Yesterday was hard. Normally I wouldn't be so emotional about it, but I still can't wrap my head around how young he was. It keeps me up at night. Literally. I hopped on Facebook last night and noticed that his brother had also left him a message; quite simply it said, "Happy Birthday, Christian". It's weird when the world moves on from such a tragedy, even though I know it happens more often that it should. It also makes me remember the little things; to be kind to everyone, because you never know what they're going through inside and to tell the ones you love that you do every single day. Don't ever let them wonder. So, Christian, it's goodbye for now. Know that you changed my life and that I loved with you with my whole heart. I'm sure you will be in my thoughts each day.

I didn't sleep much again last night, but I've started to not be surprised by this. I can honestly say that this is the worst bout of insomnia I've ever had. Over the years, when Ben and I would go through tough times it would keep me up, but never to this extent. It's been two weeks and I've probably slept an average of four hours each night. I don't even let it worry me anymore because that just adds to the stress. I know at some point my body will have to relax and take over. It does have me wondering what the underlying problem is here. All I want is to wake up refreshed, instead of exhausted, so that my day doesn't always seem impossible.

Herb finally got down to the nitty gritty (we forced him) and finished the schedule for his vacation in two weeks and for ours the week after. Just seeing Vermont on the calendar gets me excited. 22 days and counting. I can't wait.

Alright, I need to get ready for work. I'm going to try and remember what day it is today (Tuesday? Wednesday!) and not fall asleep in my car, or at the counter, or in the shoe room. Wish me luck.

You're in the arms of your angel. May you find some comfort here.

I've been thinking about you a lot this week. I couldn't figure out why. I know it's almost been a year, but I wasn't prepared yet.

Today is your birthday. I'd almost forgotten, but I like to think that maybe these sleepless nights have been your way of reminding me. Happy 14th birthday, sweet boy. I'm sorry that I hadn't been around for the last few, or that I let you grow so much without noticing. I started this blog with an entry about you way back in January. I remembered the time you fought tooth and nail to have me let you jump off the balcony only to have me tell you no. You convinced me, instead, to let you two slide down your stairs and out the door into the snow on sleds made of pillows. You weren't afraid of anything.

Thinking about this reminds me of the time you two wanted me to play goalie in your street hockey game. I put on your too-small pads and let you take shots at me. I ended up bruised and slightly more alert, while you two literally fell on the ground laughing. This leads into the many times you two would trick me into "hanging out" with the dead deer hanging in your Dad's garage. Do you remember the cookie dough? I can't recall how many times we got sick from it, but it was too many. We could never figure out the perfect dough to milk ratio.

I remember you being so little that you were afraid to go under water in the river behind your house. I'd take you out every day, hold you in my arms, and we'd dunk together until you finally got used to it. By the end of that summer you were jumping off the end of the dock with nothing but your "swimmies" to keep you afloat.

I remember when you were just a baby and I tripped over a chair at Linda's and we fell. I ended up bruising my tailbone pretty badly as I twisted to make sure you didn't get hurt. You didn't cry. I almost did.

I spent so much time with you throughout the years that you were more like a little brother to me than some kid I babysat. I remember giving up several night with friends to come and watch you two. Not just for the money, but because you were my favorite. That part never changed.

There's a kid in Gavin's class named Christian and he looks just like you. The last time I was "parent" helper, he'd lost his two front teeth and so when he said his name it sounded like "Chrithchan" rather than "Christian". He's my favorite, too. And one of Gav's best friends. Sometimes it's hard to look at him, the resemblance is so obvious. But he reminds me of how awesome you were, and that, my little boy, is almost enough.

So. Happy birthday. I hope that wherever you are, you're playing video games, and knowing that everyone here misses you so much. And that cookie dough will never be the same without you.

Ramblings of an insomniac.

Okay. I'm tired. We all get that. I know that not everyone out there sleeps often or well. But let me just paint you a little picture: Sunday night I worked until 6:30, and because it was raining so hard Julia ended up staying the night. We watched "The Wizard of Oz" and "Goonies" until about midnight and then went to bed. I fell asleep somewhere around 4am, only to wake up to my alarm at eight and hit snooze. This, of course, meant that I overslept, as I did not actually get up until 10:10. And, I'm sure you all heard about last Friday and the conditioner incident. While I'm thankful for the extra sheen to my hair, I need rest. I'm cranky most of the time from simply working as much as I do. When I finally have a day off on 10/11, I will have worked for 21 days straight. I know, it could be worse, but it could be better also. I get excited when, like today, I only have to go in from 3-9.

I don't know what it is about this month and sleeping. We were getting along so well. My life has a lot of areas of stress that are constantly evolving, but I think I do a pretty good job of just turning it all off most of the time. I guess when I finally lay down, it all comes rushing in and that's why it takes me hours to unwind. Blech. Vicious circle.

Insomnia has pretty much consumed my life. Other than that, I've been working on saving money for Vermont (MAC counter, here I come!) and changing up my diet. Since I finally consider myself a non-smoker, my health has come into the spotlight a bit more. I've always been able to eat what I want and not exercise and be thin. Well, I'll never be thin, let's be honest. My ass has an area code of it's own. But comfortable. Since quitting, though, I've gained another seven or so pounds and I just can't be where I'm at. If I can't be comfortable with telling all of you, then I definitely can't be comfortable with waking up to it everyday. My new diet is not trendy or fancy, but simply includes eating a small piece of toast with peanut butter for breakfast (because I hate eating before 1pm), a healthy low-carb lunch with as much protein and veggies as possible, and a smaller dinner. Really, I just need to evaluate my daily choices. So I've started a food journal which I used to think was cheesy, but now I understand it's effectiveness. When you have your day's previous choices right in front of you, it's easier to figure out what you should have next. I still don't really have time to exercise, which is both an excuse and a truth: my days are already 9-13 hours long. If I were to get up any earlier, they would hover around the 17 hour mark and I just think one day I'd fall asleep in my car and drive off the road. So. The key to all of this is sleep. I love two of my three jobs, and I love keeping busy. 17 hour days would be cake if I could sleep for the other seven. If any of you have any tried-and-true sleep methods, you know where to find me.

Alright, now I'm tired about talking about being tired and I've got a million things to do before three because my alarm went off at eight and again, I ignored it and slept until eleven. FML.

Be thankful.

I just finished watching The Soloist and all I can feel is happiness. The movie itself is more than inspiring, but it got me thinking about all of the little things in life that I ignore day to day; all of the small things that make, and keep, me happy. As my mental list continued, I began to feel luckier. All of this anger and bitterness washed away, only to reveal a bright, shiny new surface. In it's reflection I see the old me and she looks great. I've missed her, of course, but she reminds me that all is not lost. Nothing ever is.

We celebrated Joe's birthday last night. 27 years. It was just me, Sam, Corey and Joe, listening to music from the 70s and 80s, drinking and playing pool. Our air band gave a good run and we ended the night around 2. I felt a little under the weather this morning, but nothing regrettable. Now, I'm sitting here, enjoying a glass of wine and my new "Be Thankful" candle, and the phrase resonates; I'm so thankful. There are things I long for, certainly, but I've got time. What's the rush? In this moment, exactly where I am, I'm happy.

I thought that this time of year would bring out the worst in me but it's been so much more than that. I don't know what it is about Fall but we agree with each other. I am an Earth sign, after all. Maybe I'll write more later. Right now I've got so much more appreciating to do.

Venti Non-Fat Caramel Macchiato

My Harvest candle is burning and I recently discovered a new flavor of coffee creamer that has essentially brought Starbucks into my kitchen. Life is great. Unfortunately, Ben and Micaela did NOT get married this past weekend (much to my disappointment), but I think that it's coming in the future. This thought keeps me warm at night and helps me to know that where I'm at is exactly where I'm supposed to be. A year ago, if you'd asked me how I'd feel about Ben marrying the girl he not-so-carefully screwed around with, I'd have died; stopped breathing completely and passed out from a broken heart. But 371 days later, I feel like the Tin Man in Wizard of Oz. I've got a fresh set of priorities and a brand new heart.

Thank God everything happened the way it did. When Ben started calling me at the end of July, I figured I'd been dragged back in for another year of drama. I was reliving all of my old feelings for him, wavering between love and hate, while fantasizing about the day we'd be together again. It was a joke. I lost myself for a little bit there, and even I'm ashamed to admit it. But it's okay now, I've found my footing again, and the "anniversary" of our break-up came and went without a tear. I dreamt about him last night, but I can't recall in what context the dream took place. He's easier to forget now that I don't hear his voice.

The countdown to Vermont continues at exactly 31 days, and I can't wait. Ornament debut at Hallmark is the 9th-11th of October, and because I'm a huge dork, I'm excited about this as well. I always feel like September is hardest for me because I really want to start celebrating Christmas then, but by October, it doesn't seem as insane. Bring on the tinsel.

Alright, I must go. There's much cleaning to be done (even though our cleaning lady is, at this exact moment, finishing up for the week), and I still have to work at 3. I haven't counted to see when my next day off will be because I'm afraid of the answer. The only upside to this is that these next two weeks have a good mixture of long and short days. Sometimes only working a four hour shift seems like a day off because it's such cake. What has my life come to?

I never thought that I'd love anyone so much.

I wanted to update this last night, but one glass of wine after a 12.5 hour day is a sure-fire way to fall asleep. I feel refreshed this morning after a solid eight hours of rest, and am wondering if I should make most of my weeks like this week. The combination of two days off, three 12-hours, and two short day seems to work in my favor. I had a bit of a sore throat for most of yesterday, but it seems to be gone now. Keeping my fingers crossed for no strep this season.

It's been a year. Sometime this week, I can't remember the exact date, which just tells you how much has changed. I know that I've got a journal lying around here that was my savior after everything happened. I found it a few weeks ago, and while reading it broke my heart, it also made me realize how thankful I am that everything happened the way it did. I was talking to my boss last night about why I work so much, why I don't want a boyfriend, and why I don't see one at all in my future. She asked whether or not I thought the divorce was the reason, or whether it was Ben. I've never compared the two side by side like that, but of course, it must be both. Events change a person, every little thing that happens to you on a daily basis makes you who you are, and so you can't ignore any of it when it comes to deciding why you feel the way you feel.

There is a bit of responsibility that needs to be taken, and that's why I've wanted to write about regrets lately. When I say that Ben is to "blame" for this, I have to blame myself as well. I didn't give it my all, my best shot, and I regret that. I do. Because I'll never know whether or not I could have saved us. I'm sorry that when you picked me up at the airport in London, I didn't drop my bags and run to you. I wanted to. I was tired, and scared, and the sight of you holding coffee and flowers at the gate melted my heart. Still, I walked. I'm sorry that I picked a fight with you in the square in Venice, or that I smoked and talked to that guy you hated. I swear I wasn't flirting with him, but I know you took it as one of many stabs. I'm sorry that I ever kissed Josh, or let him kiss me, or told you about it. I thought I was doing the right thing; I tout the virtues of honesty so much that I didn't think there was any other way. I see now though that that was the beginning of the end for us. I should've just let it be what it was: a kiss between friends because we both missed others. I didn't want him, I never did. I went home and cried all night while Heather stroked my hair and told me it would be okay. But I knew better. I knew you wouldn't forgive me. I am, after all, the person who knows you best.

It will take a very special person to love me the way that you loved me. It wasn't perfect, and there are things I wish for in my next boyfriend that you simply couldn't give me. It would be so much easier if I could just pick traits out of a catalog: honesty, sense of humor, good cook, great smile. I know that I simply haven't found my match yet, and that he's out there. Who really knows if I'll ever find him. If you see him, give him my number.

Gavin's birthday is tomorrow. And Jack Jack can almost say my name. These are the things that matter. These are the things that make my heart swell. So. I survived. I can breathe without you. I guess you were right, too. Sometimes you just have to let go of the fear, close your eyes, and jump. You never would've let me fall.

Shades of gray.

I've been thinking about writing this very specific blog entry, one about regrets. I've got to work up to it, and I thought I was ready this morning, but I have a feeling it's going to take a lot of out of me and I'm just in such a great mood today. I've only been sleeping, on average, every other night and this week has seemed endless. I started this new book about a mother-daughter duo both lost at their respective times in life; the mother, about to turn 50, can't seem to let go of the girl she was, and the daughter, my age, can't reconcile a broken heart and the desire to not be so afraid of the world. I think because I'm so much like the daughter, reading the book every day is a little bit like reading an old journal. Terrifying.

But I'm very happy. This week has been a rollercoaster, and I'm glad to say that I stepped off okay. The "day" is coming up here, in four days, and I'm not sure how I'll feel. I actually forgot that this time last year I was with him. It's weird for me to think that I haven't seen him in so long; I guarantee that, had you asked either of us, we would never have said that we'd even have gone six months without seeing each other. It's surreal, but in remembering how tortured I was last year, I'm thankful that 365 days later I'm able to breathe on my own, broken heart or not. I never thought I'd make it without him.

Which brings me to my attachment issues and how extreme they are. I either love you, in which case I want to see you every day, or I tolerate you and can't stand to spend more than 24 hours pretending to listen. Phase 1 is reserved for family and a select group of friends. Phase 2 is everyone else. That's how quickly I make a decision about people. There is no in between for me, no gray area. I either like you or I don't. If I don't like you, then I don't spend time with you. My mother says it's a LaCourse trait; this ability to turn things on and off so efficiently, to see things clearly and without muss. What that really means is that I lack the feelings to make decisions based on emotion, which translates to "I'm emotionally unavailable." Whatever. My problem with all of this is... who taught me to be different? My mother is so overly emotional sometimes that it makes me gag and want to run as fast as I can in the opposite direction. My father, the person I look up to most, was emotionally stunted for years, until his marriage ended in disaster. Only now, years later, has he become my best friend, and the man who cries at EVERYTHING.

I feel things, you know. Even if I don't always show it. I definitely have a bigger capacity for emotions when it comes to animals rather than humans. But that seems simple and logical to me as well. Humans make mistakes, they're inherently bad. Animals are innocent in all sense of the word. You know that Dawn commercial? Where they clean up animals who are covered in oil from a spill? I cry. Every time. I'm not exaggerating. And last night, I happened to turn to Animal Planet (big mistake) where there was a show about the ASPCA, and rescuing animals from neglect. I watched for maybe a minute, was already disgusted by what I was hearing, and had to change it. And that's the problem. Humans are bad by choice. Any animal that's bad is bad because someone made it that way. I suppose this is a bit of a digression. Apparently I needed to validate the fact that I do show emotions (even if only to commercials and tv shows).

I'm happy, though. I think I've figured out a way to beat this thing, and Jules will be here tonight. I have my first day off in forever on Monday and I've had appointments scheduled since May: hair, nails, eyebrows, the works. Sam and I are going to take a trip to Canton in search of a Pumpkin Spice latte and new purses, and then I'm having dinner with Mom and Jules. The Vermont trip is getting ever-closer, and I'm still waiting for the fortune cookie that will tell me I need to move to Saratoga with Sarah. So I haven't lost hope. I guess I never did. I just couldn't find it for awhile.

Behind these hazel eyes.

I'm not even sure I want to write, but I feel as though I should. I've been working so much lately that most of the time I'm too exhausted to do anything when I get home but crawl into bed. I feel refreshed for the first time in two weeks because I was able to sleep in 'til 11 today. The little excitements, right?

Seif and I haven't spoken since his little comment about me being too much drama. I don't buy it, and I don't particularly care, since I think I'm probably the least dramatic 23 year old I know. My life is quite predictable, actually. Go to work, come home, hang out with my family, repeat. There's very little that happens out of the ordinary. It bugs me that he used an excuse like that, but then again, I guess it's been determined that I'm not a great judge of character.

I've been a bit lonely lately, but nothing major. Every now and then it's just this little nagging feeling. Most of the time I'm too busy to do anything but ignore it, but sometimes, when I'm alone at night reading, I think about how nice it would be to have someone next to me. It's a bit of a catch-22 for me, though. I have the distinct feeling that if I were in a relationship, I'd feel trapped. I'm sort of a handful when it comes to love because I want the best of it all and I'm not totally convinced it's out there. I'm not big on compromise (shocking).

I love being back at the bookstore because it inspires so much in me. I truly love everyone I work with and their personalities bring out something different in me everyday. I've always had this dream of opening up a coffee shop/bookstore where people could just sit and read and enjoy some java. I don't know the first thing about running a business, but I do know there is nothing better in this world than the written word and the smell of freshly brewed coffee.

Other than all of this, I've been trying to plan some college trips for Jules so we can get some visits done before the snow starts coming down, which is hard with three jobs and no time. I'm still working on the end of September, so we'll see. I'd really love to see Les and Whit so I can hear about what's going on in their lives (read: you two could start your own blogs so I could stalk you in return). Then, of course, the yearly trip to Vermont with all the women in my family is coming up at the end of October, and Dad's 50th birthday is two weeks into November. So much to do, so little time.

On that note, I'm going to enjoy the delicious iced coffee that was waiting for me when I woke up, read a little bit, and then head into work. I don't even care that I don't have a day off for another nine days. The sun is shining, Jules is here, and I finally got more than 5 hours of sleep. Life is good.

This is bad, real bad, Michael Jackson.

I have that stupid Keri Hilson song stuck in my head. And of course every time I get in the car, it's playing. I get it, God. Sometimes, love knocks you down.

Today is an easy day; I don't have to be to work until 5:30, it's only a four hour shift, Herb called and offered to buy coffee if I just picked it up, and I think we're reinstating family game night, effective immediately. All in all, a perfect way to start the first real day of Fall. I know that, officially, Fall doesn't start for another month or so, but the smell in the air and the leaves on the trees are impossible to ignore.

I'm happy. I talked to Heather last night for the first time in a month or so, and it was nice to hear a friend's voice. I drank three glasses of wine, ate some ramen noodles (thanks Jules) and crashed around 2:30. I got to sleep in today, and so far, most of my morning has consisted of reading, drinking coffee, and making a list of all of the things I should be doing instead. Not smoking really frees up my time.

Not much else to report. I'm really looking forward to our ladies weekend away in October, and I've literally been counting down the days. I need a mini-vacation, a road trip, time to myself. I know that next month will be hard for me, and so by the time October rolls around, I'll welcome the distraction. Jules and I are also trying to plan a weekend down to Ithaca so she can check out Wells for school. I'm 100% on board with this; I'm missing the apple cider from the farmer's market.

That's it for now. I'm about to give in to the Fates and just download the song. Damn it.

I wish I could say to you, "It's gonna be alright, it's gonna be alright."

I'm tired, but I'm trying to do my best to update this everyday. Today is an 11 hour day and I'm not looking forward to it. It's gloom and doom outside, the temperature has dropped enough where it's finally starting to feel like Fall, and I just realized that a week from today Julia will be moved back to Mom's. I hate this time of year.

I'm thankful for keeping busy simply because it doesn't allow me time to think. Smoking used to be my outlet; I'd sit outside on the front stoop and de-stress about everything. But among other things, I need to figure out a way to deal with my feelings in a healthy way. On days like this, when it's hard to find the sunshine, I feel sad. I need to get out of this town.

When I woke up I already had two texts from Ben. He's in such a tough place right now, and I can't even put my finger on why I care. He says he can't eat, he obviously doesn't sleep, and I know that feeling so well, I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Even him. Especially him. So, it's hard for me to turn my back to all of this even though I know for a fact that I'm happier when I do. Then, I think, I'm trying to be less selfish since that seems to be one of my main vices. I'm stuck in a place that I don't want to be.

And so I'll work. And I'll read. And I'll do everything I can to avoid being sucked into this, while still keeping my eye on his progress. It's weird, the way I feel about him now. I love him in a... familial way rather than a romantic way. I can't decide if I think that's better or worse.

On a different note, my first night back at the bookstore reminded me of all of the reasons why I love that job. I'm grateful that I can spend a few hours a week helping other people with their selections, and secretly making a list of my own. Just the smell of books makes me so happy.

Here comes the rain. Same time, same place tomorrow? It's a date.

I see another cup of coffee in my future.

I'm tired. I didn't realize how much I enjoyed having that little summer vacation from work. I went from one job to three, quite quickly, and it's shaping up to look like I'll be working an average of 50 hours a week. It's almost impossible to work more than that without passing out from exhaustion or throwing abox cutter at people out of frustration. I'm excited to be back at the bookstore; I'm in my element there. Hacketts is tough because there's really only four of us working, and three of us are supervisors. The problem lies in that because there's only three of us, none of us can ever really have more than a day off. Dad called me last night trying to plan an impromptu Ottawa weekend with Joe and Jess and there's just no way. I'd need at least two weeks notice before I could pull something like that off. And even then it's a long shot. But I'm so desperate to get the hell out of here for a few days that I've been scheming up ways to make it work all day. If only.

I'm still feeling good about everything. I hate when I'm in a great mood and then something happens that reminds me of something sad. I was looking at pictures on Facebook last night of Shane's son, Gage, and I'm friends with his brother on MySpace. Then I went to bed and dreamt about him; he was still alive, and we were best friends. I've had similar dreams about Christian where I wake up, and for those first moments, I think the dream is real. It's almost harder than just living with the day to day ache.

I've started another journal, a written one, for more mundane things. I know what you're thinking: how could it possibly get any more mundane than what I write here? Trust me, it's possible. I think it's going to be more of a planning journal; a way to write about all of the things I want to accomplish. I keep dreaming about Ithaca and Vermont and all of these places I'd love to live, just for a little while. I've put so many things on the back burner these last two years that I'm only doing myself a disservice by not dreaming about the possibilities.

Anyway, it's time to get ready for work. I'm thinking that if I can keep up this non-smoking thing that in a few months, I'm going to reward myself with one of the new ereaders. I've been comparing the Sony and the Kindle all morning, and I know that Apple is rumored to be coming out with something similar before Christmas. Yay for more books and less smoking!

Non-smoker? Non-smoker, anyone?

I've only had three cigarettes in the last five days or so. I know that doesn't qualify me for any medals but I'm feeling pretty damn proud of myself. Especially considering the climate in which I decided to quit. The store has been a very stressful place to be lately, with our lack of sales and the dwindling amount of customers walking in and realizing we're now selling crap. Additionally, I've got this on-going stuff with Ben, and then I saw Mark for the first time this past weekend. Talk about a challenge. I'm not too hung up on the fact that I haven't "quit" entirely; I'm just so proud of myself for being able to change it at all. I feel less guilty, and I'm really working on getting Dad to do it with me. It's hard because I'm around so little these days, and when he's alone, smoking is his ally.

I start back at the bookstore this week, which means, officially, I'll be working three jobs. I'm looking forward to the money, and staying busy, with our Vermont girl's weekend in October my shining star in the distance. I'd like to have some money saved for it so that when I finally arrive in Burlington, lots of fun can ensue.

I haven't totally put this moving thing on the back burner either; though, I'm starting to think that perhaps I'm one of the Van Wilders in life... I just can't seem to find my niche. There are so many things I'd like to dabble in that committing to just one for a lifetime seems terrifying. I'm torn between wanting to feel normal and successful and wanting to throw caution to the wind to figure out what my true passions are. I've lived my life too safely up until this point to not consider the option.

So. There's my life in a nutshell. I know I haven't written in awhile; it comes and goes. I was feeling too vulnerable to write after everything that happened and I didn't want to say something I'd regret later. I'm feeling great now though, so hopefully you guys feel it too.

PS: It smells like Fall today, and I'm oh so happy about that.

I just saw Halley's comet, she waved...

My life has been so surreal these last few days. Thank God I've been able to shake it. Sam is on her way with coffee, it's an absolutely beautiful day outside, we're heading to Potsdam for the day to get Julia's hair done, and I don't work until 5. I feel blissful. What a change from the last 72 hours. I was sinking, but once again the universe helped me pick myself back up and I'm feeling better than okay again.

After everything that happened last night, Julia and I remembered the meteor shower, so we went outside and watched. We agreed that next year, we'll remember ahead of time, and plant some lounge chairs on the front yard with coffee and doughnuts. Anyway, it was beautiful. We probably only saw 10 or so in a 45-minute period (due to our inability to focus), but it was so worth it. I felt better when I came back in, and after a good night's sleep, I'm back to normal.

I still haven't decided how I'm going to proceed with this. I know what I told him, and I know what I said... but I can't get rid of the feeling that yet again, I'm running to his rescue after he treats me like crap. The truth is, there was a day or so, in between all of this, where I missed him incredibly. But last night, I was reminded of all of the reasons why I'd stayed away for so long. You can delude yourself into a lot of things for the sake of love; but this is just too big.

So, I'm going to take the day... hell, I might take a couple of days... to really think about how I'm going to do this. If I'm even going to do this.

If nothing else, it's great to be back.

And so it is just like you said it would be. Life goes easy on me...most of the time.

I wake up on a different side of the bed everyday. Somedays, I think my mood is all about how I decide I want it to go. I have a choice; I can think about him or I don't have to, I can look at pictures or I can burn them. I've always believed these things. But lately, I'm thinking more and more that in love, rarely are there choices. Sure, you can try to steer the situation in the direction you want it to go, and you can give it your all, but at the end of it all, you were either meant to love that person or you weren't. I have a magnet for Ben; that much is obvious. I'm a smart girl. I know that were it anyone else, I'd have never let them get away with what he got away with. But love makes you blind to the most obvious truths about life, and I can say with the utmost conviction that if he were to show up today and say "Let's give this one more try", I'm not sure what I'd do.

So, M, this is for you. It's been a long time since we've met in these pages, and talked to each other like old friends. I've had time to think about how I feel and the advice I want to give; not because you need it or even want it, but because it's mine to give, and because I wish someone would have told me what I'm about to tell you.

Forgive. Let it all go, run away, and start over. It seems so simple and yet so hard, and I get it. I do. But you may never find a love like this again and it would be a terrible shame if you ended up like me. I've had the love of my life and it was beautiful and far from perfect... but it was mine and I wouldn't change a thing. But as much as it hurts knowing all of the things that have transpired, I guarantee that it pales in comparison to how it feels to love someone you can't be with. It makes me ache to think about how happy I could've been; it's an ache that doesn't go away easily. I live with it everyday and it consumes me.

I've had a rough couple of years, and I don't think I'm out of line in feeling the way that I do. I'm not sure what I believe in, but I know that you've just got to love. Being angry does nothing but ruin the good moments in your life. Bitterness will seep out of you and create a wall between you and the people you love, and it's just not worth it. Be happy in this moment now; you never know when there might not be one to follow.

I can't give anything else. In truth, I think I've already given more than I was ready to. The price I've paid has been high; then again, when compared to all of the things I've gained, I feel lucky. The sun is shining, I've got a great group of people who love me just the way I am, and my home is happy. I'm honest and loving and sometimes a little stubborn. But I know what I want, and just because I can't have them right now, doesn't mean I won't look back on these days and be grateful.

7 years. Don't they go by in a blink.

Oh, you see that skin? It's the same she's been standing in since the day she saw him walking away. Now she's left cleaning up the mess he made.

I've avoided doing this since Friday for obvious reasons. Friday night I got drunkity drunk drunk after Ben called me to tell me, in four minutes, that he was sorry. It's amazing how he can walk around things; he's got a talent for it. He never really made his point, ended up hanging up on me after I reiterated several times that I don't want to talk to him, so I called him at 2 o'clock to tell him how I much I hate him. Thank God he didn't answer; it was a stupid idea anyway. When I spoke to him on Saturday, I asked him what he really called for, and again, the apologies. He also said, however, that he'd like to have a conversation in person sometime, whenever I'm up to it. I have no idea what this could possibly entail, or why it involves me, but I'm sure it has something to do with me telling Micaela all of the shit he's pulled over the last year.

But here's the thing about Ben: everything he does is to somehow serve himself. He's not getting ahold of me because he's actually sorry about what he did. On the contrary, I think he's probably proud of how long he was able to pull it off. He's calling because he needs me to get him out of this pickle he's in with his girlfriend, and he knows that, besides him admitting to everything he's done, I'm his saving grace. All I'd have to do is say that I lied about everything because I loved him so much, and he'd be off the hook. Now, he's crazy to think that after all the shit he put me through I'd ever want to help him with anything. But that's Ben for you. If nothing else, he's got a great imagination.

The worst part is, not only had he ruined the last year of my life with games and bullshit, but he ruined this new part, the part where I'm finally okay. And I hate him all over again for it. Let me be okay. Let me move on. It's hard enough having a daily reminder that he doesn't love me anymore; but I shouldn't be forced to relive everything just so he can move on and be happy. You made your bed and it's time you lie in it.

I just don't know anymore. This is not how I saw my life going.

I'm not lost, just looking for footprints.

It's weird, the parts of your life that fade into the background, lost forever. I'm only 23 and yet there are years, whole sections of my life, that feel like they don't belong to me. My first job at college was working at a winery. They needed help, I had no previous experience whatsoever, they hired me on the spot. And I loved it. It was right on the lake, I had the privilege of learning about the process of making wine, and when it was the dead of winter, with no customers in sight, they'd let me sit at the counter and do my homework so as not to fall behind in school. I saw my boss a few years later, from afar, and she'd lost all her hair. I felt bad that I hadn't heard of any sickness, but also that I'd just completely lost touch after I left. She gave me a chance and I'm forever grateful for that.

My first job in high school, so, really, my first job ever, was in the kitchen at the SLU dining hall. I had to wear a hat or a hairnet (guess which one I chose) and I had burns on my wrists that entire summer from having to drop the pans of boiling water into the line. I met a guy named Simba, from Africa, who had a crush on me but who I supposed had a crush on a lot of local girls. I was sixteen, he was nineteen, and knew things about the world that I could never dream of understanding. He was charming and could always make me laugh; for the years after, when I worked in various offices on campus, I would see him and wave, and he'd flash his contagious smile and melt my heart all over again. Ben hated him, but then again, that was his right. We were so in love then, and the thought that anyone might steal me away was inconceivable. He drove me to and from work every day that summer because I didn't have my license, and I'd pulled a rolling stop on my driving test, failing miserably. I'd come out of work, sweaty and greasy and hating life, and he'd have the air conditioning in his jeep on full blast, with a sweatshirt on to keep the chills at bay. I hate that I forgot those things later, but they were so easily overshadowed that I don't think remembering would have mattered much anyway.

I watched my grandmother die. I was in the room when she stopped breathing; looked on as my grandfather bent down and kissed her, telling her he'd love her forever. My heart broke into pieces, and I remember standing next to Joe, crying hysterically, while he rubbed my back and tried not to sob himself. I think that was the first significant moment in our relationship, the first little chip in a wall that had been built up for years. It's hard to imagine now that we weren't always as close as we are, but I think that Grandma would love the fact that she had something to do with it.

I know the exact moment I stopped loving Ben. It wasn't what you'd expect; I loved him through girl after girl, affair after affair, through endless broken hearts. Pure torture. But I always picked myself up and moved on, letting the dust settle on a version of me that became less like someone I liked every day. No, I stopped loving him on a very ordinary day last summer. When I'd gotten my tattoo in June, we had talked about what I would get for years. He had wanted to draw it, in the beginning, and then later had changed his mind. Said he didn't want something on me that he'd drawn because it was akin to having his name tattooed there; entirely too much commitment for someone like Ben. So when I got it, and picked out a design that was exactly what I wanted, I felt free. It was for me and only me, and I loved it. When we met up about a month later, I picked him up from the bus station. After we hugged, we got in the car, and my tattoo was the first thing he wanted to see. So I hunched over in the driver's seat and pulled up my shirt. He was quiet for a long time, and mumbled something about how he liked it. When I asked him what was wrong, he said he wished he'd drawn it after all; he wanted something on me that would make me his forever. And that was it. I turned the car on, and we drove in silence, until he couldn't take it anymore and changed the subject. But for me it ended there. I understood then that he would always jerk me around, would never know just what he wanted until I'd already turned in another direction. It just wasn't enough for me anymore.

I don't know why I'm writing all of this. Maybe it's because I hate endings, and want to keep these times in my life that seem over, alive. Maybe it's because lately I feel so much older than 23. I feel used up, as though I have nothing left to give, and so I need to validate the fact that I was once a very interesting girl. I think it's to close chapters that were lovely and hard, so that I can make new ones, jump out of this rut that seems impossibly full of monotony.

Right now, it's time for more tea and less reflecting. Too much of a good thing, and all that.

Even if it's a lie, say it will be alright, and I shall believe.

I read somewhere once that if you don't write something everyday, then you're not really a writer, you're just playing at it. It's stuck with me for awhile, and I think I believe it to be true. Writing is work; it's a philosophy and a belief system. It's far from just plain talent. The thing is, I don't write everyday. I have all of these ideas floating in my head that just never make it down on paper. But that's going to change now. I think that I need to write everyday, not only to prove to myself that I can do it, but so I can keep myself sane.

We heard yesterday that the store is going to be re-opening here in a few weeks. And last week, I walked into the bookstore, complaining to my old boss that I didn't have a coupon and couldn't afford to buy a book without one, and she offered me a set of keys to be supervisor. It's been a surreal seven days. I feel like I've been sort of reinventing myself, even though nothing really seems to have changed. I just feel... differently.

The other day I wrote Ben another letter because I found an old picture of us. I had to cry when I looked at it because I'd pushed it so far back, hidden it so deep, that I forgot it even existed. He used to reference the picture all the time, after things had changed, and we just couldn't seem to get back to the way we were. He'd say he wanted that to be us again, the couple that everyone envied.

The thing is, M, is that I'm not sure what he might have been doing back then. Given his personality, and his actions over the last 7 years, I don't see how I can ignore the possibility that he was lying to me right from the get-go. But it never mattered. I always seemed to ignore the warning signs, the things everyone told me were happening but that I couldn't see for myself. I loved him with everything I had, and that meant always trying to see the best in him. After awhile, it became too obvious to ignore, and I realize now that that's where the real trouble began. We were fine when I turned my back to all of that shit, but as soon as I let it in, as soon as I opened up the box and let it all seep out, we cracked. And there wasn't enough glue in the world to put us back together. I don't know if I'm telling you this so that you'll give him a second chance and just ignore all of the things that have happened; I don't think I am, but then again, I have trouble figuring out what I want to happen with you guys on a day to day basis. It's almost like I want you guys to work so that I know he's capable of love and that everything we had was real. On the flip side, I almost revel in the fact that this has happened to you, and it wasn't just me that couldn't make him work. I don't know which one is more terrible or more selfish.

I'm not sure how I got here. This is not at all what this post was supposed to be about. I'm happy, and I'd hoped to convey that here. That even when I have my down days, and I remember all of this stuff about him that I loved, it's never enough to want him back. I used to think that he and I could be friends, but I know now that won't ever happen. I can't condone the things he's done to both of us, and I refuse to sit back and give him advice on a life that he created. He's alone like I always told him he would be. Then again, so are we. I guess it's both a blessing and a curse.

I'm sorry for this.

I found the picture of you and I today from your senior prom. You know the one. You had it framed for me before you left for college that fall, and it has followed me through move after move, never far from reach. I remember the first time I saw it, in a collage of pictures your parents had made of you at your graduation party. It took my breath away; literally, I remember thinking that there would never be any greater love in this world than the love we had. You're looking at me with such... longing. As though in your eyes, I'm the most beautiful person in the world, and you can't imagine your world without me. If I look at the picture as a metaphor for our relationship it seems accurate; you're staring at me, awaiting my next move, while I barely lift my eyes to the camera, still not sure of what I'm doing there.

I tackled my room today. You'd be proud. I found a note from you from last year, a chore list, meant as a joke, but a serious one. In it, you ask me to not let things continue to rot in the fridge, or for dishes to grow mold in the sink. You ask me to vacuum and do laundry, and occasionally, put things back after I get them out. You adamantly remind me that I shouldn't buy any more things for the apartment that we don't need. I laughed when I read it, and showed it to Sam and Jules, but it brought it all back. The expectations, and how neither of us could ever seem to meet those of the other. I never thought that I asked for a lot, but maybe I did. Or maybe I just thought you could do anything. I don't really know.

I didn't want to be reminded of you today any more than I already had been. And if being forced into it, I wanted to only remember the bad, never the good. But you follow me, just like our picture, and I couldn't escape. All the things of you that I've hidden over the last year suddenly found their way to the surface, and I relived all the different emotions. Do you know what it's like to realize that the person you love the most, no longer fits that description? I suppose that you do, but it's hard just the same. I know that I let you down in all the ways a person can, and I'm sorry for that. I don't want to be but I am. But I want you to know that you let me down, too. I think that I would have loved you forever.

I'm not sure how much more of this there will be. It's been almost a year since I came home and found my room rearranged, along with a new life without you in it. I'm still grateful that you did what you did; that you stayed with me that night and let me think, against all odds, that the decision was hard for you. I'm grateful that I didn't know the last time I saw you would be just that, and so there were no tearful goodbyes, just a kiss on the lips and a, "I'll call you later."

You're not forgiven for what you did. You never will be. You were wrong and I will always hate you for the lies, the hurt, the tears. You can't undo damage like that; it's irreparable. But sometimes, late at night or when the sun starts to set, I think of the moment in the picture and know that we weren't always the couple that people felt bad for. For a time, we were the ones to envy. And that's enough for me.

How can you resist this face?

I figured I'd put up some pictures of one of the loves of my life; the ones you hear about all the time. This is Jack Jack (a little freaked out in the first one from seeing his reflection on my computer) in from the outdoors, and playing in the giant pile of dirt that was delivered yesterday for the landscaping project. As stressful as it is having all four kids, two dogs, and six adults at the house at all times, running in and out, getting wet and dirty and tired, this week so far as been perfect. The weather has held up so Jess and the boys can get stuff done outside, while Sam, Jules and I have been in charge of distracting the children for eight hours a day. I'll post pictures when the project is done, but for now, I just wanted to put a face to my little man. I'll get more of the kids tomorrow. Ciao, bellas.

Haunted.

I had a terrible dream last night. Ben invited me down to his family reunion; we apparently were still very much together. And as we walk in, he suddenly stops dead, and starts backing up, with me behind him. Guess who showed up unexpectedly? Micaela. She starts advancing on him, in an attempt to confront him about what an asshole he is, I'm sure, and he's still tripping over me in his attempt to run away. Then I see in his eyes his split second decision; he leaves me behind and moves towards here, with some bullshit excuse about how he found me on the side of the road, and I simply wouldn't leave him alone. I weigh my options, and seriously consider walking away when I finally stand up for myself, walk over to Micaela and say, "We need to talk." Ben is absolutely stunned, and Sarah runs after us, yelling at her brother, "We all knew this would happen, you idiot! You don't get to treat people this way." And the three of us walk off into the Cape Cod sunset.

Now, you might be thinking that shit like this is therapeutic. Maybe, deep down, it is. But the problem with this particular dream is that it was so vivid. And before we walked in, and all hell broke loose, it was just Ben and I, the way things were. It's almost like my subconscious is insisting that I keep on dealing with this, to ensure that I'm really okay. I don't know if it's loneliness, or having so much time on my hands from being unemployed, but I've been thinking about him a lot lately. Not about getting back together, or in any real "scene"; mostly just flashes of his face, or things we had together. It could be this Ithaca idea that's stirred up all of these emotions. I saw the apartment we lived in on Craigslist for rent and it brought all of those memories rushing back. Fighting and working 10 hour shifts after a day full of school simply because I didn't want to be home. But it also brought back walking into the apartment and having my favorite meal prepared, and the day I came home and found Zander waiting for me, the most perfect present anyone could ask for. There's got to be a dichotomy; I think even when it ends in hurt and pain, you still end up thinking about all of the good stuff that led up to that moment.

This is part of the reason why I'm so damn eager to start the next phase of my life. Heather and I have been talking about opportunities in Buffalo, I'm still considering Ithaca and Vermont, and Rochester hasn't been totally ruled out either. I just know that it's time for me, it's time to be 23, it's time to live. And fuck it if I'm afraid. Nothing amazing ever came of being comfortable.

Oh, the reasons I don't have a boyfriend...

It's been two months since I got laid. I'm just going to put that out there right now. Two months to the day. And it's not like I've been counting or anything, I'm just really good at remembering ridiculous, inconsequential things. And I weighed myself this morning. There's a general consensus around here that since we fixed the scale, it's been reading four pounds heavier than normal. So while I take my 147 lbs this morning as a sign from The Fates that it's time to start running, I also recognize that that same 147lbs could very well be 143. And let's face it. 143 can obviously be rounded down to 140. I've been a steady 140 most of my life. But just to give you an idea of how this COULD continue to go, let's dissect what I ate yesterday:

8:30AM: I drink a cup of coffee with Chocolate Toffee coffee creamer, no sugar.
12:30PM: I'm famished, and only have ten minutes to eat at work, so I run over to Espresso, etc. to grab something quick... and the only "quick" thing to eat he has is a lemon bar. I'll take one. I run to smoke a cigarette, then jet back inside, down the lemon bar in four bites, and am back on the floor to help Mary with ornaments in record time.
3:30PM: I have a half hour break coming to me, so I call Jules to see if she wants to meet for lunch. Being mostly unemployed, and seriously short on time, I suggest a quickie-lunch at Taco Bell. She orders a soft taco supreme. I order my usual: cheesy bean and rice burrito with sour cream and a diet soda.
5:00PM: I leave work, make it home by 5:15 and chill for 20 minutes. Then I grab myself a Sam Adams from the fridge, and hunker on down with my new book and the chaise lounge outside.
7:00PM: Dad decides he's hungry, but takes his sweet time figuring out what he wants. I grab another Sam Adams and tell him to let me know when he's ready.
8:00PM: After a disappointing trip to a so-called deli that can only be described as "the place where people go to die", we make our way to Jrecks and then Burger King, so as to satisfy everyone's needs. I order half of a turkey sub with a little mayo, no Russian dressing, with cheese, lettuce, tomato, and onions. I then share a large order of fries with Jules, with my signature onion ring sauce, and a diet soda there as well.
11:00PM: I eat a banana bread muffin that Jules made, with a little bit of melted butter and a glass of milk.

Awful stuff, isn't it. The truth is, I've always eaten what I wanted. Very rarely do I censor myself. But that's just plain bad. A day full of fast food, sugar and carbs does not a fit girl make. So. I've dusted off my sneakers, and updated my iPod with all the new songs I've downloaded in the last three weeks. We're going to take the cans back for a little extra cash, run some errands around town, and then come back here for a run/walk if it kills us. I'm going to try and talk Sam into going with us. My goal is to look stunning for Les's wedding next June. I know it's a long shot, but let's face it: I'm unemployed with really nothing better to do. Wish me luck.

PS: I just realized that it's 1PM and I've got nothing in my system but two cups of coffee and two cigarettes. This could be the root of all of my problems right here. Just a thought.

My best friend gave me the best advice. He said, "Each day's a gift and not a given right."

Okay Les, Whit. This is for you. I was actually thinking today about how I wanted to sit down and update, so I guess we're still somewhat telephathically connected. The bond of Dunkin' will never be broken.

I'm still very much (mostly) unemployed, and I'm starting to get used to it. A little too used it, some might say. It's so much harder going into work when I've had three days off in a row. Before, when I was working 12 hour days back to back, I didn't have time to think about anything except how exhausted I was. Now, with all of this time on my hands, I've started an epic list of books I want to read, jobs I want to have, things I want to accomplish before I die. For the last six months, I've become the 60-year-old version of myself, and I don't want to be that anymore. I need to find something to validate the fact that I'm still only 23 years old; I've got a lot of time left to be boring.

I desperately want to move back to Ithaca. Ladies, this means, I believe, that I will be approximately an hour or so away from both of you. Which really works for me, and is pro number 5 on my pro/con list. I don't want to leave my family, but I can't do this anymore. I can wait maybe another year, for the right job/housing situation to present itself, but then I need to get the hell out. Not because it hasn't been wonderful being home. And not because I don't love my family more than anything in the world. But because for the first time since my parents got divorced and Ben and I split up, I need to do something for myself. I'm a completely different person than who I was just a few years ago; why stop now? I've been afraid of so many things for so long, that I really can't remember the last time I challenged myself, or did something that's worthwhile.

Dad and I were talking about happiness the other night, and as I lit my cigarette he told me that perhaps my expectations are too high. I obviously disagree. Firstly, any expectation of mine is certainly not too high; if it's something I deem important, then I'm not going to settle for less. And secondly, I really want very simple things. In the next five years or so I'd like to meet someone who's my equal, get my heart broken, enjoy an adult relationship that's based on more than dishonesty and distrust. I'd like to find a job that challenges me a little, even if it isn't what I always pictured myself doing. I'd like to make enough money so that every paycheck isn't spent the day before the next one arrives. I'd like to rent/buy a small house with a deck and a fenced in yard, so that I can get my Great Dane and name him King. That's it. I really don't think it's too much to ask. And I'm so ready. I've closed the hardest chapter in my life so far and I'm ready to just let it be.

I will title the next one, quite simply: "The Best Years of My Life." You're all invited.

Such is life.

This past week has been rough. No ifs, ands or buts about it. I lost the more lucrative of my two jobs, and then today found out that the NYS Department of Labor is one big ball of stupid. I was told, in no uncertain terms, that it doesn't matter if you go into work for 15 minutes one day- that 15 minutes counts as a day of work, and therefore decreases your unemployment benefits by one quarter. So, hypothetically speaking, I could go into work for 15 minutes, on four different days, equalling a total of 1 hour of work for the week, and still not receive any benefits whatsoever. I understand that there are a lot of people out there who don't want to work; they'd rather sit back and do nothing and receive a check every week. But I'm not one of them. More importantly, it's almost impossible to survive on what they give you in a month anyway, without another form of income. Why aren't they encouraging people to work, rather than penalizing people like myself, who want to work as much as possible, by taking away what little help I am entitled to receive?

My father is really pushing this moving idea. I think if there was any possible way for me to stay around here and be successful, he would be touting that as well; but at this point, it's just not working. I've been working two dead-end jobs for awhile now, scraping by, living with him and not really having a life of my own. I think I've used my family as an excuse for so long now, that I'm still finding it hard to truth. And the truth is that, besides them, there really is nothing here for me. I need to finish school (which I can't technically do until I'm 24 anyway, since they don't considering you financially independent from your parents until that age), and get on the fast track towards finding a career. I looked online today at the NYU and Denver Publishing Institute programs and got excited just reading about all of the classes. And that's how it should be. I don't mind doing mindless jobs to earn money, as long as it's in an effort to get where I really want to be. But I haven't even been doing that; working minimum wage jobs for fifty hours a week is a fast track to NOWHERE.

I'm hoping that Sam losing her job as well will give her the push she needs to move with me. We talked a little bit about Vermont yesterday; we have family there, and as luck would have it, an apartment across from my cousin's condo is opening up soon. The rent is a bit much for the two of us: $900-$1200 a month. But even in us just talking about it, I could see she was a bit excited to move into the next phase of her life. She's just as stuck as I am, if not more. She never moved away for college, or left home for a job, so she's literally been here her whole life. I'm not sure she's got it in her to leave, but I'm hoping that if we go tandem on this, and live within a two hour range of home, she'll make the leap.

Anyway. Enough venting for the day. We're going to visit Sam for a bit, and then I've got to head into work to talk to Garrett and Lisa about a way to work my schedule around this unemployment bullshit. Then it's home to set up shop at the kitchen table in what I've affectionally been calling "Resume Row". Pray to the career Gods for me, guys. I need all the help I can get.

Unemployment Blues

It's been ten days since my last post... I think that's the longest I've gone without writing since I've started this thing. I decided to write today because maybe I'll get the answers I'm looking for through simple introspection. I went to work on Monday, same as every day, and Herb was in one of his moods. Lately, because the company has been in so much financial trouble and we haven't received any new merchandise since Christmas, we all spend most of our time out at the counter, talking and doing crossword puzzles. When the occasional customer does come in, they usually realize that we still have NorthFace winter coats, and walk right back out. But on Monday Herb didn't want us doing any of that stuff; he said he had a bad feeling about things, and that we needed to make the store look more "shop-able". So I spent all day rearranging racks of jeans, making sure all of our shoe displays were out; stupid, inane tasks, to make him happy.

As luck would have it, I only had to work 5 to 9:30 on Tuesday, so I had big plans to relax with a book all day. Until I received a phone call from Sam, saying that it was over, they had called this morning and we were closing. ON SATURDAY. The assholes gave us four days notice. Then, they refused to announce it to the "public" until yesterday, so we've had people coming in, asking us if we're closing as we box all of our shit up, and we have to tell them no. Everything has changed, I have to close tonight, and when the doors are down, they won't open again. We'll spend Friday with the gates shut, packing up the last of it all, and Saturday we won't open at all. Sam was really upset, but she's been there a long six years, and she's put a lot of heart into that company. Ashlee is in a bad spot as she just moved out of Joey's and got her own place, which she simply cannot afford with one job alone. I've got this issue of debt, which my father graciously paid, but now I've got no way to pay him back. Sam and I, obviously, have to hit the unemployment office on Monday to see what that's about. We both work second jobs, and I know there's a limit on how many hours you can have with that, before they start deducting from the amount of your unemployment. I am looking forward to having about a week off; I only work three days at Hallmark next week, and I'm so used to working 12-hour days that I'm not sure what I'll do with myself.

So here's the big question. Obviously, I can't go on forever without a job. I don't even really want to collect unemployment. It gives me the heebie-jeebies and makes me feel lazy. But I do know how hard it is to find work around here. People who are completely over-qualified are taking minimum wage jobs just to get by. I get that. So I understand that while I may want to work, it may not be possible to find a job right off the bat. But this unemployment business has brought about a whole other mess of questions. Should I finish school? The obvious answer to this seems like yes. However, I'm not sure how much good a degree will do me at this point, when experience seems to matter more than my name on a piece of paper. What do I really want to do? This one seems harder. I can't decide if I want to do what I love, regardless of if I make money at it, or if I'd rather take a job that isn't exactly what I'm looking for, and live a comfortable lifestyle. I think that I could be happy doing a lot of things. It's sort of a square peg-round hole conundrum that can't seemed to be solved with one simple answer. Obviously, me moving out has to be put on hold for awhile, as well as my lofty dream of owning a Kindle by the Fall.

I do know that I miss learning. If I had the disposable income, I would take a class or two right now just to feel as though I'm accomplishing something worthwhile. But my father makes too much money for me to receive financial aid, and I don't make enough to pay for it out of pocket.

Julia and I did decide that it's time for her to have a library card, as I don't forsee being able to spend $60 a week on books anymore. I'm not allowed to have cards, as I've thieved books from every library I've ever been a member of, so she's the obvious solution. I have to work today and tomorrow, long days, but it doesn't seem so bad when I've got an endless amount of time stretching in front of me to, seemingly, do what I want. That's the trouble with time; the things you've put off, you can't ignore anymore. And I've ignored a lot of stuff for a long, long time.

My name is Danielle LaCourse and I'm an unemployed uber-procrastinator. Won't you hire me?

It's time to let you go. It's time to say goodbye. No more excuses, no more tears to cry.

Okay. I haven't updated since M's mini-breakdown and I'm not sure why. Is it contentment? Today was a lovely day. I only had to work until 2, with Garrett and Lisa, and we laughed our hearts out the majority of the time. Then I came home, sat in the sun and read for awhile, took the dog for a run, and cleaned out my bathroom. I did three loads of laundry, went to Jrecks for dinner, and stopped by Joe and Jess's on my way home to see the boys. Just as I got there, the ice cream truck pulled up around the corner, so Gav and I ran over for some popsicles; he got one shaped like Batman, and Jack Jack got SpongeBob. Jack can (essentially) say my name now, though most of the time the D gets left out. Still, it makes my heart sing. So I came home, ate my sub, sat in the sun with Dad for a little while longer, drinking and smoking, and then went to hang out with Sam. Honestly, if I could choose a way to spend all my days, I'd spend it exactly like today. The perfect balance of accomplishment and relaxation.

Sometimes I do wonder if it will ever be possible for me to meet and hang out with other people; to form relationships outside my family. I know how blessed I am to have the kind of family that I have; the kind that, literally, love you no matter what. We're there for each other, in good times and bad, and we're all better for how close we've become. But I have noticed that perhaps it might be hard for me to meet someone, anyone, outside of my family because of how close-knit we are. I think I'm on my way to being ready for something real again, but in the next moment I have to wonder if the reason I cling to my family so much is because deep down, my heart knows I'm actually NOT.

Here's what I've come to. I'm happy. My family is healthy. I have TONS of people who love me, just as I am, and somehow bring out the best of me when all I ever show the world is my worst. I found someone to be my second to Ben, who showed me that I am someone worth investing time in, if even for a short while. I don't think of Ben anymore; I can look at his picture, and think of our life together, and not shed a tear. Real closure. Real change. Real improvement. I have so many things to be grateful for, to get me out of bed in the morning, and I know how tedious the thread it's all attached to is. Every day is a gift, not a right. If I can just keep that theory in mind, somehow, in every one of my days, I know someday I'll find someone who is truly my equal.

Anyway. My next post will be about how two nights ago my Dad ever-so-subtly mentioned that someday he'd like grandkids. Someday SOON. Thanks, Dad. As if I don't have enough pressure on me already. I also received a letter in the mail from SLU from the job I applied for, stating that the hiring committee would be doing interviews in the next few weeks, so I should watch for a phone call. If I don't receive one, we obviously know what that means. But it's a step in the right direction, and they haven't rejected me yet, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed for now. Oh, and one of my closest friends from college, Leslie, picked out her wedding dress from the same place that shoots "Say Yes to the Dress" on TLC. I forget the name of the place, I'll do more on that later, but it is absolutely STUNNING. I can't show pictures here, in case the groom is sneaky (Christopher) but trust me when I say it suits her perfectly.

And that, my friends, is all.

But I know that you'll find another that doesn't always make you want to cry.

Okay, M. Here it is. The tough love part. I don't think you're done yet. I think you want to be; you want to be immune to his charm and personality. But you're not yet, and I'm telling you, you're not going anywhere until you are. There's something magical about Ben; and I say that from a very honest place. I wasted six and a half years with him. I know how hard it can be to cut ties. It's just something in your tone and words. I'm sorry that you have to go through this and that he appears to have not changed at all. But if this continues, I promise you, one day you'll wake up and that french toast will be sitting there. And you'll walk right past it, pack your bags, and never look back. It's a wonderful feeling, and when you're ready, IF you're ready, we'll move somewhere warm and fabulous, meet cowboy twins, and be neighbors, and friends, for life.

Call me if you need me. I'm always here.

Real Life.

Okay, guys. It seems I have found myself in a spot of financial trouble and I need your help.

Let's face it: I've never been a saver. Actually, that's not true. Sometime after I left home for school, I caught the spending bug and never looked back. But before that, as a teenager and even younger, I was always a saver. I'm not sure what changed, if it was the freedom, or a void I was trying to fill, but my satisfaction used to come from reading books and spending time with the people I love, and now it comes from a very different, very materialistic place. I need to go back to the simplicity of it all; spending $8 on a book I really want, rather than $68 on underwear. It's ludacris. This person isn't me. And while I know it's cheesy, and somewhat unrealistic, today everything needs to change. It's midnight, and I'm ready to let go. I've done so much changing already. I know I have it in me. So here's what I need from all of you:

1) You have my official permission to slap me, poke me, yell at me and just generally make me feel like crap every time I look at an article of clothing, or otherwise unnecessary item for purchase.
2) Tough love. I need to be reminded that the reason my father cannot buy clothes from this decade to go on a date is because I do stupid, selfish things like this. No, I'm not getting down on myself. However, I need a good reality check sometimes to remind me of the things that are important. He is the MOST important man in my life. No excuse. I cannot let him down again.
3) I love you all for helping me through this and I know that you'll do the best that you can. But the truth is, I do need to learn some independence. So when you feel as though I can financially fly on my own, let me go. Until that happens, I need a babysitter. It's a sad and shameful truth, but I'm a smart girl and I WILL learn.
4) Let's find cheap and easy ways to have fun and occupy our time. I know that I'm not the only one who spends money unwisely, often out of boredom. Sam, let's run/walk in the morning somewhere to save on the cost of classes and the spa and get in some extra hangout time (like we don't spend enough together as it is). Let's stay in and play pool, drink wine, make snacks, watch movies. But I do think it would be a fun little exercise to try and find cheap and fun ways to do things around here. I know it's Massena. I know our resources are limited. We'll just have to be creative.

Okay. That's it for now. I'm going to head to bed and try to get some rest. I've got a lot to think about, and a lot couple of days ahead of me. But I'll get through this. And at the end of this tunnel, I'm going to treat myself to a delicious, $2.24, DD French Vanilla iced coffee with extra cream, no sugar. I guarantee you I'll deserve it.

Some people call me the space cowboy. Some call me the gangster of love.

I just found this fabulous online list of the top 500 classic rock songs of all time. Of course, they were just in the opinion of this one guy, but he had a really extensive list, and I would definitely agree with more than half of his choices. I ended up downloading 72 new songs for our karaoke collection and I'm sure that they'll bring us all out of our ruts this weekend.

I had the majority of today off, working only from ten until two, so I came home and relaxed for awhile, before running errands with Dad. In my boredom, I watched a million wasteful, but hilarious, YouTube videos and played around with some of my old makeup. I figured out this fantastic new look that I'm really loving, so watch for it on those rare nights that I make it out of work and want to do something. Here's the funny thing about me: I wear the same three makeup staples everyday, rarely do I change them up. And yet I love, love, love to spend money on all the newest things. When I make my trip to Saratoga, I've already plotted out my trip to Sephora. It's an addiction. On that same thread, I think Sarah and I are going to try and plan a spa day while I'm there, which I'm really hoping works out. I would gladly trade some items at Sephora for a half hour massage. I deserve it. Who knows when the next time I'll be able to have four days off will be.

I know this is short, and mostly boring, but I'm tired now and Sam and I are getting up early to head to Canton for coffee and bookstore shopping. I don't know why I don't do that more often; it's really only half an hour away, and the coffee is exceptional. Hmmm...

Just let me be myself for awhile.

I need to vent. I'm annoyed at my life; not life in general, but my own. Dad and I just got into a fight, not necessarily unlike us, because he's pissing me off. Never, in the last year and a half, have I wanted my own place so badly. He's storming around the house, military-style, cleaning things up. And granted, the house was a mess. My father doesn't live like that and I was surprised he let it go as long as he did. No biggie. Jules and I had pulled out the drawers in the dishwasher so the dishes could dry and then we were going to put them away. But it's no secret that when he's scrambling around the house like that, my stress level reacts by jumping from a 2 to a 10 in record time. So I made a comment to him about when he was leaving to go and get his haircut. And he whipped his head around and very nastily responded, "Yes. I'm leaving. And this is NOT my happy face." I assumed he was responding to my attitude, but I have a hard time keeping my mouth shut, so we bickered back and forth and he eventually left. Here's the part that bugs me, though. He was yelling at me and asking me why I didn't get up and do something to help out around here. Normally, I would agree with that statement. I could stand to help out more around the house. However. Yesterday, he and Julia literally sat around and watched tv from 2 until 7:30 when Julia came to visit me at work. Just because you wasted your day yesterday and feel like you need to accomplish something today, you're going to bitch at me about wasting time? Give me a fucking break. This is the second day off I've had in over five weeks, and the first one I've had on a weekend. And another thing. I mean this in the best way possible, because I do love my sister very much, but it's always been that I'm the responsible one and she's the flighty one. Dad and I are having this argument, and she's sitting at her computer, very much not doing anything productive either, and yet nothing is said to her about how she could get off her ass and help.

I just feel very...I don't know. It feels awful to even think it, let alone say it out loud. But when did I become the pseudo-mother? I mean, I knew that when I came home it was to help out. And I chose that. They needed me at the time. They still do, I suppose. I just have these very clear moments when I think about how this is not how I pictured my life going. Maybe it's a sign that it really is time to think about me moving out of here. For both of our sakes. We, as a whole, the three of us, need to learn to function on our own so that we can do a better job when we're together. I need a bit of independence to find myself and figure out what the hell I'm doing; Dad needs to learn to function on his own again and be alone; and Julia needs to figure out where she stands in the middle of all of that.

Really, I just need a goddamn break. Saratoga cannot come soon enough.

This is a big world, that was a small town there in my review mirror disappearing now. And it's too late for you and your white horse to catch me now.

Stupid, stupid rut. Okay. Today I'm officially sending out my resume and application to two different clerical jobs at SLU. That makes me feel better in a big way, just because it means I've done something to get ahead. In the back of my mind, of course, I'm wondering why I'm doing something that I don't want to spend my whole life at, but I know that I can't keep on doing what I have been; putting my head in the sand and pretending like I'm alright with it all. I need a bit more of a challenge, a bit more stimulation and excitement when I get up in the morning. So everyone, please send out good job vibes for me. I can use all the support I can get. It would rock if Sam could get in there too, so I'm going to try and help her work on her resume and letter of interest sometime tonight. I know it's asking a lot for us both to get better jobs and at the same place, but it would just be so damn perfect. We could ride together. We could go to the gym together. We could meet rich university men and date them, quite inappropriately, together. If I can't get a better job around here, I'm going to have to move. Which would not be the worst thing in the world, I could stand to be out there in real life for awhile. Things are just so easy here; I see the same people every day, hang out at all the same bars with all the same crowds. No wonder people get stuck. It's built into the atmosphere around here. Either that or it's something in the water.

Sarah thinks she and Dirck will be moving to Rochester sometime in August as he just got a new job there. I love Rochester. I know it well from my time spent there while Ben was at RIT and yet it is a little bit nostalgic for me. Rochester was when Ben and I were still good. We still loved each other so much that we thought the world didn't matter; we had many late night conversations about running away, eloping, and living on what I could sell as a writer and he could make doing construction. Oh, how things change. It is, of course, bittersweet, because we obviously couldn't ignore the world forever. It caved in on us, suffocated us, until we were forced to be realistic. And I think reality is what killed it for us. But I do think that making a life for myself in Rochester, with Sarah and Dirck, could change all of that for me. It's hard sometimes because I do think that everywhere I go in this world, something will remind me of him. I have a running list of all these things that I hate BECAUSE they remind me of him. Crazy, irrational things, like the Cape Cod potato chips that I won't let anyone in my family buy. Or anything with a lighthouse on it. Someday I'll write down the whole list, but it's not short, and it IS obnoxious. I think it comes with the territory when you're with someone for so long, because the list of memories is so exhaustive. It covers so much ground, so much time, that it will take a long time before I don't remember any of it. As I've said, though, I remember it in a bittersweet sort of way. Because it was so lovely while we had it, and because I'm so happy the difficult times are over. I'm in a great place, I'm ready to start fresh and do what I want to do with myself. I'm ready to take on the world. So. Here I go. Who's with me?

But when she did she was long gone, long gone.

I think that you and I really are connected, M. I was just pulling into my driveway from a nice little Walmart jaunt with Sam, and I was thinking the whole way home about the Dichotomy of Danielle. I'm not a patient person. Not in the least. And yet it's not hard for me to count on both hands all of the things I've done or am willing to do for the people I love. Joe called this afternoon, last minute, because he wanted a babysitter so he could make a trip to Malone with some of his friends. I called work and tried to switch my schedule around so that I could help him out. I needed the hours, so I couldn't today, but I tried. And I'm babysitting for him tomorrow afternoon. Now those boys are my life, and I welcome every chance I can to watch them grow, but there are people out there who wouldn't do the things my family does for each other. The lesson here is that I really am a very kind, generous person. I think that if I really had someone in my life who I was falling for, truly felt was my equal, that I would do a lot of things for him that I hate doing. Cooking and cleaning, for example... two of my least favorite things. I guess what I'm trying to get at here is that I just read your blog and I know exactly how you're feeling. And that is the Dichotomy of Ben. His moodiness is part of the package. I hated it too. Because for me, being with him was always enough to boost any mood I was in. There were nights I'd come home and he'd have rented my favorite movies and a plate would be waiting for me. But in the very next night, I'd come home to a nasty letter saying that the dishes needed to be done, and I owed him money for such and such a bill. And his favorite quip: "you've changed." Um, no, I haven't. I just have to adapt myself to my circumstances because I never know what I'm going to come home to. It became so exhausting for me, that I would spend hours at my job, after I'd clocked out, because those were the people I could count on. Those were the people who were there for me, who cared about and loved me, who never wanted to see me down. In the end, it broke us. I cannot, and will not, deal with someone so emotionally closed off that they can't have a simple conversation about why they're upset. And I liked to think that I fought the good fight. I gave it my all, right up until the very end, because I wanted to be that for him. I wanted to be the one that could make him happy when he had a bad day. Sometimes it worked. But it was never enough. I'm writing this to you because I want you to know you're not alone. And it's not you. He's been like this for a long time now; it's like as soon as he lets you in and becomes comfortable enough, you pay a price. I think you just have to decide if it's too high. For your sake, I hope that it's not. You know where to find me if you want to talk about it. If not, I simply hope that this letter makes you feel a little less alone and a little bit more like you're still the wonderful person you always were.

"My mother used to say, 'Life is all about choices.' And it is. It really is."

I'm in a rut. Let's just get that out of the way right now. My days are exactly the same, every one of them. I wake up; I have an exact ratio of coffee creamer and half and half that I add to my coffee. I sit in front of my computer, check out the latest deals on all of my favorite shopping websites, and then check my email, and the news. Depending on where Sam is, I'll give her a call and see how she's doing/what her plans are for the day. Then I'll take a quick shower, get dressed, grab some lunch, and I'm off to work. When I get home from work, which is between 9 and 9:30 most nights, I watch one of five shows, depending on the day. I head to bed around midnight, watch Will and Grace and Frasier while falling asleep, then wake up and do it all over again. I feel like I have a minor case of Groundhog day every morning. I'm not complaining, I don't think; just making an observation. I know it's in me to love habit; I like feeling safe, I like knowing what's coming next, and I really, really hate change. But then I do think that I've dealt with a lot of change over the last couple of years, and I think I've handled it quite gracefully.

I think I'm just ready for something new. A new job, a new routine, something to get me excited, even if only for a little while. I have a lot of things to get done today, and on the top of that list is applying for jobs. I could certainly stand to think about my schooling options, though I'm not rushing myself. I'd love to meet someone who can maintain my interest for longer than 30 seconds, but I would settle for simply meeting someone who makes my heart beat a little faster. I'd love to have a place of my own, to decorate the way I want, to do the things I want. It's really very simple. I just need a change. And it's all in me. I'm always the one to put things off until tomorrow, or somehow think that a job will land in my lap by doing nothing. I don't push for the things I really want, lately, I think, because I haven't known what those things were. I want to be near my family though, and I can't stay here with my father forever, regardless of how much we all know he needs me. So if I want to survive here, and be around for the next 20 or 30 years with all of them, then I need to get my ass in gear and try to find some steady employment.

So today is the day. I've also got to clean my car, pick up some groceries, bring some old clothes to the SA, have a pair of my pants hemmed, and send out a handful of cards all before work at three. Let's see how much I can accomplish on this beautiful day. READY? GO!

Someday you'll wish you were a better man.

Okay. Do I come across as whore-ish to all of you? Apparently some men in close proximity to me think so. Which is the irony to end all ironies because...drumroll please... I've only slept with two people. In my seven years of sexual freedom, I have had two different partners; one of which I dated for six and a half of those years. Give me a break. I don't know if it's something in the water here or if all men are this way, but if I smile at you occasionally or tell you to have a good night after work, it does NOT mean I want to fuck you. If I wanted to, you'd know it. So hop down off of your high horse, and find some girl who doesn't give a shit if you talk about her like that.

I'm probably not done ranting about this but I'll try to keep it to a minimum. And I know that I'm probably not being entirely honest with myself here; I KNOW that I've said some things in coversations with my girlfriends before that were certainly less than PC in regards to men. But my comments are never sexually agressive, or degrading, and usually sound something like, "Mm. That is a juicy looking ass" or "Man, was he yummy." Nothing at all like, "She looks like someone I'd take home and fuck the shit out of." I guess I just need to be more careful about who I'm showing kindness to these days. I'm sort of floundering with how I feel about men lately anyway; Seif was exactly what I needed, I suppose, and yet I wonder if that's how it will always go for me. One night, here and there, to get me through, and that's it. Don't get me wrong, it's not like I wanted a relationship with him. Sarah still thinks I've got some time ahead of me for my heart to heal; but I sort of think about it like this: when my knee finally healed, after 2 years of surgeries and physical therapy, the last think I wanted to do was go out there and take it easy. I wanted to run. I guess I'm just getting ahead of myself here, but I think Seif showed me both the good and bad aspects of my situation. I always thought that I had a pretty good head on my shoulders when it came to men, knowing the ones to trust and the ones not to, but that's been shaken these last few weeks and I'm starting to wonder if really, it's all just a game. They pretend to be kind and sweet, and then, once they get what they want, interest wanes. Then again, as Sarah and I talked about, if he's the guy for you, interest shouldn't be gone just because you sleep with him.

This is why I don't have a boyfriend. It's entirely too exhausting. I can barely handle myself most of the time. How will I ever handle the everyday needs of another? Marilyn Monroe said something a long time ago that has always stuck with me, and I feel like it should be the title in this particular chapter of my life. It goes something like, "If you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best." Thanks, MM. You really said it there.

Alright, shower, work with Mary (eek!), then lunch with Garrett and hanging out with Jules. Be careful out there, ladies. Don't be innocently smiling at too many strangers today. They might think you want to sleep with them.

I don't blame you for my mother leaving. She left us both.

There it is. The (somewhat) bad idea that came from drinking an entire bottle of wine while waiting for Julia to be done with Prom. It's just a small, classy stud, perfect for me, and I do love it. My one caveat is that because I can't feel it, I keep forgetting it's there. Last night I was tickling Jack and he knocked his head against my nose. EXTREME pain for about ten seconds; my eyes teared up and Gav thought I was crying. When I wash my face, I always drag the washcloth against it, and when I get stressed, I still pinch the bridge of my nose. Normally, I would be happy by how un-obnoxious it actually is, but I seem to cause myself more pain because of it. Oh well. Everything takes some time getting used to.

I think my first summer road trip will be officially planned today. Sarah's birthday is June 10th, so she wants me to come down for the 12th and 13th. I really want to; I have some money saved so I could do some real shopping, and I know that there might not be many opportunities in our future for us to spend some time together. I've never seen her apartment, or how her life is down there, so I'd like to. The only problem is that Sam and I had wanted to get our tattoos done on the 13th; it's the exact halfway point between our birthdays. But I just talked to her, and I think we might push it back to the 27th when I'll be changing my nose ring. June is shaping up to be my most exciting month of the year!

My life has been blissfully uneventful lately, which is just how I like it. I'm a creature of habit and routine, so I like how things have been going lately. Of course, there are some things I could be trying to accomplish (aka finishing school) and maybe I'll look into it a bit more as the year moves forward. I might have another job opportunity presenting itself after January of next year, though, so I'm a bit hesitant to do too much right now if I'll be doing something different in 8 months anyway. I guess we'll see.

I was thinking the other day about where I was at exactly this point last year. I don't really want to talk about it, because it does bring back so many bad feelings for me, but we'll just say I was on the Cape with Ben and things were very different. I remember feeling suffocated, like I couldn't see past him and us and our relationship. When I was spending time with Mom on Saturday I admitted to her that I think the first part of our lives began very much the same; she had me at the age I am now and was certainly stuck. She married her Ben. My dad is very different now, but back then, his personality was very much like how Ben's is now. The only difference in our paths is that she committed and I walked away. Just that slight change between us, I think, has made us who we are. I'm still very angry at her for how things happened, and I don't condone them at all. But I think that I can see things a bit clearer now. How would I feel if I woke up at 46, married to Ben, with two grown kids and a life I wasn't sure I wanted? I'll never have to know. And thank GOD for that. You never like to think about your parents as young, or as people who make mistakes. I know that she loved my father, but love is a tricky thing. I'm just thankful that I have a second chance at the life she never got to live.

So. I think I'm done here for the day. Too much reflection can be a bit unhealthy, I think. Time for coffee and reading, and maybe a walk with the dog before work.

An anectdote before I leave, though: last night while we were at Joe and Jess's for dinner, Gav asked me to peel him a lemon so he could eat it. He LOVES fruit; I always joke around with him that one day he's going to turn into a strawberry, which he takes all too seriously at the age of four. So he's eating the lemon, and his face is all twisted up in the funniest expression because it's so sour. So I say, "Gav... if it's so sour, why do you eat it??" And he looks at me, dead serious and says, "Because it makes you laugh!" I made him give me a hug after that and he ran off to raise hell with his brother. Man, I love those kids to pieces.

I'm feeling pretty good, all things considered. First: I've had a terrible, albeit tolerable, case of strep throat since about Friday. It's not the worst I've ever had, and if you know me, you know that strep is my arch nemesis. The only thing that makes this one different, and in my opinion a bit more annoying, is that sometime last night my left ear became plugged and has refused to pop since then. This morning it had me worried quite a bit, as I've never gone that long without being able to get pop them on my own, through swallowing or yawning and such. So I googled it. Turns out, often times when you have a bad sore throat and your glands swell up, it pinches something in your ear (since they're all so conveniently attached) and that causes the ear to feel as though you've just stepped off an airplane. I think this must be what's going on, because the ear that hurts is on the same side as my most swollen gland. Anyway, I woke up this morning and my fever seems to have broken, so I'm hoping that by the end of the day today/sometime tomorrow this nasty ear business will have gone away. It doesn't hurt, but it's about an 11 on a scale of most-annoying-things-in-the-world. I'm kind of thankful that I've got to work a 12 hour shift today; I'm hoping it will take my mind off of it. Sitting here, it's all I can do not to try and pop it ever other minute. Ridiculous.

Other than that, this weekend was pretty uneventful. Oh, except for Mom and I got a little tipsy waiting for Jules to get home from the Prom, so we got our noses pierced. Which sounds extreme, but it could have been worse. We wanted tattoos but the artists had already gone home, so we settled for the nose piercings. So far, I've definitely grown to love mine. Which is good, since it's got to stay in constantly for six weeks so the hole doesn't close, and then an additional recommended year after that. Oh the things they don't tell you before you do stupid shit like this. Anyway, it's just this small, classy stud, but I am excited to check out my other options in a couple weeks when I go back to change it out. Sam and I have a date for our second tattoos on the 13th of June, and then I'll be able to get this changed on the 27th. Maybe they'll invite me to live with them in their biker/tattoo world. I am that cool.

Other than that, not a lot going on. This week is a bit of a cake walk compared to these last three; I actually have an entire day to myself on Thursday. I haven't had an entire day off from work since my birthday so I'm definitely looking forward to it. I need to do some Spring cleaning in a big way. I've got a couple of new goals I'm going to try and accomplish this week and in the one's following so if everyone can help out with those I would greatly appreciate it. Firstly: stop buying meals at the mall. They're expensive and not even close to nutritionally balanced. They make me tired, and angry, because at the end of two weeks I wonder where all of my money has gone and discover I've spent around a hundred bucks on curly fries. NOT economical. This goal does not, of course, include coffee from Dunkin', which I will never tell myself I cannot have. I've already cut back on that considerably since the introduction of the Keurig into my life. If you're a coffee lover and you're mostly lazy (hello, me) then it's pretty much the best invention in the world. Costly at first, but definitely pays for itself in convenience. Makes a good cup of coffee too. My other goal for the week is to start reading again; I've had to put it off lately because I've been so, so busy. By the time I get home at night, all I want to do is relax and head to bed. Mrs. McKinley, my English teacher from high school, let me borrow a book of hers and is anxiously awaiting my return of it, with, she hopes, notes in the margins. I could never deface a book in that way (I got in trouble once in college for refusing to do so) but I told her I'd leave sticky notes throughout. Compromise, it's all about compromise.

I suppose I should go shower now and do something useful with my time. It always depresses me a little when it's beautiful outside, as it is now, and I realize that 12 hours from this very moment I will still be stuck inside. Blech. At least work tonight is with Bettina. She's a healthy dose of entertainment I could certainly use in my life right now. Everyone else: please pray that my stupid ear pops. It's driving me insane. I know. Short trip. You're all very funny.