Can You Believe It?

I am indifferent to midgets. I never thought there would be the day when I'd see a midget and not observe. No, they're not freakshows. And I hate that I am referring to midgets as "they" and "them" so maybe I am not so enlightened. But tonight, while leaving my train, I saw a woman who just happened to be a midget. And I looked at her like she was a normal person (weird!) and it wasn't until I processed how I actually didn't think anything of it that I realized that I have been conditioned by Manhattan to not take note of such things. I've most likely seen something to top it, or I have learned just to not care. Too much hustle and bustle. Not that not caring is necessarily a good thing, but I am saving this midget woman's feelings, aren't I? I didn't stare 0_0 and look at her as though she deserved to be stared at. I'm sure in the boonies she gets it enough. Rather, anywhere. And I was proud that I didn't care. But the fact that I am paying so much attention to it now makes me no better. So forget I said anything.

Buzzes like a fridge

so, I have had things run through my head. I am anxious. I run around so much from point A to point B, I keep thinking I will forget something as I leave the house and I will be devastated. Things like: my monthly pass, metro card, cell phone, a textbook, my clothes. Yes, my clothes. I keep thinking that I will forget to put clothes on and I won't realize it until I get to the office when everyone is staring at me and my flesh. And I'm not sure if the reaction will be positive. And then I'll have a panic attick when I look down and the only things covered are my feet. sigh.

Pink roses on black panties

Yup.

It has been way too long. I stumbled upon some old e-mails that I have sent people. Funny how things change. Funny what words mean. Especially when words are all two people have. Funny how my underwear is black with pink roses. I have lost twenty pounds since March of '09. Random. But funny. My unnecessary English class has me freewriting to improve my skills at life. Well, I really dislike this English class. It sets me back about four years. But it does make me feel smart because I surpass expectations. Anyway, I thought I would write something. Ya know what else is funny? Steve Guttenberg is a spokesmen for train safety. How desperate is his career that he tells me to watch the gap between the train and the platform. Well, Steve Guttenberg, has-been of the '80's, if you say so, I guess I will try not to slip my huge ass down that tiny slit. It made me giggle while waiting for the train today. Even though I was gagging on the poop air. I thought one of the stationary trains had something wrong with it, because there was an awful stench in the air. Eventually I realized the cesspools were being emptied out, and it was actual shit that I smelt...not something that smelt like it. I was gagging for twenty minutes. I had visions of lazy, fat crackheads "pinching their loaf" as Dr. Paul would say. Ew. Gross. But now it's kind of funny.

That's the way I like it

It seems centuries have passed since I last wrote a blog. Some days I forgot I had one, but mostly, I have had nothing cool to say. Why bother writing for the "world" to see if it isn't cool?

I have been thinking a lot lately. About work and friends and past friends and all of our futures. It's so funny to me that people in high school--who seemed sooo important at the time--I could give a fuck less about now. Now, of course, they are still fascinating to stalk on Facebook, and to see if they are in relationships, or alone, or fucking crazy, et cetera. But it is mostly to see who sizes up to my life. I wonder what people think when they check on my page...if anyone does, for that matter. Maybe I was never that cool or important in high school to check up on now, anyway.

Anywho, what do people see when they stalk my Facebook? Probably just another somebody that they graduated with. Just another somebody going to school and leading a boring and normal life. A girl that doesn't go out a lot, or laugh a lot anymore. A girl who looks much older than twenty. Perhaps it's an identical girl, just with shorter, red hair. Yeah, I used to think that my red hair made me special. It's like, Ooh, look how different and unique I am now with my locks of red. I am nothing like I was in high school because of my hair. Bull shit.

This blog means nothing. It is worthless and I am sorry it is a complete waste of your time. I will try harder to not suck so much. After all, you are innocent and perfect, and I'm just a selfish loser.

I am going to eat a bowl of cereal now.

Peace and love for another day.

Is there a towel song?

Has it really been almost two months since I have written in my blog? How insane! Same time last year I had a blog being posted almost everyday because I was home from college and I absolutely hated it and wanted nothing more than to cry and walk back to Hempstead where it is so much safer and nicer. And here I am now, amazed that I have had no time or energy to write in a blog. I'm sure Andrew has checked my page a here and there, hoping that I had something AMAZING to say. But I failed him. And he wept and sucked his thumb and boo hoo hoo. Suck it.

I'm in a towel. That would be because I just got out of the shower. And by just, I mean thirty minutes ago. I love my towel time. Ryan is sleeping next to me. The bastard probably isn't, he is probably awake reading everything I am writing. Nah, he's sleeping. He must be because we both sleep the same way, on our side/stomach, with our arms buried in our faces. His phone keeps going off...someone is calling him now. Hmm...



A good segway...

FRAN'S BIRTHDAY LIST:

1) Nike running shoes
2) A yellow desk
3) 26" flat panel TV with built in dvd player.
4) a puppy/ doggie :)
5) new, crazy awesome sunglasses
6) a vacation
7) health insurance
8) a phD in psychology
9) coach wallet
10) a big white house with a wrap-around porch, big windows and widows walk.
11) a shaker with my initials on it
12) a netbook
13) The Glyde
14) Fever Pitch on dvd
15) My Big Fat Greek Wedding on dvd
16) daisies
17) kisses
18) iTunes gift card
19) moola
20) cuddles.

You are the smell before rain

It finally happened. That inevitable "it" that occurs between two people in love who do not want to be separated for any period of time that is unnecessary. Last night Ryan and I discussed living together. Not in a 100% serious tone. But in a light-hearted what-if kinda way. Started with me saying how I'd want to get an apartment closer to school. Duh, I had been thinking about it, and so had he, but we both actually brought it up. I guess it's nice to know that feelings are reciprocated like that.

I think I'm going to ask for a raise next month.

I'm not sure what's going on with the weather. The first day of Spring it snows and it's like thirty degrees out now and it's almost April. Who was right when she said there would stop being a spring and a fall? This she, right here.

It is almost Jen's birthday. I cannot say that I am as excited as Jen because I know she is stoked, but I'm happy to go out and celebrate something, ya know? I feel like it's been too long since all of us have gone out and done something. Not since the comedy club, I guess. It will be nice to have a large group go out and have laughs and drinks and forget about the crumbling world. Our crumbling lives.

I have a headache :(

Umm...what else can I be random about? Oh yeah! Tonight on the train, I sat next to dog shit. At least I'm assuming it was shit from a dog. Dried shit, at least. But shit none the less. It took almost the ENTIRE train ride to figure out my foot was leaning against poop. When I finally did, I examined it just to make sure it was dung. And then I thought it was funny that I didn't notice. And then I laughed even more about it because I didn't move my seat. I was tired and only had two more stops. So sue me. And I texted Coral and told her all about it and she couldn't believe there was actual shit next to me. I guess it's not that hard to believe there was bone dry fecal matter on the LIRR. It's just one of those I-can't-believe-there-was-crap-next-to-me-and-I-didn't-notice-until-the-end kinda thing. It's like playing in a mud puddle for an hour only to realize the hard chunks you thought were rocks--and were consistently tossing around at your mud buddy's head--were actually hard cow droppings. Okay, maybe it's not the same...at all...but ya'll know what I mean.

I'm tired of school. I'm tired of the commute. Mostly because I'm spending $160/month on train tickets and $40 in metro cards just for two classes. I guess if I had a fuller plate, I wouldn't feel like I was wasting it so much. Whatevs. I hope my life turns out to be something. Sometimes I look at what happened to my mom and can't help but to think I'll end up just like her. She commuted to a CUNY school and stopped going to school to work full time and help support her mom. I'm considering doing another semester part time at Hunter just so I can keep working full time to pay for my car so my parents have less to worry about in the way of money. Thanks to the Bush administration, it's hard to keep your job these days, and it seems like my dad's is slowly disappearing from him. He works about two times a week, on average. And he obviously never got the full time position. He probably lost it to a younger guy who was guaranteed to stay for a long time. What's the point in guaranteeing an old man forty hours a week plus benefits, if it costs you money, only if he is going to leave in five to seven years? And what guarantee does this older man have of keeping up with the work when he's sixty? So, we are going to be uber poor again. Hey, my mom is lucky enough to get almost $40,000 a year, but that doesn't mean we can all live off that, ya dig? Anywho, I digress. My point is, I feel like if I work more, I can give my mom more money so we aren't so poor. But that means giving up my own education to do so. Not like I mind taking a while longer to finish school. What's the rush, right? Not like jobs are available anyway. School is the place to be right now. Just funny how history repeats itself. Maybe Ryan will be the new generation Jimmy and I will be the new generation Betty Sue. Whatevs...



The spies came out of the water...

...They're all spies.

The sailors say, Brandy is a fine girl

I have listened to "Brandy (you're a fine girl)" at least twenty-five times the past two-ish days. It's catchy. I never realized what a catchy song it is. Especially when I listened to the words, not just the chorus. Kind of sad, about lost love. But it's masked behind a tune that reminds me of a beach party with tikis and oranged leather skin holding strawberry daquiris and various iced beverages. And pink lipstick on bright 'n white teeth. See, I just played it again. On my way home from Ryan's house tonight, I tuned into the radio and the song came on. A bit static-y but that is to be expected from the North shore. Pukey North shore. Non-pukey boyfriend.

Odd. It's been almost seven months since he and I started dating. Where did the time go? August 13, 2008 was our first kiss (shut up, yeah, I remember) on Cedar Beach in the evening, when no one else was around but the sea creatures and the sand fleas. An awkward kiss (like most first ones are) because I wanted it, but I suck at making first moves, and he wanted it but I suppose he was too nervous to just go for it. So, we wound up tip toeing around it for an hour laying in the sand, full from our Italian food, me getting eaten alive from sand fleas and making conversation that would fill the still awkward silence because it is only the third date. And now, seven months later, all we do is kiss. The end.

He and I have been watching Nip/Tuck. Like most people, Ryan is hooked. I got him started on it, just like Andrew, Melany, and I hope Jen. It's a good show. Yes, it has gotten outlandish, but one can't help but to watch and keep watching. The beginning of the fifth season made me upset because I wanted it to be a good one. And further into the season, I just can't get enough. Nip/Tuck is one of those shows that I've followed from the very beginning and I won't stop until it is the end.

What else? It's been a while since I've written in this fangled thing. What have I been up to? I work thirty plus hours a week, I am at school for at least ten hours a week (including commute), I have a full-time boyfriend...yeah, this is all where my time goes. I work so I can afford things. But I'm not seeing too much of my money lately. I work a lot, but this month I owe my mom all of it. And what I don't owe her, I owe Verizon. So, this month is my slow time. I mean, I'll still owe half of my earnings each month to mother or corporation, but I will have the other half to spend. I have plans. I want a desk for my room. I need a new cell phone. I want a new TV. I want a Coach wallet. Yes. Reptar wants a Coach wallet...or is at least contemplating one. Not sure why...but I like a few of them that are out there. And I figure it will last me a very long time. The wallet I have now I spent $10 on and it lasted me six years. Sure, I don't have to spend $300 on a wallet...and chances are I won't own one anytime soon because I'd feel like a major fuck walking around with an expensive wallet when there are bigger issues in this world, far more important than expensive things. There is the old Reptar I know. That you know. Everyone can breathe again.

But work is good, I guess. It's work, right? I don't like working past 4pm, so my 9-5 today was slow. It gets slow around 3 and then it drags for the last two hours. Less people come in, and it's also around the time when the many high schoolers work. So, it's dramatastic. And some of the girls are really condescending and still preoccupied with useless high school matters. And I dislike osme of these girls, and I'm sure some of them dislike me. But I dislike them because they disliked me first. I start out liking everyone equally. But there are some people who want to be snooty just because you don't look pristine. Yeah. I'm guilty for not giving a shit what I look like at work. Duh, to an extent I care. I don't look dreadful, but when it comes to applying make up, I don't care so much. As far as I'm concerned, I get up way too early in the morning and run around way too much at work to wear make up. It will just clog my pores and make me look bad. I care about working, making my money, and looking good for my boyfriend, where I actually care if I'm half decent.

I had a few more points to bring up but I should really get some shut eye. I have to get up and do homework tomorrow. This was a jumble of paragraphs with no real flow. Let's cap: I like listening to cheesy songs with taste, I remember exactly what Ryan's mouth tasted like the night of our first kiss(es), work is for queers, I'm tired.

And there's a girl in this harbor town

And she works layin' whiskey down

They say "Brandy, fetch another round"

She serves them whiskey and wine

Let me ask you this: do you want to be the big spoon or the little spoon?

Shitty weather makes me inactive. I can't go to the park and walk briskly for three miles. I eat because I'm stuck indoors. The grey sky makes me lazy and sleepy. This shit will make me gain five pounds.

I started work at Panera. I guess I can't complain so far. Except that it's a lot to remember in a few days and it is mentally draining. Because of the weather I didn't have to work yesterday and today I had no school (even though classes weren't cancelled). So, I've just been sitting around eating cake and watching tv, taking a nap here and there.

ra ra ra.

The truth is...

The truth is I start work at Panera in eight hours and thirty minutes. I should probably get to bed.
The truth is my butt still hurts from when I pulled a muscle from getting out of my car.
The truth is, even though I've been running lately, I'm getting nowhere physically because I had Outback two days in a God damn row.
The truth is, I'm terrified of living how I know I'm not intended.
The truth is, I never want to settle down and do only one thing.
The truth is, I love sex and I really want to study it without getting weird reactions for having such desires.
The truth is, I'm getting a headache.
The truth is, I'm nervous about starting at a new place.
The truth is, I'm tired of being new at so many establishments.
The truth is, money is more important to me now than it was two years ago.
The truth is, I doubt my intelligence when I really shouldn't.
The truth is I'm not smart enough to do great things.
The truth is I'm a horrible friend.
The truth is I'm a horrible person.
The truth is I want to taste the world.
The truth is, I want to be art.
The truth is I want to make art by being art.
The truth is Andrew wants to me finish what I started in regards to writing a screenplay and I know it won't happen because I give up halfway through everything because I'm bored.
The truth is I often wonder where my one true love lives.
The truth is, I'm not sure I believe in one true love anymore.
The truth is, I'm not grateful for what I have; instead I'm on the hunt for bigger and better.
The truth is, there may be nothing better than what I have now.
The truth is, I miss dancing in the rain
The truth is, I miss being myself.
The truth is, I feel like I will never complete college.
The truth is, I should drink water and sleep.

Sugar bear

Giraffe
To see a giraffe in your dream, suggests that you need to consider the overall picture. Take a broader view on your life and where it is headed.
To dream that you are riding a giraffe, represents your desire to stand up amongst the crowd. You want attention, but aren't getting it



This means I am breaking up with Ryan because he wouldn't buy me a giraffe in my dreams...

Your love is gonna drown

I loathe sports fans on Wednesday nights. I don't get on the train until after 10pm but it hasn't failed yet that the train is always packed on Wednesday nights because of sports. And right now it's fucking hockey. I have no problem with hockey. I like that it is an alpha underdog sport with a huge but not absurd following. There are still a lot of hockey fans (apparently) and I happen to know a handful. Good for them. Really. But FUCK the people who go to the Wednesday games and take up all the seats on the train. I know the train can sit a lot of people, okay. I'm not an idiot. But there were people standing for pretty much their whole ride last night because it was that packed with obnoxious and happy Rangers fans and quiet Islanders fans. I get it, your team won and you're proud of it. But is it necessary to shout and cheer every five minutes about how amazing the Rangers are? I don't think so...it's not like they are changing the universe, here. And if they are, please forgive me, Ranger God. But what really annoys me about this whole sports thing on Wednesday nights is the fact that people bolt to the tracks once they are announced on the board. I don't mean rush. I don't mean run. I mean bolt. I mean the very second the two numbers appear on the screen next to the Ronkonkoma train, they are already half way down the fucking stairs, screaming the track number several times, often with child in hand--or nearby--or lost in the swarm of people. Explain to me what the point of this is? I mean, yeah, getting a seat is nice. But I have never seen sooo many people obnoxiously get to the train first. And it starts a frenzy because others see the people in front run, so they think they have to run as well. And the parents yell at their children to run faster in the crowd and keep up with them. Boyfriends yell at their girlfriend (or closet boyfriends) to hurry the fuck up. It's insane. And all to get to a seat first. As previously mentioned, there are plenty of carts. what the fuck is the rush? You're all assholes, hockey fans from last night. Your effort to look like a complete asshole paid off. Taking pictures in your jerseys in Penn Station, drinking beers from Penn Station and talking about how awesome your team is...and what was gross was sharing a bench with this Rangers fan last night. He was a bigger guy so his hip was touching mine the ENTIRE trip. Lucky me his stop was also Ronkonkoma...just like everyone else in my cart, apparently. And it was awkward talking on the phone with my boyfriend while this guy was obviously listening in on our philosophic conversation (Ryan likes to believe we have free will, while I'm a determinist...don't ask) as well as the other things we talked about. And his hip was touching me. His sweaty, warm hip. And I felt gross whenever he moved and I realized just how warm his hip was once I felt the cooler air. And as we got closer to the Ronkonkoma train station, he didn't get up untl the train stopped which pissed me off because I had to feel his damn hip the whole time and his hip moving so I could feel just how warm it was in comparison to the cooler air. So, fuck him too. And when the crazed animals exited the train, they ran to their cars, because obviously their cars are going somewhere, and there may not be space in them. And it was very unsafe, it drizzling out, the roads wet, and crazed and apparently high hockey fans running in circles getting to their vehicles (probably a Ford or a gas guzzling SUV to fit the overweight adults and/or children whom only watch hockey and talk about hockey, but would never dare to pick up a stick and play and actually lose the beer belly or McDonald's Happy Meals just wasting away in their stomachs). I was so annoyed. Can you tell?

Hey love, I won't hurt you.

It's snowing again! And that exclamation point isn't because I'm happy about it. It's more of an angry "!"...can you blame me? It snows everytime the snow we *just* had melts away. And all this snow makes my commute really sucky. Uber sucky. Only because I have to take an earlier train so I don't get delayed and miss class. I love being in Manhattan but I cannot wait for nicer weather! That exclamation point was meant to be happy. I want to be able to walk around a bit (and not just because I took the express 6 train or the wrong 6 train downtown and wind up on 33rd street). I'd like to visit Central Park and go running though I'm not sure what to do with my books. I guess I'll duct tape them to my chest and ankles and use them as extra weights? The thing about not having a car or a dorm room is that you can't put shit in it when you want and take it out when you need it. My life is a struggle, I know.

I made a new workout schedule. I workout six times a week and at the end of every two weeks, I weigh myself. And (my favorite part), if I complete all workouts at the end of two weeks, I get to treat myself to something. Whether it be lotion, underwear, chocolate. I don't know. My point in mentioning this is that part of my workout routine includes going outside to walk around the block five or six times. Aaaaaaaaaaand this fucking God damn snow makes it VERY difficult to do. For instance, I wanted to walk around the block and go running today but noooooo God has dandruff again. I mean, I did pilates instead and I loved it because it stretches me out. I didn't realize how stiff I was until I started doing the video. And I know I'm making progress because it isnt as hard to complete as it was when I first put the DVD into the slot. I can do some moves a bit better and I can do more of the moves straight through without having to pause every seven minutes. So kudos to me for not sucking. So yeah, tomorrow I'm gonna do pilates again because the snow is not letting up. I love doing pilates in the morning after I wake up because it gives me a good stretch. I sound like a rambling idiot now.

The fish died. Guess I'm not so surprised but it wasn't the fish I expected. The most mobile one of the two croaked. I saw him on his side this afternoon after Melany left the house and I freaked out. I couldn't look in that direction for about fifteen minutes (which made pilates very difficult when I had to rotate my head). Poor fishies. The other is sick and can't swim very well, if at all. And they are *my* responsibility so, in essence, my pets are gone. I want a dog so badly. I can't stand it.

I'm contemplating changing my major to anthropology. I know that I have to consider more than just "oh, that's cool" when determining my future but it may be a good fit. I could minor in anthropology, too. But I like the idea of being an anthropologist, studying people. To have superior knowledge about a certain group of people because I lived amongst them for years is awesome, challenging and fun. As an anthropologist I have more chance of traveling and seeing things than I do as a psychologist. Right? It's all a thought. I just think I'm so set on studying psychology that anything else is stupid. Don't listen to me.

I do not know what I'm doing with myself anymore. Care to join the club?




If I don't get some shelter
I'm gonna fade away.

Death becomes her

Somewhere along the way I seem to have lost myself. I am neither black nor white, but grey. I am grey, a rather boring color...if it's even considered a color, I don't know. Mix black and white together and one has grey. I am lost, perhaps not in a bad way, just in a different way. The old me and everything that I was has now changed. What hasn't changed is my stubbornness. I'm all about starting over, shedding old layers to let new ones shine through. So perhaps the grey me is what I am supposed to be for now. But my stubborn side won't let a part of the old me go. I refuse to let a part of me die because it is so important. Am I destined to just be a part of life instead of living it the way I please. No one knows what life is about but it's certainly not about giving up, right? Waving the white flag to life isn't the answer but it seems my grey self did just that. And whatever remains doesn't want to go anywhere. I'm still convinced that I'm meant to do something great and wonderful for all of humankind. Or perhaps one person. But that doesn't really matter. But where I am now, it seems that will never come true because...well, why? I'm not as free as I used to be. I'm older now. With age comes responsibility. And I have to worry about my future now. How it will piece together. Stupid grey. I'm sure black or white will come again but I'm stuck in grey, neutral. Blah. I'm becoming a new person again. I look different than I did three years ago. My hair is short and red, my body is more filled in, and my bones are more confident while still maintaining their shame for what they are, my eyes have aged from knowledge. This is grey. And I don't feel like my old self. Is it because I let it happen? Because circumstance let it happen? Is it meant to be so I have an AHA! moment and I shift gears into drive--black or white--and am no longer into neutral until I tire of driving again? What is this all about? It's about losing myself to something greater than you or I. And with all due respect, I suppose it's worth it. L-o-v-e. Love. The four letter word that shakes a human to the core. We all search, perhaps find, perhaps keep, perhaps not. But it shakes, rattles and rolls a human to their most human center. I'm lost because I was found by a man who loves me. And I have lost myself to something I cannot resist because it's sweet, salty and delicious all smushed into one. It seems that love morphed me into a new woman. I have more experience under (and below) the belt. Look, I even consider myself a woman now. Not just a girl who hasn't tasted the fear in love, but a woman who cups fear in her heart and lets it remain for as long as it wants. Maybe forever. Maybe another month. Whatever. I am lost, I have surrendered to love and perhaps this means I have, in fact, surrendered to life, as well. We may not know what life is about, but love is a major component of life. And I plan to live by life's rules....and giving into this means I forfeit other things. How I feel about people and the world at large. The "things" that were just things now mean something in my eyes because I'm grey, not black or white. In grey, things are more than things because you're looking for a side. Maybe I'll go to the dark side and give up more of myself and what I believe in. Looking at myself naked in the mirror, I see a woman who doesn't get herself. A woman who wants to understand the grey. A woman who doesn't feel like herself unless she's in a distinct color...once again, not sure what black and white are labeled.

Just to sleep underneath your bed

So, once upon a time I started this trend called online dating. It seems that my success story gave ten people within my circle of friends the desire to start their own and find love. And perhaps it's getting out of hand? Yeah, most likely.

I start school tomorrow. I start school in a new place: Manhattan. Crazy, eh? I'm not used to commuting, ya know? My college experience has been a ten minute walk to the other side of campus, not traveling two hours west to go to school, only to come back in the other direction. I'm not sure if I'll ever finish college. Since I've started this whole college thing, I've had the mindset that I would transfer. Now. I have transferred. Does this mean that I'm going to stay? I hope so. But I think my mind is just wired to leave one place. I can't imagine me actually completing college, just taking classes, ya know? Just learning and stressing for a few semesters then finding a new place to do the same. Do this for a few years and give up with nothing to show for it but $60,000 in loans.

I'm in that phase again where I hate myself. It seems to be a roller coaster. For a few days I'm in full acceptance and I think that eveyrthing will be alright. And then I try on a pair of pants that were too loose two years ago and are too tight now and I hate myself. I think it's because I feel trapped. It's much harder to lose the weight now than it was in high school. Looking back, I was much harder on myself than I had to be. There was nothing wrong with my weight or size, but I never thought of myself as decent. And now, where I am now, I wish I was there again. I just don't want people who haven't seen me in a year to look at me and think "she has gained a lot of weight since I last saw her." Don't ask why there is such a focus on how much I weigh. Because it's really not the most important thing. But since it's on my mind so much I automatically assume that's what most people are going to think as well. And I know it's partly my fault. I complain but do nothing about it. Instead of walking at the park right now, I'm sitting on my bed writing about how I hate the way I look. What got me started in tenth grade was looking at old pictures of myself and being disgusted with the way I looked at that moment. That was the fire under my ass to be healthier. And it worked. I thinned out a lot in tenth grade, gained some weight throughout junior and senior year and by prom I was great because I walked a few miles each day in the park. And then college started and the Freshman thirty began and it's been hard ever since. Yeah, I'm gonna go to the park now. I need that fire under my ass again.


I feel it in the air
The summer's out of reach

Someday, when I'm awfully low...

It's been awhile. What's up? I have almost a thousand songs on my new i pod touch :) It's pretty nifty, if I do say so myself.

Greyhounds are not ugly.

Semen stains the mountain top

Turn turn turn. I don't know what's going to become of my life. It's been a while since I've written in this thing. Just been too busy. Too much doing nothing, doing everything, hanging out. Not having more than three moments to myself. No more having my own space to do whatever I want. Less of being independent. More spanking and liking it. More orgasms and I can't complain. Less cuddling because there is less time. More feeling down on myself. More not knowing how Hunter is going to work out because my immunizations aren't in check (I paid $20 to get nowhere from my old doctor). More self-loathing. More hoping to change the world, more willing to settle for not changing the world. More wondering if people just settle. Turn turn turn. I saw my brother after Christmas...he seems to have gone from a young whipper snapper who knew what life was *really* about to caring more about the kind of speakers he had in his living room. As though they really count for shit. Turn turn turn. But maybe my perception about what life is really about is wrong. It's just a figment of my young mind. Life is really about having a nice home and nice cars and nice things and settling for the comforts of the Western world. Not discovering a new direction that isn't on a compass. Who can unlock what life is really about though? Many great women and men have asked this question for centuries, and no solid answer suffices. I guess life is meant for living...and what that living actually means is different for everyone. Just getting by isn't fair but it's worth it, while having more money than one knows what to do with is consequential, yet desired. And what exactly will my life become? With Ryan I see it one way. But if I were single, I would think of new ways to live in my thirties and forties. Turn turn turn. I think about love a lot lately. Mostly because I am in love. Sometimes I think my love isn't good enough for him because he is much more vocal about how much he loves me and how happy I make him. And at first I felt inadequate, but then I thought of it in the sense that everyone feels it differently. Two people in love may experience love--and both claim they are totally enamored--but what that absolute ga-ganess means to each person is something different. Intensity and perception are wild things, aren't they? Thus, anything that anyone says must be taken with a grain of salt because it will never match your own outlook. Crazy. In conclusion, I don't feel bad about being in love and how I feel because how I love is different than how he loves, but it doesn't mean that I mean it any less. Turn turn turn.





I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light