Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Smilies and a Good DayIt's amazing how one email and one phone call can totally change the course of my day! :)
That's right folks... I just put a happy face. You know what that means...
A) Kellie is no longer PMSing
B) She talked to Josh! :)
Another happy face.
Man. I am on a roll. And I don't just put :) s for fun. I mean them. I expect the same respect fyi. Don't fake me out.
It's just like the ol' LOL. Don't say it unless you mean it.
And nothing should make you all smile like me and my amazement of the giant turkey legs at the STATE FAIR! :) Have a great day!
Tuesday, August 30, 2005
Rainy NightsAfter a(nother) long day I stood outside in the rain.
I wasn't sure why I was doing it, but when I took the little man out to go potty, I took off my parka and let the droplets wash over me. The wind was blowing and it all felt very... refreshing. We stayed outside for over an hour, running and playing in the drizzle. I slipped and fell in the mud, and laughed instead of cried. I talked to me dog and poured my soul into him. The best part about Eddie is that no matter how much I talk he never tires of what I have to say. My every thought is confessed into his little doggie ears. No matter how upset I get he never seems to be scared off. Instead he comes bounded back, a huge puppy grin on his sloppy jaws, and he's in love again.
Sometimes I wish humans were the same. That no matter how insane we may seem to them, they always see past the insecurities and into the soul, which is usually full of love. That would surely make life easier.
Eddie listened to the raving of a mad woman tonight, watched her play in the rain, throw leaves into the air, press them to her lips and kiss them into the sky. Sometimes I feel so free, like nothing can hold me back. I love moments like this. Every insecurity is left at the door and I'm flying through like, floating through the drama... ;)
Afterward I took a hot bath. A bath bomb, a glass of red wine and tons of bubbles. I shaved my legs with my brother's shaving cream and it smelled like my ex boyfriend. It was a better evening, even though my mind feels full of need.
I sort of want to go lie in my backyard and let the rain fall all over me again.
Sleep under the stars and wake up in a few months when my life might be back to normal.
Monday, August 29, 2005
And Then I Cried AGAINSo I’m not exactly sure what my issue has been as of late.
I’ve been feeling very down and I can only trace this feeling back to my separation from J. I know it’s ridiculous to let this get me down; this something that I have no control over to change. But as the months go by, I feel anxious for his return home-
The news drives me insane and avoiding it is virtually impossible. I feel constantly barraged with politics, views on the war, support for the troops, hate for Bush. While I appreciate this is something that the world (rightly so) is passionate about, sometimes I feel as though I too filled with emotions to take on anyone else’s. Every day we get word here that more people are dead- and I find myself always fearful that something will happen to the one I love. I try not to think about it- but ignorance is not bliss, it’s just a veil under which I hide my heart (on my sleeve). I love Josh for his dedication. For his resolve. He is stronger than I am, which we’ve always known. And I’ve tried to be strong for him. But as this year is coming to a close (hopefully) I feel overwhelmed with all the emotions I’ve kept trapped inside. They come pouring out at inappropriate times, or just the most random of evenings-
letting my dog outside for instance.
I took the little monster (affectionate name, I know) out on Friday evening. As the night air hit me so did my emotional baggage, which I thought I’d loading onto a train to Forgotten. The wind was knocked out of me, for no apparent reason. And I began to cry. I sat down on a chair and cried my worries out to the night sky and the lawn dug up by a mole I can’t seem to catch. Luckily for me, my dog began to hump me and brought me back to reality after a bit.
Yes- this is my life.
So after that I felt a little better, maybe all I needed was a good cry. Either way, I’ve felt on the verge of tears ever since and there doesn’t seem to be a distinct reason Why. I am hoping that soon the feelings with melt away (along with my PMS) and I will be back to normal. I’ve been thinking "good thoughts", fall, Halloween, dinner with friends, family...
the trouble is that every good thought I have always comes back to him. And then I'm reminded of my missing yet again.
Only 3 more months...
Sunday, August 28, 2005
Who Hearts Bad Poetry?!Yeah just throwing out some bad poetry- we all do it!
This poem doesn't rhyme.
It doesn't make love-
it's not about sense.
just so you know.
I wanted to wear a sweater today
but god turned up the heat
She must be baking.
So now I'm laying under a blanket
someone else crocheted
sweating out the poison
of self pity,
but drinking a hot tea called Lonliness.
I felt your breath on the
back of my neck
but then my dog humped me
and ruined the mood.
I don't want to talk
but no one leaves me alone
I wanted to say
your mouth is ripe.
But I like kiwi in the winter
and snow angels in the fall.
When I watched you walk away
I wanted to call out
you have a beautiful back.
But instead I listened to your footsteps
recording them in the soundtrack of
so I could replay them
the next time I
made love to a ghost.
Friday, August 26, 2005
Erotica in the WorkplaceJust a glimpse into my work day:
I sat staring off into space. So tired I can barely keep my eyes open. I look at Intern. She looks at me.
"I could perform an erotic dance for you."
I nod. "I'd love that." I say.
This is how we combat boredom.
What shall I do when Intern goes away to college again?
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
A Love PoemI can't write a love poem.
Every time I feel inspired by love- which I consider myself lucky because I do on almost a daily basis- I sit down to write. And it all comes out cheesey- so lame- so... cliche. And my feelings are anything but cliche.
When I'm feeling lost I can write about it. I can pour my soul onto paper like water from a dixie cup. I can write when I'm sad. When I feel as though I've lost love I suddenly become inspired. Inspired to make others understand, or to regain what I've lost. Either way I can write like a bitch. ("bitch" being a good term- I have to define these things for my mother).
I always want to write.
I want to express my feelings in a way that makes others want to write their own down. I want to be jeffrey mcdaniels. or ani difranco. I want someone else to respect my words, and in turn my feelings. I write all the time, I carry a journal in case something mundane inspires me and I just have to write about it then. But whenever it comes to love I tend to be as creative as the architecture of Purdue University (no offense Purdue alums... I went to Ball State- you can mock me now).
I write about every personal feeling I have- yet I keep the most important of those feelings locked inside of me. A lock I've grown so accustomed to I don't know how to break it. I suppose it's relatively predictable. My most sensitive self, locked inside this hard shell, determined to stop anything that tries to break its way inside. It's a way of protecting, staying safe. Keeping a distance.
But I'd like to write a love poem. Maybe I'll try it one of these days.
Don't make fun when I do. :)
Falling into Fall
I woke up this morning rejuvinated. I mean, really, who wouldn't be? I got 9 hours of sleep. But whatever- I felt awesome. I looked outside- it looked... hot. It's been an Indian(a) summer. Hot, humid and sticky. I was not pleased. But then I walked outside. Cool. Crisp. Breezy...
Mind you, I completely understand that this wonderful weather will last a day and a half, then it will be back to sweating in my jeep with the ac cranked (all vents towards me). But for now, it feels a bit like fall. Just a tease of what's the come, but fall-like nonetheless.
Fall is my favorite season. Football games (I heart the Colts), Halloween (one my favorite holidays, second to the 4th of July, of course), hay rides, sweaters, jeans, candy apples, pumpkin carving, and beautiful weather. There is nothing I adore more than sitting outside in a swing, writing the early evening away in the fall. The trees are beautiful, and I love being snuggly outside in cool weather. Cold enough you need a blanket to keep warm, but no Jack Frost nipping my nose (I do NOT heart winter).
I wish Josh to be here this fall. It's not going to happen, but I still wish it. Everything I love is enhanced by Josh's presence. And our combined funness level is so great- I don't know many people who can rival it. But then again, I'm biased. :)
So today is a good day. A fall day. And soon it will pass...
but I am still going to go get my free Bath and Body Works candle (pumpkin scented) at lunch so at least I can pretend.
I got a coupon in the mail.
my life rocks.
Monday, August 22, 2005
the Fair of the StateI have a great idea.
This was all inspired by the Indiana State Fair. I'm sure you're curious as to why the State Fair would inspire anything more than a belly ache and empty wallets. Well let me begin by saying I love the state fair. Love it! I love elephant ears, candy apples, corn on the cob, funnel cakes, lamb kabobs, ribeye sandwiches... yes I know that's all food. It's what I love. Get off me. (I was, however, exceedingly dissapointed with the turkey legs. Just a little fyi. Don't get them. You'll only be dissapointed my friend.)
I also enjoy the animals. All sorts of wild things I don't get to interract with in Indianapolis. It's all very exciting to me. But my main focus is, admittedly, the food.
So here's the idea...
One summer. Me. EVERY STATE FAIR IN AMERICA. Are you kidding me? Think of the fun I could have. The food I could eat. The people I could meet. Oh the stories I could tell... in book form. State Fair's of America.
What a time I could have... Does anyone else think this could be quite promising?!
note: I am aware that no one else will be as excited about this idea as I am.
note #2: If you are as excited about this idea as I am, you better not steal it. However, you might be able to join me in my adventures.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Tush Push ItI love line dancing.
I had never experienced it until the year, when Jody and Mandi talked me into going. It was quite a fun time, and I am hooked. I've always loved dives. What could compare to Miss Kitty's in Muncie Indiana on a Saturday night? I'll tell you what- Nothin. It was a great time. The regulars were there- all 12 of them sometimes even. Otherwise we could dominate the microphone at karaoke- and I could tend bar when the bar tender wanted to sing. And pass out free drinks.
I was very popular at Kitty's.
Miss Kitty would come around and talk- give us free t-shirts and drinks- what a woman. When they announced that she was closing up shop, I think I cried a little.
Okay, I totally didn't cry. But I was a little sad. I mean, it was Kitty's. Luckily she let us rent it out for graduation night and we found Cheers, then I left Muncie. God. I don't know what I would have done had it been my freshman year. I don't even want to go there.
The point of my tales from Kitty is that I used to line dance there... fake line dance that is... I never knew it to be so intricate and complicated. But I know I. And I love it.
The best part about 8 Seconds Saloon (and by best I mean weird) is that is located adjacent to Tremors. As in the ghetto club in Indy. Yes. That Tremors. Are you kidding me?! So I can go from Boot Scootin Boogie to Missy Elliot in 2 minutes. Amazing. I love my life.
Country bars are pretty much awesome in general. You don't have to worry about men hitting on you constantly, and if they do approach you can see them belt buckle gleaming from so far you always have time to dodge it. I wish more men were available with this built in warning mechanism. Life would be so much simplier. Or some sort of sign above their heads. Neon and flashing-
"I won't be there in the morning"
These sort of warnings would be amazing. So much heart break could be avoided if only it existed. Women everwhere would be saved so much time and drama. Don't worry guys- we could do the same for you- I won't hold out on you. But think of the time that could be saved!
I'll get on this- dibs on the patent.
Until then, I'll just keep my eye out for the gleaming belt buckle.
And of course the Bling Bling.
Reflective things on men generally make me keep an eye out.
Maybe that's because I've seen too many men in sequins- but that's another post all together.
Monday, August 15, 2005
I hope it's Chinese freeze tag...My beautiful and darling Kirsten has tagged me... and thus I respond.
*List five songs that you are currently digging...it doesn't matter what genre they are from, whether they have words, or even if they're any good but they must be songs you're really enjoying right now.
Post these instructions, the artists, and the five songs in your blog. Then tag five other people to see what they're listening to.
1. "Defying Gravity" from Wicked
2. "Broken Road" by Rascal Flats
3. "Language or the Kiss" by Indigo Girls
4. "Little Plastic Castles" by Ani
5. "Don'tcha" by... the Pussycat Dolls. (get off me. I know it's dumb. I still dance to it in the car).
TAG: Kiki, Anisa, Rachael, Steph and Jon
Note: I am suffering from complete writers block... anyone have a suggestion of topic or something you'd like to know about me??
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
"Why do you drink?"
It's a question I've heard many times over, mostly from my family. For some reason the sight of their little girl (they've blocked out the last 11 birthdays- I'm still 13 to them) with a drink in her hand is more than they can handle. Granted, coming from a family where alcoholism is as common as a cold, I can understand their concern. What can I say?
I should make a point before beginning this entry- I don't drink much. Or often. Now in college a few years back, my story was quite different. Now drinking (at least to a heavy extent) is generally reserved for special occasions. But the question is still there- why do I drink? I can say a few things here. One, I like... scratch that- I love wine. I like the taste and the warmth it gives me as I drink it. I like the feeling of sitting with my friends and sharing a bottle while we discuss everything from politics to sex, (although I admit, I do enjoy the talk of sex more). But more importantly, the reason why I drink is to loosen myself up. I know this is surprising to those of you who know me. I am always outgoing, always positive, always happy. And I am always just a little nervous. For every ounce of confidence in me there is also an equal (and sometimes greater) amount of insecurity. I try to hide it as best I can, but sometimes I feel like a zebra in a roomful of stallions. And no matter how much I try to blend in, I know that I don't. I find myself surrounded by beautiful people. And I adore being around them... They are my friends. Gorgeous friends I've been blessed with in my life, but to whom I never seem to measure up.
I try to put forward a tough exterior, but inside I am always a little terrified that I'll be discovered for the soft hearted girl that I am. It's not something to be ashamed of, but I learned at a pretty early age that if you open yourself up- that's when you get hurt. I know the other side of it as well- if you don't open yourself up you never gain anything either. I'm learning.
A work in progress one might say.
Pictures of MePictures of me are a big unsettling.
I usually don't like pictures of me, however I allow myself to be photographed all the time. I've hated my body 90% of my life and yet I choose paths where my body is on display. Picked upon, examined, ridiculed, enjoyed and probably other feelings that would goo me out if I knew about them- I don't want to go there- thank you very much. I am constantly thinking about my body. And pictures only give me another article to obsess over. My stomach looks big there. My face looks fat there. I hate my hair. Even "good pictures" always have fault. It's always there. Trust me- I'll find it.
I hate other people seeing pictures of me before I get to view them. Digital Cameras annoy me. I want to see the picture first- if it's okay- then you may look- if not... Delete. oops. Sorry. Take another one.
So what's more unnerving is when I see pictures of me out on display. I appreciate the fact that some photographers think I look interesting. Not beautiful, but interesting. So they take my picture. And then they display it. I remember walking through Barnes and Noble awhile back... all I wanted was a book and some coffee. Instead I got walls of me. Me. Me. Me. And of course I have to look. So how conceited do I appear? Here I am, standing in a store at what is supposed to be an art exhibit, examining large photo's of myself. If only people knew that I am picking apart every detail. Making mental notes of changes that must happen in my appearance so the next picture will be better.
I know for a fact that I shall soon encounter pictures of me.
Maybe this time I'll like what I see.
Monday, August 08, 2005
Love and Flat Tires
I have a flat tire.
I was walking out of my office with my eyes glazed over my jeep. 'I need a car wash,' I thought to myself. Then my eyes lingered a bit on my driver's side rear tire. "Do I have a flat tire?" I asked Rachael. She examined.
"Yep." She confirmed my fears. After declining her offer of a ride home, I did what any independent and self sufficient woman would do.
I called AAA.
I mean, hello? I pay for it. (By which I mean my mother pays for it- yes. I know I'm spoiled- get off me). But the point is it's being paid for- so I might as well use it.
But now here I sit. In my office, over an hour after I should I left. AAA has still not come, although the promise of under 60 minutes looms in the air. And I should be shitty. I should be craving alcohol in large quantities to get over the end of this day.
Instead I am sitting here looking at my pictures of Josh and myself. And what is amazing, and I mean truly amazing, is that just thinking about him and seeing his face makes me happy. The knowledge that I have this incredible man in my life, who puts up with all of my quirks (the good ones and the bad ones), who challenges me, infuriates me: inspires me. This partner that I respect, as well as love. And sometimes I need to be reminded of that- especially on the bad days.
If only he were here to change my tire...
Sunday, August 07, 2005
Asleep to DreamI had a dream about the future with a man from my past.
I woke up with tears running down my face and a sinking in my chest. Startled and confused I turned on the light hoping to frighten away the monsters inside my head. When I went back to sleep I leapt back into my dream where I'd left off.
Of course that would happen.
Whenever I want to stay in a dream, it never happens. When I'm dreaming of Josh (my, admittedly, favorite dreams) my bladder threatens embarrassment, my dog barks, thunder rolls... you get the picture. I run back to bed and shut my eyes tight. Smelling Josh's cologne on my shirt (his shirt that I sleep in and spray with his cologne- I know... what a cheeseball) I think about him and smile, trying to will myself back into the dream.
It never works.
However, when emerged in a nightmare I dive back in full force and usually crack my head on the bottom of the pool. Why? Because I dream like I live- full force and passionate. Hence the crying in my sleep. Who does that?
But I digress... The dream was about my ex. I suppose I should be more specific- the last ex. There are a few things you need to know before I go into the dream. They are as follows: The relationship ended poorly. Scratch that. The relationship exploided and ended in shambles. I fully admit that this was my fault and that I should have ended it in a different (better) way- but I don't want to get into all those details on a blog. It's not fair to put his personal life out there for all the world to read. But the point is we haven't talked in over a year.
In my dream he died. And I felt an overwhelming amount of guilt in his death. As if I had a hand in it. The entire dream was his family wanting me to be a part of the funeral: speak, sing, etc. All the while it was obvious that every one was blaming me. I don't remember all of the details of the dream- I usually don't- but I can remember sitting next to the casket and talking to him. Apologizing for all the wrong done to him from my side and asking for forgiveness. That's when I woke up. I'm not sure why the dream affected me so much... I mean it was a dream- not reality. But for some reason I just wanted to know that he was really okay. And what's sad is that we don't speak at all. And I know I can't open up those lines of communication for a million reasons- the most important being that it's not fair for me to do so. I know that our lives are better- easier- not crossing again. But almost 4 years together makes a lot of memories and storing them away in the files of my mind, never to be opened again, is not an easy task.
I've always admitted to being a selfish person and I think this feeds into that. It's in my nature to want everyone to like me. I hate thinking of people being mad me. But like a bull in a china shop (which I've been call on more than one occasion) sometimes I break things, things being people, without knowing the damage I'm causing until I'm standing in the ruins wondering what happened. My hands stained with guilt from the broken heart I'm holding in my hands. My broken heart sitting on my sleeve where I attached it so long ago, and no matter how much thick skin I try to put over it somehow it manages to wear down, until it's exposed. Again.
So I suppose when I think about the dream and the "death" it was more of a reminder of the death of a friendship. Talking to the person with whom I can't talk. And not even aware in my waking hours that I missed it. But, as I said before, I understand the why. And I know it's better this way.
I just hope my dreams agree.
Friday, August 05, 2005
Raining on My FutureI drew my plans on the sidewalk
with... what else?
Side walk chalk.
Wth pinks and purples
I sketched my life-
plotted how our paths would cross.
I wiped my brow in
the hot summer heat,
careful not to drip
on my masterpiece.
But as soon as I'd finished
the cloud came by
and she dripped great teardrops
onto my canvas from under her
cloudy grey eyes.
And the colors swirled
and the picture changed
and I saw a new plan unfolding
in a hot summer rain.
I looked down in great satisfaction
with a knowledge inside
that this was planned
I felt your hand on my shoulder
and your lips on my neck
and I kissed you in the rain
as we stood in a puddle of
our watercolored future.
We waited for it to dry
to see what it might reveal.
And even though we couldn't make it out
it was more beautiful than I'd dreamed.
A Toast to YouPouring a glass of red to toast my new blog design... Thanks to Ginger- it's awesome! :)
check her out folks- it's well worth it!
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Destination: Real LifeI'm annoying right now.
I feel it when I talk to my friends, post my away messages, talk on the phone. I am that so-in-love-I-want-to-talk-about-it-with-everyone-even-if-they're-
single-and-hating-me-for-it girl. I've turned into "I don't need anyone but him" girl somewhere along the line. I love my friends. Adore them. They're great. They're wild. They're spontaneous. They're... single.
Somewhere along the lines I have changed, even just in the last 6 months. When I returned home it was like reverting back to college. Going to the bars, beer pong, long drunk nights and fuzzy mornings and needing weekends to, well, recover from my weekend. Now it's books in bed with a hot cup of chammomile tea, dinner and sometimes drinks, lots of family time, walking the dog and staying up late organizing for work.
While Josh was home I was reminded of what my life is and where it is headed. A road towards buying a home, working towards a raise, a new car, Sundays at home working in the yard. Date nights on Saturdays. State parks on the weekends. Camping (and not just in a chalet this time). Real. Life.
And I love that.
Tangled in the sheets with the smell of my love in the air is where I want to be. I want to buy groceries on Sundays and make scramble to make him dinner when we both get home. On Friday nights I want to order a pizza, share a bottle of red wine and play Risk. I want to throw the dice at him while we play. I want to kiss him annoyingly to try to get our puppy's attention. I want to walk the dog while holding hands. I want to steal all the covers in the night to give him something to bitch about in the morning.
I love my life- and I love where it's heading. I can't wait to get there.