (provided she’s mighty distracted, I don’t mess around when it comes to whipped topping, I mean she, she doesn’t mess around). It was easy, it was served cold, and it is one of the best pies I’ve ever had.

One day, little four year old me was making the pie; I was short enough I needed to kneel an a kitchen chair to reach the pie and while being covered in melted peanut butter was the obvious highlight of my day, filling the pie with mousse was quickly to become a close second. However, being four years old presented me with a unique set of challenges: the bowl of mousse was larger than my wing span, the spatula was the length of my forearm, and the desire to stick my tongue on and into everything that came within twelve inches of my face made it improbable I would successfully transfer the mousse from bowl to the freshly peanut buttered crust. But, for Pete’s sake, that wasn’t going to stop me from trying. On my own, I might add; I am a very capable four year old, I’m sure of it.

I grab the bowl, suspiciously light for its size, and the spatula then somehow maneuver it to relatively the same vicinity as the pie crust begging to be filled. I begin to tip it, all is going well; the filling starts to flow out with gravity as its aid (not that I’m thinking about gravity, all I know at this moment is pie) and I help a little with the spatula but mostly with my hands to get as much as I can into the crust. I’m doing it, I’m succeeding! More than half of the mousse has miraculously made it into the pie and I only have a little more to go before I finish off with the whipped topping. But, what’s this? The bowl keeps tipping, well past where I need it to be to get my hands into it to direct the still cascading mousse into my perfect beautiful pie. I can’t really stop it from tipping; in fact, it’s slipping out of my pudding covered hands. It’s out of my control! It’s on the floor; so is the pie. How did this happen? I was doing so well, where did I go wrong? I start to cry, as much out of frustration for my failure as for my loss of the glory at a future pie. My mother walks into the room, and there I am, covered in chocolate mousse, peanut butter, and tears. She sees that pie and mousse under the table, face down as according to all laws of physics and she laughs! She laughs at me and my pie, so I hop down and grab a piece of the broken peanut butter crust and thrust it into my mouth, all while completely ignoring her ploys for me to “Stop Denise!”

We all have dropped things while in the process of making something we’re very excited about, I dropped an egg down the counter and onto the floor a few weeks ago while trying to make a cheese sauce, I’ve dropped an entire gallon of milk breaking it and covering myself and the kitchen. Sometimes it’s easy to just get too distracted from what will possibly be the best meal ever prepared to pay attention to something at trivial as what we’re doing. And that’s okay; you can always buy more milk.

from here to there

I just read my blogs from a year ago, and they were surprisingly not as annoying as I expected them to be.

This month a year ago I was celebrating my one year with David, a land mark I'd never made it to before in a relationship. I was starting to enjoy cooking (weird, really really weird, I used to loathe it, so hard! that I wouldn't even help with holiday dinners unless someone held a gun (or pointy object) to my head, now I'm such a whore for cooking I drop my panties at the first sight of a recipe I know I can master) (sorry for that visual). I was lying to myself about my depression and not talking to any of my friends and ignoring all my problems... and I was on the verge of the hardest break-up I've ever had to endure.

But here I am, a year later, and after six months of therapy I finally have a firm grasp on what I want out of life, a plan on how to get there, and enough motivation to cover two pieces of toast.

Does comparing my motivation to butter make me sound like a fat kid, or what?

I no longer don't sleep at night, in fact I sleep and dream every single night, without fail (as long as I take my medicine). I don't have anxiety attacks that make no sense to even me. I don't dread waking up in the morning as much as laying down to sleep each night. I don't hate myself, and cry all the time.

I'm better, mostly, and I'm fucking grateful.

In less than a month I'll be in school. I've been looking at apartments... I've been reading up a storm so that I will be caught up before it is stolen from we by book learning taking precedence. I've been drinking, enjoying time with the people I love, drinking, and watching tv... mostly because when I'm studying my booty (hole) off, those things won't really fit into my life.

And I'm so excited!

A year ago I would have never believed I'd be where I am now, what a difference a year has made.

being alone

You know that feeling, when you wake up early on a Saturday morning with nothing to do and no where to go. That, "I could get up, but I don't have to... in fact, I don't have to do anything," feeling?

I love that feeling.

I live for that moment of nothingness where I can just be with no interruptions or agendas. I love being able to roll back over, shut my eyes, and keep dreaming.

In NYC I got to spend a significant time alone, and in my therapy session a few days ago, when my therapist asked me about my trip, I gloated over that time I had to just relax. My mind and body were at ease because 1) I couldn't leave her apartment or I would be locked out, and 2) I didn't want to anyways. I slept, watched TV, made grilled cheese, read, skyped, drank milk, (one of my favorite alone activities, ask Ellen or Merry if you don't know why it should be done alone) and did nothing.

I did a significant amount of nothing, with no interruptions or babies crying, without feeling always stressful because my mother just is around me.

Have you ever known anyone who you just automatically become stressed in their presence? Not in a good way either? A teacher you didn't get along well with, a bully, someone who was trying to gank yo boyfriend? Having her in the house makes my nerves stand on end...

Doing nothing is where it's at.

My father has been on vacation since Sunday and I've been sleeping at his house. It's amazing how hard I have been sleeping this week. I have been dreaming my freaky weird dreams per usual, but I don't wake up at 5:30 every morning because of a crying baby, I wake up to pee only. And I walk there with no pants and no bra on, because I can.

I had friends over the other night and made excellent foods, and I didn't do the dishes, and I still haven't done them.

Because I can.

I watch what I want on the TV as loudly as I like.

Because. I. Can.

Craigslist, while a great place to waste time looking at cute puppies, is also a great place to find creepy roommates and crappy apartments to live in. I want to not do the roommate thing, but I also don't want to ruin my life by taking out enough student loans to pay for said apartment of alone blissfulness...

But I know for a fact that I cannot live with my mother and be in school (which is in one month, by the way!!!). I can't come home after a stressful day of trying to learn how to be a nurse twice as fast as the regular people and have her aura of pure annoyance flitting about the house. I can't be woken up in the middle of the night because that's when she thinks it's okay to do the dishes, or the laundry, or just make fucking noise doing whatever the hell it is she does at two in the morning.

breathe

dum-ah dum-ah dum-ah

Have you heard of the Brown Derbies? I love a capella boy groups.

So, Craigslist... I have found this 1 bedroom that allows you to have cats with a garage (important, remember, I live in OHIO) and it's only $450 a month plus gas and electric, which the landlord says cumulatively is less than $20 each month... it doesn't have AC though, and I am whiney when I get sweaty. But I would have a room, and a living room, a kitchen type area, and bathroom all to myself!

In order to not go broke, I've been applying for scholarships like a mad woman, hence why blogging hasn't really been happening. You can only rite so many essays on why you deserve scholarships and what America means to me before you get tired of writing altogether and blogging is the last thing that sounds fun. I am very sorry if you missed me, which I am sure you did because I missed you, but I will be back in full force as soon as I can think of anything more exciting to write about than my new hair cut (totally cute by the way, the back is stacked, I have mini bangs, and I am basically teasing the shit out of it so it's big and beautiful (like your mother)).

Oh, in case you're curious about my love life (which hasn't involved the horizontal shuffle for a few weeks now because we have issues (am I too young to be having these sort of issues in a relationship?) just know that I'm back on the saddle and plan on riding the horse as often as the horse will let me...

Cleaner subject matter: Tom and I are smitten as shit with each other and it's equal parts gross and adorable. We have weekly events such as wing night, we snuggle (not all my doing, he likes to cuddle too), we cook together and for each other, we spend time together just doing whatever, because we like being around the other.

Isn't that amazing!??!!?

I like him, far more than I expected, and I am happy with him. That's really all I could ask for at this point, and since he is pretty boss when it comes to life plans and grown up stuff like that, he sort of works in all the other areas of relationship quota I've decided to ignore for the time being. Tom is special, and I really like him.

giving him a complex

So, apparently there is this thing... called a relationship. And once you decide (willingly, I might add) to become a part of one, stuff changes.

You're not allowed to get fantastically, stupidly drunk and make out with whomever is in a five foot radius of you. In fact, you're not supposed to want to unless it's only your significant other in that radius.

You're not supposed to be friends with your ex's, even if you've been friends for almost longer than you dated.

When you come back from trips, you're supposed to make alone time with the person you're seeing before you make any time for your friends. And, including friends in that special time is also a no no, apparently.

I'm not good at dating, I'm great at being single.

I am amazing at it in fact.

Dating is work, with another person, who you don't know what they are thinking and who sometimes have different opinions than you. It's compromise after compromise, and you're supposed to want to do it. You're supposed to value the other person's happiness over (or at least close to) how much you value your own...

But why?

Why should his happiness be more important than my own?

Isn't happiness something you yourself are the only one who can control? Shouldn't you and only you make that a reality?

If you're relying on another (or in reverse, trying to make the other happy) won't it just not work?

You can be happy with someone, they can contribute to your overall quality of life; there is no way anyone but yourself can make you happy.

And, being "that girl" who strives to please the person she is with will just make her feel insignificant, unaccomplished, and as though she'll never be good enough, or funny enough, or whatever enough...

But, she should never feel that way; her happiness is her own responsibility just as the others happiness is their own.

However, even I make mistakes. I don't call when I should, and I don't make plans properly because I want to see everyone and not just him. I don't think that if the other person isn't happy it's my fault...

... because it isn't, really.

Is it?
If they aren't happy with something I've said or the way that I act, it's not my fault if they don't bring it to my attention, right? And therefore, unknowingly proceeding with my life in the same way I did before shouldn't make you upset with me, it should make you upset with you, for not speaking our mind and notifying me of your feelings.

I'm not a mind reader. I don't expect that of you, so how can you expect that of me?

And, most importantly, if you're relying on me for your happiness, you're doing it wrong. I can help; I can be enjoyable company or a great listener, I can hold your hand as you fall asleep and kiss you in the morning, I can make you a surprise or bring you some sort of gift... but that won't make you happy. And I don't want to be held responsible for that sort of thing.

That's not what men want to hear though, is it?

They want to make you happy and they want you to make them happy. They want to look into your eyes and trust you, just because. They want to know that they are your first priority...

But that's just not how I work.

I'm my first priority. I need to be.

My happiness, my future, my everything comes first. If I'm not happy, I know that you can't change that. So why should I be concerned with something I can't change (your happiness) when I am fully capable of changing something of my own?

Does that make sense?

Maybe I am just too good at being single.

Maybe I just don't have room in my priority list for anyone else.

Maybe I don't care enough...

the city is THE city...

New York was surprisingly one of the most relaxing vacations I've ever had, and that's saying something because last year I went to the beach and spent the majority of my time drunk. However, last year I had just broken up with David and the predominantly drunk thing made me despondent and emotional.

Going by myself turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

On Friday and Saturday I stayed in Adrienne's apartment while she worked/went apartment hunting (I was going to join them for that but the hang over was so intense I slept till four in the afternoon (evening...?) and didn't even care) and rested, watched TV, made grilled cheese, skyped with Tom, enjoyed being alone.

I didn't anticipate how refreshing it would be to do whatever I wanted, when I wanted, and not have a crying baby, and intrusive mother, a sister who is always expecting things from me... so so nice.

Not to mention much girl talk was had. Adrienne is one of the greatest friends I've ever known, and I am glad I got to offer her my womanly opinions on things like good blow jobs, dating from the Internet (and how more than one guy is totally acceptable), how to make french fries, and other girl centered things like hair and clothes and getting our ears pierced again and potentially our next tattoos. We went to a bar that the main form of entertainment besides wildly over priced drinks ($3 for a diet coke (I was done drinking at this point because of the 26+ hour hang over I was experiencing and ka-razy bad heartburn) was a piano player who played show tunes and everyone in the bar sang them. And I do mean everyone. Obviously it was 'mo central, but there were old people, young people, the annoying NYU "I'm an amazing singer who just happens to not be performing right now for one reason or another" types, and then me and Adrienne who love show tunes but don't know them all. It was heaven. I want to start one of those here but I know it wouldn't work.

I sang karaoke at a bar with zebra print couches and odd disco lighting in Christmas colors; that was an experience. I figured that karaoke in NYC would have a better quality of singers than that of lil ol' Stow Ohio, but it didn't. They were just as bad. And, because I'm a lush the tab for the two of us there was over $75... I don't want to talk about it.

I got to see this amazing free improve show with real famous people in it. Do you watch 30 Rock? Lutz and Blonde girl... I saw them for real and in person and it was the best thing ever. We waited in line in the relatively cold evening air for about an hour and a half, got our free tickets, went to a bar (totally empty too, that's what happens on a Sunday night I guess) and flirted with the bar tender who gave us a total of three beers and four shots for $18... that's exactly why wearing low cut shirts and having a great personality will get you pretty much anything you want in life... including free booze which probably shouldn't be so high on my priority list, but whatever.

After the show I bought pop tarts and I think that giving people them as a souvenir will be funny.

My camera is either broken or all the batteries I brought for it were dead... both are a possibility because I didn't buy the batteries so I'm not sure. Basically, the photos I have are crappy because I couldn't take any in the dark (and when you sleep till 4 most of your time spent doing interesting things is in the dark (hey-o!)) and I couldn't get anything better than crap so I stopped trying after one minute.

Patient, I know. I deserve an award or something.

 You can't really tell but in the last two the skyline is in the background. Besides the smell and the fact that the water tastes bad and strange people talk to you when you make eye contact with them, everything was absolutely perfect. I had Chinese food delivered and it was hands down the best General Tso's chicken ever. It was only made better by it's arrival via. delivery guy on a bike. The flavors were perfect and you could actually taste the butter (pretty American, but still, perfection). The pizza we had delivered was also from the Lord. The sauce... oh my, the sauce. I'll never be able to recreate that, but that won't stop me from trying. I had the best sushi as well, and I don't really complain about any sushi but there was this salmon, perfectly spiced, with mango... I don't think I've ever been as excited to eat something in my entire life.

I ordered a pomegranate martini in the sushi restaurant and was disappointed when it didn't taste like the POM Sake Martini from Ruby Tuesdays, but like I said before, I'll just have to go back and ask them how it's made. I did grow a pair and drink a few beers, and by a few I mean probably five or six over the weekend. Guinness, Sam Adams, some special New York Boston type brew, I am now a man with chest hair and a sack and everything.

You're welcome for that visual.

The men in New York far surpass all the men anywhere else ever. Their clothes, their faces, the way they walk... all make me swoon to the point of missing steps and almost running into things.

Oh, hahaha, I did actually fall down the step (note: one) into a guy. I opened a door inside a building and there was a step I didn't expect to be there. he caught me, I pretended I wasn't mentally handicapped, and moved on. Too bad he wasn't as cute as some of the others.

The black men mostly were such good eye candy (whiteys too, but I'm not a big fan of the hipster look and it falls so short in comparison to tall, very dark business man in a shirt and tie). It must be the bad tasting water that makes them look so suave.

New York is beautiful in a completely different way than the things I missed about home (birds chirping in the morning, the smell of grass and trees, good tasting water from the tap). I love that driving is really not an issue. I love that there are always things to do within walking distance and most other people are walking too. I love that everything delivers (did I mention that liquor stores do too? We didn't have it delivered, but it was an option). I love that the food was so much better. I love that pretty much no one has children there and everyone has a dog. I got some good face time with a few of them and they are all nice and used to people because they're surrounded. I love that everything is fast, but you don't have to be.

You can sit in corners and eat or read and no one will bother you, your food comes much faster at places to eat even if they are packed, you can pretend to be deaf or French or just tell people to Fuck off if they are annoying you. Designated drivers are not necessary. You don't have to dress a certain way or look a certain way because literally no one cares about you (this could be construed as positive or negative) there are coffee shoppes everywhere. There are places to get hot, fresh waffles on the street corners. Dan Radcliff was in the city at the same time, although I never saw him, knowing he was so close was warmth to my little heart.

I met Italians (very rude actually, I could have punched them) and an English girl (she took us to our table once) and a boy who made fun of suburban kids and said we hang out in the woods all the time (which is only half true). I got oggled by construction workers and judged by gay men. I called people idiots for stopping in the middle of the side walk and felt like I could really belong there if I wanted to...

Then I went home. On the way I saw the rolling foot hills in Pennsylvania and llama farms that made me appreciate my rural(esque) living. I imagined owning the silos and having the cows for my own (I want to be the pioneer woman for reasons other than being the owner of a mega famous blog). I smelled the fresh (thank God) air and didn't see garbage littering all the streets for the fun of it. I got to enjoy all the things I love about not living in the city.

I know why I love Ohio, and I know why I love New York, and albeit for completely different reasons, I don't think justifying any of it is necessary. I talked to a man today who said NYC wasn't a vacation, that Colorado and hiking and white water rafting were vacations, but I don't care (look, I've got the New York-er mindset already) if he doesn't agree with me. I loved it, I loved seeing my girl friend, I loved spending less than two hundred bucks for five days away from home, I loved getting to go out and see things and meet people. White water rafting is fun, I've done it. Hiking is also fun, but the city is THE city, and I love it just how and where it is.

NYC in two days!

I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I have been trying to do things for myself before I head back to school, little things I won’t be able to do while I’m in school for lack of time, money, whatever. I've boon cooking things that take quite a bit of time, I've been reading hard core, and I planned a trip to New Yoke City, which I'll be arriving on St. Patrick’s day and getting my drink on (so hard).

I'm in dire need of a break from my life right now and while being in the city probably isn't going to help me relax like say, a beach might, it won't be filled with spring breakers and I'll be surrounded with people who are as anxiety filled as myself, which will mean I won't be laying there trying to relax, it means I'll be able to embrace my inner crazy and not stick out like a sore thumb. Also, being alone in New York (Adrienne will be there, but I am not taking anyone else) is a lot better than anywhere else because there's shit to do and you can do whatever you want. I want to do so much.

I don't want to lay drunk on a beach for however many days, because I don't think I could properly relax; I think I would be miserable if I was trying to do nothing. I need to do something to take my mind off my mind. Like see a musical, and get so drunk I forget my own name.

The bus ride there and the bus ride back will be an adventure; I'm sure of it. Mostly because I've decided that I will take a sleeping pill, and in doing so I will insure that I don't have to pay attention to how anxious I am thinking that the bus won't end up in New York (chuck that on top of the irrational anxieties pile), although I took one last night and decided to read while trying to sleep, and since the Dresden files are so full of thrilling battles and immensely thrilling moments, it didn't help me sleep at all... so I had to stop reading and I'm not sure if I'll be able to fall asleep if everything is super hyped up. I mean, we are going to New York City; it's kind of a big deal.

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My mother needs to go. Now. Yesterday. Three months ago.

I sight with her almost every day, and it's absolutely horrific. I can't stand it, it needs to stop, and she needs to grow up and get the fuck out. Really, living with your daughters, causing me more stress than I already have, and doing so for the sole purpose of avoiding your marital issues is the worst example of good parenting I've ever witnessed from my mother.

Well, other than the time she threatened to put me up for adoption for being such a horrible child... and then when I told her they'd take all of us she didn't like that so she handed me the phone and the phone book and told me to call them right now. I joke that scare tactics are good for teaching, but they really aren't.

................................................................

Aren't mini posts fun?

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I met Tom's entire family this weekend, and his birthday was yesterday. His family likes me, but my anxiety basically made me think they were going to tar and feather me. I love his little sister, she's amazing. She writes Harry Potter fan fiction, and if that doesn't tell you how perfectly geeky she is I don't know what will. She also wants me to help her sing. So much love.

I had a Guinness, and I drank the whole thing which anyone who has ever been out with me will attest to, I pretend to like beer, order it, then give it away because I really do not like beer. But, when you're in a room full of men and they are related to the guy you fancy on multiple levels, you take the Guinness, say you like it, then drink it like you've had one every day of your life since you were eight.

Also, ice cream cake! I love DQ cake, its perfection.

Tom's family events are officially way more fun than my own, and it may have been because my mother wasn't there and I wasn't steaming and resenting her and trying to leave as soon as possible without seeming rude. But, seriously: I had a blast and I am pretty sure they like me.

...............................................................

I have a huge hunger for either Fiesta Lime Chicken or something similarly cheesy and crunchy. Sometimes I worry about my cravings; if I didn’t know better I’d think I was knocked up. I am seriously concerned about what I’ll actually be like if I ever do decide to get pregnant. Normally I end up eating things like potato chips in icing (please don’t judge me) or other ridiculously salty thinks with ridiculously sweet things (bacon in maple syrup, which you must admit is a bit more normal). Other times (like the last two weeks) all I’ve wanted was pizza slash tomatoes slash something that would taste like pizza and or tomatoes. For breakfast on Sunday I made tomato soup and grilled cheese… this was at about 8 in the morning (7 if you’ll remember the time sprung forward) and it was the most amazing breakfast I’ve had in a while.

……………………………………………

Hopefully I’ll feel better tomorrow after my therapy appointment. I haven’t had one in two weeks and I am thinking I may need to go back to weekly… I have so much that is on my plate right now and not having a home environment where I can relax is making my life miserable. I will post once I’m back from New York and I promise to have photos and everything. Have a good week loves.

so much pent up stress

Last night I turned into a crazy person.

(Sorry Tom, seriously. You're wonderful and I'm so sorry)

I don't want to tell you exactly what set me off but after I was upset, the flood gates opened (literally, I cried for probably an hour and a half straight) and I didn't know what was wrong (and by didn't know I mean couldn't pin point one thing, everything was wrong).

I'm nervous about school. I'm nervous about money: if I'll have time to work, how I'll afford anything if I don't work, will my school work suffer if I am working... I have a savings, but it's not enough to get me through the next two years.

And, great for me, the hospital where I take my therapy that writes off my sessions because I have no health insurance till I'm a full time student again hasn't been doing it properly. In the past month I've gotten two bills from collection agencies. Even if it's a mistake, it's terrible for my credit to have delinquent bills... Have I told you I hate money yet?

I'm nervous about going to New York alone. I'm leaving next week and David was supposed to go with me but he bailed like a little bitch because he "doesn't have the money". He and I have been planning for two months, if he really had wanted to go he would have the money. End of story.

Ellen is still in Geneva.

My mother won't fucking leave* although I tell her at least once a week she makes me want to club baby seals (which is not all the way true, I would never, but she does make me want to kill things).

*this is seriously my main issue; if she would leave it would give me the space I would need to deal with all the other little things that are bothersome. My mother has no respect for me, my opinions aren't valid, and my needs are secondary to her own. Nothing I say holds any clout (this is also my older sister). They are messy, my mother in particular. I want to stab myself in the face thinking about how much shit is everywhere. The groceries get left on the table for days, my sister still hasn't brought the trash cans up from the curb, trash night is Monday, my mother thinks that bringing up laundry in garbage bags and leaving them all over the house is acceptable... please, kill me....

Tom and I fight all the time (now, this is just me, I'm so fucking stressed about everything else I end up acting like an idiot). This was fixed last night, I apologized to Tom, and told him we're never fighting again. Because we won't.

I miss Kyle every single day. I know I made the right decision getting him out of my life, but goddammit it's hard.

I've stopped working out because going alone is really hard and Merry doesn't want to do it anymore and going with my mother is not an option... That is doubly bad for me because I am no longer losing weight, I am not getting the endorphins that were making everything better, and I am not losing weight! I need to, for my self esteem and for my health. And because I promised Ellen I would look smokin' by the time she gets back, which is in less than two months.

Basically my life is about to take a huge turn and I am not ready... I am totally ready to go back to school, that's not what I'm not ready for; I'm not ready to be an adult who is in school. An adult with a car payment and bills and gas at a million dollars a gallon, and a mother who still won't effing go home.

I ran out of allergy medicine this morning and I don't want to buy more, that shit is expensive. I ran out of another medicine too last night (not telling what, but it has to do with the fact that despite my lactose intolerance I still eat dairy, often) and that too is expensive.

I need new glasses before I go back to school, I really should buy new contacts too because mine are drying my eyeballs out like whoa.

I need a hair cut because I royally messed up my bangs trying to cut the in haste one morning (completely wrong angle, they looked so screwy) and on top of all that Tom's family birthday party is tonight and I have to meet even more of his family.

I broke the touch screen on my phone last night by dropping it not very far. I even had a screen protector on it. It's not necessary to use the touch part, but when it comes to texting I now will just never have a capital letter because that was easier on the screen, not that anyone cares.

Also, what will become of my blog when I no longer have a job that requires so little of me? I want to keep this up, I love blogging, I love reading about you people and the lives you lead. Is it pathetic I worry about that? My blog is my child, my little, slightly inappropriate, sometimes potty mouthed, randomly profound child who I love so so dearly. I don't want it to die, I want it to live forever.

And, for no reason that makes any sense to anyone, my ovaries have started telling me it's time to get knocked up. they want a husband and a baby so bad. All I think about is being a mom and a wife and all that gross stuff that pisses me off. I hate dwelling over the idea of someday rearing possibly ADHD children into perfection while I am always pregnant and cooking and that seems amazing to me. Can anyone get the crazy out of me? Can anyone take my hormones and destroy them by any means necessary? Oh, and while you're at it my laundry needs done. And I pulled hooks off my wall last night while I was drunk. Fixing that too would make-a me very happy. *smiley face*

I hope there aren't eleventy billion typos in this because I don't really feel like rereading it and I've already found like 40 (yes, I just wrote "like" as the valley girl that I truly am). Slop, that's what we're proud of here on Denise's blog of pure literary brilliance. Slop and the F-word.

I just found the most spectacular man smell

While perusing a magazine, because I'm so damn productive sometimes and those Macy's boys do something for me, two perfume sample papers fell out.

One was a Paris Hilton one, I threw that away, it smelled like a child's splash that would come with a Barbi doll.

The other... the other, oh my word, it's from heaven. I've been smelling it every few minutes or so when it wears off my scarf, which I accidentally rubbed it on but it works because it's right by my face and I am (almost) aroused by the smell alone.

It's like a dream. I can envision my future husband smelling like this... I adore it.

I may have just ordered some from Amazon... not for anyone in particular (although, giving it to Tom might make me fall in love with him and his birthday is coming up... ). If you get the chance to go sniffing and find this, smell it. You'll be in love so hard.

god, or God? ...or OH God... or whatever

Since yesterday I accidentally talked about politics when I didn't even realize it was the next topic in my thirty days of truth, I will instead choose to talk about religion.

I'm Lutheran, and I love it. I went to private school for 9 years as a youngster (K-8th) and I really wouldn't change that for the world.

Not only did I get a great education because of the small class sizes (and I do mean small, my graduating 8th grade class had only 17 kids in it), but I also got to grow up in a safe environment where the teachers really cared, everyone knew each other, and a girl with big boobs could still play sports even if they interfered sometimes.

During a volley ball tournament my 8th grade year I had the opportunity to bump the ball... because my aim was slightly off, instead of hitting my outstretched arms it hit my boobs. And instead of going anywhere it sort of flopped, losing all its momentum, and fell to the ground with a thud. Everyone laughed... I obviously felt awesome about myself and was monumentally particular every time thereafter as to make sure the ball hit my arms, and not my boobs.

In private school, be it Catholic, Lutheran, or Nondenominational, you still have religion class every single day (except Wednesdays, but at that point you have Chapel, which the whole school attends and you don't have to do homework (yes, I had religion homework)). You also had a memory verse each week. We were also monitored on how often we went to church, that too was a part of our grade. Basically, I know my Bible.

But what do I think of religions that don't follow conventional New King James or the like versions of the Written Word? How do I feel about religions that don't allow you to eat meat on Fridays, or, more horrifically: bacon. Ever.

As far as never eating bacon ever goes, in my mind that in itself is a sin. Bacon helps me see God, therefore I think it in itself is a holy symbol.

What do I think of religions where the ladies don't cut their hair and only wear skirts, or where you can't read Harry Potter books?

Basically I think religion as an idea is an excellent. As a practice, if left to define your every day morality (which, thanks to radiolab we know that morality has little to nothing to do with religion whatsoever) and how we treat and love others it's also a great thing. But, when organized religion leads people to hate and cast judgement and have a "holier than thou" attitude toward those who believe anything differently I am not impressed.

In fact I'm appalled.

Take my parents for example. My mother (the republican) and my father (the democrat) have been divorced for about 17 years.

My mother insists on going to church every Sunday, she does daily bible studies, tells me to pray ever time I try to discuss a problem with her and seriously, I kid you not, watches the yelling religious type shows with my nephew, and the pathetic "God has changed my heart, I'm alive today because of him" shows on a far too regular basis. But, when it comes to her current marriage she is a total bitch. She treats my step dad like crap and blames every single problem they have on him. She won't face her problems and is still living with me despite how much stress she causes me knowingly. Instead of trying to make her life any better, she looks to God, inactively. My mother is very unhappy.

No one (not even God) can help you if you're not doing anything. Ignoring your problems will get you nowhere; trust me, I know.

My dad goes to church on Saturdays so he can golf Sunday mornings. He tries to get my little sister to go with him, sometimes she does, sometimes she doesn't. Either way he is happy to go, enjoy the company of his church friends, worship, sing, give offering, and take communion all while keeping his feet and head on the ground. He loves and believes in God, but he understands that hatred and judging anyone for anything isn't his place or responsibility. My dad is a happy man.

see how fun I can be?

Looking at religion as an obligation isn't how God intended it to be. In his Word (I'm going by Christianity here because it's what I know best) he talks about peace, love, and leaving certain things up to Him. We are to worship him, but that doesn't mean just in showing up and going through the motions, it means living as though your presence matters, your actions affect those around you, and making every decision you ever make based on the golden rule: Love. It means that when your heart is in the right place the rest will follow. You're existence will be a testament, not your fake words and your ability to take scripture out of context.

I see religion as a guide line for how to best show love. If you're showing love you're showing God. Judgement isn't love. Blaming others and having no responsibility of your own isn't showing love. Hating, mocking, belittling, thinking you're somehow more important than another person... none of that is love. None of that is God.

And that's why I see no reason to attend church with my mother, or any other person who views religion as she does.

la la la love is in the air! and my life is pretty good.

I know that as soon as I publish this post, something crappy will happen, but for now I don't care.

Basically things are pretty awesome.

I got into nursing school! How rad is that? I knew I was going to get in; I was 98.99% sure, but there was that itty bitty part of me that was still nervous (and, thank you Celexa for making that nervousness bearable) so I tried not to talk about it. But, now that I've gotten in, I can sing it from the roof tops.

I'm going to be a nurse by this time 2013, and I am going to make good money, have a good job, and be able to live somewhere that doesn't involve a crying baby or my mother who still won't leave. If you get sick you can ask me stuff and (although I usually can nurse my friends back to health properly) I will be able to heal you, like for real.

The most important thing I'm looking for with this is to have a job that makes me feel good about myself. I want to wake up every day and know I am having a positive effect on the world, and that I help people. People need helped; I want to be the one helping them.

Kyle and I are through, officially. Friday I sent him a text with all the reasons why I couldn't be his friend or really have him in my life at all. He agreed with all my reasons, he said he was really sorry he couldn't be the person I knew he could be if he just tried, and he wished me well.

I still think about him a lot, and I have had a few moments where I really wanted to text him and tell him something, but his number is out of my phone. I'm proud of myself for making this decision. I am proud to know that while i may have had love like feelings for someone, I was able to keep my head about things and see what was bad for me. Then, I was also able to cut it out of my life, because I am stronger than my emotions.

Ellen says that it made sense that I still loved really liked him (despite my feelings for Tom); we had so much "clicky-ness" that being with him was one of the easiest things I'd ever done.

I'm proud of myself for letting him go though, because Tom is a great guy, and letting my heart do what I want it to do makes everything easier, even if Tom takes a bit more work than Kyle.

I met Tom's parents over the weekend, and his little sister and brother. I am pretty sure they liked me, except Tom told them I am a democrat and I don't think they were too happy about that; the room got all tense and quiet. It seemed like they were looking to start a debate with me, for me to prove to them why I was a democrat so they could all gang up on me and smash me down.

Because I hate fighting more than anything and am a master of humor, I made light of the situation, told a joke, and made the conversation move on in a totally different direction. I will never talk to them about politics, ever. Just like I try to avoid that conversation with Tom as much as I can.

No person is perfect, and since governing bodies are run by humans I do not expect radical changes instantly or really ever. The system takes time to find balance, and since republicans did such a botched job when GB was in office, I think that giving the democrats a chance to figure out a new plan rather than bashing every minute decision any of them make is a good idea. Human nature is what's wrong with this country (and any governing body for that matter), not democrats or republicans.

I will be honest with you all: if it could work, I'd be happy to live in a communist society. However, read any book from my 10 Honors English class and you'll learn that no matter how perfect the idea, we as humans cannot execute it properly because power and money corrupt, which is why I am a democrat; I would like the government to take control of the shit we keep messing up (insurance, health care, failing economies. Because a lot of people forget that this is no longer the industrial revolution; it's the age of information, and therefore make stupid decisions based on that forgetting... ) and give us the rights republicans won't give us or try to take away (legal abortions, gay marriage, and sadly, more recently the crap with planned parenthood).

Yes, printing money is beyond stupid and we are going to see the negative effects of that very soon, yes people shouldn't have voted for a president based on the fact that they both have dark skin, yes, the health care bill was such a joke no one should have even thought it was a plausible (or possible) solution to the problems we face with insurance companies (slash big drug companies) concerning fair pricing and who can or can't afford decent coverage, but I think that in order to find the right solution you're more likely than not to mess up a few times, and that with issues as big as we're facing, I doubt any one thing would fix it.

America has been the world power that it is for a really long time, even Rome fell... nothing lasts forever and accepting change and trying to figure out how and what will happen is a lot smarter than shoving your heels in the ground because you don't like the decisions of the people who your fellow citizens elected into office.

This turned into something far more political than I intended; forgive me, thou must.

Back to good things,

Bobby is 23 today which means I'm getting old... every time he has a birthday I have a mini identity crisis because he is only a little bit (eight months) older than I am and I am old. But, this year I don't care. I'm on my way to nursing school, I'm not freaking out about not accomplishing anything of worth in my measly 20+ years on this planet, I actually feel amazing about myself. We'll see if I still feel this way come my actual birthday.

Tom... Tom Tom Tom. I am so into this bloke it almost has to be bad for me. I love his voice, and when I hear it on the other end of the phone my heart beats faster. Knowing I am going to be seeing him makes the troubles and irritants of they day matter so much less. Kissing him, oh my God kissing him... can someone be so in love with kissing someone else nothing besides the kiss matters? Tom is by far the best kisser I've ever snogged with. I'm happy, and the moment I decided to rid my life of Kyle it was like me heart opened up and all I wanted to fill it was Tom.

Have I sufficiently grossed you out yet?

Basically he is awesome, and I can't get enough of him.

Friday I get to see Thoroughly Modern Millie for the first time ever because Andi is in the pit at some high school in the middle of nowhere... but it'll be cool. I love the music (it's based of a girl in the twenties who is thoroughly modern... very very cute). I love musicals.

And, last but not least, my nephew is effing hilarious and I love him so so much. We have started him on solid(ish) food and watching him eat is so comical. He is the personification of nom nom nom-ing and once I figure out how to do it I'll show you a funny video of him eating.

the break up book

Everyone, well, people who read, have books that signify turning points in their lives. A book you read after your pet died that helped you see death is a part of life. A book for when you graduated high school that helped you grow up and see that your adult life only held as much potential as you were willing to put into it. A break up book for when you're heart is broken seemingly beyond repair.

My sister decided that the only book anyone would ever need for a break up book was The Zahir, by Paulo Coelho, because it's a book in which his wife unexpectedly leaves him and he learns quite a bit about himself on his journey to heal and find love again.

I've never read the book, but I read the first three chapters or so when David and I broke up; I could just tell it wasn't for me, not at that moment anyways. The writing was the only thing that kept me going. My God, if I could write like that man I'd have it made. Soon I'll read one of his works, but not now... now I am reading something else.

Call me cliche, just do it. I know what I am about to tell you will make you roll your eyes at me.

I'm ready; I don't care.

Last night I started reading a book that will be my break up book (sorry it came almost nine months after the break up... but I have been doing a lot of introspection and I probably wasn't ready to read it before now) and my new relationship book, all in one.

I know this because I've seen the movie...

Eat, Pray, Love

Are you done laughing yet? Can we move on?

 Great.

I loved the story, the idea of a woman who knew her life was messed up and took the necessary measures to fix it (sound familiar? I just wish I had been able to go to three foreign countries instead of the weekly therapy and meds rout) so this week when I saw it at the library on my way to check out I just nipped it up and walked out the door.

Because procrastination is my middle name, I didn't open it till last night... and 7 chapters in I knew I would finish.

Not because it's an easy read, because it is, but because the style is fantastic. It's so conversational and real, it's like talking to a friend with her little self interruptions (her use of parentheses makes my heart soar) and descriptions.And, it's funny. Laugh out loud funny. She describes her crazy like any other woman would: accepting but still loathing.

We're all nuts; after we've accepted this fact, dealing with it becomes so much easier.

Being able to relate to a book character with how her heart feels about her husband, how she fell in love with someone so fast (Kyle... again *cough cough*), and how no matter what she did that relationship wasn't going to heal her (only cause more harm and distress) is I think why this was more my book than The Zahir. That one is about being perplexed as to why you broke up, figuring it out, discovering yourself and how you can not make the same mistakes in your next relationship, and then seeing how those changes effected your new relationship for the better. That's not me.

I knew exactly what happened in mine and Davids relationship. I knew that he hated me for the exact same reasons I hated me... and that isn't exactly what happened in Eat, Pray, Love, but it's a lot closer because she hates herself and the needy (*ding*) warped (*ding ding*) person she had become from trying to please everyone else. She hates how she can't be alone (so many *dings* your ears bleed) and the idea of being alone is just as frightening as staying with the person you know is wrong for you.

She says, "The only thing more unthinkable than leaving was staying; the only thing more impossible than staying was leaving."

Before David and I broke up I was so unhappy, I was so unhappy it physically hurt... but I didn't know what to do. I couldn't leave him; he was the only thing in my life worth living for (so I thought), but I also couldn't stay with him, because if I stayed that meant I wasn't dealing with the shit pile I'd let my life become.

The depression sucked me dry of all reason.

I didn't do anything for fear of making a wrong decision, I didn't talk to anyone for fear of being reminded of exactly what I was hiding from, and, most importantly, I completely ignored how unhappy I was, because if I accepted that something was wrong, I would have to face it.

And isn't facing yourself much scarier than facing anyone else?

But I know this book will be it, it'll let me read about what I emotionally (since I physically can't eat gelato three times a day or go to Indonesia) went through this past nine months or so and then show me how to really love again.

Because at the end she finds that. Peace, love, and a guy to make it all seem worth it.