Of Insignificant Importance

So Long

2006-12-14T13:42:00.000-08:00

I'm getting rid of my blog for several reasons, but I'll just say it's because no one reads it anymore and I don't have the energy or want to write anymore. So, if anyone does wander by, so long and Merry Christmas.

Travel

2006-12-01T08:40:00.000-08:00

When I was younger, I never really had the strong desire to travel. While my fellow classmates were ooohing and ahhhing over places like Africa, France, and Spain, I was quite cozy in my small town home, able to walk the streets of my humble city blindfolded and still find my way home. I had no reason to travel really. All of my family lives in Texas, none more than 1 hour away from me on. I had no friends that lived in exotic places, and even if I did, I would probably have convinced myself that it was too much trouble to visit them anyway. The first time I stepped foot on an airplane, I was 18 years old.

As I got older, though, I had more of an itch to go somewhere. Maybe not anywhere out of country, but somewhere—away! The opportunity came when I found out about a camp counselor position in New York at a place called Camp Pontiac. This search was a result of my new-found desire to want to pursue counseling as a career (and eventually led to me getting my Master’s in such a field). I felt like going was the right thing to do, and even though it scared the piss out of me, I was determined to break the roots that held me in one place and experience life for 3 months in a foreign state, all alone. My parents weren’t too keen on the idea (they had the same mentality as me: why travel when there’s no immediate need to?), but after a temper tantrum and some silent treatment, they gave in and I found myself packed and on a plane to New York.

Even though that experience wasn’t the best due to a bad case of bronchitis and homesickness, I did meet some very interesting and fun people, learned a lot about myself as a care-taker and leader, and even had my first real experience with people from Australia, Canada, and England. So, it began.

I started with a thirst for travel to more distant lands, and this thirst could only be satiated with a 13 hour plane ride and some exhausting jet lag. But why and how would I do this? I started making a list of my “Top 5 Places to Visit Before I Die”. They are as follows:

1. England
2. Italy
3. Australia
4. Ireland
5. Scotland

I became very interested in other cultures, and felt like I’d rather live in them for a few weeks than research them to get my information. I was, however, a newly graduated novice in a job that, while rich in experience, didn’t provide me the amount of money that such extravagant travel would necessitate. I was also crawling out of my skin at home and decided that moving out on my own would be Move #1. It seemed as though my plans for world-wide travel would have to be put on hold for, oh, say 50 more years.

Then came Huw. A strange series of events brought us together, and through sheer interest and, dare I say, attraction, we became a force to be reckoned with! Only, as you know, he was in London, and I in the Lone Star State. Honestly, the idea of me visiting over there popped in my head once or twice before we proposed it ourselves, but due to the circumstances under which we met, it seemed more appropriate for him to visit me first. And that’s exactly what he did. However, about 4 months later, I was on my 13 hour plane ride and was able to experience such jet lag that I could literally NOT keep my eyes open on the drive (on the wrong side of the road, mind you) back to Huw’s flat.

My experience in that single two week trip were indescribable. If I never am able to travel again, I will still be happy with the memories I made and things I saw with him. London was intimidating and extremely large, and even though I could never see myself living in such a city, I was overwhelmed by its ability to go from shady in one area, to exhibiting beautifully architecture in another. I loved Picadilly Circus, and that place we walked around when we were attempting to see The Lady in Black (I forgot what was called). The icebar, the Chicken Balls Chinese place, and our Duck Tour were also some of my favorite memories.

But it didn’t end there! Huw was kind enough to take me to Paris for my birthday, where we spent a day touring and eating and site-seeing. Then, if London and Paris weren’t enough, we visited Wales and its beautiful country and sea-side. In Wales, not only did we get to visit some beautiful places like Rhosilli Beach, but I also got to meet some quite enchanting characters (Curly and Tom the Swan).

Traveling through three countries in two weeks was amazing. Tiring, and I complained a lot of sore feet, but amazing. Since then, I have been experiencing that itch to travel again.

Today I found out at my work that they may want to send me to Quebec City, Quebec for a Drug Dependence conference. I would be most inclined to attend this conference because I have always heard that Canada is beautiful. It would be in the summertime (June), so I would be able to experience Canada and not freeze my hoo-haas off. Even though this would be a work-related travel, I really think I could get some good site-seeing in. Any suggestions as to where to go around that area?

So...

2006-11-01T06:56:00.000-08:00

How was everyone's Halloween? I was a pirate. Narrrrrrrhhhh.

Pictures to come from the party last night (hopefully). Here were a few characters in attendance:

Rain, rain

2006-10-25T06:40:00.000-07:00

There’s nothing I love more than a very rainy day.

I know this might sound weird, as people usually love bright, sunny, warm days, but not me. Here in the Lone Star State, we have ENOUGH bright, sunny, extremely hot days to last us forever, so a nice, cool rainy day is a rarity here (or so I think). I especially love when it’s like it is now: dark, raining, and me sitting at my desk at work with the blinds to the window next to me wide open. I even keep my office lights off so all that glows is the computer monitor. I can turn my head to the left and stare out my window at the rain coming down, and wish all I want that I was cuddling up with Bella in my apartment, with a blanket wrapped around me with a cup of hot chocolate (or tea, just for Huw).

I think many people would say I appreciate rainy days like this when I’m at work simply because I CAN’T be outside frolicking around and doing “things”. I disagree. I love rainy days whenever I can get them. When Huw was here in December of last year, we had an incredibly mild winter, so our days were close to what his summer days appeared to be. He can attest to the fact that I was complaining about this; I wanted dark, cooler, winterier (it’s a word) weather (although he was enjoying a break from that very weather in Merry Old England). And the craziest thing about this is that I’m a SUMMER girl! I love hot weather and the lake and the beach and wakeboarding and walking around barefoot and all that jazz. But I suppose I’m getting to the age where I would like to see more seasons here. I would love to see the leaves turn all those beautiful colors you’d see somewhere like Boston. Instead, here you see them one day, green and swaying in the breeze on the trees, then the next they’re dead, brown, and crumbling before your eyes on the ground. I would love to know what it was like to properly “bundle up” in December, to wear scarves and buy really bulky sweaters, instead of wearing a t-shirt and taking a sweater in case the nighttime gets chilly. I guess it’s give and take when you live in a place like this.

Anyway, it’s raining. Me likey. That is all.

She's the Runt, but She's Bossy!

2006-10-17T13:00:00.000-07:00

I truly think your pet reflects the kind of person you are.

For example, I had an ex-boyfriend who really liked cats. One of his cats, his favorite in fact, was lazy, snobby when you first met her, but then pretty sweet and affectionate once she got to know you. He was much the same. He also liked to stretch a lot.

I think my puppy reflects the “true” me as well, but I’m not sure I like what I’m seeing! She’s very much all about herself. She wants constant attention and gets extremely jealous when you pay attention to someone else (so much so that she’ll barge in on any activity so she can be the main event). She’s mean at first, but when she realizes she’s hurt someone, she’s immediately remorseful. She disobeys everyone and barely knows the word “NO!”, and certainly doesn’t listen to her mother, even if her mom knows what’s best for her. She cries when she’s left alone, but is incredibly excited when she’s reunited with someone. She’s very ready to give out love, but only when it’s convenient for her. She loves to have her ears rubbed and can eat like a maniac.

Aside from her constant need to chew on clothes, shoes, and furniture, my dog is ME. My mom told me that she was happy I picked Bella because she said she could tell straight away that Bella matched my personality. I guess she and I will get along just fine. As long as she stops chewing up my good shoes and puncturing my hands, that is.

I'm a New Mommy!

2006-10-11T07:14:00.000-07:00

Okay, before y'all freak out and think i'm preggers or something, here's what I mean:

I got a puppy this past Saturday. Her name is Bella (which, apparently, is the name of every other dog in the world, GAH). She's a toy poodle, apricot/cream color, 8 weeks old, and the fiestiest 3 pound ball of fur you'll ever meet. I never knew how much of a "mommy" I'd feel like until I got her. See, my family had a poodle from when I was about 5 until I was about 19. She then passed away, but we had gotten another poodle in the meantime, so I've never really been without a doggie. However, these dogs have always been primarily my mom's dogs, as she was the one who took care of them the most. Having my own puppy, having something that looks at you and you alone for their well-being, is HUGE and scary. When I had to leave her at home for the first time on Monday, I couldn't eat and was sick the whole time because I missed her, I felt guilty for leaving her because I knew she was scared, and I was scared that she'd get into something that would hurt her. She survived her first day of me being at work, and hopefully with time, she'll realize that although I have to go, I'll always come back.

She's a little ankle biter, always chewing on something (mostly my toes) and let me tell you--those puppy teeth are SHARP! She is wonderful, though, very smart, and I can tell she's going to be a wonderful companion for me for a very long time. I'm already spoiling her and being *that* dog owner (with the car seat and the carrying purse...), but I wouldn't have it any other way. After all, to me, she's not a dog. She's my child!

So, here are a few more pictures for your enjoyment! Feel free to "oooh" and "ahhh" as you please.

Him Over Here

2006-08-22T06:56:00.000-07:00

As we speak, Huw is on an airplane, bound for over here, to spend time with me. I am super excited but also very tired, as I spend last night cleaning and putting fresh sheets on my bed and taking out the MOUNDS of trash I found as I was cleaning. Also, on Sunday, I vacuumed out my car and pull something in my back, and it's hurting like crazy. So, I'm not in the BEST shape for his arrival, but I'm sure all my aches and fatigue will disappear when I see him walking down that airport walkway.

Y'all should know, too, that this will mean for about 2 and a half weeks I won't be posting anything, unless, you know, I get a small window. Most of my time will be spend kissing and cuddling up to Huw; don't worry Curly, I won't post any pictures of the kissing ;)

So, I leave you with excitement and anticipation of his arrival, and hope he makes it through immigration with no problems. Fingers crossed!!

Holy Hell

2006-08-18T06:42:00.000-07:00

Huw will be here in 3 DAYS! (Okay, excluding today and the day he arrives.) I have SO much left to do!!!

I'm really excited to lay my peepers on him, in case you were wondering. Although it hasn't been AS long to wait as it was before I went to London, I certainly haven't been missing him any less. Long distance relationships are H-A-R-D, and it's not like this is domestic long-distance. We're talking International Love here, folks.

I think, however, for two people so far apart, we make long-distance-relationship-having look GOOOOD. Sure, there are times where we miss each other more or we get frustrated because the other is not there to soothe a troubled heart, but we work with what we have and I think we do a damn fine job, if I do say so myself.

Huw is a terrific guy. He's patient, understanding, supportive, loving, hilarious, incredibly intelligent, knowledgeable, witty, mature, caring, nurturing, a great son, a great cook, and all around perfect. I'm not quite sure how I managed to land him, and am still waiting for him to realize that he could do better, but for right now, I'll keep him in the dark because I'm enjoying being his girlfriend very much.

Anyway, that was my Ode to my Boyfriend. I'm happy it's Friday, I'm happy he's arriving in 3 days, and I'll be incredibly ecstatic for the 2 and a half weeks he's playing house husband. Life was sucking, but I always have him to look forward to.

Happy Friday!

Yep.

2006-08-14T15:16:00.000-07:00

Right now, I am Life's bitch.

Life is just getting a kick out of screwing me over and over again. Life is pointing and laughing at me, like how I would if one of my friends tripped and fell over a curb, only Life isn't helping me back up. It's got it's foot on my back.

Life needs to just back off. Before I kung-fu its ass.

Huw's here in 7 days. Let's hope and pray the airways are safe for him, and that we can be happily and safely reunited for two and a half weeks of happiness and kisses (which, of course, will be posted on here because I'm MUSHY like that).

In other news, here's a picture of me and my best gal pal Nic at a wedding we attended this past weekend. Also, me and my 3 co-workers/friends. A little blurry, I know, but we's still beautiful!

Breakin' tha Law, Breakin' tha Law...dah dah dah dah!

2006-08-07T09:38:00.000-07:00

So, question:

Is it illegal to stick a letter in someone's mailbox? Why do I have the sneaking suspicion that it is? Did I hear it on the news? Because that means it's true, as opposed to me hearing it on one of those "let's blow up every building in site and man-scream a lot" action movies that I watch...in which case I doubt my sneaking suspicion's validity. Anyone know? Reason being: I have a letter that I want to mail to someone, but I don't want them to know it came from me. I wouldn't have a problem not including a return address, except that I can't afford to have the contents inside the letter be thrown away should the address be flawed for some reason. A return address would give me away as the sender, but simply sticking the letter in the recipient's mailbox would ensure they safely receive the letter. But, I don't want to be mid-stick when the 5-0 shows up and arrests me for mail fraud or something of the sort. Again, anyone know? Illegal? Mail sticking? That's the technical term, by the way. Look it up if you don't believe me.

In other news:

14 ITTY BITTY DAYS UNTIL HUW IS HERE!!!!!!! I'm super excited, and am anxious for him to arrive for obvious reasons, but for the not-so-obvious reason of me getting to spend all this money I'm hoarding until he gets here. I have to save up for those tricks I have up my sleeve...

We have lots to do when he arrives. Last time he visited the Lone Star State, I did a poor job playing "Hostess" (not the cream-filled snack cake, unfortunately) and pretty much kept him to myself as opposed to sharing him with the sites of the city. Boy, did I feel a bit inadequate as hostess when I visited him in London and we did just about everything we could do, in 2 countries, in 2 weeks. I need to step it up. So, I have planned things. Wonderful things. Active things. Things that include actually LEAVING my apartment. Crazy, I know, but after his showmanship in London, I need to equalize.

One of our planned trips is a journey to South Padre Island. Now, my fear is a torrential downpour of rain on the days we are planning to be camped out in a hotel room and lying on the beach. I can remember one time my ex-boyfriend and I drove down for a weekend in SPI, and as soon as we got there, the rain began. When the news stated that they would be shutting down the bridge that separated the island from the rest of civilization in an hour, we had a tough decision to make: wait it out and hope the rain passes but chance getting flooded out, or high-tail it home and chalk this trip up to a loss. We did the latter. So, in a day we drove 10 hours, with only about 3 hours in between trips to "rest" (see: freak out about getting our money back for the hotel we had booked). That was a horrible trip, very disappointing and exhausting, and I hope the same doesn't happen to me and Huw when we go down there. I've been very nervous about this, you see, since we've been going SO FREAKING LONG without any rain, but a glimmer of hope revealed itself in the shape of very large and persistent raindrops yesterday evening. We got a pretty substantial shower, so I'm hoping that we're dry until AFTER Huw leaves. I guess we'll see. But you know, even if we DO get rained out, I wouldn't mind a back-to-back 5 hour roadtrip with him. He's just that great.

So, that's about it. I'm going to a wedding of a former co-worker in Austin this weekend, and have just been informed that one of my best friends found her wedding dress this weekend. I'm incredibly happy for both of them, but damn those wedding bells! So it begins...

Claim to Fame

2006-08-01T14:38:00.000-07:00

My mom has been told that she looks like Reba McEntire.

My daddy has been told he looks like a mixture of The Fonz and Elvis.

My sister (sadly) has been told she looks like Tonya Harding.

My brother-in-law bears a striking resemblence to Troy Aikman.

I have a cousin that looks like Elizabeth Shue, and she is married to a guy that looks like Ben Affleck.

I think my boyfriend looks like Guillaume Canet. Sigh.

I've been likened to Martina McBride, Larisa Oleynik, Katie Holmes (save me, Tom Cruise, with your witchcraft!) and most often, Avril Lavigne...lots.

And lots.
I'm telling you...
I get it all the time.
Which I take as a compliment because I think she's pretty.

And I'm not saying this to gloat, if that's what it seems like. I can remember sitting on my coffee table watching this video for this new artist, Avril Lavigne, thinking "Gosh, she looks a lot like someone I know...hey wait, she looks like ME!" And then it started. I'd get it in restaurants, clothing stores, school...my ex-boyfriend even took me to a concert of hers and I got mistaken for her SO many times!! I thought about sneaking into her trailer to get to her guitarist because I thought he was SUPER hot, but figured that'd be a bad idea as soon as I got found out. Since she went blonde, I get it less and less, but lo and behold, someone made a comment on a picture I have somewhere saying I had a striking resemblence to her. Go figure.

Hey, I'm stoked about it.

So, dear readers, who do YOU look like?

Nagging and Butterflies*

2006-07-24T21:02:00.000-07:00

I'd like to say I'm writing this to convey some important self-discovery, but really, this is just to get Curly off my back**.

Things have been really crazy in my life lately, stories could formulate very easily about what I'm facing now, but I'm not sure if A.) I want to get that personal on a blog and B.) If I do, whether it's the right time or not.

All I've really got is this observation. Freaking. Butterflies. Everywhere. Seriously, they should be on that Discovery Channel show "Swarms". I've never seen so many. But it's not like they're these beautiful Monarch butterflies or exotic species, no. They're like the unimpressive, daytime moth.

I know that this may be their "hatching" time, but it's crazy. Is anyone else experiencing this in any other part of the US? I was driving the other day with my mom, and I seriously was about to cry because there was no way I could avoid them on the highway. Mom just laughed at me as I screamed at them "STOP HITTING MY WINDSHIELD, FLY AWAY FROM IT, GEEEEZ!" By the time we got to our destination, it was like someone shot my windshield with grey painball pellets. And my windshield wiper fluid dispenser hasn't worked for quite some time. Very sad and a little bit traumatic. I felt like a butterfly murderer. PETA would have a field day.

Anyway, these butterflies are EVERYWHERE. They hide in bushes and amBUSH (ha!) you when you walk by. They fly into your car when you open your door and you nearly fender-bender it trying to get the damn thing out of your window. Somehow, I bet, it's tied into global warming. Everything is nowadays.

So, that was my observation.

*Yes, I edited. I can because it's my blog.
**You know I love when you nag me, Curly, just like you love when I threaten you.

It's That Time Again

2006-07-11T07:23:00.000-07:00

This is a hard time of year for me. It's that time where I completely love the scorching heat and frolicking around on the beach and at the lake, but I hate, hate, HATE finding a bathing suit.

This is not a problem for guys. They throw on a ratty pair of board shorts and look as though they have walked out of a fashion magazine because, let's face it, old is the new new. Hell, they can even strip off their pants and down to their undies for an impromptu swim. Not so much with me.

Every year I vow that I will start working out hard core in like, February to be in shape for the season of Trying On Bathing Suits and Not Feeling Like a Huge Cow in the Crappy Store Mirrors and Poor Lighting. I think some of you girls know what I'm talking about. It's like, no matter how skinny you are, that lighting in those dressing rooms--Good Lord! There are angles I didn't even know existed...

Anyway, the past couple of years I haven't been too bothered by this seasonal slump I usually fall into, mostly because I haven't had anyone to impress. This year, however, is different. Huw is coming to stay with me for two and a half weeks in August (YAY!!) and I have planned for us to go down to South Padre Island for a weekend. This, of course, calls for a new bathing suit. I mean, I have my old trusty one...the one I've had since I was about 19 that I love and have completely broken in so it now fits the contours of my body no matter how much my weight fluxuates. However, when the white part has turned to a dull shade of yellow for no apparent reason, even after having been washed numerous times, you know it's time to retire it.

One day Huw mentioned that he thinks I look nice in red. Well, this stuck in my head and was brought to the forefront of my mind while shopping one day before I went to visit him in London. I found a really cute red triangle-top bikini (I can hear the guys just yawning) at a store and I really wanted to buy it, but due to constraints on my purse strings, I was going to have to wait. Turns out, upon calling a few days ago, they have sold out. But here comes Sissy to the rescue. Her husband had bought her a bathing suit very similar to the one I wanted when they were on their honeymoon, but because he had bought her a size "small", she was no longer able to wear it. She has graciously loaned it to me for our SPI trip, but man...when it says "small", it means "tiny in the ass and you're kidding yourself if you think both cheeks are going to fit into this".

Due to this recent discovery, I have vowed (and this time not just in vain) to get my rear-end into shape and shave off some of those love-handles that were squeezing oh-so-sexily out of the bottom portion of the suit. Yesterday was my first successful day, so I hope to carry on this way at least 5 days a week. At least I have that "back up bathing suit" in case my efforts yield little to no results.

So, wish me luck. I might be sore and cursing everyday, but dammit, I'm going to fit into that itsy-bitsy teeny-weeny red and shiny small bikini.

The Dreaded Return

2006-06-15T13:26:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I'm back and have been for almost a week now. However, for now, this is all I have to say:

I took 10 rolls of film, so obviously this isn't all there is. Special thanks to The Swan and Curly.

T Minus Hours

2006-05-24T10:37:00.000-07:00

Look at that countdown counter. Go on. Look at it. See that lovely round thing? That's a "zero". Do you know what that means? Sure you do.

Tomorrow is my last day of work before I head off to Merry Old England. Check out Huw's cartoon. Good stuff.

Today I have to work late to make sure I get all the work stuff taken care of before I leave this place for 2 weeks. Then I have to leech off of my parents and use their washing machine so I can have all sorts of clothes to pack (thanks to the weather...make up your damn mind), then I have to clean my apartment. Tomorrow will then be my bon voyage day at work and the monsterous task of packing.

I'm getting more and more nervous about my flight, but I at least have Harry Potter and my iPod to keep me company. Planes don't NORMALLY crash, right? Eeek.

Of course, the thing I'm most looking forward to is seeing and spending time with Huw, but added perks are getting to see and spend time with Curly, Chris, Tom, and Huw's family and other friends. Getting to know your significant other's, um, others, is always fun (if not a bit scary...I'm petrified of meeting his parents!).

So, that's it for now. I suppose I'll say "cheerio" until either I'm in London or (sniff, sniff) back home to sunny Texas. Cheers!

A Lot More Candles Than Before

2006-05-19T06:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my birthday. Although I *do* believe at times that the world does revolve around me, I couldn't bring myself to post about my special day yesterday.

I've never really been shaken by a birthday before, I actually really look foward to them. However, yesterday I was hit with the fact that the 18-24 age demographic that is referenced so much in daily consumer life no longer applies to me. And I felt old.

This feeling was overshadowed though, by this sense of excitement that has been hovering over me for a while. I really feel like this is the year where so many life-changing events are going to happen. I can't wait to see what unfolds, and where I am in my life a year from now.

I guess there's no better way to kick of my quarter-century birthday than by taking a trip to London. Remember what I said about those life-changing events? Well, they're beginning already! I leave a week from today. Around this time in a week, I will be sitting in my hair dresser's chair, chatting to her about how I'm going to spend the best two weeks of my life with the best guy I've ever known as she wraps my incredibly long hair into little foil folds. And my heart will be beating quickly, palms sweaty, and body shaking with anticipation.

I have *so* many things to do before I go, and really not enough time to do them in. I'm very much the kind of person that doesn't like to prepare things too far in advance, just to wait around for whatever it is I've gotten ready for to come. This was often the cause of my parent's grief with me when it came time for holidays and events--I was always the one making them a few minutes late because I refused to sit around in my nice clothes, hair and makeup done. I apparently have not defeated this habit, and have chosen to do my last-minute shopping at the very. last. minute.

To complicate things, I have decided to throw in a "weekend before I leave/birthday weekend" trip to Dallas to visit Nic. Now, when I thought about this 2 and a half weeks ago, it seemed like a GREAT idea; after all, I'd be getting one more weekend out of the way before I got to leave for London, it would be a smart and fun way to pass the time. However, as I sit here now and thing about all the undone bits and pieces I have yet to take care of, I'm thinking to myself "EEEk, was scheduling this trip the WEEKEND BEFORE I leave for London the most intelligent idea?" (Now, Nic, I *do* want to go, don't get me wrong. Just don't let me freak out about how unprepared I am for this trip).

So, there you have it. I'm not sure if I'll get to post before I go, so if not, either look for a "Hey, I'm posting from LONDON" entry, or one upon my arrival back to the States.

Happy Birthday to me!

Checklist

2006-05-11T15:15:00.000-07:00

Because my visit to London is now 2 weeks away (holy crap), I have decided to let all of y'all in on my secret checklist. Okay, so it's not that secret, but I needed to make this post sound mysterious and interesting, seeing as how it's been forever since my last entry.

Ahem.

Things To Do To Prepare for London in May:

Track the weather pattern/changes in London and Wales. Because these places are not two-climate countries like Texas is (yes, Texas is its own country) it has varying temperature levels that shift. It's not just "Hot" and "Hotter".
Based on the information collected in Bullet 1, plan wardrobe accordingly.
Oh crap. I have to figure out what I'm going to wear! This, for me, is a catch 22. You see, I feel like a fool if I pack too much (I never wanted to be one of those girls that had 28 suitcases following her on a trip that was not made for 28 suitcases), but I want to make sure I pack well enough for our travels, weather, and to occasionally look cute for my boyfriend. Gah.
Go to local WalMart and stock up on Benadryl for the plane ride there. I've never experienced jet lag before, so I might as well get a head start on getting my sleep patterns in sync on the plane ride over.
Whilst at Walmart, purchase cuter pajamas than just a ratty old t-shirt.
Must remember passport, must remember passport, must remember passport (etc.)
Build up a higher tolerance for alcohol. I hear those Brits and Welshmen can drink.
Make sure all work stuff is settled before I go. [bursts out in laughter]...who the hell am I kidding, I've got tunnel vision!
Make sure I get to the airport on time. Because I'm sometimes a "girly girl", I decided to make a hair appointment THE DAY that I leave, so that when I get to Britland and see Huw for the first time (other than on a webcam) in over 4 months, I can look halfway decent. However, I'm pushing it with time, as my hair appointments take nearly 3 hours. Must...budget...time...wisely!
And finally, make sure I come back. That plane home will be the LAST thing I want to see, so I will need the encouragement from a certain Brit. Else I'll stay where I am for as long as I can.

So, fair people of Blogland, there you have it. My "to-do" list for London in May 2006. The more I check off, the closer I am to being in Britland with my Britman (teehee, Oh, it was funny!). Posts may be lacking up until I leave because, as you can very well see, I have a ton to do.

Suggestions, tips, hints, and general comments for overseas/Britland travel are welcomed and encouraged. So get to it.

Three Weeks

2006-04-30T21:15:00.000-07:00

If I can just make it through three insignificant weeks, then I'll be alright. That's what I keep telling myself.

With Huw on tour this weekend, I was left with a few emails here and there and some nice phone calls which, I'm sure, will cost him a pretty penny*. Although I love the fact that we haven't let one day pass since we've been together in which we don't communicate with each other in some way, it's always tough when I can't "see" or "talk" to him like I'm used to.

I'm not sure if any of you have noticed recently (why would you with the huge gap in my postings), but we're down to LESS THAN 30 DAYS before I'm on my London in May adventure. And knowing that Huw hasn't broken any bones from his Barcelona Adventures** relieves me a bit, so it's all downhill from here.

The only thing is, even though I know I have a mere 3 weeks to go before I get to see him, I know that these are going to be the 3 most stressful weeks I've had in a while. Since I manage a project, I have to make sure that everything is right with it, along with the 2 other projects I'm on, before I can breathe easy when I step on that airplane. I guess the only thing that really keeps me going is the fact that my ticket is non-refundable, that I've already been approved for the vacation request, and that no matter what, I'm getting on that airplane. Data submission be damned.

Being a real grown up has its perks, but sometimes it can be a real pain in the ass. I understand that in the times we live in now, money makes the world go round and there's nothing I can really do about that. But I am so scared that I am becoming one of those people that works constantly--in the shower, on the weekend, just before I fall asleep at night--I keep myself awake thinking "Did I remember to..." and "What if I need to...". I sometimes feel like there just isn't enough room in my head to remember all the things I need to. Whilst I'm jamming my brain with work-related bits and pieces, I feel like I'm forgetting important activities in my personal life (i.e. did I pay my rent, when is that doctor's appointment, have I changed my contacts yet this month, etc.). I never thought I'd say this, but I feel totally overworked.

Anyway, blah. I have tunnel vision right now, and the light at the end of this tunnel is really the only thing that will get me through these 3 weeks. Now, I just have to make sure not to bury myself beneath the piles of paperwork on my desk and get to the airport in time...

*Don't worry, I'm going to help pay!
**Hope that didn't ruin any of your homecoming posting, Huw!

I Blame It On My Boyfriend*

2006-04-13T21:17:00.000-07:00

I made my very first impulse buy. I got a new computer.

I don't even want to go into the frustration and confusion that went along with the purchase, but let's just say the day this one dies, I'm leaving it up to someone else to get me a new one.

I know many of you could hands-down admit "I couldn't live without a computer in my home", and I understand that. I, however, used to be quite the opposite. Sure, I liked to check my email and do an occasional surfing**, but other than that, I was happy watching a movie or playing with my doggie.

That is, of course, until I met Huw.

My main form of communication with him is via the Internet. We chat and get to see each other everday through webcams--we can even talk for free because of our (sometimes stubborn and feedback-producing) microphones. So, when my last computer called it quits ever so abruptly, I was at a loss***. How do I adjust from waking up and going to sleep with him there everyday, to semi-planned phone calls**** at my work desk, where I have to walk that fine line of letting him know I'm absolutely crazy about him and still maintaining professionalism? After about a week, I couldn't take it anymore, so I sucked it up, went to a store that I'm sure ripped me off, and bought a ridiculously expensive crappy computer that will probably break in a year anyway. And it was one hundred percent worth it. In fact, I would have paid double if it meant I could go back to seeing and talking to him every day and night.

So, what I told y'all before is no longer true. Uncle Sam isn't paying for my trip to London in May; instead, he's footing the bill for my new facking computer.

What was your biggest impulse buy?

Oh, and Happy Easter to all!

* Not really.
**I got bored after 10 minutes. Really, what's there to surf?
***Fantastically huge understatement
****Which, for the record, I loved.

Busy and Broken

2006-04-06T07:22:00.000-07:00

You might be asking yourself, "Why MOH, why are you blogging at work when you obviously have a mountain of work to sift through?" Well, good people, I'll tell you.

My at-home computer broke. Kaput. No more.

Now, if this is a fixable problem, then good deal. Obstacle with that is...I know CRAP about computers, so would have to take it to Computer Person for them to tell me, for about $100 I'm guessing, that my computer is broke, kaput, no more. And frankly, I haven't had the time.

So, with no computer at home, and with my days increasing in overworking my wittle booty off, I really REALLY don't have time to blog. What's worse is, that's my main line of communication with Huw, and even though (check the countdown) I have fewer and fewer days to go now until I see him, going those few days without communicating with him like I'm used to is very, very tough. So if any of you want to donate a computer to me (in the name of love, of course), want to offer your services for fixing said computer, or can give me any information on a BIOS old-school DOS screen that wouldn't bypass when my computer booted up, well then you might just be my second best friend.

Oh, and I got to see Nanners last night, which was in and of itself, the one of the best parts of my day. She's wonderful...remind me to tell you about the business we're going to start.

Cardio for Men

2006-03-30T21:50:00.000-08:00

I bought a Pilates DVD not too long ago with the hopes that I would magically become motivated enough to get my ass into shape (literally) before London in May (which, if you look at my countdown counter, is nearing). As great as toning my powerhouse is, all the stretching in the world isn't going to reduce the ever-growing lovehandles that have mysteriously appeared sometime between my college cheerleading days and the last time I ate McDonalds*.

Realizing that I wasn't going to escape the fact that I need some serious cardio in my life in order to reach the goal of 15 Lost Pounds before May 26th, I set out to my local Wal-Mart to buy yet another $9 DVD. I keep my work-outs high class.

I found a Denise Austin** "Burn Fat Fast--Dance Party!" DVD that tempted me. I like dancing. I like parties. I like that it's $9. Sold.

Right away I thought to myself, "Hmm...Denise Austin. Sounds like a porn name***". I should have let that be my first indicator and chosen the "Salsa Thin" DVD instead.

I'm not sure how many of you will understand this reference, but this woman is a cross between any woman porn star and Molly Shannon. Her voice is similar to Mary Katherine Gallagher, and she says "encouraging" phrases such as:

"Oh yeaaaah...feels SO good....you LIKE burning that fat, don't you?"
"MMMM...you KNOW you want to increase your flexibility."
"OOOOOH YES! We're DANCING that fat away. Do you like that?"

And she's got that gruff, scratch voice that makes you think that either she's a long-time smoker or she's been working those phone lines too long.

She also says things that make me want to punch her in her peppy little face:

"Let me see that smiling face!" (after our "power move" has concluded and I'm nearly passed out)
"Make this move your own! It's YOUR dance party!"
"Do the BEST that YOU can!"

As much as I make fun of her, and myself for actually buying this thing, I can't deny the fact that I'm sweating and my heart's a-pounding when I'm cooling down. Props to you, Denise Austin.

I just hope Huw never does what Chris Cope did.

*The people in the drive-thru by my apartment know me now.
**Apparently, she was the clumsy cousin on Three's Company.
***Not that I would know.

Along the Same Lines...

2006-03-28T06:54:00.000-08:00

I trudged into the kitchen at my respective place of work this morning to find notes of a rather rude nature Scotch-taped pretty much everywhere I turned. They read:

"You're not a Princess. You're not a Prince.
If you drink coffee, make coffee.
If you make the mess, clean it up."

...and who can forget...

"HEY!! You're mother does not work here.
Your maid does not work here.
Clean up your own dishes!!"

...and, of course, the MEMO (dah dah dahhhhhhhh):

"Due to the unacceptable condition of the Division break room sink filled with dishes, cups and other items for more than a week, the following will go into effect immediately. All items left in the sink at the end of the work day (5 p.m.) will be discarded."

Our small group here thinks it was the Kitchen Fairy putting her Brusque Wand to use. She must mean business. I can't say I disagree completely, however. The smell wafting from the sink drain could have killed a small horse.

I thought this might compliment the entry that my Huw posted a time ago. Discuss.

One More for the Road

2006-03-22T14:46:00.000-08:00

Believe it or not (but you should believe it), I was not the coolest 10th grader in the history of 10th grade students. Throughout middle school I was known as a "schoolgirl", and the fact that I had won "Best Overall Girl" for three consecutive years (I think, at least two) of middle school didn't exactly help my coolness factor. I wore brown glasses that were way too big for my face, cried if I got a "B" on a test (which didn't happen often, mind you), and earned the moniker "Poodlegirl" for my poofy permed hair (yes, including permed bangs). I didn't find out until my Senior year of high school that I was called this, nor that I was the girl equivalent of the most disgusting girlfriend prospect that the popular boys would torture each other with. Observe:

Popular Boy #1: "Dude, you are so dorky."
Popular Boy #2: "Shut up, Dude, I am not...YOU are!"
PB#1: "Nuh uh...you're so dorky, I bet [Me Over Here] is your girlfriend and you kiss her everyday!"
All PBs: "OOOOOOHHHHH"
***silence***
PB#2: "Dude, that's SO not cool. Take it back."
PB#1: "NO TAKE BACKS!"

So began the torturous journey that was my middle school/early high school experience.

Because I couldn't shake this reputation, I had no chance with the shallow but popular boys I dreamt about being my boyfriends. So, I took what I could get. Consequently, what follows is the story of my first kiss.

Fast forward to me in 10th grade (about 15 years old) whining yet again in one of my classes about how I'd never have a boyfriend. A girl in my class suggested I consider dating one of her twin brothers, older than me, used to go to the same school, but had recently moved to a neighboring town. Because I was desperate to validate my femininity, I told her I'd think about it and get back to her. Well, not 2 days later, I had one of the Twins calling me up at my house and asking me if I'd like to go rollerblading in a park near his town. (Leave me alone, it was the '90s)

After obtaining a signed permission slip from my parents to go on a very unofficial "date", Twin picked me up and we began our 45-minute drive to the park. Along the way, we passed by a building that looked like a large castle from a fairy tale.

Twin: "See that building?"
Me, shyly: "MmmHmm"
Twin: "I belong to the group that meets there."
Me: "Really? What group?"
Twin: "[blah blah] Masonry Knights [something blah blah]"
Me, not knowing what he's saying: "That's so cool!"

So, that was Weird Incidence #1.

Rollerblading was, well, all that rollerblading could be: uneventful and clumsy. After that, we played Laser Tag, and after getting nice and sweaty and stinky, we settled into a theater to watch a movie (this was a full-service date, I'll give him that!). Not gonna lie--there was some hand-holding during the movie, and because things were going seemingly well, I got a little flip-flop butterfly feeling in my tummy.

The movie ended with just enough time to get me home to make my curfew. As Twin spouted off some incoherent blather about the stars and their alignment, one thought consumed my mind: What if, just what if, he tries to kiss me?

I'd never been kissed before. Frankly, it's scared the piss out of me. What if it hurt? What if I was horrible at it? What if I didn't like it and would therefore be scarred for the rest of my life? Looking back, I understand that my first kiss was a pivotal moment in my life, but really, what was I so stressed out about?

I was snapped out of my panic-state when this declaration floated to my ears from Twin's Rubbish Mouth: "You know, [Me Over Here]...I could change your life if you let me."

Weird Incidence #2. I should have spotted it there. But, still consumed with thoughts of lip locks, I giggled nervously and said something to the effect of "cool" or "neat" or "okay". I know I still have insecurity and self-confidence issues now, but good Lord--back then, I would have let anyone convince me to do anything!

Anyway, as we neared my neighborhood, and my heightened state of panic reached chart-topping levels, I decided to be proactive and simply be honest with him. Which made me even more nervous. But it was either this, or put myself in a compromising position, so I opted for Option A. As we pulled in front of my house, I began:

Me: "[Twin], can I talk to you about something?"
Twin: "I am an open door." (or something equally corny)
Me: "Well, it's just that, um...I've never, you know...kissed anyone before. Andnotlikeyouwereplanningonkissingme
butifyouwereI'mnotsureI'mreadyforthat! (because I talk a lot and quickly when I'm nervous).
Twin: "Okay..."
Me: "It's just that, you know, I'm kinda scared to kiss someone, and I don't know if I'm ready to just yet, and I like you, but I think I should wait." (because I'm a prude)
Twin: "I won't do anything you're not comfortable with."
Me (relieved): "Okay, thank you so much for understanding!"

Pretty clear, right? I thought so, too.

Feeling a sense of relief and inner calmness, I sat, heartbeat slowing to a normal speed, and waited for him to walk around and open the car door for me. All in all, Weird Incidences aside, it had been a fun date with a reasonably nice guy, so I had decided that if he felt the same, I would agree to a second date. I was already getting excited at the prospect of THAT being my very first kiss ever!

Twin walked me to the start of my sidewalk, close to his car, and put his arms around me. Super, thinks I, he's going to give me a goodnight hug. What I got was far, far from a hug.

He kissed me. And not just a small peck on the lips. He came at me with his tongue. His tongue which was already out of his mouth as he swooped into my face. Before I had time to react, I felt his nasty, slimy lips on mine, and his tongue plunging around in my mouth like he was trying to tongue-mix a milkshake. And did his nasty mouth appendage stay in MY mouth? Nope. I swear, it had a mind of its own, and felt the need to explore, with saliva as its lubrication, my upper and lower lip, the little bridge thing between my nostrils, my chin, and yes, my left cheek. When he was done, I felt like I'd been slimed.

I didn't react. How could I? I was in a state of shock. Did I, or did I NOT JUST TELL HIM I WASN'T READY TO BE KISSED?!?!? Assface gave me a goofy smile.

Because I was so unsure of myself, I didn't slap him or use the choice words I was not allowed to say in my parent's or teacher's presence. Instead, I said, "Well, it's my curfew time, I should go in."

I turned to walk away, when I heard him say, "Wait". Then, I felt his hand on my arm, and in a lanky maneuver, he spun me around and grabbed me by the waist--a position I was all to familiar with now. And then he said, and I poo you not:

"One more for the road."

What the hell did that....SLIMED AGAIN!! He was "kissing" me for a second time, using extra spit and covering a larger surface area before. When he released, I was more in shock than the first time, so I just turned around and walked toward my front door. I can vividly remember the distinct smell of foreign spit lingering on my upper lip and yes, actually IN my nostrils this time. I can also recall the first though as I fell onto my bed that night: If this was what kissing consisted of, I never, ever, under ANY circumstance, wanted to do it again.

Needless to say (but I'm going to say it anyway), I declined Spitty Twin's invitation for a second date, and never spoke to him again. Luckily for me, the next kiss I experience was actually really pleasant, and although my first kiss makes for a good story, I will always be disappointed that it wasn't the fireworks-popping moment I imagined it would be in my pre-teen years. One positive result of that dreaded first kiss was the fear I implanted in my mind of becoming such a crappy kisser...I resolved that I would never leave a crusty layer of spit around some poor guy's mouth (or any other facial features), and because of that oath, I am (so I've been told) a great kisser.

I wonder where Twin is now. Probably somewhere lubing up a defenseless girl's nostrils with the vile smelling saliva that I'm sure he deems something like his "sure-fire, life changing, sex-getting ace in the hole". Assface.

Squeaky Clean

2006-03-13T21:07:00.000-08:00

When I was younger (ahem, a year ago) and I still lived with my parents, I was perfectly content with having the carpet on the floor in my room covered with items ranging anywhere from mateless socks to paper plates with dried soy sauce on them to unopened cans of chicken noodle soup. I actually found things I needed with more precision than if my room was tidy. My mom used to complain.

"How do you LIVE in this mess," she would inquire.
"What mess?" I would innocently ask (really, it looked fine to me).

With a curled upper lip she'd glare at me and direct me to "clean it up...NOW". Because I will never rid the Fear of my Mother which was instilled in me from birth, I would do as I was told. However, it would only be a matter of days before the tornado would come gusting through with stronger force, tossing about old college notes and high school cheerleading megaphones. When we couldn't find my dog for 2 days, at the end of which we discovered her buried beneath a pile of "clean" clothes under which I had been sleeping for about 2 weeks, I acknowledged there was a problem. But still, I couldn't bring myself to do anything about it. I was addicted to the mess.

Now, a year later, I find myself in a completly different situation. I can't STAND to have mismatched shoes leading me from my living room to my bedroom closet. The sight of dried toothpaste in my sink makes me gag a little, and we can all agree that that's not the most pleasant reflex when you're gargling with your Scope. And don't get me started on the dishes in my sink (that's right, I went old school and said "don't get me started". It helps if you say it out loud and with a head swivel and finger wag).

What is even more bizarre than my incessant need to keep my apartment organized (probably because it's the size of my closet back at my parent's house, but I digress) is then hour at which I choose to clean. It's normally at about 11PM, after Family Guy, and right at my prime bedtime. I just can't help myself...I must get that dried soup off of my stove burners, or so help me, I'll lay in bed sleepless just thinking about how dirty it looks and how, the longer I wait, the more stubborn the spot will become. But wait, there's more. Not only do I clean late at night, oh no, it doesn't stop there. It's like Lays Potato Chips with me and cleaning: I can't do just one (okay, so it's a modified saying, but I was trying to make a comparison, just cut me some slack).

Last night had me Liquid Plumbering my bathtub drain (I swear, how I still have hair on my head remains a mystery to me). After that, I scrubbed my toilet. Then I swept. Which lead to vaccuming. Then came the hangers, oh gosh, the hangers. I hung up clothes like no one has ever hung up clothes before. From there, the rest is a blur. All I know is I woke up this morning with a squeaky clean toilet lid and my remaining hangers sorted by color and type in my closet. Frankly, I'm worried.

Tonight, I impulsively filed my bill receipts. In chronological order. Then...then I used my paper shredder.

This is a cry for help, people. I'm ready. I'm ready for some much needed help.

Ironic

2006-03-09T20:19:00.000-08:00

The Internal Revenue Service of the good ol' United States of America is now going to fund my trip abroad.

That's one big, fat "thank you" to Uncle Sam. His wife as well. Hell, I'll thank their whole family.

In honor of this recent bit of good news, here's a picture of me and Huw during his trip down here in January. Ain't we just the cutest couple? Happy weekend!

Homecoming

2006-03-07T20:03:00.000-08:00

One of my closest friends, Anna (or "Nanners", as I affectionately call her) is returning home, more than likely as I type this. She's been in Israel for the past 6 months working for The Man. And no, I don't mean some corporate hoity-toity big shot. I mean God.

I know I've posted one blog entry talking about God and faith and whatnot, but aside from that, I try to keep that part of my life close to me. I know some people would argue that that's not spreading God's Word, and that I'm being lazy about my faith. Well, you know what? I'm not going to deny that. God and I have our rocky patches. To me, He is truly like a parent. I accept and understand that He knows what's best for me, and yet, I still get very angry with Him for putting certain obstacles in they way of, well, my life. So truly, God and I have not always seen eye to eye, and yet, I never let Him go and, deep down, I know He never lets go of me. You know how I know this? There is no possible way that I could survive half of what I've gone though without Him backing me up. I'm just physically, mentally, and emotionally not that strong. But that's just me.

Anyway, even as I write this, I feel very uncomfortable. I always told myself I would not be one of those Christians you see on TBN at midnight, screaming scriptures from the Bible, palm-smacking people on the head, "healing" them as they faint into the arms of ginormous Bodyguard Christians. I have always felt that my purpose as a Christian was to work in the situations God lays before me, with the words and thoughts that I ask Him to provide. Otherwise, I'm a bumbling idiot. So, there you have it. A little more insight into a very personal, painful, yet completely necessary part of my life. The uncomfortable feeling remains.

Anyway, my reason for writing this horrifically jumbled blog post was to welcome home a very dear friend and personal mentor of mine. Many people would fall to the ground in the fetal position if faced with some of the things Anna has had to overcome. I believe she does this with an undying dedication to God, and the desire and will to live for Him. She is truly, in my opinion, the epitome of a Christian woman. I look up to and admire her, and I'm not sure I tell her this nearly enough.

I'm not knowledgable on how the time differences work between Israel and the US, and I haven't the brain power to do a simple Google search at this hour, so I will assume that, between the hours I'm at work tomorrow, she will fly home to American soil.

Now, if you will allow me the pleasure of turning things back to myself (as I am prone to do) and to my ramblings of God, I will show you how *I* believe He is working in my life as that certain "Dad that wants to protect you" role.

You will note from my earlier blog entry that I recently had my best friend move to another city, and this caused me a lot of pain for reasons I can't be bothered* to explain. So, when I was whining and complaining to Him about Nic moving away, he was preparing Anna to move back. I was so afraid to lose a friend again that I couldn't open my eyes for a second to see a friend was coming home. God has this really funny way of doing things like that in my life. And that's how I bring it back to me!

So, in a very long, drawn out, spiritually uncomfortable and unsettling blog post: Happy Return Home, Nanners. You've been missed but will be lovingly received and showered with many coffee nights (well, not LITERALLY showered because that would buuuuuuurn, but you know what I'm getting at).

Sidenote: I know many of you won't have much to say in the form of a comment to this post, so no worries if you don't. It was more for me than anything.

*Oooh, look! I used a Brit term!

Ups and Downs

2006-03-05T21:02:00.000-08:00

My shower drain is clogged, but that's okay, because when I open the shower curtain, there stares Peter Griffin, telling me that "that is freakin' sweet" (courtesy of my Family Guy calendar).
It's hot in a third floor apatment in Texas in early March, but that's okay because I'm departing from my stinginess a bit, and letting myself have air conditioning at night.
In order to save up for London, I have decided to restrict the luxuries I once could afford, but that's okay because I don't need food and I was looking for a way to lose weight anyway*.
Sometimes I feel guilty and spoiled being a 20-something year old Grown Up and allowing my mother to still buy clothes and make-up for me, but that's okay because A.) I thank her profusely and B.) who am I to turn down cute, free clothes?
Because my trip to London to see Huw is rapidly approaching, I have started to think about the important things, like what clothes I will wear. Seeing as how Huw's version of "warm" constitutes a Texas Winter, I am undoubtedly confused on my pending International Wardrobe. But that's okay, due to bullet #3 (thanks again, Mom!).
With or without contacts, my eyes burn and it feels like someone is ripping out my eyeball attachy thingies** with hot pliers. I want laser eye surgery but can't afford it. But that's okay because, knowing my luck, I'd be the one out of 2 million people who goes blind due to a freak accident during the procedure.
I'm disheartened because I have blown through two seasons of The O.C. in a manner of weeks, but that's okay because I've turned to my Friends.
And finally, my computer gave me hell when trying to write this post, but that's okay because I fought off the urge to throw it out the window and gave you something to read anyway.

See people? Silver lining, that's what it's all about. Happy Monday from your Texas friend.

*I'm kidding. Mostly.
**I'm glad you asked. Why yes, that IS the correct medical terminolgy.

Packed Up, Goin' on a Guilt Trip

2006-02-27T21:41:00.000-08:00

Only I could do this.

How have I managed to guilt myself into becoming a "bad blogging buddy". Okay, so aside from the frivolous alliteration I manage at 11:45 PM, I really am starting to worry about my ratio of "Other thoughts" to "Blogging thoughts", and their implications of just how many man hours I've contributed to this time consuming yet completely gratifying past-time.

Basically, friends, what I am rambling on about is this: The time we have all dreaded is nigh. Whisper it with me: ...real life has finally caught up with me. I am bombarded with tasks at work, each one trumping the other, yet all immediate and all directly indicating imminent doom and ultimately resulting in paralyzing self-doubt*. Let the party begin.

Despite my heightened stress level, do you know what my ruminations consist of?

"Oh, crap! I didn't get a chance to peruse Mr. Hoss' blog today! I bet I missed out on a funny joke or crazy story. And what if he sees that I wasn't by to comment! After all he's shared with me about Vick's...he's going to think me ungrateful!"

"I hate that I can't read what canofworms has to say today. Hers has decidedly become my favorite blog. And on a day when I need a good laugh too..."

"My pals at Swankytown must think I've hung up my proverbial Counsilwoman Button and resigned from Counsil Chair of the Mighty Fine Town of Swank. Will I lose their votes next year?"

"And what of my Brit pals? And Mr. Curly with all his amazing adventures? Will I not be able to catch up with our man in the colonies today? And Cleavers...oh, Cleavers. Always a fun time at her place!"

"Will I lose my newly acquired readers because they suddenly find my blog boring and out of date? I promise, were this not [busy work season] time, I'd be much more up for entertaining guests!"

"I bet I'm missing out on so many pearls of motherly wisdom from Jona!"

"Thank goodness Huw's on hiatus for a bit!"

...and so on. Clearly, you are all a healthy part of the balanced breakfast I call "Of Insignificant Importance". My neuroticism won't let me get past the idea that, no, of course I won't lose my regular (ahem: LOYAL) readers due to consistently intermittent posting (is that an oxymoron?).

Surely I can take comfort in the fact that everyone understands what a busy spell is like!
(see: HolyCrapHowAmIGoingToGetAllThisShitDoneInTwoDaysOhAnd
[breathe]
Don'tForgetThatCompletelyUnnecessaryMeetingI'mBeingSentTo
[breathe]
ThatHasNothingToDoWithMyJobDescription
[breathe]
AndWillPutMeEvenFURTHERBehindDidIRemeberToPutOnDeoderantToday?)

Of course you know what it's like. Right? I said, am I right*? Throw me a bone people, I feel like I'm succumbing to the evils of stress.

Sidenote: If you are a new reader, every single link in this blog will take you to positively, hands-down one of the BEST blogs you'll ever read. Trust me.

*Thank you, Seth Cohen.
*Thank you, Charlie Brown.

Uninvited Guests

2006-02-24T09:17:00.000-08:00

If you are reading this as a blogger, you may well appreciate that with the release, satisfaction, hours of entertainment and friendship blogging offers, there is a degree to vulnerability about it. You let the world know your highs and lows, the details of your exciting life (or, more tellingly, lack of) and in doing so essentially leave yourself wide open. Fortunately you are afforded a degree of control of just how much you can reveal. What you can’t control is exactly who reads it.

Having someone unwanted finding and reading your blog is so unsettling, especially when done in an intrusive and insistent manner. When my ex reappeared on my stat counter a couple of months ago, I shrugged, assuming it was a one time offence; that he was just passing by to see what was happening or to annoy me. But now that he’s back as a frequent visitor, I feel kind of violated. This coming especially from someone who – the last time I asked him not to do this – imparted the classic assessment that I was "freaking weird and [should] get on with [my] life already." There’s no real reason for me to feel so irked, as there’s nothing contained upon my humble pages which he could really take offence to or I would be mortified for him to know. Nonetheless…

Inevitably, it’s got me thinking about the whole anonymity issue a bit. There are certain people I just wouldn’t want to read this. And again, not because all my secrets would be exposed, but because I sort of see this as a dialogue between me and some friends, some old and some newly acquired (and all precious). Ex’s are, I suppose, a given, and doubtless it is the same for you too. I think there’s little risk of my parents knowing what a blog is, let alone finding mine, but either way, they are also on the “unwanted reader” list. Not that there is anything here that is too controversial that would cause an angry phone call or anything, but it goes back to my previous point of just wanting some privacy. Not total privacy: just privacy from certain people. There are also people who know me at work, or people who knew me at college and high school who, although I have no actual gripes or problems with, I just wouldn’t want to be able to read this stuff. Yes, I understand that one could use the argument of “well, then don’t put it on such a public forum like the INTERNET”…but still. When I transitioned from my Livejournal to this blog, I sent an invitation for some lurkers to email me and I would send them the new link. I further explained that I would be emailing the link to ONLY those I wanted reading my blog. Clearly, my plan to have only wanted readers failed.

Then there’s the subsection of ‘mystery readers’ (although in my case, those that try to remain a mystery are fooling themselves). Again, my stat counter thing makes it pretty clear that some of Huw’s friends read, and some of them comment and some of them do not (indeed, as he often rages, I have ‘stolen’ some of his readership). Another quick glance at the bookmarker’s IPs indicate there’s a good few couple of readers here who I don’t know (either really, or blogwise) who for some reason feel compelled to return. Not that I mind or anything - this is a lurk friendly zone and if people don’t want to out themselves that is fine - but still, the thought of someone somewhere sat at computer a thousand miles away, going to the trouble of pressing a load of buttons and then spending a few minutes reading about me? And not just once, but on a weekly basis or so? Well, I find it kind of… bizarre.

The Weekend Question. Who reads your blog that you’d rather didn’t; which lurker IPs have you scratching your head most; and who is your nightmare-scenario reader? Discuss.

My 15 Minutes

2006-02-17T12:27:00.000-08:00

This past weekend I watched my cousin perform To Kill a Mockingbird at a local church. As I watched the 6th grader girl play "Scout" (and do a mighty fine job, I reluctantly observed), I couldn't help but think back to my old glory days in acting. If I may take a minute to gloat (well, I could take a whole post to gloat if i wanted to, it's MY blog), I shall tell you that when I was a senior in high school, I won the title of “Best Actress” at our UIL One Act Competition

I was bitten by the acting bug when I was around 14 years old. I had, however, been performing some time before that. I cringe whenever I see old home videos of me during our family’s Thanksgiving and Christmas gatherings…I was such a camera hog! I would tell jokes and do impressions. I did a pretty spot-on George Bush, Garth (from SNL’s Wayne’s World), Bobcat Goldthwait, and Elvis when I was just a wee girl.

However, there was one night in particular that I woke up with this pain in my stomach—it was a yearning to become an actress (or gas, but for this story, I like to say it was a yearning). I remember waking my mom up and telling her how I desperately wanted to act in movies. She told me to get back in bed or else, but the next day, she was kind enough to humor me with a conversation about my ga...er...yearning.

My previous acting experience included the lead role of Alice in “Follow that Rabbit”, a small (but important, I tell you) part in the spoof “Phantom of the Op’ry”, and an appearance as a Medicine Show Troupe Girl in “Tied to the Tracks”. These were all productions from my middle school days. So, okay, no REAL acting experience, but I was like, 12, so give me a break. And I remember people really liking me in those plays, so there.

My mom decided (which was very unlike her) that she would take me to see an agent. A few days later, I was signed with a local agency, and was already given my first job—a commercial for a theme park! It was so fun; we got to cut in all the lines on a really hot summer day, and no one could do a thing about it. Plus, I got paid what was considered a LOT of money to a teenager. Now, it just *might* cover my cell phone bill. After that, I saw stars. Acting was my life!

Unfortunately, casting agents didn’t agree. Because I was in school, I couldn’t go to auditions that were during school days, and my mom was not willing to drive me to the far side of the city, let alone Dallas or Austin, for an audition on the weekend. Needless to say, my exposure was limited. I had an audition once for some product, I forgot what, but it had me paired up with a boy, and the scenario was this: We were in the living room watching t.v., we look at one another, lean in to kiss, and JUST as we are about to, the parents come in and we had to spring apart so as not to get caught smooching. Oh good grief, the boy I was paired up with…the most delicious looking feast of a boy I’d ever set my teenage eyes on. Which only made me more nervous, and, surprise surprise, I didn’t get the part.

I had a few more auditions, but after nothing was really materializing, we decided to pull out of the agency. I still have my headshots and slides…I looked like I belonged on the cover of Seventeen or YM (not because I was so photogenic or anything, but just because the pictures and poses were so good!).

After that, I limited my acting to school plays. I was a court jester in the musical “Once Upon a Mattress”. My theater teacher (who is now in jail for something a stereotypical theater teacher would pull) seemed to have it out for me, and cast me in a boy’s role (even though I did a back handspring on the stage during my audition for the lead role. Whatever.). I took that role and did my very best. I shudder to think I sang in front of my school body and parents and friends. In a court jester's outfit. Yes, complete with the goofy 3 pointed hat with bells on it. And pointy shoes with bells. And poofy jams. AND it’s caught on tape. Dah.

But then came my role as Hermia in “A Midsummer Night’s Dream”. My fire for acting had fizzled out quite a bit, but it was still fun to run lines and make the character my own. I felt bad though, because our theater teacher had me really slap one of the actors—hard—because he said it looked more realistic than a staged slap. Sure it did, but this guy, who started out my friend, wasn’t too keen on me by the time the production rapped. This is when I won "Best Actress", which was quite an unexpected honor. But even more rewarding was the fact that I met some of my best and oldest friends, whom I still keep in touch with to this day.

Acting was fun. It was the first thing I had a very strong passion for, but don’t think I ever will again. Ah, memories.

Oh, and the answer's no. No one will ever see that tape of me signing and dancing to "Soft Shoes". Not even the boyfriend.

I Have Nothing Witty to Put Here.

2006-02-15T11:08:00.000-08:00

I have lost every single creative fiber in my body. And trust me, there weren’t that many to begin with. Most of my comments on all of your blogs are along the lines of “Hope you feel better!” and “That sucks!” and “Wow, that’s cool” and other such unoriginal, lame (but seriously, heartfelt) phrases.

I’m just NOT one of those people that can leave a really witty, observant, or punny comment on other peoples’ blogs. Unlike HIM. But, I suppose one of us had to have the smarts in the relationship, eh?

So, here’s what my life boils down to as of now:

I’m incredibly stressed out at work, but at the same time, I feel like I’m really digging my heels into my position here. I’m starting to learn more about the ins and out of this business, and acting like a grown-up, full-fledged, professional woman can be a really good feeling. You know, in between all the cussing.

Nic is leaving the city on February 26th to pursue other opportunities (see: be with the guy she really loves but won’t admit she loves just yet, even though we all tease her about it). We had to have a “talk” today to clear the air between our recent interaction—or lack thereof. Honestly, when I know someone is going to leave me, or there’s the chance that I will lose them, I back out first. That way, I’m more prepared (or so I think). I started doing that with her, which she interpreted as me being angry with her. I’m not upset with her, just the situation. It’s taken me a very, very long time to find another girl best friend, and just when I do and get settled into the comfy armchair that is Girl BestFriendDom, she leaves. It’s hard, and I’m sad. The end.

On a happier note, I got the most beautiful vase of roses and lilies delivered to my work yesterday morning*. Now, Valentine’s Day is a holiday I usually hate, and not for the reasons of “I was always alone” or “I was bitter and scored just before the day”…but for a completely unrelated reason that I would rather not disclose. But, instead of it being a day I dread so very much as per the past 6 years, my wonderful boyfriend made sure it was as happy and love-filled as possible. See, if this “thing” hadn’t happened, I would still be the sappy romantic girl who URGED Valentine’s Day to come forth and shower me with Russell Stovers Chocolates and long stem red roses and lilies, as well as sweet, meaningful cards. I think, and this is a very bold but true statement, that I can finally look at my future Valentine’s Days as something happy and positive, not sad and hurtful, as long as I have Huw in my life. So, a big THANK YOU to him for making that day the best it could possibly be.

I think that’s it for now. Frankly, I’m tired and don’t feel like thinking of anything else to write. Posts may be few and far between in the immediate future, because, well, I’m drained. But I’ll be reading yours, so write something good, dammit.

*My flowers were the prettiest in the whole office. And I work with ALL women, most of whom have boyfriends, fiancés, or husbands. My boyfriend knows how to do Valentine’s Day right!

Cloudy

2006-02-10T08:30:00.000-08:00

I find it amusing that "london" and "love" are next to each other. Same with "blog" and "boyfriend". I'll write more later. Right now, it's just a bad day.

Note: For those of you requesting the directions for this cloud: Visit this site. Credit given to my friend over at Welsh Girl in Leeds. Shanks.

Pity Parties are Fun

2006-02-09T10:35:00.000-08:00

Today is just a disgustingly bad day. And the kicker is, I'm not really sure why it's a bad day. I had to wake up extra early this morning to be at work earlier, and that, coupled with not being woken up the way I usually am, just got me thinking "It's a-gonna be one ofa those daysa" (I think with an Italian accent sometimes).

But I got to work on time with minimal traffic, so no stress there. Then, at work, stuff is relatively stable. I mean, I did get some bad news concerning one of the projects I'm on, but it doesn't directly affect me, so not too big of a deal. I have a meeting this afternoon that I'm looking forward to (kind of), and I'm steadily getting work done (aside from my break to, y'know, blog about getting work done).

Basically, I have no valid reason to be in this poor of a mood, but I am, and I accept that. As should you. I think deep down, I'm frustrated with a whole myriad of things, and it's just weighing heavy on me.

The only good thing that comes out of this is knowing that Huw is having a miserable day too. Now, I know that sounds insensitive, but let me explain. See, there are times when we're talking, and he beats me to saying something that I was thinking or vice versa. This doesn't just happen every once in a while. Oh no, this happens sevearl times during the week. It's creepy, but in that "huh, I guess we DO make a good couple" kind of way.

Today, I feel our relationship has taken a brand new turn. Not only do we think alike, but we are starting to have bad days at the same time. Oh, and once, he got a cold and I swear to you, the NEXT DAY, I was sick as well. Creepy stuff, but I like it.

And while I used to be the kind of girl that would just have a bad day and resolve that it would STAY bad until I closed my eyes at night, I have recently turned into a person that tries to find the positive spin on a craptastic day. Today, for example, I get to go to my parent's house, eat really good food, and watch The O.C. with my sissy. That right there will bring a smile to my scowling face.

Then, tomorrow is Friday, and I will spend my afternoon in a training about gangs. Sweet, I'll finally learn from which pocket I should hang my blue bandana. Oh, and how to twist your fingers up and make like, words and stuff. Maybe I'll sag my pants. You just never know with me. I'm a wild card.

Holy Jampacked Schedule, Batman

2006-02-07T20:31:00.000-08:00

I long for the days when my "daily planner" was my Family Guy calendar, scribbled up with markings like "SPRING BREAK TO NEW ORLEANS...WOOOOOOOHOOOOOO!" and "The O.C. Season Premier!", and even still "2 week Christmas vacation begins!" (sometimes, and don't tell anyone, I miss seeing "Group Theories Final" or "Stats paper due" on my calendar).

Do you know what my "day planner" is now? An ACTUAL Day Planner. It's hardcore. It's got dates, and months, and places to write notes...and what's even MORE unbelievable is that the spaces for notes...well, they're filled with words like "Budget meeting 11AM" or "New grant meeting 1-2:30PM". When did I get so growed up? And is it okay that I still feel 18 inside?

Anyway, to say that this time of the year at my respectable place of employment is busy would be a gross understatement. It's a good thing I have Nic around to complain to when things have gone haywire (well, I might not have her for much longer...). Seeing as how my days are sucked dry with meetings and trainings and all that jazz, and my evenings are reserved for Huw Time and trash t.v., I have been on the low end of the creativity spectrum. So, for this post, I shall give you some random facts followed by a meme (something I cannot pronounce and swore I would never put on my blog. Desperate time, people.)

Random Facts:

I cannot stand Dick Vitale. I found this out by watching the nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat last half of the Duke v. UNC game tonight. He makes me want to punch things simply by talking.

I bought my passport today. I have the plane ticket, I have the passport

(well, waiting for it), now all I need is May to HURRY UP AND FREAKING GET HERE ALREADY.

One of my wonderful friends, the marvelous Nanners, will return home from Israel next month. I wonder if she knows how much I've missed her?

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be so filthy rich that you can spend $20,000 on baby furniture that, upon delivery, you realize you hate, but still pay the delivery men $10,000 to sloppily throw it in an empty room in your 2.5 million dollar mansion. And then I just get depressed.

The Pointless Meme (stolen from Katie)

Seven Things I Plan to Do Before I Die:

For the love of everything, see and play in snow

Show someone just how much I can love

Own a car that isn't a piece of shit

Live in the same place as Huw

Sing seriously in front of someone

Take dance lessons with my husband

See New York during Christmastime

Seven Things I Can Do:

Stick my foot in my mouth (figuratively speaking) at the most inappropriate times

Keep a toe fungus alive for a year and 9 months (but thanks to Mr. Hoss, the Vicks is working!)

Wakeboard without dying

Make people laugh

Manage to NOT ram my bumper into the ass that's giving me road rage in the morning

Speed read

Memorize things like you wouldn't freaking believe

Seven Things I Can't Do:

Believe how close Huw and I were to NOT meeting

Manage to get through a holiday without fighting with my mom

Play any video game that's NOT an original NES system or game

See someone throw up without throwing up as well

See without a very strong prescription of contact lenses

Up and move to London right this minute

Drink beer or coffee

Seven Things That Attract Me To Huw:

His intelligence (although it's intimidating at times to not be the "smart" one in the relationship)

His sense of humor

The way he sends me little emails throughout my workday to make me smile

His patience with me

His willingness to tell me how he feels about me everyday

The way he communicates so maturely with me

How closely he listens to me

His ability to impersonate Arnie (and do dead on accents)

His ears and eyebrows

Seven Things I Say the Most:

"You F***ing ASSHOLE"--Road Rage

"Harrow"

"DAH/GAH"--In relation to frustration

"I want to go home"--Bad day at work
"...but I MISS you"--Being a whiny girlfriend

"SHHHHH...it's back on it's back on it's back on"--The O.C. Night

"I've GOT to go work out today"--me, kidding myself

Seven Celebrities I've Had a Crush On:

Adam Brody, a.k.a. Seth Cohen(but you already know that)
John Mayer (He and S.C. were tied for first, but I made the decision)

Shane West
Jonathan Taylor Thomas
Joshua Jackson

Brandon Flowers

Ryan Gosling

(of course, none of them compare to this guy)

People-watching All the People People-watching You and I

2006-02-03T09:47:00.000-08:00

A recent post on Cleaver’s blog got me thinking about something. So, go read her post and then come back to mine.

The day Huw left Texas was a sad one indeed. I had already started to feel the sadness creep in even before he arrived. I figured, if he visited, that would mean that eventually he would have to leave, and merely that thought made me want to cry. He would tell me, “Well, don’t think about that now, concentrate on me visiting in (however many) days.” I would do that, get excited, then remember the inevitability of his departure some 2 weeks after his arrival, and would become disheartened again.

I really started to understand what was going on the night before his last full day and night in Texas. Pretty soon, I thought to myself, I would be back in my bed alone, without the sound of his snoring to lull me to sleep. After a short cry, I realized that I still had another day and a half with him, so I decided to suck it up and make the most of it.

Heavy hitting sobs came the day and night before his last half-day in Texas. I cried and he held me, telling me such sweet things that made me wring out every last tear I had in me. Until the following day.

We were both in morose spirits when he was packing, and oftentimes, I would have to excuse myself to have a good, shoulder-shaking sob in the bathroom. I would return to him red-faced and puffy-eyed, where, upon seeing my tear-stained face, he would embrace me tightly, which would only serve to set me off again. When we finally managed to get him all packed up, he said his last goodbyes to Herman Froglegs and the apartment he had come to know so well, and we set off to give him his last Texan meal before returning to the UK. He chose Taco Cabana.

I must have started and stopped crying at least 5 times in the 3 minutes it took us to get to the restaurant. In line, as I was wiping away my tears, the (really nice) man behind the counter said something that, for some reason, prompted me to tell him, “Oh, he’s my boyfriend from London, and I have to take him to the airport to go home today.” He sympathetically shook his head and wished us luck. Which, you guessed it, made me want to cry even harder.

We got our food and sat at a sun-lit table, quietly and robotically munching on our tacos and nachos. Although the bean and cheese nachos were delicious, I couldn’t find a way to taste them, and every bite reminded me that I was one bite closer to having to say goodbye to him. Slowly, I lost my appetite. Huw would reach over and stroke my hand or leg. I don’t know if it was just the overflow of emotions I was feeling that day, but even his touch made me want to break down, buy a passport and a ticket, and hop on a plane with him back to the UK. Instead, I cried. Some more.

I know the thought passed through my head at the time, but it was merely a moment that it was in the forefront of my mind before my thoughts were consumed with what I was going to say to this amazing guy before he got on a plane that would take him away from me for 4 more months. Once he left, though, and I had time to cry and process my sadness, I started to wonder: What did people around us think when they saw us?

Imagine. You’re an innocent bystander in this, the saddest of days for two people you don’t know. You’ve strolled into Taco Cabana for a quesadilla and a Coke, and you notice at a table not too far from you, a couple. Or so you think. You dissect the situation piece by piece to draw a conclusion. There’s a boy and a girl. They are sitting close to each other, not one across the table. They touch, but not too often and you haven’t seen them kiss yet. No visible signs can point to them being any more than friend or relatives. Then you notice that the girl is constantly wiping away tears. The guy eats in silence, looking preoccupied but still paying attention to the girl. But wait…aren’t we close to the medical center? you think. And then you figure, yes, that’s it…someone they are close to for some reason must have died or become gravely ill. But that scenario just doesn’t seem to fit. You decided that you’re better off not knowing, and as you get up to throw your trash away, you take one last, long look at the couple over at the next table, and see them share a longing stare and a small kiss. But the girl is still crying. Even though you don’t know who they are, visions of their positions in their chairs, the guy’s saddened expression and the girl’s tears frequent your thoughts. The last thought before you go to sleep that night, surprisingly, is them. And then you hope everything worked out for the best.

I’ve seen these types of situations before, but usually, they are pretty cut and dry. A girl is yelling at her boyfriend in front of the movie theater for accepting a phone call from an ex-girlfriend. A boyfriend is clearly avoiding his girlfriend’s attempts at touching him or holding his hand for some unknown, but very powerful, reason. But what do you make of a situation where two people, clearly a couple, are visibly upset but still continue to dote upon each other? Quite a thought, if I do say so myself.

It’s funny how everyone in this world has a life, a series of events they participant in from day to day, and yet, we know nothing about most of these people. The ones we do come into contact with usually demonstrate normal behaviors, none too out of the ordinary to make us do a double take. But then there are a few people whose lives you will always wonder about. For Cleavers, it was the couple on the train. For someone else, it could have been Huw and me. Such an odd thought.

Sidenote: The countdown to London in May has officially begun, as you can see on my countdown timer to the right!

and a P.S.--How sad is it that I know this guy. I went to elementary school with him.

The O.C. (Obsessed and Crazy)

2006-01-31T08:22:00.000-08:00

I recently made one of the best purchases of my life that has doomed me for good. “How so?” you ask. Well, here’s how:

Two Sundays ago, the Best Buy circular in the S.A. Express News was advertising a product I love at a price too good to be true. The O.C. Seasons 1 and 2 were on sale for $37.99 each, when they are regularly priced at $58.99 each. It was a steal, and I would have been crazy to not drive directly to Best Buy and purchase this little piece of Heaven I’ve had my eye on for a while.

So, even though I was sick and sniffly, I trudged my way to my local Best Buy on that dreary day and made the $82 buy, regretting the large purchase but at the same time, justifying it as “something to do on the weekends when I’m poor”. I put in Disc 1 of Season 1 when I got home, and have never looked back.

Last night, I finished Season 1. Seriously, in a smidge over 2 weeks, I flew through 27 episodes, sometimes watching 4-6 hours continuously. Some might say I’m obsessed. I would have provided some sort of rebuttal to those accusations, but then I found myself constantly dreaming of love trysts with Seth Cohen (played by Adam Brody) and shopping with Marissa Cooper (played by Misha Barton). Ryan Atwood (Ben Mackenzie) was supposed to be my boyfriend, but my overpowering romantic realization for Seth Cohen forced me to succumb to sneaky acts and guilt-ridden ploys. Eventually, though, I got Seth Cohen. And then I woke up.

I’m not going to lie and say I didn’t wake up sad and depressed because it was just a dream. But, my melancholy soon subsided when I realized that I have, in my own little way, found my very own Seth Cohen. Although he’s British. And not Jewish. And has lighter hair and is a bit older (than the character, but probably not the actor). But he’s got the quick wit, the romantic ways, and the hilarity of the television character I have grown to love (as much as you can love a t.v. character, I suppose). So, I lay to rest my vow that Adam Brody will be my future husband, and become even more thankful that I’ve found someone real that gives me all the charming qualities of the Seth Cohen character*.

However, if I blow through Season 2 like I did Season 1, I will be going through O.C. withdrawals and will need another fix of some other show. So, my next Box Set purchase will be The Office (BBC version), which is another set I have wanted for a very long time. But considering any spare change I accumulate from now until May 26th will go to the “London in May” fund, looks like I’ll have to stretch out The O.C. Season 2 for as long as humanly possible. Will. Be. So. Hard.

Good grief, I watch WAY too much t.v. And even after that statement, I will shamefully ask you, dear readers, for suggestions of any more box sets to add to my list that you think could be of interest to a television junkie like me.

*Although he strongly dislikes being “compared” to other guys, even fictional ones.

London, Baby*

2006-01-30T13:48:00.000-08:00

Guess who’s going to London in May? Guess. I’ll give you a hint.

I am.

That’s right, friends, I finally broke down and broke in my new credit card. The card that was supposed to be used “for emergencies only” now has a pretty large balance on it. Scary as that may be, it’s so incredibly worth it.

I will be going from May 26th to June 10th to visit my Brit Boyfriend and spend the better part of 2 whole weeks cuddling up to him and making up for lost time. In addition to that, we are looking to tour London, Wales, and Ireland. Let the planning begin.

In order to make the time fly by as much as possible, we have decided to initiate our Countdown to London on February 1st. This way, we can gauge not only by months, but by days as well, pretty easily. On February first, it will be 114 days. Although, I’m sure we’ll adopt some exceptions to that countdown, like we did when he was coming here in December. We didn’t count Christmas or Christmas Eve because we knew those days would be too busy to wallow in our anxiousness of seeing one another. So, the only thing I can think of that will allow such an exception to Countdown to London is my birthday. I wanted to be IN London for my actual birthday, but spreading my trip out from the end of May to the beginning of June allowed me one extra personal day (we get them quarterly) and one extra vacation day (we get one monthly) to spend with my darling. So, I opted for a belated birthday in London for 2 more days Huw.

I actually don’t think it’s hit me yet, the fact that in (almost) 114 days, I will be stepping off an airplane and into a new country (moreover, into the arms of someone I have missed more than anything). I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m excited as all get out. But I casually tell people, “Yeah, I’m going to visit my boyfriend in London in May” instead of shouting out incoherent half-sentences about London and the Irish and the Eye. I think, when April starts, I will be getting more nervous and more excited.

Huw and I talk every night about some aspect of our trip. Whether it’s conversation about how nervous I am to meet his parents or how romantic it will be to stand on Waterloo bridge at night and share a loving kiss (ew, I know, but I love him)…simply envisioning being there with him – well, I think it will be enough to get me through these next 4 months. Being away from him is the hardest thing.

So, although I’m freaking out about how I’m going to pay off my credit card (a hundred dollars at a time, and the interest won’t kill me, right?) and the fact that my mom is scared to death about me traveling, OH, and let’s not forget the fact that, the more I fly, the more scared of it I become…well, despite all those things, I think this is the wisest and best purchase I’ve ever made.

I’ll be sure to keep y’all posted as the plans unfold. Curly, although I know that you’ll probably meet Huw this Wednesday, get your drinking glass ready for me in May; I can’t wait for all of us to hang out!

*A "Friends" reference, for those of you who didn't know. And shame on you for that.

Pulling My Hair Out

2006-01-24T10:19:00.000-08:00

Apologies for my absence, I know you all were dying of boredom whilst I was away. I had to travel to the wonderful city of Bloomington, IL for a training that my work sent me to. I caught a cold.

There was one up-side to the whole crappy experience, however. I "networked" (oh, I'm bigtime) with a woman who recently came back from Germany after working some government/federal job up there that was similar to my area of work/education. I spoke with her about my current situation with my wonderful boyfriend, and she told me she knew the guy who worked in the London branch pretty well! So, I left with her email address and a lot more hope than I really should have. We'll see what happens there. Maybe, if this is what's meant to be, I'll be able to find a job over in London without having to go through the rigors of a work visa, blah blah blah.

So, I came back to work to find out that one of the "key" people at my work is leaving, which really is putting a crunch on our deadlines--meaning, the deadlines are now being moved up and we are having to take up a LOT more responsibilities in order to get our project off the ground in time. In short, I'm freaking stressed out beyond belief. This was not a good re-entry for me, especially having this nasty cold at the same time. So, if my posts are sporadic and hate-filled, you at least know why.

I haven't been to many of your sites lately, and I can't promise that I will visit them this week either. However, I do look forward to the time I can do some major catch-up blogging, and see what I've been missing since my Hell Week.

You'll simply have to find other ways to entertain yourself until I have pulled out all the hairs on my head and my stress level is back down to "yellow".

C'est La Visa

2006-01-13T09:57:00.000-08:00

Enlisting your help again!

Because my Brit and I got on so well, we are starting to hatch several different plans to try and answer the “what comes next” question. We are finding that there are loads more complications than we expected (or wanted to recognize), as well as several tedious but important rules and regulations to follow.

I know that quite a few of the readers that frequent Of Insignificant Importance are experienced world travelers or have moved from one country to another to reside. If this is the case, and you feel you have some information about visas, working, or generally living in another country that would be helpful to our cause (big, fat, mushy LOVE), please feel free to comment about your adventures/advice/experience or you can email me on the nifty email link I have provided!*

We are only beginning to scratch the surface. Any help would be appreciated as we delve into the never-ending realm of international living rigmarole.

*Of course, even if you know bubkiss about this, comment anyway.

Many Birthday Wishes

2006-01-11T10:39:00.000-08:00

Dear Readers:

My best friend, the love of my life, the most wonderful person I know*, is having a birthday today. I have to say, even though it's his birthday, I feel like I received the most special present in the world.

If you feel so inclined, please stop by and tell him Happy Birthday. I only wish I could be there to tell him in person.

Happy Birthday, Baby!

* I hope I didn't embarrass him too much.

No Longer on Holiday

2006-01-08T20:55:00.000-08:00

I am sad, and for that reason, I won't post too much. He left today and ever since I saw him go through security at the airport, I've had this sinking, nauseous, empty feeling in me. Just one big void. I never thought it would be this hard to be without him.

What sucks about sharing an apartment with someone that you are a thousand percent in love with is that when they leave, everything--every single little tiny thing--reminds you of them. The dirty dishes in the sink from the dinner he made us last night. The Krispy Kreme doughnuts box on my bar. The Stella in the fridge. Chocolate milk. That stupid IBC Root Beer bottle sitting on my coffee table that I refuse to throw away.

When people would ask me how I liked living by myself, I would tell them that I absolutely loved it. Now, after having him here for 2 weeks, sharing my humble little apartment with me, I would gladly give up living single for him to be here with me.

There's so much more I could say. I could tell you about how this was by far the BEST 2 weeks of my whole life, how I long for just one more hug from him, and how my eyes are still swollen from crying so much last night and today. But honestly, I have neither the strength to write nor the desire to cry anymore, so I'm going to say goodnight to you all. I have a heaping pile of blog entries to read from all of you, and I suspect that is what I will be doing tomorrow--my first day back to work in two weeks. The only thing I'm looking forward to? I get to talk to him.

Sorry for such a Debbie Downer post. My future ones might be as melancholy, but you have to understand that MOH is extremely sad right now, and probably will be for at least a week. From time to time, I might have to have a few of you perk me up by *shouting* "LONDON IN MAY!! LONDON IN MAY!! YOU'RE GOING TO LONDON IN MAY!!"

To counteract the depression, I'm posting a few more of our happy pictures. Don't go all "I threw up in my mouth a little from the cutesyness" on me. These make ME happy, and whose blog is this? That's right. MOH's. So, enjoy some pictures from me and my darling, sweet, wonderful, caring, tea-and-dinner making, hilarious, cuddly, dinosaur, kitty boyfriend.

A night out with Nic(orina) at Chili's. Ain't we just the sweetest thing?

Dinner with Mom, Sissy, me and Darling. Many of our pictures revolved around food...

Our Christmas! Originally planned for the night of Dec. 28th (our 4 month anniversary as well), but was postponed until the 29th due to some massive Phase 10 card playing with Nic(orina) on the night of the 28th.

Me and my baby at Outback for New Year's Eve. I can't tell you how much funnier his Aussie accent got as he found more things "ferocious".

We ventured out to an "authentic English pub" to watch a football game. It shaped up to be a classic (0/0) game. I loved every minute of it because he cuddled me.

I took my darling boy to the Flying Saucer for some beer he might have been missing whilst over here. However, he chose to experience at Texas Flight, which is 5 oz. samples of five Texan beers. One tasted "nutty".

Yes, here's another Kissy Kissy one. It was taken at the Flying Saucer and I really love it because it's sweet and shows you the thing that I miss the most about his visit here--the ability to kiss him whenever we felt like it.

Sure, we look damn cute here, but this, readers, this picture is for YOU. Behold: a stereotypical drunk Texas Cowboy pulling a face as soon as he sees his call to fame. "Heee-yuck. I think Ima gonna git myself in that 'der photo. Deys got un of 'em tings, uh...PICTURE BOX, yeah. Ima gon' be in a picture box, heee-yuck." Seriously, though, we're adorable.

Now, I'm sacrificing my embarrassment here to show you a picture that I really treasure. This picture was taken by me as my darling and I were lying in the bed in the lodge I had rented for us for his upcoming (Jan. 11) birthday. I took him up to Canyon of the Eagles for a night of star gazing and such. He's so sweet to me.

Look at my treasure. Look at God's gift to me. I am the most blessed girl in the world. And to think, we were THIS close to never, ever meeting. What would I do without this guy?

...there are even MORE of us kissing, so just prepare yourselves. This was overlooking a lake at Canyon of the Eagles. To me, it looks like something out of a movie. This one WILL be blown up and framed and hung in my apartment. Sigh. I sure do love him.

We've Been Doing Lots of This...

2006-01-06T22:10:00.000-08:00

In case you were wondering, things are going exceptionally well.

Quick Update

2006-01-01T10:45:00.000-08:00

First of all, let me say Happy New Year to y'all. What a year it has already started to be.

My Darling has safely arrived in the great state of Texas and we have already spent 6 wonderful days together. I really couldn't describe what it's been like having him here. The first morning I woke up in his arms, I thought I was still dreaming. This morning, I still felt the same. Having him here is a dream come true, as cheesy as that sounds.

We shared our first ever Christmas together. We had nice drinks and listened to Frank Sinatra as we tore open our gifts to each other. He got me some lovely smelling bath accessories (one has already been used...), a great book called "Instructions for American Servicemen in Briatin 1942", and some "other" presents that I will keep to myself. He also presented me with a very beautiful necklace which I will never take off. Christmas was, in a word, amazing.

I've taken him several places to eat like Chili's, Taco Cabana, and Schlotzkys (I think Taco Cabana was his favorite). Last night, because I'm such a bad hostess, we had no other plans than to go out with my parents and brother-in-law and sister for a New Year's Eve feast. They invited us to Outback with them. As soon as I pulled up the menu on the computer for my darling to get a head start decided what he wanted, he noticed that it was an Austrailian themed restaurant. From that point until the end of dinner, I got to be witness to his astoudingly precise Aussie accent. Steve Erwin even came out when facing a "ferocious Chicken Chimichanga". Strewth.

We've seen Harry Potter, spent time with Nic(orina), played riveting games of Phase 10, visited my puppy, attended a Randy Rogers concert at Saengerhalle (fill the "cowboy hat" quota), and driven downtown to see the lights of the Riverwalk. But other than that, our mornings and afternoons are spent in bed, simply loving each other's company.

I was worried before he came that we would have these really awkward silences in each other's presence. You know...just kind of sit there and be like, "Yep, so this is Texas" and then turn and stare out the window for the rest of the drive to or from our destination. But it's just not like that. Sure, we sit in silence sometimes...but they're comfortable, and my thoughts are often focused on how in love with this amazingly funny and sweet and loving Brit from way over there I am.

I watch him more than he knows. I watch him when he sleeps, when he reads, when we're in the car or when we're talking to people. I watch the way he purses his lips when we play Phase 10 and the way his cheeks puff when he starts to snore. I love watching his every move, hearing every breath, because I know I won't get this priviledge much longer. Soon it will be back to robotic-like webcams and facking-computer microphones. Soon I won't get to reach out and hug him or kiss his soft cheek. But I'm trying not to think about that now. Now, I'm focusing on the amazing foot rub he's giving me!

So, kiddies, I apologize for the wide gap between last post and this one. I've been otherwise engaged. Happily.

More to come later. I'll let you know how his Texan accent progresses: he's got a ways to go until his "y'all" is perfected.

My Present is on His Way!!!

2005-12-26T11:47:00.000-08:00

Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

The day I thought would never come is finally here! As we speak, my Darling boy is on his way to see me. He's got less than an hour now before he lands in Dallas after about a 10 hour and 15 minute flight. And when he gets here, it will be about 2AM his time, so I'm going to have a very sleepy boyfriend on my hands!

I'm extremely nervous. When I would lie awake at night, or couldn't go back to sleep on some mornings, I would picture what it would be like to see him walking toward me, arms out and ready to give me a great big hug. My heart would start to pound and I could feel butterflies in my stomach. For that reason, I knew that on the day of his arrival, I would have to keep myself as busy as possible just to not throw up every 10 minutes from the nerves and excitement. I may have overloaded my plate though!

I had a very wonderful Christmas, Santa still spoils my sister and me. Thank you all for the Christmas wishes and I hope y'all had a safe and happy one as well. This morning I had an eye appointment, then I raced home to vaccum and wash my car, load up all my goodies, eat a bit of lunch, then come back to my apartment. After about 4 trips up and down 3 flights of stairs with QUITE heavy loads, I am finally able to start the biggest task of all...CLEANING! I have a lot to do.

After cleaning is some grocery shopping so my darling can have food whilst I work my two mornings this week (I'm off then until he leaves), and then one more errand. Then it's back to the apartment to clean myself up, try to look as nice as I can for him. To the airport with me at about 7:35PM.

Do you know what I'm the most nervous about? What if I'm not what he expected? What if I'm not pretty enough or this or that enough? What if he sees me in my everyday life and doesn't care for me too much after that? I think these are big "what ifs", but still, those are the thoughts that occupy my mind in between all the excitement. I try not to worry too much about it, though, because judging from how we already are, I see the most wonderful 2 weeks ahead of me.

So, that's it for now. Cross your fingers and say some prayers for a safe flight and good times for us. I'm sure he'll post about his visit while he's here (when he's trying to avoid the 81F weather we're having...oops), and I know I'll be posting a bit, maybe even some pictures if I get them in time.

This seriously is one of the happiest days of my life. I can't wait to see him.

I'm FORCED to be Forgiving...

2005-12-22T12:17:00.000-08:00

...because it's Christmas.

But seriously, how did I become *that* person that becomes annoyed by EVERY LITTLE THING! Let's say, for example, that I'm sitting in a college course trying to scribble down everything the professor is saying about the self-fulfilling prophesy. Then all of a sudden..."tap tap tappity tap...tap tap tappity tap...tap tap tappity tap..."(you the the idea). I think to myself, "What the heck is that and where is it coming from?" Next door neighbor is tap tap tapping his pencil in an annoying (albeit, rhythmic) pattern, obviously not as preoccupied on the topic of this somewhat self-deprecating cycle as I am.

No matter, I think, I'll just block him and his tapping out. But no! It's too late. I've already heard the tapping. It's seared into my brain. IT'S ALL I CAN HEAR! So then, my quest is not on the detailing of my notes, no...now it's trying to find a way to make it stop!

I *AHEM* loudly. Nope, no effect. *COUGH COUGH* Persistent little bugger. Throwing my pencil would only add more ammunition to his arsenal. Maybe if I construst a mini-spit wad and aim it directly at the noise-maker, I can dislodge it from his hand and THEN...

"Okay, see y'all next week. Don't forget, essays are due!"

DAMMIT ALL. The Tapping Tyrant has managed to distract me from the end of the lecture, which we all know is the time when the most important "now, make sure you highlight this because it will be on your final" comments are given. He will pay. Oh yes, he will pay dearly.

I experienced something to that effect this morning. We were enjoying a presentation on "Professional Development", and I was sat next to a male employee who shall remain nameless. I was content listening to how *I* could dress for success when...

schluuuuurrrrp...schlurrrrrrrrrrrrp...schluuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrpppp.

...the hell is that? Turns out, Noisy McNoisester is LOUDLY slurping his tea. And not just one big slurp and then minutes in between, no. Several long, drawn out, messy slurps, separated only by the "GULP...ahhhhh"s.

Drown it out, drown it out, drown it out.

But I couldn't, and this continued for the WHOLE presentation. This is also the guy who usually sits next to me whenever all of us are out eating or having a luncheon, and INSISTS on taking up my personal bubble space with his elbow so he can cut/manuever/wrangle his food. Gah.

I just had to keep telling myself when I felt the urge to give him a good elbowing in the nose, that this was Christmas time...a time to forgive and see past the petty things that normally piss you off.

That didn't really work, though, so I just thanked my lucky stars that it was a really concise presentation.

One day to go, people. One day.

White Elephant!

2005-12-21T06:09:00.000-08:00

(I must apologize for the lateness of this post!)

I got my White Elephant Christmas gift from Becky in the mail the other day. One thing y'all should know about me--I'm oftentimes way too lazy to take that extra 2 minute drive to my mailbox to retrieve the contents stuffed inside. So, I bet my package was waiting for me LONG before I opened it! Sorry about that, Becksters!

A little background: Me and the fine people of Swankytown had decided that since we were oh-such-good friends, we would participate in a White Elephant Gift Exchange. How it worked? Well, Trishy wrote all our names down and drew each for a person, and then posted who got who, we exchanged addresses, and BAM! You got yourself a gift exchange.

Becky sent me the most wonderful springy Santa bottle topper. This is a perfect gift for me, as I LOVE wine! She nestled a card in with the gift as well with a nice note explaining certain parts of the gift (gah, I left it at my apartment!). It was just the thing to get me back in the Christmasy mood.

So, a big, ginormous THANK YOU to Ms. Becky for the wonderful and befitting present. It will be used time and time again! Merry Christmas!

Oh, and Trishy--I'm a HORRIBLE person! Yours will be in the mail tomorrow.

My Eyes Really Are Green

2005-12-20T10:22:00.000-08:00

Is jealousy instinctual? Can you truthfully say "I'm not a jealous person" and have people not scoff in your face?

As demented as this sounds, I used to like when my boyfriends would get jealous of other guys paying attention to me (although it didn't happen that often). To me, and again, this is just my opinion, I think a small amount of jealousy can have the potential to be a reassuring factor in relationships:

"My ex called me up this afternoon out of the blue and wants to have dinner with me. He says there's something he really needs to talk to me about."

"Okay, well, I'm not going to tell you you can't go, although that's what I want to do most. I will say that I'm uncomfortable with that, and will ask that you please come back and talk to me as soon as you're done so I know you haven't left me for him."

This mock conversation could give you some insight as to what I mean. Secretly, I'd be beaming a bit that my current love cared enough about me to NOT want to lose me to some ex-thing I'd long since forgotten. "Oh good," I think to myself, "he still likes me enough to keep me as his own."

Right, right. Feminists world-wide have just muttered "weak-willed soul" in unison, but hey, call me old-fashioned. I LOVE the idea of belonging to someone, being his own. Equally, they are mine. I'm not an independent soul forever. I'm just waiting around until someone worthy enough claims me and keeps me.

I, therefore, view a moderate amount of jealousy as a good sign that your relationship is worth something. However, when that "moderate" amount starts to make its way into the "heavy" category, that's when you can truly botch things up.

I will admit that I am a jealous person. Not crazy-I-will-stab-you-bitch-if-you-even-so-much-as-look-at-my-boyfriend jealous or anything. There's just that jealous bone in my body. Someone pointed out to me that this may be a result of confidence issues; I think that's a possibility, but combine it with insecurities and sprinkle some trust issues from past ass boyfriends*, and I think that's a better explanation as to why I twinge at the mention of other girls' names at times. Whatever it is, it's there, and I have got to learn to control it.

I'm one of those girlfriends that can find a reason to be jealous for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I trust the guy ("sure you do," you're thinking), but I KNOW the inner-workings of a female mind. Hell, I've worked some magic in my days by being that manipulative-but-seemingly-innocent girl who gets in the middle of something she could clearly keep her nose out of.

I'm not saying that guys are oblivious to this, or that they're too naive to notice when a girl fancies him. What I am saying is that, since I know how it works all too well, I have a strong tendency to see things that aren't there, create situations in my head that haven't even happened and will never happen. And because of this, I think I am a good candidate as one of "those" girls who needlessly sabotages a good, neigh, GREAT thing.

Time to reign in that green-eyed monster. I think now I can throw those trust issues out the window, and accept that I will, one day, be somebody's everything. They will want for nothing more.

*Some, not all

Lunch with My Twin

2005-12-18T11:45:00.000-08:00

Okay, so maybe she's not my identical twin, or fraternal even (as I'm about a year older than she is), but I swear, we are related.

This Saturday, at 11:30AM to be exact, I met my first blogger friend. In person, that is. Lauren and I met up at Chipotle for an early lunch and some gab time. And I'm so glad we did.

Lauren is a beautiful, funny, inquizative, caring, strong, happy, and optimistic person. Yes, I concluded that in the mere 2 hours we spent together. She's a great listener and makes you feel like what you are droning on and on about is that day's headline news. She listened intently as I told her about my family, my Darling, my schooling, and tons of other little details that I'm sure have no importance to most other people.

I, in turn, listened to her stories of past relationships and current questions of inner thoughts and feelings. She told me about the different seminary (right, L?) schools she's applied to, and about how she feels drawn to one location in particular. I learned a bit about her family, and that she has a special place in her heart for Toy Joy. And apparently, she's one of those people that can travel to a different city and STILL run into someone she knows!

I wish I could have spent all day with her, sitting at our little table, picking at our burrito bowls and spilling intimate and not-so-intimate details about ourselves. I wish she wasn't leaving in the summer, but I'm so happy that she's choosing to follow God's plan for her life.

As we were walking to our cars (oh, and her new Honda is just beautiful, complete with "new car smell") she said to me, "You know, I feel like we're old friends". I feel the same way. It's crazy (as I mentioned on her blog) how there are a few people out in this world that are JUST like you...your soul's friend-twin...and sometimes you are fortunate enough to meet those people. When that happens, you have no choice but to take a step back and think, "how did I go this long in my life without having this person a part of it?" Well, no longer will that be in the case of Lauren and myself (if I have anything to say about it)!

I see her rapidly becoming one of my closest friends based on the sole fact that we are basically the same person! We're an hour an a half away now, and after this summer, we may be states apart, but I am willing to maintain this friendship that we've cultivated and get to know this person that is eerily similar to myself. I'd be crazy not to!

So, thank you, Lauren, for making that drive to spend 2 hours with a girl you barely knew. I'm so thankful you did, and look forward to a long and valuable friendship no matter where we are. Remember: next time it's me visiting you, and lunch, dinner, whatever, is MY treat!!

I Need a Rascal Scooter for Christmas

2005-12-15T07:23:00.000-08:00

I am officially old.

Yesterday, whilst mulling over various SPSS formulas and syntax, X and I started talking about our hair (yes, we DO get work done anyway. We’re women, we MULTI-task, see?). She was advising me on the next set of highlights I should don, and I had to shake my head in disbelief at the words that next sprang from her mouth:

“Lanette,” she began quizzically, “Are you going gray?”

Wha, wha, WHAT???

“Um, I don’t think so,” I ventured slowly, “…why…do you see something?”
“Not to freak you out,” too late, “but I think I see a gray hair.”
“GETITOUT, GETITOUT, GETITOUT,” I shouted, as if a wasp had landed in my hair, got itself tangled up, and stung me repeatedly on my scalp*.

X then separated the imposter from the rest of my brown/blonde locks, and being the stubborn, gray, coarse hair that it was, it refused to dislodge from my scalp on one yank. But soon (after 3 more good tugs), there it was, laid on her desk in all its graying (non)glory. We both stared in horror.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one,” were X’s only words of comfort to me.

After a thorough head check (hey, we needed a break from the SPSS stuff, that crap can kill you if you stare at it too long), she found at least 3 more grayies. And these were not hairs that COULD have been mistaken for the blonde strands I have naturally** been blessed with, no. These were undeniably GRAY hairs. They were of a different texture—thick, stiff, and almost white.

She stopped after the hair count of grays rose to three. She said it was because she couldn’t find any more. I think it was because she saw the tears welling up in my eyes.

Now, I don’t know about the rest of my female readers (or heck, even male readers) out there, but if you’re like me, you are in a sheer state of panic whilst in the shower every night because of the multitude of hairs you lose that eventually you end up sprawling out and gluing to the shower wall. Seriously, for a while when I was younger, I thought I was sick, and a side effect of the illness was hair loss. I even got tested for it, no lie. I have come to understand that it’s okay to lose about 100 hairs a day. But I seem to lose a LOT more than that; I lose 100 in the shower alone! That was a big enough worry. But now…THIS? GRAY HAIR???

Luckily, X told me that the wisdom hairs she found still planted securely in my head were buried underneath the other still-youthful hairs. So, although it may not be obvious, I am going gray. I’m only 24. Damn the stress.

So, Santa, if you’re reading this, I would very much like to find my very own, personal Rascal Scooter under our Christmas tree this year. My hair predicts I’ll need it sooner than I thought.

*A true story that befell my Darling.
** Am I lying?

Bah (You know the rest)

2005-12-13T20:56:00.000-08:00

It's hard to be in the Christmas spirit when you're family's not doing so well. Although I am so incredibly excited to see my Darling, I can't help but be a bit down in the Christmas dumps because of a bunch of other stuff that's going on. I just feel so helpless, because, unless I gave up my job to become a full-time caretaker, or took on about 6 more jobs to support my mom and daddy, there's really not much I can do to help.

I just hate to see things this way. I know that was probably the most vague statement in the history of the world, but do you know what I mean? You see so many people that you love just hurting so badly, but there's nothing you can do to fix it, nothing you can say to make it better. I know that when I was in grad school for counseling, they teach you to listen instead of give advice. And there's also a reason why the Number One Cardinal Rule is: Never, ever, under any circumstance, counsel a family member. I fully understand why.

I have to say, the only thing saving me from becoming a complete scrooge this Christmas is the upcoming visit. However, that will happen the day after Christmas. So, I'm employing you, the readers of MOHland, to please suggest some things I could do to get more into the holiday spirit. They could be activities you do, movies you watch, special drinks or foods...anything. One rule though: please don't reference anything along the lines of "build a snowman!" for obvious reason (for those of you not-so-sharp tools, I live in Tejas; it's like, 75 degress here or something outrageous).

I would appreciate anything you could throw my way. I'm SO Christmas. This is the first year where I have a very scared, hopeless feeling. Sorry to bring down the happy happy joy joy level, but I had to get this off my chest.

Merriness shall resume in a few days.

Name Stealers

2005-12-12T16:49:00.000-08:00

I wish I was British so I could yell: "Oh, bloody hell!"

Gah, someone stole my baby name!

Alright, so ever since I was, I don't know, 17 and thinking I wanted a baby at that time (yes, I went through *that* phase), I began keeping a list of all the baby names, both boy and girl, that I found unique, beautiful, strapping, etc. I've got a good, oh, I don't know, 20 names for each sex, and I had finally decided on a name for a boy.

It came from a movie that I was (am) totally in love with. Some of you may scoff at me, and I say "Fine, scoff away", but this movie really touched my heart. So much so that I saw it about six times in the theater, read the book, own the movie poster (and I don't OWN movie posters), bought the VHS and DVD (just in case) and sing along to the CD. I know just about every line to the whole blasted movie.

This was a movie about true love, a restoration of faith, and giving your heart to someone even if you know by doing so would break yours in the end. It was how I wanted love to be for me. It was how I saw myself being loved, and loving back. Eerily, it mirrors my current relationship on so many different levels. So, it was only fitting that I named my first born son after the main character of this movie.

But they STOLE it. THIEVES!

I saw on my Friendster profile (yes, I have one, but rarely check it) that an ex-friend of mine, who is pregnant with her second boy, had stolen the name right out from under me! Her and her husband (as she blogged about it) couldn't come to an agreement between two other (forgive me for saying, but quite harsh sounding) names, so they just picked this one randomly. And here I've been, planning out for YEARS that this was going to be the forename of my first born son!

The bitch of it all is, this girl and I used to be really good friends. I was the maid of honor in her wedding, for Heaven's sake. But we had a falling out over something stupid, like a boy, and it exploded into the mess that it never had to be. So, we lost contact. I've run into her a few times in the past, and it was the usual "Oh my gosh, you should TOTALLY call me, we'll hang out" scenario you'd imagine it to be. But other than that, she has not been a part of my recent life. Until now. How fitting.

Well, the joke's on her. Just the other day, several wonderful baby boy names were brought to my attention that are far better than the one I had picked out. So she can have it. Now, if she has yet another boy, or bears a girl next time round, and uses ANOTHER one of my names*, there will be hell to pay. Hell, I tells ya!

10 more days**

*Okay, so I don't OWN them, but I should.
**Again, according to OUR countdown.

Insomnia

2005-12-11T03:00:00.000-08:00

Ain't it great?

I spent my whole Saturday doing absolutely nothing. But, as I explained to my Darling earlier today, I have a great logic for this, and here 'tis: All day every day at work, I'm thinking exactly two things. One is: I miss my Darling. The second is: I wish I was sleeping. So, I figure the weekend is the time to do the things that you most want to do during the week, but little annoyances (i.e. my job) won't allow you to do them. So, it's perfectly justifiable that I spend an entire Saturday sleeping. Right? (Ahem: please validate me, readers.)

However, it renders me defenseless against insomnia.

So, here I sit, it's 5:01 in the AM, and I'm writing only because I'm waiting for my sleepy pill to kick in. When I start having to hit the "backspace" key more than 5 times for one sentence, then I will know it's time to stumble into my oh-so-comfy bed.

Until then, here are some random thoughts I've had in this bought of restlessness:

1.) I had no idea Richard Pryor died today due to a heart attack until I saw a very old episode of "Larry King Live" playing on one of those stations. It's always weird to know that someone famous has died. Not too sure why, it just is.

2.) Why do they wait until everyone is asleep to play the videos on MTV and VH1? I will never, for the life of me, understand this. THEY ARE MUSIC STATIONS. PLAY MUSIC WHEN PEOPLE ARE STILL AWAKE! Don't get me wrong, I adore "I Love the 80s", but throw some videos into the mix, and I will be a much happier, more frequent viewer.

3.) Similarly, why in the hell are all the infomercials on at 3AM and later? Is it because they think people at this hour are so delusional that they'll actually BUY into what their trying to sell? Geez, I mean...oh, hold the phone! It's a juicer! Not only do you get your daily fruits intake, but you can get your healthy dose of veggies too! Yes, you can put the POTATO in WITH THE SKIN ON, and it, along with the carrots, tomatoes, onions, beets, brussel sprouts, lima beans, broccoli, squash, green beans and celery sticks, will blend into the best tasting smoothie your mouth has ever experienced! Raw food in liquid form? Damn, I gotta write this number down...

Onward:

4.) They keep showing the commercial for "Amp'd Mobile" (that was about 4 "backspace" keys, it's getting close to beddy-bye time). These adverts (for the Brits!) are appauling! No, they REALLY are, and it takes a lot to offend me. So far, I've seen only two version of the commercial. One was some teenage kid who's clearing O.D.ing on drugs. He's lying, lifeless save for a few twitches, on the floor of some expensive mansion, and the maid is speaking to him in Spanish. The subtitles read something along the lines of "You can't die now, you'll miss the new Amp'd phone. You're an idiot!" The second one I saw had a hooker, seriously, straddling a man, and jumping (suggestively) on him, "trying" to give him CPR. The whole time this man is gasping for air, and she's screaming "Senator, no, you can't die now"...Amp'd Mobile plug inserted. I find these neither effective nor in good taste. Where have all the GOOD, funny commercials gone? (Although I do have to give it up to Geico, theirs are pretty damn funny, especially the caveman ones).

5.) Remember how I was griping (#2) about never seeing the videos during the daytime? Well, now I'm griping that they play the same ones OVER and OVER again. But I'm not going to complain about them playing the James Blunt video "You're Beautiful" repeatedly. Man, I love that song.

6.) [sorry to offend anyone, but...] Madonna, much like U2, should just finally call it quits! I mean, really!

7.) I took a whole roll of film (yes, 24 pictures) in one night, at one place. It was the CP Christmas Party. Good times, I shall post some pictures if y'all want. Hell, *I* want to. So you're getting 'em, whether you want to or not.

8.) I haven't sent out my Christmas cards yet. This leads me (somehow) to believe I will be a crap mother.

9.) I've had a headache for 3 days straight. I thought at first it was my contacts (because it feels like hot pokers are being jabbed into my eye sockets), but after I extracted my contacts out, the pain persisted still. I think it's in my neck now. Aside from a massage I can't afford right now, does anyone know how to alleviate this?

and finally:

10.) If you're thinking that you just wasted [however long it took you to finish this] minutes of your life, precious minutes that you will never regain, and you are kicking yourself for it, just blame my Darling. He's been gone since I got home from seeing Narnia. If he was awake to keep me company, I would not be spewing such filth. Alas, he has somewhat of a normal sleeping pattern. Still. It's all. His. Fault.* ***

Goodnight friends. Until Monday next. And what's it now? Let me check my Advent Calendar...11 MORE DAYS**!

P.S. It took me exactly 30 minutes to pen this.

*He has this way, though, of making me love him even more, despite it being his fault. He's got some magic about him.

**According to OUR standards.

*** About 2 mintues after I finished writing this post, Darling arrived. I still hold that it's his fault, but it sure is good to see him.

Forever 16

2005-12-07T20:05:00.000-08:00

I realized today that my mother worries more about me NOW than she (seemingly) did when I was younger. This baffles me.

It all started last night. I was phoned up by dear ol' mom to be forewarned about possible icy overnight conditions:

"Please be careful on the roads!"
"I will Mom, don't worry."
"Keep BOTH HANDS on the wheel."
"I will Mom."
"And watch for other idiots on the road!"
"Got it, Mom."
"And go out and put your sun shades on your windshield so you won't have ice on it in the morning."
"Already have, Mom."
"And dress warm, do you have a hat?"
"No, Mom, I don't need a hat."
"Do you want to borrow my black fuzzy Russian hat?"
"No, Mom, I'm walking 30 feet into an office."
"Please be careful on the roads."
"Geez, Mom, I will! I've driven before, you know, going on 9 years now!"
"I know, I just worry about you so much."
"Don't worry, Mom."
"Keep both hands on the wheel!"
"SIGHHHHH"

And that was just last night. Take that conversation and multiply the annoying factor by about 100, and you have our conversation from tonight, when I was leaving Hometown* to drive back to SA.

My mom once told me, "You will always be 16 years old to me." I never really knew how to take this (Compliment? Insult?). Yes, I look really young for my age (as I'm constantly told), but I have a feeling she meant something different. Something along the lines of: I'm always going to be that naive young girl who constantly needs her mother in times of good and bad. And I think she couldn't function if it were any other way.

I make fun of her a lot. So does my sissy, brother in law, and daddy. Her last-minute, out-the-door warnings have become so routine in our house that Daddy has adopted mumbling "Warsh your hands" as mother is spewing out her final notes of caution. Sissy will laugh and add "Watch for deer on the road", and Brother in Law will chime in with, "And watch for idiots on the road" (these were the most common phrases in our household after sissy turned 16). I think Mom gets really flustered with us at times because whilst we are ribbing her, she is still being completely and totally serious. She has taken to simply frowning at us and throwing in a last "Be Careful**" as I head out the door.

These cautionary statements just about drive me bonkers everytime I hear them, but it's the type of thing where, if I wasn't warned, I would feel uneasy driving back home. I know my mom means well and just loves us so much that she couldn't stand the thought of anything ever happening to my sissy or myself. Amidst all the joking, I love my mother so much for caring so deeply for me.

I just find it so odd that, now that I'm an adult (really, I am) and on my own, she's MORE worried about me than when I actually was a 16 year old kid.

"You back at your apartment now?"
"Yes, made it home fine."
"Did you lock your door?"
"Yep."
"Both locks?"
"Of course."
"Check your closet just to be sure no one's hiding in there."
"Mom, c'mon, you're making me paranoid."
"Go do it while I'm still on the phone with you."
--opening closet door--
"Hey, lookie there! Sure 'nuff, a masked man with a gun AND a knife is crouching amongst my Etnies! What's that, you say, Masked Man? You're going to WHAT me? Oh, okay, well, let me get off the phone with my mom first, mkay? Be right back."
"Boy, I swear! That's not funny!"
"Goodnight, Mom."
(the I spend the rest of the night scared out of my socks that there really IS a masked man hiding in my shoes.)

*The use of "Hometown" must be credited to my Darling.
**Kate, say it out loud, right now!

Because YOU Come First

2005-12-05T20:51:00.000-08:00

I'm sleepy. Hands down, I should be in bed right now. But because YOU are so taken with MOH, here are some random (see: boring) events from my day:

My co-workers decorated the office Christmas tree today. Sure, I wanted to help, but only two people can wrap lights on the tree (any more than that and it just gets messy). I was going to pitch in when the ornament hanging took place. However, I went back to my desk when my boss briskly walked past me, giving me that "you're not really working and I'm going to make a mental note of this" look as she huffed past. That's a scary look.

I came home for lunch wanting Ramen Noodles. Now, I haven't really cooked much on my stove and in my oven since I moved in, so I'm still adjusting to the ways and ticks of the appliance. But, I mean, they're Ramen Noodles--it's not freaking rocket science. I filled up the pot with 2 cups of water, turned the burner on, and excused myself to potty whilst the heat kicked in. I didn't, however, bother to check and see if there were any food particles in the bowels of the burner...and before I knew it, I was choking on the foggy cloud of smoke that was quickly filling my apartment. Deathly afraid that my smoke detector would go off and the complex office would call the Big Red Engine, I tried to waft the smoke out the front and balcony doors. No alarms were sounded, but my apartment STILL smells a bit charred. As do I. *cough*

In a related incident, I attempted to make grilled cheese tonight, and, lover of stupidity that I am, forgot that my burners heated up so fast, and oh, so hot. So yes, I burned my finger. Twice. It stings so bad.

Apparently working out and gauging your estimated timeframe before you can pass out is NOT able to be measured in songs from the "Rockin' Songs" playlist on your iPod. It's so good to be out of breath and wanting to die from soreness again.

I finished Christmas decorating and hung my mistletoe. Now there's no excuse for me not to be kissed. Unless it falls down. Or gets stolen. Damn neighbors.

At a dentist appointment, I found out that I have NO cavities and bought a professional tooth whitening system (yes, the one the DENTIST uses) for half price. White teeth, here I come. Like Ross in that Friends episode. Har har.

Harvey Birdman has climbed into second place as my favorite animated television show (right after Family Guy).

This list has started to get boring, so I will end it now. Nighty Night MOH friends.

Apologies

2005-12-04T21:00:00.000-08:00

To All Readers of this Blog:

Apologies for the lack of posting...or even, creative posting at that. I am still trying to settle back in after being in D.C. Nope, not a very valid excuse, I know. But in between this adjustment period there have been several other activities including:

Christmas shopping
Decorating my parent's house and our family Christmas tree
Catching up on my dear shows that I taped in my absence
Eagerly peeling back the cardboard doors of my advent calendar, beaming at the fact that a mere 20 days remain
Taking care of my mom post-foot surgery
Loving on my doggie
Spending time with a much missed boyfriend

Clearly these tasks take precedence over unpacking. Clearly.

Maybe a picture from D.C. will substitute for my lack of words? Give you that fix you've been needing? I thought so. I give you: Me and Katie in D.C. Enjoy.

Random factoid about MOH: There was a point in my life where my career aspirations included touring the world as a back-up dancer. And that wasn't too long ago, either. *cough*

I'm Clicking My Heels Together...

2005-12-01T20:28:00.000-08:00

...because there's no place like home.

Well, kiddos, I'm back. Shortest post in the history of MOHland, but I'm exhausted, still-packed, and unbathed. Need sleepy.

I'll regale y'all sometime soon (possibly tomorrow when I'm supposed to be doing work?) with the tales and traumas of my First Ever Bidness Twip, but for now, I just wanted to say 'allo and I felt withdrawl symptoms from not having my daily dose of Blog Reading. Needless to say, I have a lot of posts from yous guys to catch up on. Again, an activity set asides for my return to the office tomorrow...yes, I'll do some work too, geez. I'm too straight-laced NOT to.

Thanks for all the well-wishes, guys. I'll be up and running again sometime soon. Until then, I have to take at least 10 showers to get this stank off of me.

(Um, can I just share my excitement? Today, the countdown OFFICALLY begins. 24 more days! EEEEEEEK!)

Oh, and for those of you who watch Family Guy but didn't quite understand this part, now you know. So simple, yet so, so funny.

Short and Sweet (like me, teehee)

2005-11-27T20:20:00.000-08:00

Okay, kiddies, I have to keep this short. And for real this time; none of this "I'm going to say that I'll keep this short in the beginning of the post, ramble on for 15 paragraphs, realize that I completely contradicted myself, then go back and eliminate the first part of the post where I said I would keep it short" business. And here's why: I get to go on my first "business trip" tomorrow.

Okay, so it's not as important as it sounds...I'm not brokering any mergers (?) or anything like that. I'm going to Washington, D.C. for a training. But still, it's my first offical work travel. Just be excited for me, okay?

I leave tomorrow and will be back on Thursday evening. Of course, I'll be too exhausted to type, so you'll have to wait until Friday to catch up on my oh-so-exciting-hang-by-your-toenails post. I'm just a smidge nervous to travel to D.C.--not because it's the murder capitol of the U.S. (thank you, Daddy, for announcing that in front of my overly paranoid mother)--no, more because of the whole 9/11 thing. I mean, of course we'll be fine, but there's still that twinge of fear that runs through me (call me paranoid).

Want to know the grandest event that will come about due to this trip? One of my best friends (The Actress) lives in D.C. with her new finace (new as in "they just got engaged" not as in "she traded her old one in"). Sure, I'll have to pay attention when I'm learning about GPRA online data submission, but when I'm free from that, I'm livin' big in D.C. with Kate and Adam! Fun times (and pictures) will be had (and taken) by all!

One last worthy mentioning: I decorated my apartment today for Christmas. No, it's NOT December yet, but I found that when I lived with my parents, we would always decorate too late, and barely have time to enjoy the twinkling lights before we had to take them down for fear of depression setting in. So, this past weekend, when I was enjoying my much needed family time, I went to WalMart and the Dollar Store and bought so many lovely decorations for my wittle apartment. I skimped on Halloween and Thanksgiving decor this year, but NOT Christmas. I refuse to spend my first apartment Christmas sans a Santa Clause door knob hanger. So, a 3 foot tree, lots of lights, garland, and other such decorations now don my little happy place. I'm so holiday. (It makes for a quite cozy and romantic setting for my upcoming visitor!)

Oh, and I had a great Thanksgiving. Food, family, Dickens on Main...it was all teriffic...hope you all had the same (and if you don't celebrate Thanksgiving, hope you had a nice weekend)! See y'all Friday!

Gobble Gobble!

2005-11-23T10:06:00.000-08:00

Oh, friends.

I know you’re asking yourself, “Is she going to do it? Is she REALLY going to post a cheesy ‘Here’s what I’m thankful for this Thanksgiving’ entry?” The answer, dear readers, is yes. But before you start to avoid the queasy feeling in your stomach by clicking “Next Blog”, let me explain why.

I have met many new people, great characters, in this here blog world, and surprisingly, several of them are not from around these American parts. Because no other country celebrates the stealing of valuable land from its native people by stuffing themselves with turkey and punkin pie, I feel that this post is not only for the sake of our American holiday, but will also serve as a general reminder of how blessed I am.

So, here’s what I’m thankful for (the abridged version):

A caring family that loves me and has never let me want for anything.
A beautiful sister that becomes more like a best friend every day.
A dog that has often been the only one to see me cry, and cuddle with me.
A job that not only meets my financial needs, but has also provided me with my best friends.
Consequently, a best girlfriend whom I thought I would never find and am so happy I did.
My faith, though shakier than ever this year (thanks for that whole “never abandoning you” thing, there, God)
Music and my iPod*—a staple in my life that has gotten me through many a tough time.
Finally being out of college and living the life of a real, bona fide adult.
Still feeling (and looking) like a kid.
The discovery of wine and Woodchuck Amber cider.
Throwing caution to the wind and doing what makes me happiest.
Despite my body trying to amputate its own toe, my health.
You, my loyal blog readers, for making me feel like what I have to say merits certain validity and bestowing upon me the support and encouragement I never knew I could have by way of this medium.

And finally…

My darling boyfriend who has made me happier than I ever thought I could be, and who makes me feel like the most beautiful and special girl in the world. Never could I have imagined there was someone so perfect out there for me (“out of my league” keeps ringing in the back of my mind). I am thankful for the time we will soon spend together, and the possibilities that lie within our future. I love him dearly; he is my comfort, my best friend, my laughter, my soulmate… my darling.

Happy Thanksgiving to my American friends! To those of you who do not celebrate this holiday of feasting and sleeping, I’m still thankful for you, and every once in a while, it’s nice to know that you are very much appreciated.

And an unrealted sidenote: It makes no sense for a local radio station to play continuous Christmas music (a tradition they have, apparently starting the week before Thanskgiving) at this point in time. I have a hard time singing along to "I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas" when it's 80 degrees (approximately 26C for you Brits) outside.

* yes, I can be thankful for material items as well.

Sad But True (and Damn Funny!)

2005-11-22T06:59:00.000-08:00

In light of the incredibly pissy mood I have been in as of late, I figured I would lighten up the vibe and bestow upon you, my readers, one of those, “You Know You’re … When…” Lists. So, I give to you:

YOU KNOW YOU’RE IN / FROM SAN ANTONIO WHEN…

· You see 300 pound person wearing spandex with nothing else covering them.
· When attending 1 year old’s birthday party, a keg is tapped and the police are called.
· The maternity section of your local department store has prom dresses.
· You've never been to the Alamo.
· You used to live in a neighborhood you wouldn't even drive through now.
· There has been a road crew on your street since before the Alamodome was built.
· Your idea of culture is wearing a Spurs T-shirt.
· You're starting to think the construction on Loop 410 and I-10 is "pretty".
· You have 3 rodeo outfits but never have been on a horse.
· Your Anglo mother learned how to make tamales and menudo from your neighbors.
· You went to get breakfast tacos at Taco Cabana on Christmas morning.
· You had an elephant ride at the zoo. (hell yes I did!)
· You know all about the "Dancing Diablo" and the "Donkey Lady”.
· Someone in your family has worked for H-E-B.
· You know 1604 is also known as the "death loop".
· You've ordered Mexican food at a Chinese restaurant.
· You take your vacation during Fiesta week.
· You know how to get to the "Ghost Tracks" from anywhere in town.
· You think a healthy drink is a Margarita without salt.
· You're an expert with the brake pedal, but you have no idea what a blinker is.
· You do your grocery shopping at a flea market.
· You think local politicians are crooks, but you still do not vote.
· You have a "Selena Lives" bumper sticker on your car.
· A formal occasion is getting a glass with your longneck.
· You're elementary field trip was to the Butter Crust Bakery. (again, hell yes it was!)

(and my personal favorite…)
· Your lowrider has twice the value of your home.

I must credit these websites and my local radio station for not only giving me the idea to post this, but also providing some of the incredibly sad but true statements. Many of you will not know what a lot of these mean, but trust me, to a native San Antonian, they’re funny as hell. Have a great day everybody!

In Memory

2005-11-19T18:21:00.000-08:00

Sometimes I take for granted that the people I meet in the blogging world are real--not simply web robots generated to keep me entertained and off-task when I should be working. Because of that, when something very real occurs, you are thrown off kilter for a moment. You suddenly realize that the blog you so thoroughly enjoy reading belongs to a living, breathing person, who experiences everyday trials and tribulations just like you do. Sometimes, though, those trials are harder than others to live through.

Even though I don't know him very well, I couldn't help but cry for Mr. Hoss and his recent loss. It's times like these when I feel so helpless; there is so much I would like to do, but do not have the means by which to do them. So, in my attempt to offer support and sympathy, I am enlisting my humble blog to express my deepest sympathies and offer a kind and loving word to a most delightful and incredible person. I'd rather it be a hug, but you work with what you have.

So, many a heartfelt prayer goes out to you and your beloved, Mr. Hoss. I hope you'll forgive my posting about such a sensitive and personal topic. However, I have found such a strong support system by way of this blog in such a short time, that I really believe that it can provide comfort in even the darkest of hours.

The best to you and yours, and a great big bear hug all around.

Flabulous

2005-11-18T08:08:00.000-08:00

Alright, seeing as how it’s Friday and all, today is really my last valid day to complain about the week’s happenings. So here comes an overly-whiny, incredibly marathon post. Prepare or move on. Take breaks, I say.

First of all, I fell down the stairs at my apartment complex this week. I guess the heel of my shoe caught on one of the stair’s edges, which sent me rolling down the last few for that flight. See, I intelligently chose to live on the 3rd floor. My reasons were twofold. 1.) I don’t want to deal with noise from anyone upstairs (I walk heavy on my heels; I feel sorry for the poor bastards below me) and 2.) I doubt a robber is going to want to carry my TV down three flights of stairs when he could just run out the door on a first floor apartment. Yeah?

So, being on the 3rd floor, I have (let’s count them) three flights of stairs to walk up and down several times a day. Lucky for me, the official first spill I took was at the top flight, which had me landing on the platform between the third and second flights. It could have been worse, trust me. But for what it was, it was bad.

I thought I broke my knee for a minute. I have really weak knees to begin with; being a cheerleader for 6 years will wreak havoc on your body. So, a fall like this could have easily snapped my knee…but it didn’t. I ended up with one very skinned, cut, and bruised knee, the other knee severely bruised, and an injured toe (I will elaborate more on in further paragraphs). I breathed a huge sigh of relief that no one was around to see me tumble—it was quite a lumbering fall! In the aftermath (after I realized I was mostly okay), I was stupefied to find I was shoeless on one foot. My sandal had fallen through the opening between stairs and lay at the ground level. Dammit. Carefully, I hobbled down the cursed things, retrieved my shoe, and called work to tell them I would be late back from lunch. My boss insisted I stay home and recover, and who am I to argue with the boss! I was sore, and my toe was turning a right shade of purple!

Now, about this TOE! I swear, my body is trying to reject my left big toe, it HATES it. Here’s some back story: Way back in May of 2003, I had been dumped by a boy that I naively believed I would end up marrying. He terminated our relationship for no apparent reason, with no prior notice. However, when two of my older lady friends who attended church with me and this boy invited me to a seemingly innocent lunch, they revealed to me that he had recently started dating his best friend (whom, in a few weeks time, he married!). I was understandably crushed, so one of the women took me for a pedicure. I’d never had a pedicure before, sounded like fun. Now, they are the bane of my existence.

Apparently, I contracted a rather nasty toenail fungus. But, it went undetected as I figured the discoloration of my toenail was a result of my mom stepping on my toe two times in the same day pre-pedicure. Now I realize that the injury probably made my poor wittle toe more susceptible to the fungus. Anyway, sometime in January (yes, 8 months after I acquired the fungus) I went to the doctor and said, “Hey doc, while I’m here, can you tell me what’s wrong with my big toe.” A lab test later, and he was delivering the bad news:

“Lanette, I’m afraid it’s…it’s…”
“Give it to me straight, Doc, I can handle it.”
“It’s…a FUNGUS!”
“NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” wailed I.

A year and a half later, I am still battling the TF. Sure, I tried the topical nail solution, but WHO can keep up with painting the solution on every night for 6 days, then rubbing it off with alcohol on the 7th day, just to repeat the cycle the next day? Hello…I have a life!

Eventually, the toe fungus grew itself out (or so I think…). I was ecstatic, because if I may boast for a second, I think I have very pretty feet—dainty and narrow. This fungus was an eyesore that I could do NOTHING about…and who wants to tell anyone that they have a fungus! I was so stigmatized by my family, friends, co-workers…traumatized, I tell you. But before Tuesday’s fateful fall, it was on the road to recovery.

And then I was clumsy.

Now, this poor toe is experiencing more pain, bruised and sore, the toenail along with the whole toe is just purple and swollen. I’m praying the bits of dirt and rock that was surely jammed up under the nail won’t perpetuate the fungal disaster. Wait and See is the name of the game, folks.

Aside from my Fungus Toe Pity Party, I am also having a Flabulous Sulking Session. Intrigued? I thought so.

See, I was always the smallest girl in my class…in 6th grade I weighed 69 pounds and was 4’10” tall. High school didn’t see much of a weight development, and by the end of Senior year, I was about 5’2” (still the same height now) and about 96-97 pounds. I was a cheerleader for 4 years, I was the flyer (the girl at the top of the pyramids), I was the one who was thrown up in the air and (most of the time, at least) caught.

In college, I pursued the cheerleading activities. Since I was so small fresh out of high school, the rigorous (ha!) work out schedule and game schedule only made me lose weight. We were conditioning 3 times a week, so I was toned, then we would practice 3 times a week for at least 3 hours (loads of running around, hitting marks, playing with different stunts, etc.). Not to mention we would have games to cheer at, sometimes double-headers, so that’s at least 2 more hours of jumping, running, tumbling, exercising. Until now, I never realized JUST how small I was. I got down to about 95 pounds and had very little body fat. It. Was. Beautiful.

After two years and when I felt like I wasn’t furthering my cheerleading career, I decided to quit as I would need more time to dedicate to my studies and to myself. (No, that's not me in the picture, just what I would do). I had never worked out any more than what the cheerleading life regulated, so I didn’t know that to STAY that small, I would have to keep working at it. So, I kept my same eating habits but failed to exercise, and eventually (within about two years) I saw a bit of a weight gain. This being such a foreign downfall for me, I had my bouts of bulimia, but nothing that would even require a diagnosis. I would do some sporadic workouts, but nothing that yielded the results I desired.

As the years went by, I found myself not fitting into the Size 0 pants I had worn all my life. I had to BUY A SIZE BIGGER! Devastating.

Now, the same thing is continuing. I don’t believe in any way that I’m fat, but there are certain areas of my body that have more…insulation…than they did before. I’m uncomfortable in my clothes, in my skin, in my body. I can’t look at myself naked in a mirror because I will stare for too long, pulling at the areas that have expanded, grabbing the excess fat on my inner thigh and pulling it to the back thinking to myself, “If only my legs looked like THAT…”

A few months ago, I got so fed up that I decided to stop whining about my plight and become proactive. So, I started keeping a log of my calories I ate and power walked (because I’m 80 years old and broken) at night. I even took “Before” and “After” pictures. In the passing of 2 months time and adhering strictly to this regimen, the “After” picture revealed promising results. Encouraged, I vowed to myself to keep up with this routine.

Then life happened. I moved out, I started working full-time, I got tired, I made excuses. Soon, all the weight and toning I had lost and gained was unnoticeable again. Back to square one…or maybe I was worse off now! I thought that living on a limited budget by myself would cause a decrease in my eating, but something was just off.

Seeing as how my apartment has the largest work-out facilities I’ve ever seen for an apartment complex, I figured I would again become proactive and utilize the facilities I had at my fingertips. So, lately, I’ve worked out at least 2-3 times per week (cardio, stretching, weight lifting) and have been attempting to regulate what I eat…and I’m still not seeing any results.

Why, MOH, would you want to be so small again, you ask? Well, aside from the obvious reasons, two are most outstanding. First, when you come from a very small body shape, able to fit into whatever you want and look fit and trim in the outfits, to a slightly larger and less toned body, you get really uncomfortable. I started evaluating every girl I walked by on campus thinking, “I wish I looked like that”, “She’s so skinny!” and “At least I’m not that big” (horrible, I know). I hate the way I look, and it’s something that’s on my mind every single day, from dawn until dusk. Of course, friends and family tell me I’m lucky to still be “so small”, and they don’t understand what it’s like to KNOW you could be so thin again. They’re just trying to help, I tell myself. But I know what I COULD look like, and NOT looking that way makes me feel very uneasy about my appearance. Sure, with clothes on I look fine, but undressed or scantily clad, I’m literally disgusted with myself.

Secondly, I have a very special boyfriend coming to visit me in 37 days. Although this statement would drive feminists world-wide bonkers: I want to look my best for him. I want him to look at me and think I’m beautiful (which, I know he already does, but you know what I mean). I want to feel beautiful in front of him, I want to be comfortable in his presence, and I won’t unless I become firmer and lose some weight.

It’s just extremely discouraging when you work out so hard, sweat literally dripping off your forehead as your heart-rate skyrockets, and you find that your pants are fitting you TIGHTER than before. And I know what you’re going to say, and save your breath: It’s NOT muscle.

I haven’t yet come to terms with the reality that “I’m not 18 anymore” and “my body’s changing to adapt to child-bearing years”. I look at other girls my age and think, “Well, where the hell are HER widened child-bearing hips?” I’m a small girl; my frame is not built for flab. And yet, there it is. And it gnaws at me every day.

I’ve had people tell me the *best* diet to be on if I want to tone this and lose that. I’ve had exercise programs and menus laid out for me by my exercise fanatic friends. I know I should eat more fish. I know I shouldn’t eat out so much. I know microwave popcorn is not a healthy dinner. But LIFE happens! I just want to lose a bit of weight and look better, FEEL better about myself and how I look.

I was always known as the girl you could “pick up, twirl around and hug”. I don’t want to now be whispered about as “that girl you USED to be able to pick up, twirl, and hug, but now she just causes back problems for those that lift her.”

Moan, moan, gripe, gripe. Go to the gym, MOH!

Sorry this was so long and detailed, but like I said, it’s Friday, and I have to rant and rave about the things of this week before the opportunity passes me by! Have a great weekend everyone. I’ll be in the Weight Watchers aisle of WalMart if you want to hang out!

Too Little, Too Late

2005-11-17T09:47:00.000-08:00

A history-laden ex-boyfriend has suddenly revealed that he has recently wanted to spend time with me to see “where it would go”. He is making claims that he misses me and is extremely paranoid about and jealous of my new relationship. This comes after several months of him making quite sure I knew that he wanted nothing to do with me; that “we” were never going to be again.

This is typical of my unfortunate pattern:

Meet boy
Date boy
Become more serious with boy
Long-term relationship with boy
Boy breaks up with me (for one reason or another)Mourn over loss of boy for WAY too long
Finally move on
Find new, improved boy
Old boy comes back around
Old boy wants a relationship again

Why, after you’ve finally moved on, do they resurface and are determined to place fear and doubts in your mind by thoroughly nit-picking your current relationship? It’s not working, but it’s extremely annoying!

Austin in a Nutshell

2005-11-14T19:31:00.000-08:00

Well, seeing as how I'm still very exhausted, this post will have to be brief. I shall revert back to a good ol' college term paper outline, and bullet the highlights. You can thank me later.

The drive up to Austin was frustrating. Thank goodness we had Austin natives to guide us. Damn those One Way streets!
Never go to a restaurant on the night of a UT Longhorns home game. You'll hate the color orange (fine, burnt orange) and you'll not eat until about 2 hours after you arrive.
Don't ask the staff of the Hula Hut anything. They don't know.
Eat there anyway, because the food was really good and it's right on the lake...what a view (especially for fellow romantics)!
When you book a hotel for 2 people, make sure to have the other 5 people staying in said room wait outside, you know, so as not to appear suspicious.
Don't sing along to the Rastafarian-esque music in the taxi. It's just not cool with the driver if a white girl is bellowing out "Make cocaine leeeeegal, yeah!"
Austin bars are now smoke-free. My eyes and contacts thank the government for that.
A guy that wanted to buy my friend a drink ordered her a "Grey Goose Vodka". He was mocked by the bartender when she retorted, "Um, those are the same thing". Tsk.
I forgot how much I love to dance, and hate when I have to supress my urge to *ahem* get down.
The Drink and the Library are 2 quaint bars (both featured in the The Real World: Austin) that I rather liked. Of course, I was drinking Long Island Iced Teas, so I pretty much would have liked any old place on the majestic 6th.
DON'T listen to your girlfriend when she's trying to convince you to go to a party on the 15th floor of the Omni hotel...even if it IS like the "penthouse" (or so she says).
Apparently, cab drivers (who speak a limited amount of English) don't like when you take a picture with a flash in their taxi. Normally (see: soberly) I would have known that. Sorry Mr. Cab Driver.
Never underestimate the amount of fun you can have in a hotel room with 6 other people playing drunk Uno and TRYING to play drunk "Presidents and Assholes" with, you guessed it, the Uno cards. (Towards the end, everyone was just saying things like "Drink. Drink for not believing in my powers" and such).
You really can laugh unbelievably hard at something you're not even sure is funny or not. And that's one of the greatest feelings you can ever have.
Kerby Lane may be famous and all, but their system of getting people their tables is less than effective. They needed a bullhorn. Or someone smart to run the place. Either way, it didn't change the fact that we waited about 2 hours to eat, and I was getting that "Uh oh, gonna be sick" feeling by the time my food arrived.
Homefries are one of my new favorite foods.
Friends can sleep in the oddest positions in the back of your car when they've been sleep deprived.
Thinking that Sunday is a good day to close off a major highway that takes me to my lovely apartment because people won't be out and about is completely wrong. I hate construction.
A night in Austin with some of your best friends should be experienced by everyone. I hope Nic had a great birthday.
The only thing that would have made this weekend trip complete is if my darling would have been there to experience it with me.

And so, friends, those are the major highlights of my weekend in Austin. Did I spend too much money? Of course. Was I frustrated at some of the events that unfolded? Sure. Would I do it all over again. You bet your sweet bippy.

And a very special CONGRATULATIONS to one of my best friends, Kate, and her new *fiance* Adam. They are one of those couples that you look at and say "I hope I have that one day". Love them a lot.

Pooped

2005-11-11T12:20:00.000-08:00

Sorry guys, this post will be boring, unintelligent, non-thought provoking, and downright unnecessary. But, seeing as how it's (almost) the weekend, I won't have a chance to update because things will be so busy! Well, not the whole weekend, just Saturday.

See, Nic(orina), like me, is delighted to draw out her birthDAY to a birthMONTH. So, despite the fact that her actual birthday was this past Wednesday, we're going up to Austin to do a little celebratin' 6th Street style.

Tomorrow I will be preparing for the day. You know, picking out the most suitable outfit...something classy but sexy. The only really good thing about the weather now is that it's so warm at night that you don't have to lug around a bulky jacket and keep dibs on it at every place you swarm.

We're going to leave my apartment at around 6:15PM and head up to this "Mexonesian" restaurant where I'm sure there will be at least an hour and a half long wait. See, here in Texas, the UT Longhorns are playing their second to last...game of some sort...and it's a home game, and since they're Austin's home college team, there will be countless burnt orange and white clad Longhorn fans taking up OUR streets on OUR night! Damn them and their college football! Well, it should at least allow for some really crazy (see: drunk) characters to poke fun at throughout the night.

After dinner, it's down to not the 5th, not the 7th, but the infamous 6th Street. We will visit a bar called Touche and drink some Flaming Dr. Peppers, then head over to some other packed club and get more random and expensive cocktails, and when all the partying has been had, when some members of our party are no longer able to stand, we will hitch a taxi ride back to our hotel. To sleep it off.

We'll wake up and go to some place called Kirby's (sp?) for an amazing breakfast (so I hear), then head back home Sunday late morning to sleep off the remains of the night before. Good times WILL be had by all.

So, if you're in the Austin area on Saturday night, look for the only group of people not wearing some sort of Longhorns paraphernalia. That'll be us, and I might by you a drink.

I think this trip to Austin will be just what the doctor ordered. I have been exhausted/pensive/drained/frustrated a lot this week, so a night of good food and unwinding with great friends will surely snap me out of this poor mood I've been in! Be back Monday with updates!

Birds or Opposites?

2005-11-10T12:22:00.000-08:00

Here’s something I have been pondering:

Do you believe in “opposites attract” or “birds of a feather flock together” when it comes to significant others?

I think I was always a strong proponent of “birds”, but because of my current relationship, I am finding that differences are not always something that will doom your relationships to failure, as I had the tendency to believe.

For example: my darling and I have sent each other several CDs (yes, the newest version of a Mixed Tape). I put on his some of my most favorite and meaningful songs, as well as incorporated a few that I thought would suit his musical palate, based on what I knew about him. He sent me some really entertaining songs that were completely new and foreign to me, and then again sent me CDs of meaningful songs, random songs, and songs appropriate for driving. I can’t get enough of the distinct sounds from Over There, which is a good indication for me that occasionally stepping out of my comfort zone is beneficial.

We have contrasting opinions on religious issues, television, reading (as in, he likes to and I find it hard to finish one book in 9 months), and several other things. This frightened me at first. Could I really be compatible with someone so divergent from myself? Could I really accept the fact that he’s different from me on Point A, B, and C? Would that mean that I was sacrificing my values or standards and giving into his? Yes, yes, and no. What I have found is that our differences make me happy. Although, yes, sometimes I feel like a fool for him having more knowledge of US history than I, it gives me the desire to learn more and understand why he’s so interested in certain things. I think oftentimes I snub something merely because I was too lazy to learn about it (hellooo ignorance!), or it doesn’t strike my fancy. But when someone sheds light on a subject, spins it in a new and interesting way that makes me want to inquire more, I start to value the diverse aspects of that person.

Furthermore, if you are with someone who’s quite similar to you, sure, you might be able to decide on a movie quicker, but does it afford you the opportunity to express and investigate anything different? Well, that’s not fair to say, actually. As you move and grow and mature into a relationship, you have to experience new issues together, from which varying opinions may surface. But are you able to open each other’s eyes to new and interesting experiences, subjects, and ideas? I used to think I wanted to be with someone who paralleled me. When that exact relationship presented itself and I entered into it, I found that it was a complete disaster. The experience was like dating myself, which I KNOW I couldn’t do! Now, being with someone who mirrors me on several important issues but still has dissimilar interests and opinion than me, I can fully appreciate the other side of the coin, so to speak.

I think you need someone who balances you out. I’m a worrier, he’s composed. I’m impatient, he’s more serene. I tend to act on my emotions, he shows me a way to handle a situation which won’t have my regretting my actions a day later. Balance. Gotta have it.

It’s crazy what you continually learn if you periodically step outside that warm, comfy bubble of self-protection. Says I.

Please Welcome to the World...

2005-11-08T12:27:00.000-08:00

Chance Bradley!

I know I'm breaking my "one post per day" rule, but I just had to let y'all know that my cousin had her baby today! It's been a hard pregnancy on her, but he's out and healthy, with a head full of blonde hair!

This is a very significant event in my cousin's life (and the life of her family). On Memorial Day of 2004, my cousin, her husband, their 11 year old son and 4 1/2 year old daughter were headed to Rockport for a vacation, when a stupid 21 year old girl in the opposite flow of traffic couldn't WAIT to get to where she was going, so tried to pass 2 other cars. She couldn't make it around, however, and was headed right for my cousin's SUV. They both took evasive action, and my cousin-in-law ended up swerving into the median, flipping the Expedition. He suffered a large gash on his head, my cousin had a few cuts and some neck injuries, my 11 year-old second cousin was in critical condition, and the little 4 1/2 year old girl died on the way to the hospital.

The little boy, after a long time, recovered, but still has pain from the scar tissue. Because that family is so strong in the Lord, they somehow managed to pull through losing their only daughter, but not without a great deal of tears and unmanagable days (still). They wanted another child, and seeing as how my cousin is about 35 years old, they didn't have a leisurely amount of time to sit around and wait. So, a few months later, they announced that they were pregnant, which was a great miracle.

Nine months later, here's their new son. I know that they were hoping for a girl, and when they found out they were going to have another boy, they both cried, but were happy that God had given them another child to raise in such a loving home.

So, I welcome to the world Chance Bradley--a baby that will receive more love and kisses than he'll know what to do with!

Happy Birthday to YOOOOOOU!

2005-11-08T06:56:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is one of my best friend’s birthday! Nic(orina) is turning the big 2-6! Celebrations will transpire, complete with loads of food, drinks, and a trip to Austin that will assure me coming back with some funny/scary/embarrassing stories to share with y’all.

I have always loved my birthday even though I’m not really sure why. I have never done anything extremely special for the occasion. Even my 21st—the birthday which makes it legal for me to consume alcoholic beverages and is celebrated by people every day with wild parties and assured alcohol poisoning for at least ONE person—was not that spectacular. I went down to the Riverwalk and had some drinks with my boyfriend (at the time) and some friends. I did get to wear a tiara though…mmm, princessy!

Now, of course I’m biased because it’s MY birthday, but I really couldn’t think of a better time in which to be born. I made my way into this crazy world in May, probably the closest to a “Spring” season you could get in Texas. The weather is often very beautiful, and of course, the flowers are blooming and trees are budding and all that flowery nonsense. I love it!

Other advantages of being born in May: when you’re in elementary school, your birthday occurs RIGHT at the end of the year, so you can have a party and know that summer is just around the corner. However, you’re still in school, so you can have all the attention from fellow classmates fawning all over you because you’re the birthday girl and it’s your ONE DAY of fame! Homeroom mothers make you cupcakes—I LOVE cupcakes! You can also have a swimming party, because it’s hot enough around that time to splish splash in a pool. The possibilities for birthday fiesta fun in May are endless.

When we lived in Lytle we had one of those 3 foot above-ground swimming pools (hey, they were completely cool at the time!). I think I had a Wuzzles swimming party once, and I remember I invited some girls over from school. One of them was always vying for “Best Friend Status” with me (even though she didn’t like me…makes sense, I know. That’s how elementary school girls’ minds work) and so she got me like, an outfit or something. But this other girl I invited got me a TON of cutesy stuff, and I have this picture of Girl #1 giving Girl #2 the meanest death-to-you glare you could ever see on an 8 year old’s face. Seriously, I thought she was going to jump here by the Slip ‘n’ Slide later. Good times.

Since then, nothing too important for my special day. I mean, yes, my parents have done the whole cake/cards/presents thing every year, but I’ve never really gone anywhere or had a surprise party or anything. No, this is not a “woe is me” post, just an observation. I’ll be turning 25 this year and THAT will be an incredibly special birthday because I will be in London celebrating with my darling! That will make up for the 20 some odd years I’ve been bored on my birthday.

Any pre-birthday monetary donations to help fund my way over to London will be accepted and appreciated.

And that’s about all I got. Sorry for the lag time between posts, I’ve been in kind of a funk lately. Think I’m pulling out of it though, and will be back to normal in no time!

All Dried Up

2005-11-03T20:06:00.000-08:00

Trishy's blog got me thinking about something that I have been wrestling with for a very, very long time. Though I may try to deny it, this is an issue that stares me in the face every morning I wake up, and rests beside my head every night I go to sleep.

Basically, my faith in God is very shaky right now.

I can't even say why, really, everything in my life seems to be going really well. Aside from a few glitches at work, my job is rewarding, I have wonderful friends whom I dearly love, an amazing boyfriend, and a very loving family. And yet, when I think about God, my first reaction is a big, resounding "Meh..." and a shoulder shrug.

I've been a Christian since I can remember, one of those kids who grew up in a Christian home and I learned how to pray practically before I could speak. I know jealousy is frowned upon in the Bible, but I was always envious of those people that had really powerful testimonies like:

"I was a drug using prostitute and it was only after a brush with death that God really pulled me out of my harmful ways."

That just wasn't me. When people asked me how I became a Christian, I would just say, "I dunno, just always been one, I guess". No, I don't have to have a jaw-dropping story to go with that; being a Christian is enough for me, and I thank God that I DIDN'T have to go through something incredibly sad and tragic before I started a relationship with Jesus. But I can't help feeling that my relationship with Him has gone from "lukewarm" to "barely existent".

I know that even Christians doubt God now and then. We have questions for Him that we won't have answers to until we meet Him face to face. But now, I don't know, I'm just starting to not SEE Him or FEEL Him anywhere in my life. It's like I'm phasing Him out, but I have no good reason why.

I'm not one of those Christians that shouts praises and raises their hand when singing hymns in church. Nothing wrong with that, but that's just not me. I share my faith with people on a more intimate level. I have always been a big believer in the idea that if God wants me to share something with someone, He'll put me in the situation and help me with the words. Because Lord knows I haven't been a dedicated or diligent Bible reader.

Example of what discourages me: My sister and brother in law were at a picnic in a park for my cousin's birthday. Out of nowhere, this guy comes up to my brother in law and asks him if he knows the Lord.

"Yes," my brother in law answers, finding it a bit strange but being polite nonetheless.

"What does it mean to YOU to be a Christian? Do you know if you're going to Heaven? HOW do you know? What if you're not?"

Bombarded. Inappropriate. My sister kindly tells the man, "We're sorry, we're kind of in the middle of a birthday party here" to which he replies, "Ah, I see...too busy for God." Those kind of people really make me mad.

I don't know what I'm trying to say. Maybe I should have gathered my thoughts before I started to write. I guess the bottom line is, I know God will never leave me. I know that because I have been told it over and over again. And even though I know deep down in my soul that that statement is true, I just can't FEEL Him around me anymore.

I blame myself for this. Have I taken an active role in seeking Him out? No. Have I been lazy and put t.v. watching in front of reading the Bible or learning more about Him? Yes. Have I prayed? On and off. I pray for those that I love, those that are closest to me, but I just have this feeling that I'm not doing it right. No, there's no "right" way to pray...but I just feel like I'm going about it all wrong.

SIGH. I'm just really confused, about a lot of things. I'm going to have to start making some really, really big decisions in my life...jobs, locations, love, sacrifices, heartache, happiness, all important decisions. And I KNOW that the only way to end up being happy with my life is to fully trust God with all this. But how does a control freak let go, and NOT worry about falling and crashing to the floor with a sickening "thud". You just have faith. Yep, there's that word: "FAITH".

I just don't know what to think or how to see God anymore. It's funny, because NOW I feel like that, and yet, when I talk to someone about my faith in Him, I feel myself getting really passionate about what I believe. I suppose the main issue here is, I don't want to become dedicated to reviving my faith and relationship with God just to be disappointed when I don't see a change. But, if you seek Him earnestly, won't there be an inevitable change? Ah, good question.

Seriously, readers, my mind whirls daily because of this ONE topic. Granted, it's a pretty major one, but sometimes, all I'm left with is a headache, and am no futher along then when I started.

I'm just all dried up from being afraid of giving God my all.

(I apologize if this topic is too heavy or not applicable to some people. But it's MY blog and I'll write what I want...if that's alright with you.)

Glad It Wasn't Me

2005-11-01T07:00:00.000-08:00

This morning I witnessed a car accident. This guy was not patient enough to wait in his OWN lane, so he came barreling down the "turn only" lane and smashed into an innocent car that was trying to get out of an intersection. And the guy whose fault it was--HE was the one who looked pissed! I was so mad, but in shock because I had never seen an accident actually happen before. Plus, the cars were blocking the pathway to the road I needed, so I had to concern myself with finding an alternate route. Seriously, we need a light at this intersection.

In relaying the story to my co-workers, I realized that it's been a year ago this month (well, October) since I totalled Little Red (my cute little Honda Accord I had for several years). I was in rush hour traffic going to the juvenile detention center for work, stupidly looked down to change a CD, and rear-ended the car in front of me. I seriously didn't think I was going fast at all (we were at creep-along speeds) but the damage that was done to my front end was crazy! You would have thought I was going 60 MPH! I think I was told, though, that cars are meant to give like that to protect you. I don't really see the logic in that, but I was so upset when it happened that I took whatever comfort I could get. My car was totaled, which resulted in me purchasing Sunburn. Sunburn got her name after a mysterious melanoma-like disease spread all over her body after heavy rain and then glaring sunlight, resulting in her clear coat peeling, much like...you guessed it, a sunburn. God bless her, though, she's a great car.

What really got my goat about my first ever accident one year and 16 days ago was, the man whom I had hit, despite my hysterical crying and shaking, was incredibly put out that I had rear-ended him (doing no damage to his car) and caused HIM to rear-end the SUV in front of him (his fault; he shouldn't have been that close to the other SUV). And do you know what he told me as we were exchanging insurance information?

"You think you've had it bad. This is the second accident I've been in today. I had one earlier this morning."

Hmm...Me, an innocent girl who's never been in a traffic accident or had a ticket before versus him, who had two accidents under his belt just in THAT day. Suspicious I was.

But I still got sued.

Happy Tummy-Ache-Check-the-Candy-for-Razors Day!

2005-10-30T21:12:00.000-08:00

Do y'all remember when you were little tykes and those news reports were going out about how people would bury razor blades in the chewy candies for little innocent children to find? Right. Our extent of "monitoring" our candy was pouring it out, giving it a good one-handed sweep, and yelling to our parents, "Canweeatitnow, canweeatitnow" followed by 2 days of "I...wish...I...hadn't...eaten...that...candy."

Not too much to report. Friday I had a very wonderful date with a dashing young man. Saturday night was host to a fun Halloween party (PIC-tures!), and today saw me giving my poor car a much needed mini-bath and vacuum whilst sicking Noie on a garden frog (PETA people relax; no frogs were harmed in the making of this day).

Oh, and today I received a delicious (no, really!) package from Darling in the mail!! Came complete with Brit candy (gummies and chocolate), 3 compilation CDs of my dearest's favorite tracks, and a letter just for me. I've devoured the gummies, ate 3/4 of the chocolate bar with orange chips (American chocolate is pitiful in comparison), and have already developed some of my favorites among the 3 CDs.

Now, I'm not going to turn this into a "My Boyfriend's Better than Yours and Here's Why" kinda blog, but I do think that every now and again, I have to publicly swank about my Swanky (old LJ reference, sorry Rob, he had the name before I knew you!), and today's boasting stems from how well my Darling listens to me.

Much of the time, what I say is not very important. It is an endless string of mumblings, ramblings, and Lanette-speak that many people sift through and eventually find what I was meaning to convey. You have to mine through the rocks to get to the gold, right? Darling, however, seems to equally value the rocks and the gold, which provides me one more facet of him to love.

EXAMPLE: I bitch and moan, day and night, about driving and traffic and how I'm the GOOD driver and everyone else is crap and should have their licences revoked. Does darling interject a generic feel-good line into my pontificating? No. Instead, he creates me a 19 track CD filled with songs that he felt would at least provide me some entertainment (and not feed my rage) when I'm bounding about the city, knuckles white for the death grip I have on the steering wheel.

He sent me candy. As if that weren't enough, he sent me FOREIGN candy. And still yet, he sent me 2 meaningful candies (yes, candies can be meaningful. How? you ask? Read on, says I.)

He sent me gummies: "Maynards Wine Pastilles" to be specific. He knows I love gummie candies. I thought guys didn't pay attention to that sort of stuff. Evidently, this one does. And he sent me delicious, creamy milk chocolate. I know why he sent this to me. MY reason is: he knows how much I love to hear him utter the word "chocolate". Not only was it good, but I got the word "chocolate" repeated by him several times tonight, resulting in a happy-clapping and squealing me.

I've never really known how my darling feels about me posting about him in such a fashion. I know how he feels about HIS blog. Mine, for me, has to be an account of all things (in)significant. And he, dear readers, means the world to me. And I wish to share that with you, for this post at least. So Darling, forgive me if I've offended, but you've meant so much to me.

Bring on the FUN, you say? Dear me, it IS that time. Party Time!!! Below are pictures from Le Parte. Feast your eyes on the fear that was Hallowscream 2005!!!

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The Witch, The Post-LaFawnDuh Kip Dynamite, The Brain Donor. Behold

Preparing the 'staches with eye liner. My Sissy rocks. Everyone kept asking, "are those REAL?"

The doorbell rang, and we opened the door to the Seventies. We did a little dance. Made a little love. Basically, we got down tonight.

We grow 'em REEEEEAAAAL purty here in Texas. YeeHaw.

Post LaFawnDuh K-Tizzle, and Pre LaFawnDuh Kip Dipstick -o- Dynamite

Ever heard that song: "Coal Miner's Wife"? Me either. Ever seen Leaving Las Vegas? Me either.

We laugh in the face of danger at our parties. Sure, a huge ass lighter flame could use that oil there on cousin's coal-minin' getup to ignite this party ("the roof, the roof, the roof is on FIRE"), but we live on the edge. It's Halloween!

We were simply discussing what was on my mind. Literally.

If looks could kill...

I had ...half a mind... to play pool!

After I found my game, I lost my gauze. Smiling just doesn't look right, does it? I have a pretty sissy!

BEHOLD: The vicious Noie doth attack her beloved Bear. Sometimes good can turn into pure Evil.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!! The scariest monster of all! Lanette, having just woken up, and spied upon by her evil mother, who showed no mercy by snapping this picture whilst the monster was still in her lair! Run, chidren, run!

HAPPY HALLOWEEN EVERYONE!!

Sing a Song

2005-10-27T18:38:00.000-07:00

Well, thanks to my Brit friends, I've learned the word "knackered" and feel I can properly use it in this sentence:

"My work week has rendered me quite knackered."

Of course, I probably butchered the word and will therefore be banned from ever using any Britlandish words again, but what can I say: I'm knackered.

Seeing as how all of my brainpower this week has been used to produce a quite in-depth biannual report (the only highlight being that I taught MYSELF something new in SPSS, which has always be my hairy monster in the closet), I have nothing of my usual brilliance to write about. I did, however, come up with a rather challenging question for you, my dear readers.

I know several of you are like me, totally addicted to and living your life by music. I have a very ecclectic range of tunes that litter my iPod, from Frank Sinatra and Ella Fitzgerald, to John Mayer and Jason Mraz, to J-Kwon and Kanye West, back to Enya, curving around at Keane and the Killers, and circling back round to Ray Charles and Otis Redding. Plus many, many more.

So, MOH would like to ask you...If you could pick a song, out of the millions you know and love, that most closely resembles how you see yourself or your life, what do you think it would be? And, of course, why?

Here's mine: I know that this would be a difficult task, but somehow, someway, the PERFECT song bounded into my head; "Pick Me, MOH" it said, and who am I to argue with the voice of a song. So I have chosen John Mayer's St. Patrick's Day as the most perfect way to sum up my life right at this very instant. It's so fitting, it's eerie. Read the lyrics. Sure, John Mayer may be one of those writers that aims at tugging on the heartstrings of girls like me, but I tell you what, I completely fall for it. Here's why:

November WON'T see our goodbye, and I know I don't want to be alone at Christmas time. I'm ringing in the New Year with the person I love the most, where we probably will make resolutions a hundred times. February is always a hard month for me, but with him as my Valentine, I'm sure it will be the easiest one yet, and then...St. Patrick's Day. And we go from there. Measuring your time by the holidays you'll spend with the only person that matters to your romantic heart. That's me. All over.

A SCREAM For Help!

2005-10-25T12:46:00.000-07:00

Hello valued readers!

I know I've posted a lot in the last 24 or so hours (no thanks necessary), but I really need my readers' suggestions ASAP!

As some of you know, I had recently asked for any costume suggestions for this Halloween, as I am attending a costume party thrown by my cousin who, 2 years ago, donned a quite remarkable Aragorn costume complete with dyed jet black hair! Thank you to those who commented. But I am asking for more help!

The party is this Saturday, and seeing as how all of my creative juices have been extracted writing this here blog, I feel that it is only appropriate that you, the readers who are so priviledged as to read my deliciously fantastic stories, should now give back in the form of HALLOWEEN COSTUME IDEAS! Oh, and y'all are really funny too, and should have some smashing ideas.

I want to go as something funny, something of a pun (Nanners, please). But any suggestions otherwise are welcome. Okay, let the ideas roooooll in. Thankin' ya muchly!

Screws

2005-10-24T18:50:00.000-07:00

I would have added this to the Mother's Day post, but there were already so many random things in there already! Just a note, something made me have a good chuckle today.

As many of you know, I switched from LiveJournal to Blogger a while ago. I even left a "goodbye" post. So, you would think it dead, right? Wrong.

This morning I checked my email and found a livejournal comment was waiting for me. What?? But everyone knows I've moved on. SIGH, some people just can't let go.

So I read the subject line, and I see it says:

"your dumb"

I deleted the rest of the comment (something about them determing that I had a screw loose after reading my latest LJ entries?). Adhering to my better judgment, I resisted the tempation to leave this comment in response:

"Hi Anon (yeah, right). The next time you want to insult me, you'd be wise to do a grammar and spelling check before hitting the 'post' button, mkay? Ta!"

Just thought y'all would get a kick outta that.

NOW GO READ THE OTHER POST!

Only I Could Ruin Mother's Day

2005-10-24T14:08:00.000-07:00

Now, I know some of you have heard this story before, so read or don't, it's your choice. But events from this weekend have (unfortunately) brought this memory to the forefront of my mind. So here you go:

How I Ruined Mother's Day of 2004: by MOH.

It started off like every other Mother's Day, yeah? Woke up, made the Mom breakfast, lounged around for the day, had an early dinner, did the presents thing. All was well. My parents and I (yes, I was still living with them at the time, sue me, I was in grad school and poor!) had decided that there was no better way to top off the evening than with a nice movie from our neighborhood Blockbuster. I volunteered to get the movie whilst my mom and dad visited my Grandma and Grandpa to distribute other Mother's Days presents.

Now, something you have to understand about my mother is this: When she give you a time frame, for anything, it is statistically proven that she will be at LEAST an hour later than promised. Example: When Mom goes to Walmart to "pick up a few things" and she says she'll be back for dinner at 6PM, you know not to even start cooking until 8PM. And she will SWEAR to you that she's sticking to her shopping list ("I'm only going in for trash bags, fertilizer, and Vanilla Cokes"), but then come back with 26 bags full to the brim of groceries. "Well, I HAD to do a quick run down each aisle...." she'll try to explain. It is a pattern we have all come to know very well, and despite her best efforts to convice us otherwise, we know she'll never change.

Such was my thinking on this fateful day.

"Well, Mom and Daddy will be gone at LEAST an hour", I reasoned with myself, "I can go visit Holly's mom and wish her a very quick Happy Mother's Day." So, off I went in Little Red, to do a quick "how do!" then scurry back home for the movie and some cake.

When I pulled up to Holly's parent's house, I left my cell phone in the car because I knew it would be a quick visit. We did our great big hug hello, then she invited me in for a bit. "Oh, I can't stay long, my parents are expecting me back in a bit with a movie," I told her. However, when the two of us get to gabbing, especially when the topic is that of Holly, we are hard to stop. So, two hours later, I was telling her I should be on my way. We said our goodbyes, and I unlocked my car door and promptly sat on my cell (mobile, for you Brits) phone.

"Gah," I thought, "what a painnnnnn....WHAT THE HELL???!?!?!?!"

26 Missed Calls

"Oh sh*t," I think to myself, "someone's died!" I look to see who the calls were from...Home, Mom Cell, Sissy Cell, Brandon (ex-boyfriend at the time) Cell, Heidi Cell...this certainly cannot be good! Heart pounding, I call the first number back--Sissy Cell:

[Frantically Answers]: "Lanette???"

Me: "Sissy, what the heck is going on, I had 26 missed calls on my cell phone!"

S: "Lanette, where ARE you?"

M: "Me? I'm at the [Last name of people's] house, why?"

S: "Oh my God, Lanette, we have been looking for you everywhere!"

[My heart drops...this was about ME???]

S: "You don't even know how worried mom is, she's been crying for a good hour now. Daddy's driven all the way to Comfort, we've driven all around San Antonio, we've called everyone who knows you. Lanette, Mom's called the police and they're at the house!"

M: "WHAT?? Why, I've only been gone a short while!"

S: "Lanette, mom said you were supposed to meet them back at the house over 3 hours ago with a movie. When she couldn't get a hold of you, she started panicking and has been ever since! You need to get home RIGHT NOW!"

M: "Okay, okay, I'm on my way, just tell Mom I'm alright!"

So, I speed home, and sure enough, there's a police car, complete with flashing red an blue lights atop the vehicle. Officer James came walking up to me:

OJ: "You alright, young lady?"
Me: "Yes, I'm fine, is my mom okay? I can't believe this, I was only gone two hours!"
OJ: "She's pretty shook up, you should go in there and tell her you're alright. She said you were gone three."

So, I dashed into the house and found my sister staring at me with a look that could only be described as a combination of both irritation and fear, and my mom was slumped down in a chair, sobbing. I knelt down by my mother and said "Mom, I'm here now, everything's okay, I'm fine" but she was unable to answer or look at me, and soon, had to take some medicine and go to bed.

After hearing a bit more about how irresponsible I was, I let the emotions of the night overtake me, and I ran to my room and closed the door, sat on a chair and broke down into violent, shoulder-shanking sobs. Soon, my daddy, always the calm one in the family, knocked on my door.

Daddy: "Hey Sug (short for Sugar, it's what my parents call me)"
Me:"I...ughhh...did....ughhhh...n't....gahunhhh...mean....auhahahgh...
to...uhnuhnush...do...ugghg...thiiiiiiis"[cue violent, shoulder-shaking bawling].

Daddy then proceeded to calm me down by saying that Mom wasn't mad at me, she was just worried out of her mind, and that if anything ever happened to me, they wouldn't know what to do. Which I understood.

Some of you may be thinking...um, her parents TOTALLY over-reacted. This very much may be the case, but that is just how they (well, my mom mostly) operate. My mother is a bundle of nerves, a cornucopia of paranoia with a large handful of worry just residing in her poor, overworked, inadequate-to-handle-such-stress body. She told me once that no matter how old I get, she will always see me as a 16 year old girl, whom the world is out to tear to shreds. And THAT is what I have to live with. But God bless her, the woman loves me.

So, after I calmed down and apologized to my sister and brother-in-law for them having to drive all around town looking for their sister's carnage, I fell into an exhausted sleep. I woke up only to find that my mother had fallen ill. She came into my room, however, to apologize for getting so worked up and upsetting me so much, and assured me that her getting the flu was nothing related to what I had caused the night before. I didn't believe her.

I did, however, get a nice little speech about how I have to be more responsible with my actions, and that there are several people out there that will always be wondering how I'm doing. If I don't respond to those people in a decent timeframe, they're going to start to imagine the worst. Blah, blah, blah, that went on for about an hour.

But I understood, I got the picture, I apologized, and I knew I screwed up. And THAT is how I ruined Mother's Day of 2004.

Fast-forward a year and a half, and I will unveil the events that caused me to regurgitate this story in the first place.

Extremely brief details (because I'm tired of typing and I'm sure you're tired of reading):
1.) Mom knew I was to be attending a wedding with a friend on Saturday.
2.) Mom also knew that the dress I was excited to be wearing was at the cleaners in my Hometown.
3.) Mom knew the cleaners closed at 1:00PM.
4.) Mom knew I was supposed to be coming out to their house before the wedding.
5.) Mom knew I had been sick the past couple of days.
6.) Because of me, Mom knew the phone numbers of my closest friends.

Picture Scenario:

I had a rough night on Friday. Nic called but I didn't feel like talking to anyone. Didn't get to bed until around 4:30AM. Slept in late on Saturday, because, despite my better judgment, I decided not to set an alarm. Woke up to very loud banging sound. Upon examining peephold, saw Nic standing outside my door.

"Crap," I think to myself, "was I suppose to meet her for something?"

Open door to be bombarded with a line of questioning to the tune of "Why haven't you been answering your phone?, Are you okay?, Do you know how worried your mother is? etc."

When seeing my completely puzzled look, Nic explained that my mom had called her, worried about me not answering her phone calls, and when Nic told her that I hadn't answered HER call the night before either, Mom lost it. She was about to drive to my apartment when Nic volunteered because she was only about 10 minutes away from me.

"Oh no," I cringed, "here we go again!" I asked Nic what time it was, she said 1:20PM (EEEK), then I look at my phone, which I had forgotten to switch off of vibrate, and see that I already have 7 missed calls.

Mom
Mom Cell
Sissy Cell
Nic

Great. Just perfect. So I call up Moms and get a proper ass-chewing of large proportions...phrases I've heard many times before in my short 24 years:

"Do you know how sick you're making me?"
"Do you ever THINK?"
"How irresponsible are you?"
"When someone calls you, answer your phone!"
"How can you be so STOOOOpid?"

And so on.

It ruined my day so much, and seeing as how my mom had picked up my dress for me without me asking because she knew the place was closing (normally a nice thing, but not when she holds it over your head), there was no way I was swallowing my pride and going to pick it up from her. No. Way. So no wedding in a beautiful dress for MOH. (Lucky for me my best guy friend is getting married in January, so I can wear it then!)

On Sunday, Mom called to apologize, but I was still quite heated about the whole thing and tried to explain to her that I was 24 years old, and had moved out to be on my OWN, and not under the watchful eye of Mother with every step I take, every move I make (oh yes, she'll be watching me.)

That spawned a whole other level of lecture from her, most of which I caught every other word while I impatiently hung the phone from my jaw, rolling my eyes for no one to see. I ended up hanging up on her after she'd asked me if I wanted to come out to the house that day. No, it wasn't the most sensitive and mature thing to do, but then, neither is blaming your adult daughter for your current illnesses.

I'm sure things will get patched up, they always do. My mom and I can fight something awful, but we have a bond that will never be severed, no matter how much I would like for it to be at times. I suppose it's true what they say: I'll know when I have kids. Poor things, I feel SO sorry for them!

Completely Random Thought: How many of y'all remember the movie Flowers in the Attic? I loved that movie when I was a kid. I'm sick and twisted like that.

Oh, and a speical thanks to HOT (aka: Him Over There, aka: Darling) for calming down my very frazzled nerves when I needed him the most. For being a long distance boyfriend, he sure is the best boyfriend I've ever had. He has a wonderful way of soothing me, which is no easy task when i'm so wound up.

Ranting at 4AM

2005-10-22T02:04:00.000-07:00

It's 4 in the morning here in the great state of Texas. So why am I still up? Glad you asked (by way of me...asking myself...for you...whatever, go with it).

Well, amongst having a pretty down week, I decided that tonight would be a stay-in night, as I'm still not up to par in my wellness, and frankly, I haven't gotten a night in by myself in a while! What did I decided to do then, to pass the time away? I finished off Season 1 and 2 of The Office (the BBC version).

I couldn't be more upset. Seriously.

I won't talk about it because I'm sure there are people like me out there, who, after watching the American version think to themselves "I want to see where this originated!" and I don't want to spoil anything. I will say that, although many of the plotlines and siutations are similar, the American version and British version vary in several ways.

I have fallen in (t.v.) love with Jim, the American counterpart of Tim from the BBC version. Actually, I may have a bit more of a soft spot for Tim. He's quiet, but knows how to use his clever sense of humor, dry wit, and practical jokes at just the perfect time. He's loving in the most gentle way. Jim is the same way, although they mask his romantic feelings for Pam a bit more in the American version (I think).

Anyway, I am ending my night after having a good cry because of this show. And now I'm left with a very empty feeling because I KNOW there are no more episodes for me to watch. I'm STUCK knowing how it ended. And I'm *not* happy. I may write a strongly-worded letter.

And what's more...what do I do when Season 3 begins??? I'm already panicking.

I had to watch the DVDs with English subtitles. I would normally see this as a sad, sad confession, but c'mon! No one could understand Finch! ...Yes, yes, I know...I'd never get along in the UK very well. I'm coming to grips with this.

So, that's all I've got kiddies. Sorry to disappoint. But *I* was disappointed tonight, so I believe I'm projecting here. Time for bed.

P.S. to Nic--I know you're mad at me for doing this, but trust me, I'll want to watch them again.

Journaling: A Lost Art Form

2005-10-20T20:00:00.000-07:00

I was in the shower, thinking and washing (it's where I do all my good thinking), and as my mind darted from thought to thought (there were many for tonight), it eventually settled on a particularly disturbing blog entry I'd read earlier.

Hers was a random blog that I happened upon, and basically followed the adolescent angst-ridden patter of "I [expletive] hate my [expletive] parents. They're ruining my [expletive] life and I want to [expletive] die. Thank God for my boyfriend."

Ah, there are so many dangerous things in that small entry, but that's besides the point. The point is, she was probably all of 16 years old.

I have kept a written diary ever since I was 7 years old. My first entry read something like this:

"Dear Diary,
Today is Christmas. Santa came and brought us lots of stuff. I got:
A ring, an Etch-O-Sketch, a Lite Brite, Connect Four, some clothes, (etc.), oh, and I got YOU! (yes, i talked to my diary). I need to figure out a name so I can stop calling you "You"!" (My diary went through SEVERAL names).

Hey, I was only 7.

But as I grew older, I documented every single event of significance that occurred. From fights with and between my parents, to confessions of childhood naughty business, to our move from one small town to another--it was all in the pages of my blue diary (complete with lock and key).

Later, as I grew older and filled up the pages of Diary #1, I began to write about more mature (for my age, ahem) events. Words like "I love Anthony Pruske" and "Why do I have to look so ugly" covered the back and front of the now spiral-bound, more sophisticated journal. It was here I penned entries about how much my parents just didn't get me, friends who had wronged me, and crushes who had, well, crushed me.

Advancing in age, I graduated to an even more sophisticated journal that had something like "...for the insomniac" on the cover, which was very fitting at the time. I journeyed into high school, and because I was simply too cool to write, there isn't much documented about those 4 years. Just as well, cheerleading and the few friends I still am close with were the only good things that came out of it.

Second semester of Senior year had me begin a new journal, one just for Holly. It was there I would write to her, cry for her, mourn for her, yell at her, and laugh with her. That one never really got filled up.

Next journal was all about the first years of college and an ex-boyfriend, my first SUPER serious one. Fights and sweet gestures were written merely pages from one another, and I often go back and read about how stupid I was to fight with him about such nonsense (or, how I STILL feel I was right about that ONE argument...)

Once forth journal was filled, #5 tracked Apartment Life and Love Triangles. Among other things that are better left unsaid.

And I have been stuck on #6 for a while now. I had concluded that my busy schedule simply did not permit me time to write. With Grad school, work, practicum, and Comprehensives staring me square in the face, I hadn't time to sit down and write about how stressed I was, because the amount of time I spent jotting down my stresses would have caused more anxiety! ("Journaling!!! Lanette, you idiot. You have a paper due on EMDR in 4 hours! AND YOU HAVEN'T STARTED YET!").

I have always found writing to be extremely therapeutic. But do you want to know the biggest reason why I kept it up (well, as I reached a level of cognitive development that could spawn such a reasoning)? I want to be able to show my kids one day that YES, I (Mom, the uncoolest person in the world) DID in fact suffer the trials and tribulations you are agonizing over right now. (I'm preparing my arguments now, always be one step ahead, I figure.)

It was then I turned to online journaling. I started solidly (I had a few failed attempts at a blog) with a LiveJournal. It was very convenient, this online stuff. I could update whenever I was at a computer, which gave me easy access considering I was around computers 80% of my days. I'm a much quicker typer than I am writer (I have a thing about neat handwriting, even if no one sees it but myself), and I could make fun formatting changes.

After the fiasco that was breaking up with my crazy ex, I decided that I would turn a new leaf, and therefore, create a new journal recording my fresh start. So far, I think it's working out rather well. I'm pretty disciplined about keeping updated. However, there are a few downsides:

1.) I can't say everything I want to. Yes, I know it's my blog, but I can't very well write down everything I'm feeling, every rant I want to go on, or every action I do because it wouldn't be kosher. Despite the vast assembly of accepting readers, I don't feel I can bear my soul entirely, like I can when I write.

2.) I feel a bit of anxiety to "perform" when I blog. Sure, what I write is my own, but I spend more time than I should, editing, formatting, and worrying about the comprehensiveness of my posts (like right now, I'm thinking "Is comprehensiveness a word? Or did I just make that up? I should look it up." Too much thinking!). Normally, I do a stream-of-consciousness form of writing, which is extremely therapeutic. (On the upside: editing my posts has given me a chance to grow and REALLY see what's worth my troubles and energies).

3.) I just straight up miss writing. There was something special to me, there always was, about sitting down with my journal, pen in hand, just busting at the seems to "get this off my chest". Sure, there is that "Phew" feeling I get after I blog, but it's just not the same. I can't take my monsterous computer to Starbucks, sip Peppermint Hot Chocolate, and people-watch as I type. Just not the same.

Well, Lanette, get thee to writing then, says you. Ah, not so easy, says I (suddenly I'm a pirate. Nar.) I have found that my attention span for anything non-computer related (journaling) that COULD be computer produced (via blog) has diminished significantly. Which saddens me.

Where has all the journaling gone? How is it now that 12 year old pre-pubescent children can access www.imyoungandeverythinghatesme.blogspot.com and type their fears and worries away? Don't they want some private time to say what they mean? Don't they want to curse their parents and love their first crushes within the confines of whisper-thin pages? Don't they want something EASY for their siblings to find? I mean, the chance of Little Sister happening upon their Older Sister's blog by clicking "next blog" is just as great as Britney Spears ever redeeming her dignity.

I cry for today's youth, and thank God that I wasn't young when "BLOGS" boomed. Everyone needs to write. That's just my humble opinion.

Gah, I'm OLD.

A Bit of Advice

2005-10-20T09:14:00.000-07:00

I find it amazing how other people can help you grow and serve as a catalyst to self-discovery.

I’ve never been good at “rising above it” when someone wrongs me. But, due to recent events concerning a bitter ex-boyfriend, I have had to learn to be that kind of person. I couldn’t have done it without a great deal of help, which I am very appreciative for, because if D hadn’t been there to make me see the bigger picture, I would have looked just as foolish as the source of my irritations.

I guess this is the part called “maturity” in grown-up life. I don’t know about you, but I have a knee-jerk reaction to automatically respond in the way I see fit when I am disrespected. After all, they shouldn’t get away with that!

But I realized that in past experiences, I would do anything I could to rouse a reaction out of the person with which I longed to communicate. I didn’t care if it was a reaction of anger; I just wanted to know that they were LISTENING to me. I wanted to know that I still got under their skin and that they cared enough about my presence to respond to my desperate attempts at keeping myself on their radar. Sometimes, it would work. But one particular time, it didn’t, and I was never more pissed off.

So, the secret is: If you want a childish someone who’s provoking you to react and blatantly lying about you to leave you be—don’t respond to them. And that will drive them batty for a while, until they finally get the hint that you’ve moved on, and then they do so themselves (one would hope).

I understand fully how hard this is to do, and not everyone will have an ally in their corner coaching them, calming them down and keeping things straight, as I did . But it will be most beneficial in the end to put this into practice.

I believe I am a much better person for this decision to rise above the immaturity, but could not have reached it on my own. I am thankful for the people in my life that keep me grounded, sane, and unbelievably happy!

Sickie but Happie

2005-10-18T19:47:00.000-07:00

Bah. I'm sick. And it hurts. But I'm in a wonderful mood.
Working full-time definitely has it's advantages. The accumulation of sick days affords you the opportunity to call in whenever you're under the weather, as I did today. They also allow you the opportunity to spend that one extra day with a certain out-of-town visitor if you don't have enough personal and vacation days saved up. But I do, so we're good to go.

Because I was sick today, I got the chance to spend some quality time with my D. We had some wonderful conversations, laughed a great deal, and did a bit of December planning. He made me feel better than any medications I was prescribed.

I know I have to go back to work tomorrow, but I'm extremely thankful for the day I had today. Even if it was at the expense of my poor body.

Question: What's everyone doing for Halloween? And do you have any good costume suggestions for me?

Excuse Me...Need to do Some Back Patting

2005-10-17T22:46:00.000-07:00

I just changed the format of my blog...ALL BY MYSELF!! Who's proud of me? C'mon, who's proud?

Added me some links and threw a few of y'all on my sidebars as well (hope you're not minding).

And I did this all on a sleepy pill (my body decided to go ahead and break on me, so I'm not sleeping well tonight without it).

Sidenote: As Darling pointed out before, the fantastic thing about BlogPatrol is that you can see everyone who visits your blog on a daily (hell, hourly) basis, in addition to how many times on those particular days these people frequent your blog. Just thought I would throw this friendly reminder and kindly ask that YOU* stop reading.

*YOU know who you are.

Wedding Bells and the Such

2005-10-15T00:18:00.000-07:00

I had been stumped as to what to write next in this here blog. But, upon composing an unnecessarily long email to my Darling, I found the subject: The blissful event that is A Wedding.

I love weddings. I know a good handful of you would groan at the sight of a frilly invitation sneaking its way into your mailbox (or "post", for you over there), but I go against the norm when it comes to this.

Flashback to 2003. What a busy year. Not only was I graduating from undergrad, I was also involved in two weddings a mere week apart from each other. First was my sister and brother in law's, the second was a childhood best friend's a week later. The hustle and bustle of buying bridesmaids dresses, having them altered, getting my incredibly long hair tortured and up-doed (because of which, I now have a hatred of bobby pins), creating extraordinay pew decorations, and calming my sissy down, I hadn't the time to just ENJOY the events. Some 5 months later, I found myself in my cousin's wedding somehow (I think it had to do with the fact that there were more groomsmen than bridesmaids at the time, and my cousin wanted to "keep it in the family" so POOF, there I was. Whatever, I still got to wear a pretty dress... ).

Cut to March of 2005. I'm at my cousin's wedding. Now, there's something to be said of this marriage, as it was a milestone in MY life as well (and we all know that the universe does, in fact, revolve around me). See, I thought my cousin, Chris, and I had an understanding. I thought we had this unspoken agreement between us that went something like this: YOU WILL NOT GET MARRIED UNTIL I AM AT LEAST ENGAGED. He broke that accord (okay, so maybe it was just something I created, but still...he's my favorite cousin, he should have KNOWN this stuff).

So, I knew what was to come. It's the customary, rote dialog that is spewed at me: clockwork.

Drunken Relative: "So, another one gone, eh, Lanette?"

Bitter Me: "Looks that way, Uncle _______."

DR: "So..."

BM: [cringing in wait]

DR: "When are we gonna be seeing YOU walking down that aisle?"

BM: [feigning polite laughter] "Oh, you know...I guess I'd first have to get a boyfriend."

DR: "Now, how does a pretty girl like you NOT have a boyfriend?" [Generic attempt to boost
my self esteem].

BM: "Gee, Uncle _______, I guess I just haven't found the right guy yet."

DR: "Well, no one's gonna be good enough for OUR baby." [Gives sloppy, half-drunk kiss on cheek]

BM: "I suppose not!"

DR: "Well, I'll tell you this, if I were 20 years younger..."

BM: [Nervous laughter] "HahahaaaaOkay, say, I'm gonng go get a drink now"

DR: "Mmm, a drink'll hit the spot!" [stumbles off to Open Bar]

And thus, you have the conversation I face at EVERY relative's wedding. Now, I know my family means well, but there's only SO MANY times you can hear this spiel before you die a little inside. At least, with my last cousin's wedding done, I won't be subjected to this torture for a while. Now, if my 13 year old second cousin passes me up, I'm going to have to change my views of weddings.

Despite all this, I have remained unjaded, and still find a wedding an exciting event. Tomorrow I am going to a wedding for 2 people I don't even know. One of the girls from work's brother is getting married, and she wants friends there she knows, so me and Nic(orina) will be crashing it. Complete with our flashy (but well concealed) flasks of liquor (as it's not an open bar). I have a very gorgeous dress to wear (compliments of this friend), and I'm excited to get all DOed up and have a fun time with great friends. We've even contemplated the idea of calling a cab to take us to and from the wedding and reception, so we can get properly boozed (although not so much to warrant a hangover the next morning) and still be safe.

I remember The Actress telling me once about how her and Significant Other of the Actress attended a wedding together. Now, I don't remember if they didn't know the people well or if there were other circumstances that kept them cuddled up in a corner table together, but I recall her telling me what a fun time they had. They would make fun of people, talk about those around them, Significant Other would practice his best "Tom Anderson" (Tom?) impression, and they would just sit back and have long conversations about nothing and everything at once.

Upon hearing this story at the time, I envisioned myself in the same situation, with my unknown significant other. I imagined how wonderful it would be to play the event off as our own (cheap) date. You know...both of us getting dressed nicely, him picking me up, both of us attending the wedding (me secretly planning ours at the same time: "I would have pink roses instead of red ones up there at the alter", etc.). Afterwards, driving to the reception talking about how nice the wedding was, but did YOU think it a bit strange when the bride sang to her groom, or did you notice the ring bearer picking his nose and later tasting the sample he'd collected?

At the reception, we nervously hold hands, searching for SOME familiar face, but upon finding none, we retreat to a lesser known table in the corner, where thankfully, no one bothers to sit with us. Over a good meal and even better free drinks, we proceed to get happily buzzed and strike up humorous conversation, with long glances shared here and there that have such a romantic air about them that they make both our hearts stop beating for a split-second.

A song is put on by the DJ of a slower nature, and due to our tipsy state, we brave the public stares and make our way to the dancefloor. In time, we are simultaneously swaying to the beat, wrapped up in each others arms, a stolen kiss here and there. Once our romantic urges are satisfied, we saunter off hand-in-hand back to our secluded table for cake and conversation.

All dancing and drinking done, we head home, quite at times and staring out the windows at the night sky. At home, well...that's for my imagination only.

And so that's how I see it played out. A bit over the top and beyond reality? Maybe, but I'd like to think not.

I hope that one day I get to share this experience with someone I truly love, because I think it would be one of those times we could both look back on and say, "I fell in love with you a little more that night."

Sidenote: A visit to the previous post would explain how I daydream in such detail.

Mushy Me

2005-10-12T19:16:00.000-07:00

Debi recently posted something that was most heartwarming. Read the 2 part story to find something that satiates the cravings of a true hopeless romantic.

I'm not quite sure how I became this Hopeless Romantic. I have no idea how I developed to be a lover of sappy girly movies, someone who can picture her future with her husband by listening to a single maudlin song, or a girl who will watch a movie repeatedly, just because it reminds her of her love so far away.

I mean, my parents were "normal" (although, in Psychology, they teach you that "normal" is a relative term). They weren't super affectionate with each other, and have even spent the last several years on a very rocky path, teetering between tolerating and hating each other. And my sissy? Well, she was so scarred from underdeveloped social skills from the shoddy town we grew up in that she didn't even date until her Junior year of college.

I guess it all began with Anthony Pruske. Ah, my first love. You know, he was that guy that made me hurt in my heart because I truly wanted to be with him. It was 6th grade, yeah, but you never forget your first love. (Although later, he found out I liked him, asked me out for a joke [kept secret from me], then had his best friend call my answering machine 4 days later to break up with me. Our "relationship" ended with my whole family hearing the message before I did. Yep, gave him all kind of crap for that a few years later, when he expressed interest in me...)

Anyway, I suppose from then on I was hooked on this magical mystery called LOVE. I may have gone through a time when I was a bit pessimistic and cynical about romance, but I never fully renounced it (hmm...kinda like my faith in God). And it was worth it. Let me tell you, it was well worth it.

In conclusion: as long as there are writers that keep creating mushy romantic comedies, as long as there are singers that croon about unrequited love, and as long as there's a certain boy that fuels my *profound* thoughts all day long, I will remain a lifelong member of the Hopeless Romantic faction.

Sidenote: I saw an episode of In Living Color tonight. Wow, I used to LOVE that show. I've seen it offered on DVD, y'know, the box sets? Thinking of buying them, riiiight after I purchase The O.C. (season 1 and 2). Someday... they will be mine.

It's...Real Now

2005-10-08T23:03:00.000-07:00

So, that's it.

Darling has bought his ticket to the Lone Star State. I can't wait until he arrives. Then, and only then, will you see me the happiest I have ever been, and could ever be.

Now it's really, really real. It's really going to happen. How did I get to be this lucky? Maybe it's not luck. Maybe I'm just blessed.

I'm Eating My Words!

2005-10-07T22:14:00.000-07:00

Mmmkay.

So I thought I wanted colder weather. I mean, it was October 5th for Heaven's sake, and we were at 90 degrees still! But all I wanted was a bit of a chill in the air. Not a complete 180 to Winter. But alas, we have no Fall or Autumn here in the Lone Star State...just mild and spicy hot. Today, however, marks the first day of me not blasting the air conditioning in my apartment or sweating on my way home from work, and the first day I rummaged around in my closet for something long-sleeved. You know what this means, though, don't you? Colder air = Darling Visit Time getting closer!

Things have just been off the wall crazy. I spoke too soon about no longer being the Data Entry Girl, as that's ALL I did today, from 8:30 to 4:30 helping out on an asthma intervention project. Because of 8 solid hours of nothing but Excel and really poor handwriting, I had a massive headache that only increased in strength when I couldn't find my car in the parking garage (does anyone else get SUPER confused by those things...levels and whatnot?). All I wanted to do was come home and relax, talk to my Darling, watch some t.v....unfortunately, this was not going to happen for 2 reasons:

1.) My friend Ximena has recently gotten engaged but failed to tell anyone at work because her fiance does not have her ring yet. As I found this out today, she also informed me that they were going out to dinner with her parents so her fiance could tell her father (yes...weird for 2 reasons. A.) Shouldn't he have asked first and B.) Shouldn't he STILL ask and not TELL the dad? Like my sub-categories?). She asked me to go over and do her hair, which, how could I say no on an important day like this? So, despite my utmost unwant to go anywhere, I pulled off the job rather nicely. I can always rely on being a hair stylist.

2.) Nic's brother was in town. She convinced him to come here after his attempts to nurse a broken heart had failed. There's nothing like a bit 'o Nic and Laney to get him back on his feet. He's a good, funny kid, he'll be back in no time. So we had dinner. After that, I bought 3 DVDs for $20. I seriously think I have a DVD purchasing obsession.

So, after a very long day, I have finally come home to relax in my bed and catch up on shows I've taped throughout the week. Some idiot scheduled a brunch tomorrow at Madhatter's Tea House and Cafe at 10:30AM...on a Saturday? Who could have...oh wait, it was ME! But, who's going to deny Disappearing Bennies?

The rest of my weekend will consist of a visit to the parents, playing with Noie, time with my D, and catching up on sleep! I thought I was supposed to be this busy when I was 18 and still had the stamina for it!

For your viewing pleasure*, here are more pictures my Darling took for me today when he was...ahem...out and about. Enjoy!

Isn't this just beautiful? Even on a dreary day, it's still the place I most want to be right now.

And here's the London Eye. This is one of the places I'm most looking foward to visiting with D. You just don't really see anything like that here. Or maybe I just don't get out much.

A view behind Waterloo Bridge: apparently, that's the dome of St. Paul's, and you can just see, in the distance, the reason why that there building is nicknamed "The Erotic Gherkin" by Londoners.

This photo was taken from the south bank of the Thames. Or so I'm told. Big Ben is in the background. I love how it all looks so majestic. The buildings there look marvelous. Someday I shall see for myself.

*Special thanks to my D for sending these lovely snapshots!

Isn't That The "DATA ENTRY" Girl?

2005-10-05T11:54:00.000-07:00

I have never been one to have complete confidence in myself. I know that, when put to the test on any given project, I will pull through with a great deal of success...but would I have thought that before the project was laid in my lap? Absolutely not.

I have inherited the very pesky gene of "perfectionism" from my mother. Now, mine is scaled down quite a bit (thankfully), but it's there nonetheless. So, when I feel I am not able to do a project in a perfect manner, I will gladly pass it up. I can't deal with failure. That's why I was okay with my initial position at work.

I've been working at my job at this particular Health Science Center since June of 2003. It saw me through 3 very bad breakups, a death in the family, and a very stubborn toe fungus. This job is where I have met my best friends, and has actually provided me with a life OUTSIDE of work, as ironic as that is. However, for so long, I was "the Data Entry Girl".

You know her. You have her in your office. She's the quickest fingers on the 10 key this side of [enter your state here]. She can flip through paperwork without Tacky Finger and be not papercut. She can almost predict the numbers that will appear on the endless stacks of surveys before her. Numbers are her life.

This was me until June 1st, 2005. I was promoted to Social Science Research Associate II, a position which bumped me up from Data Entry Girl to Project Coordinator. It's a much esteemed position with more pressing responsibilities, such as database management and statistical analyses. Yes, I make more money. But what about my roots, my origins...what about the data entry?

I need not worry. Part of my SSRA II responsibilities include data entry, so I don't stray too far from where I began. I can still have my comfort zone. I don't want that corporate "big head" that so many other "big wigs" have. Nope, not me. I stay grounded, focused, and aware of my humble beginnings.

However, today was a milestone in my HSC career. I attended my first "Project Coordinators" meeting. Now, it's true that I have been a coordinator since June, but I've never felt it was my place to attend their meetings or participate in their activities. After all, wasn't I JUST the "data entry girl"?

But today, my boss (who happens to be the Principal Investigator for project I am the Project Coordinator on; it's a hierarchy thing) explained to me that yes, I should be in attendance because yes, I WAS the coordinator. So, I stepped into the conference room, as well as into some rather large shoes I must now fill. I have now acknowledged that I am an integral part of this company, and that my place here IS valued. Sure, it was before because, without the Data Entry Girl, you can't very well get your data entered. But that takes the skills of a high schooler. To be a Coordinator...well, that's a horse of a different color. So today, I *finally* began to feel valued at my work, simply because I now realized that yes, I DO have an important role!

Somewhat of a bland entry, but it was a profound* thought I had today.

Well, that thought, along with the horrific dream I had last night, and a very real email sent to me from my Darling, that seemed to have caused me to like him even more because it showed that he trusts me.

*Profound: Not in the way you're thinking, D.

***********************************
In relation to my previous post, my Darling brought to my attention another location we MUST visit when I'm over there. It's just about the sweetest thing I've seen!

It's called a "Kissing Gate". The story is, a man may go through the V shape entry way and through the actual gate, but he will demand a kiss from his lady before he will let her through.

It's a very antiquated tradition, I'm sure, but anyone who knows me understands that I'm ALL about tradition. I can just imagine a nice stroll through some countryside, happening upon a Kissing Gate, and sharing a meaningful kiss with my Darling as we continue to walk, hand-in-hand, and enjoy each other all the more.

I can hardly wait!

Itinerary: My D and Me 2006 (tentatively speaking)

2005-10-03T08:21:00.000-07:00

May 2006 will mark my first overseas adventure. I will be traveling to wonderful Britland (more specifically, London) to spend time with my Darling. Because he is coming here in December, I decided that I would return the traveling favor by joining him during the spring (and, by *pure* chance, be there for my birthday!)

Because I am so excited about this adventure, and also because it's way too far away and I'm not a patient person, we have already started talking about the places we will potentially visit. And so, here are said places, for all the readers to see!**

My Darling (D) has a dear friend that lives in Swansea, so enroute from D's hometown to Friend's hometown, we'll (as Darling says) "pass some stones some careless people left lying around in the South of England." Stonehenge: now that will be surreal, but beautiful!

D made the suggestion that once we've seen Stonehenge, on

the way to see his dear friend we should stop to see the Roman baths. I'm always up for more culture!

Apparently, when we're traveling from Swansea to North Wales, we'll be going through some deserted lands. According to D, there will be few highways. He says even though Wales could probably fit inside Texas a good 20 times, this may take us the best part of two days. Eventually we'll have to cross Snowdonia, shown in this picture.

We will have to reach the Island of Anglesey, which (I hear) is "tricky" because the Menai Straits seperates it from the mainland. Fortunately for us, there is a bridge. When looking back from Anglesey, we will be able to see the Snowdonia mountains we've left behind.

Shortly after arriving in Anglesey, we are planning a visit in the town of ...wait for it...

Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, which is quite a mouthful. According to my little researcher, it translates as "St Mary's church in the hollow of the white hazel near a rapid whirlpool and the church of St Tysilio of the red cave". Apparently, my Darling has the inside scoop as to the REAL origins of the impossibly long but incredibly fun to try and say out loud name.

Has anyone seen the movie or read the book, Watership Down? I've heard the name before, but have never heard what it was about until today. Somewhat disturbing, I must say. But, because it's located somewhere D knows well, he wants us to go walking on this path, which apparently is close to the book's setting.

D and I have also discussed a possible trip to beautiful Ireland, one of the top 5 places on my "To Vist Before I Die" list. I'm not too sure what drew me to Ireland, but there has been a longing in my very soul to visit this land. Just look at how beautiful it is!And so you are now clued into my itinerary, as dictated (gladly) by D, who knows so much! I must say, I will have the best tour guide that Jolly Old London has to offer. It's just a perk that he "fancies" me as well!

<--Additionally, I would like to visit here...

...and here as well.

And there you have it. Should anyone have any further suggestions or comments, please, do feel free! As the months pass by, I shall eagerly await my overseas adventure. Despite all the beauty and culture, I find that it may not be those things that prove most significant of my time spent abroad. No, the highlight of my trip will be the company that I keep...that keeps me. Memories to be made and never forgotten.

Now, I just need to get me a passport...

**Much of the text providing histories and descriptions of above landmarks are credited to D. I only changed words like "the" or "and". I'm THAT good.

An Upgrade? Really?

2005-10-02T22:09:00.000-07:00

Received this email from a friend. Had to share.

Dear Tech Support,

Last year I upgraded from Boyfriend 5.0 to Husband 1.0 and noticed a slow down in the overall performance, particularly in the flower and jewelry applications that had operated flawlessly under Boyfriend 5.0. In addition, Husband 1.0 uninstalled many other valuable programs, such as Romance 9.5 and Personal Attention 6.5, but installed undesirable programs such as NFL 5.0 and NHL 3.0. And now Conversation 8.0 no longer runs and Housecleaning 2.6 simply crashes the system. I've tried running Nagging 5.3 to fix these problems, but to no avail. What can I do??

Desperate

Dear Desperate,

First keep in mind Boyfriend 5.0 is an entertainment package, while Husband 1.0 is an operation system. Try to enter the command C:/I THOUGHT U LOVED ME and download Tears 6.2 to install Guilt 3.0. If all works as designed, Husband 1.0 should then automatically run the applications Jewelry 2.0 and Flowers 3.5. But remember, overuse can cause Husband 1.0 to default to Grumpy Silence 2.5, Happy Hour 7.0 or Beer 6.1. Beer 6.1 is a very bad program that will create Snoring Loudly.WAV files. Whatever you do, DO NOT install Mother-In-Law 1.0 or reinstall another Boyfriend program. These are not support applications and will crash Husband 1.0.

In summary, Husband 1.0 is a great program, but it does have a limited memory and cannot learn new applications quickly. You might consider buying additional software to improve memory and performance. I personally recommend Hot Food 3.0 and Lingerie 6.9 Good luck!

Tech support

Delicious.

Blog Virgin No Longer

2005-10-02T09:11:00.000-07:00

Yes, well.

I have recently been turned on to this World of Blogging (WOB, if you will), and have decided that, no, my current LiveJournal just ISN'T as exciting. Ex-Boyfriend turned me onto LiveJounal, as he had one, so I figure that's reason enough to get rid of it.

I just love to see how people that you've never even known existed can comment on these words that you write. Call me crazy, but I *like* knowing what other people have to say about my sometime dramatic, oftentimes boring, and yet completely fulfilling life.

So, goodbye LiveJournal and hello Mr. Blog! I can't promise a novella fit for Lifetime Television, but I CAN promise the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth (Or so help me....!)

Some Blog Resolutions (ahem):

No more boring "this is what I'm going to do today, hour by hour" posts. No, that just won't do.
A bit of mystery now and again.
Cut down on the freaking marathon posts I manage to spit out (although, it's not my fault. It's COLLEGE's fault for turning me into the world's best bullshitter)
Make more Blogger friends (so please, feel free to post)

That being said, I shall tell you a bit about myself (a bit "first date"esque, no?). My name...well, it starts with an "L" and is not too often heard. I hail from Texas (has often been referred to as "The United States of Texas", I guess to hint at our pride for our state. I'm not *that* bad, I just love it here. Sue me.). I graduated from Graduate School and obtained my Master's Degree in Community Counseling, with the hopes of one day finishing out my plans of becoming an LPC (Licensed Professional Counselor). I had to leave my Safe College Bubble, however, when all that was left for me was a PhD, so now you'll find me at my job at our university's Health Science Center (where I've been for nearly 3 years, but always part-time). I thoroughly enjoy going to work for 8 hours, then being FREE for the rest of my day and weekends. No tests, not papers, no projects, no groups with slacking members to pull weight for...just ME time.

Well, ME and my boyfriend time. Yes, I suppose I technically have one (I call him my boyfriend, "Darling" to you anyway). We "met" in an unorthodox manner, but I wouldn't have it any other way. He may make an appearance or two on here.

I have finally, FINALLY proved my independence from the Safety Umbrella I call my parents, and am living on my own in a very quaint apartment. Every sound makes me jump. But...I'm...IndePENdent...so I live with it.

I have only recently found my best friends (they LIE about the fact that you "make your best friends in college". No you don't. Not if you go to a "commuter" college and bury yourself in an unappreciative boyfriend for the majority of your Undergraduate career. Blah.). I find myself actually BUSY and longing for some alone time, which is weird coming from the girl who used to dread weekends because it meant finding out just how alone she was.

Three of my best friends no longer live within walking distance of my home. (I hope he doesn't mind me being a copy cat, but I'm going to steal Boyfriend's idea and give names to all my friends. It's more fun that way. I used to *hate* when people would copy me, though...). So, The Example is currently serving God in Israel, and proving her couraged (sponsered by Mr. Almighty) by stepping on buses that take her to terroritst checkpoints and whatnot. The Actress is currently in Washington, D.C., living a life I have always dreamed of. The Vet is currently following her dream of becoming a veterinarian all the way to St. Kitts in the Caribbean.

So, that's me in a nutshell (cue Austin Powers quote here). Hope y'all enjoy. I know *I* will.

To put a face with a (blog) name, here's me. I'm narcissistic that way.