Drunk in the Morning

the rain

2008-04-07T22:12:00.000-07:00

Rain always follows the lonely.

As I stand, alone, on the sidewalk underneath the dripping sky, I look around. Couples. Everywhere they stand close to one another, their bodies melting into one, their minds in a place the rain cannot touch.

My mind is drenched. The rain falls on my forehead and trickles slowly down my cheeks, mimicking my tears as they mingle with each drop.

It does not matter that I - too - was like them once. It does not matter that I now stand on this rainy street in search for something to fill the emptiness where my other half used to be.

I melted once. Now I only pretend.

As I turn, I can see him sitting on the step behind me. He's closer to the building, and the rain has not touched him yet. I stare, waiting for that first drop to hit, echoes of angry words ringing throughout my ears.

He looks at his hands, staring at them, memorizing every detail and I wonder if he remembers when his hands held mine. As the rain splashes on his skin, trickling down his fingers, it occurs to me that a photograph may speak a thousand words, but they're all whispers compared to the memories that roar through my head.

I long to reach out to him. My fingers weave through thick raindrops as my hands near his. They grasp mine, smudging the stinging salt of the water into my skin, the drops racing away as he looks up at me, raindrops on his eyelashes - a watery frame to those liquid depths.

I watch as he slowly rises and steps out into the rain with me, his sadnesses mimicking my own. The rain drenches us both now, gathering in a puddle at our feet as we cannot soak up anymore.

He leans closer, his mouth opening ever so slightly, and as my aching heart skips a beat, he presses his lips to mine.

My mind is reeling as our bodies come closer together, melting in memories long remembered, weeping for the forgotten.

Falling harder, the rain weeps with us.

He steps away, his eyes looking down, lost in the puddle of water beneath. With a slight shake of his head, he turns away from us.

And as I watch, tears no longer less than the rain, he walks down the sidewalk, the rain following him as much as it stays with me. He gets smaller and smaller, drowning in the watery depths of the sky.

I - too - drown, the memories flooding my mind, filling every corner until all of my emptiness is filled with cold, watery splashes.

As I step away as well, one final thought sinks into my mind.

Memories do not drown.

All I have left is the rain.

First written January 28, 2001

last night

2006-10-24T13:42:00.000-07:00

Even as it looms above me, I refuse to fear its immensity.

It wouldn't matter anyway because the pressure I feel comes from within - from the raw fear leaching the marrow from my bones. If you think the fear comes from the rigid, dead body silently waiting on the floor, you're wrong.

As my eyes keenly flicker over the surrounding walls, one thing is certain. He's still here.

Luckily, my brain is filled with methods and protocols to save me in such a trepidatious instance. Something kicks in and my feet automatically step toward the body. My knees bend and suddenly I am right next to it. I'm so close I can feel its warmth. I touch the right hand and marvel momentarily at the slight dent my fingertips makes in the skin - like pressing on a medium rare steak.

The dread remains. It snakes up my spinal cord, causing the little hairs along my back to stand tall. Behind me, I hear movement and I know. It's my time. I reach for my gun, but it's not there. Dammit, Steve, what did you do this time?

I whirl about and race through the door behind me. Office - it's an office. Books, pens, paper. Can you kill someone with paper?

His footsteps drown my thoughts. They fall heavy on the floor, like a sledgehammer to an anvil. Clang... Clang... Clang.... He's coming.

My hands search the area behind me, eyes afraid to look away from the door lest he sneak in past me. Fumbling, my fingertips feel cold steel, grasp hard, and pull up a scythe. I heft it in my hands, remember the lessons my daddy taught me back during softball practice, and get ready to--

Laughter. Little girly giggles. The scythe lowers slowly as I turn around and see a playground. I meander toward it, scythe dragging behind me until it catches on a nightlight and I let it go. Whoosh! A yellow blur sails past my face, brushing my eyelashes as it goes. I pull a tennis racket out of my pocket and turn just in time to hit the next ball and send it careening out of the park.

Several people stand in a group, clipboards in hand, frowns on faces, getting ready to give me my scores. One shakes her head and mumbles tersely, "You should be ashamed of yourself."

Another looks at me solemnly. "It's still there." My eyes follow his finger as he points to the body in the other room. I know this. What, you think I've forgotten? You think I'm stupid?

He's shaking me, slaps me across the face, and I snap out of it. A smile and a whisper, "I'm going for a pony ride." Without another word, he jumps in a little red wagon and paddles away. Three kittens overtake the wagon and rip off the wheels with their talons. One grabs an oar and dashes off with it, meowing with glee.

Bruised and scraped, he limps back to me and hands me a large manila folder, covered in plastic wrap. I peel back the layers and crack it open, only to find maggots and moving pictures. Each one tells me a story of cheating on history quizzes and stealing candy bars.

"You won't like it. We won't be friends once you know," he tells me. With a wink, he catches up to the rest and gets in a car to drive down the dirt road. I watch until he's long gone before I continue flipping through the pages. One falls to the gravel and I pick it up, reading it as I walk into the house.

I see the words on the page and suddenly it's clear. I know. I get it now. I'd always thought I needed an answer. I was so wrong. It's right here in front of me.

As if on cue, the pumpkins start singing in unison, and I take the lead vocal. It's a polka number, which strikes me as funny because classical seems more like Freddy's style.

A loud buzzer interrupts our song and the pizza comes out of the oven. Each pumpkin stops to eat, except for Skippy, whose mouth isn't carved yet. The phone in the refrigerator rings, but I don't open the breadbox like I should because I know what it will say. Thirty-two years and I finally know the answer. It's so easy. It's so clear. It's

BEEP.

rilke

2006-10-18T21:09:00.000-07:00

I beg you...to have patience with everything unresolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves as if they were locked rooms or books writtern in a very foreign language.

Don't search for the answers, which could not be given you now, because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now.

Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without ever noticing, live your way into the answer.

--Rainer Maria Rilke

How long do you wait?

What if you're tired of waiting?

Is there ever a point in your life when you no longer have to wait for things to fall into place- when the answers to the Big Questions (Will I Find Love?, Will I Marry?, Where Will I Live?, What Will My Career Be?, When Will Those Around Me Die?, Will I Have Kids?, Will I Be Happy?, When Will I Die?) are clear?

And what if the answers you seek are more pressing issues- things you don't have the time to sit around and wait for? Answers such as...Is This the Right Path For Me? or If I Marry This Person, Will I Be Passing Up the Chance at Someone I Love More Later On?

I've had a constant journal for over six years, and if I've realized anything from reading back over the pages, it's that I'm An Idiot. The things I thought, worried about, and analyzed over way back when all eventually fell into one of two categories: they became resolved (as in I waited, and got my answer) or I totally forgot about them (as in, they became unimportant).

Well, what if by the time we get the answers we're waiting for now we won't care about them anymore? Was it really prudent to have ever waited for them at all?

And if that's the case, are we to just go through life, trying to ignore those questions entirely without ever pausing to ponder whether they will ever matter to us again?

Or, are our journals to serve solely as reminders of the things we once valued enough to write about? I know that when I read over them, I often laugh at the questions I asked before I got my answers. And, as the enlightened-by-the-future reader I am, I can look back at those and wonder how I ever worried about something working out (knowing that it did, later on) or cared so much to write so many pages about something (knowing that I wouldn't write so much as a post-it note on the subject now).

What worries me most, I guess, is the thought that in our anxiety over those answers right now, we might be missing other answers that are right in front of our faces...other answers, other opportunities, other people. Will dreaming or fretting about the future change how we see our present, and will that, in turn, change our future?

Rilke makes an interesting point, though, and I guess it's the depth of his argument that causes me to read that quote day in and day out, to post it above my computer and on the front page of every journal I write in.

He's almost advocating that we DO forget the questions now, but not in a forgetful sense.
Instead, we accept them. We go on with life, and accept that they will either work out or be forgotten in the future. We "live into the answers" without noticing it because we have forgotten to keep asking the questions.

What's more, he suggests we love this moment- this time when life is a mystery, when we don't know where it will go. I have a friend who always picks up books and reads the ending before he will read the entire thing. He would rather know that there is a satisfying ending to the book than read the whole thing, only to be disappointed. I, on the other hand, would rather be enthralled by the mystery, feel my pulse race as my imagination goes over the possible outcomes, worry if the people are going to get together at last after so many trials and tribulations or if they will succumb to the pain of a failed relationship...to wonder if the hero will finally succeed or if he, too, will fall like so many before him.

And even though those books may be amazing books, any avid reader knows that NOTHING is like reading it for the first time. The times after that are fun and interesting, but nowhere near as vivid, since we already know what is going to happen. But that first time is awesome.

Maybe that's how life should be as well. Rilke is telling us that we should enjoy our life's unanswered questions like a good mystery novel (or, in our case, epic sagas). You don't know the answers yet because that's all part of the experience. Sure, it would be comforting sometimes to be able to pick up the book that is Your Life and read the ending, but it sure would kill the rush, wouldn't it?

It hurts...sometimes...to wish for something so hard and not know if it will ever happen. The worry can keep you up at night, give you nightmares, fill your journals with pages and pages of angst...will I get the life I want...will I ever see this person again...will I be happy...will I be someone I can admire...

It hurts to not be able to know these things now. But if Rilke is right, and those moments are the best chapters of our lives, then they have to be cherished as much as any ending, no matter how much they make us write, scream, fret, and cry.

laughter is the best medicine

2006-10-07T14:34:00.000-07:00

Taking a small sip of my coffee, I savored its taste and flipped the newspaper over to read the comics on the other side. I always started at the top, left corner, and slowly worked my way down to the lower right-hand corner to my favorites.

As I continued to read, small giggles erupted from me at some of the funnier cartoons. Reading them was always the best part of the morning. In fact, I could think of nothing better than beginning the day with laughter. Slowly, I scanned down the page, a smile never leaving my lips.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye.

She sat primly at a nearby table, back straight, legs together and hands neatly crossed in her lap. Her table was empty, and I wondered briefly if she was waiting for someone. While she appeared completely normal, something struck me as...off.

Her head pivoted slowly as she turned to look at me. A shiver bolted down my spine - her eyes were totally black - all pupils and no whites. They bored into me, burrowing the blackness into my bones. Even as my heart galloped and my pulse kept pace, I couldn't look away.

And then she smiled.

It wasn’t the sort of smile that reached the eyes, the smile that invited a good friend in for tea. Instead, it was as though someone took strings of wire, attached them to each corner of her top and bottom lips, then stretched them tight. Her teeth jutted out of her head, skeleton-like in appearance.

I tried to be polite, smiling softly as I turned away and ignored the cold chill streaming through my blood. In my peripheral vision I saw her rise and walk to the door, her body stiff as a bone. Glancing over one more time, I saw that smile again. It was bigger now, growing, taking on a life of its own. I imagined the teeth opening up and out came...

Laughter.

Such loud, raucous, disgusting laughter I’d never heard before. The sound was deafening. HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW HAW over and over again. My hands jerked reflexively to my ears, covering them, protecting them from what tried to get in. I felt I would scream if it continued. My eyes closed, my body tensed, bracing for it...

Silence.

It was so sudden I hardly noticed. My breath escaped in a quick sigh and I realized I’d held it the entire time. I opened my eyes and looked at the doorway. She was gone. Sighing again, I laughed a little and glanced around the room, looking to see what others thought of the weird woman’s crazy outburst.

They were gone.

Table after table. All empty. The coffeehouse was absolutely filled to the brim with people drinking coffee, laughing, reading. Now it sat vacant, silent, as if the world was swallowed whole.

I laughed nervously as I gathered my things, thinking the coffee shop had closed and I just never noticed. After stuffing the newspaper and books into my bag, I grabbed my coat, knocking my cup off coffee onto the floor with a loud crash. Chuckling at my clumsiness, I bent over to pick up the ceramic shards, trying not to cut myself in the process.

Giggle.

It was soft, almost imperceptible, and when I turned towards the sound, it stopped. Then it was behind me. Whirling around, I stood quickly, thoroughly confused. The place was empty. I pirouetted around, looking for someone, until my gaze fell upon him. His hat was tilted forward, obscuring most of his face in deep shadows. The long trenchcoat he wore disguised him as shapeless, formless, unknown. With slow, subtle movements, he raised his head, flicking his eyes towards me, the bottomless depths yawning at my mind.

More giggles. They surrounded me, coming from all directions, bouncing off of the walls to meet each other in the middle, laughing in unison. My eyes darted around the room, spinning and spinning and then they were there. All there. And they were smiling. Just like her.

I backed up, trying to get away, to escape the ear-splitting cacophony. My feet seemed to stumble, and then he caught me. Turning slowly, I dreaded what I would see.

It was him. He stood silently, his face blank, his eyes hollow.

As I gawked in horror, his mouth contorted and smiled. It was the same smile of the woman earlier. His lips, his cheeks, all pulled back, forced into a deathly grin. His teeth glared at me, beckoning to me. They slowly opened, a great chasm of hilarity, and out came the loudest laugh of all.

I screamed- a rich, bloodcurdling scream that cried for the heavens to take me. Glass shattered, cups broke, and yet, the sound of their laughter seemed to rise as well, drowning out my attempts. Of their own accord, my hands plastered themselves to my ears, pressing so hard as if to squeeze my skull like a melon.

There was no escape. The sound was so loud it was pulling me in. Even as I tried not to listen, tried to ignore it, they penetrated my brain, filling it with a dense and smiling fog, laughing even more as I struggled to swim through it.

Just let go.

Echoing through my mind, the laughing voices seemed to merge and call to me.

Let it all go.

My lips began to twitch, pulling back, even as I screamed NO.

Swirling, I was, swirling downwards in a great spiral of laughter. They invaded me, overtook me. As I fell further and further, the laughter was no longer around me, it was in me, throughout me, I was the laughter as it floated in the fog. With my last breath, I gave into it all...

And smiled.

Curiosity and the Cat

2006-10-06T16:57:00.000-07:00

It all began one boring Saturday night, whilst I chatted with one of my employees about how I planned to spend my two days off. She mentioned that it was going to rain, as it was already torrential outside, and suddenly it hit me. The idea of hiking deep into the woods and having a rain-soaked, muddy adventure appealed to me. My friend Jon and I had been talking about it, thinking of the gorgeous Washington foliage that glows emerald when it rains, and how it's still a balmy 80 degrees outside even though the sky is pissing. I thought of nothing but the utter joy of getting completely drenched, and stumbling, exhausted, back to the car and a fresh, dry change of clothes.

Moreover, I thought of how it wouldn't be yet another wasted day off. I wouldn't be just sitting in front of the tv, cleaning my apartment and reading one of the hundred books I've just checked out from the library. I would be doing something different, something out of the ordinary...something adventurous.

Boy, did I get my wish.

Jon and I ransacked the internet and discovered several awesome looking trails- ones that went past glaciers and boasted spectacular mountain views. We were dead-set on the Carbon Glacier Trail, which was about 7 miles long and would take about 4 or 5 hours to hike. Unfortunately, we lacked a high-clearance vehicle to get us there (which, if you've seen it, is not my car considering it is so big and heavy it barely clears speedbumps). Dad didn't trust me with his brand new Ford F150, so we were forced to find an alternate trail.

While the way we found our trail might seem inconsequential and boring, it is pertinant that you understand we WERE planning this hike well. We WERE planning it, so the adventure that results is not due to any carelessness on our part.

Jon's dad, a total nature buff, came to our rescue and offered up directions to a trail he described as a beautiful loop through the Cascade Mountain Range, following the crystal clear waters of the Snoqualmie River. At the Middle Fork of the river, we parked the car and packed our bags. We meandered on to a big, arching bridge that gave us an amazing view both up and down-river. Tall evergreens framed the quick-flowing waters and white rapids. We paused to admire the beauty before heading across the river and up to the trail. Our directions from this point were simple: Follow the trail for about 5 miles until reaching a second bridge, which crosses back over the river. Continue a little bit further until the trail intersects with a road, which, if we follow back down the river, will take us directly to the parking lot and our car.

Simple directions...well...we'll see.

We started off fine. The forest was dense, a view people in other states must only dream of. It was a movie set for ancient times- times before the earth had been dozed and slathered in concrete. The river bubbled to our left, and the mossy ground made soft thumping sounds to the beat of our steps. To our left stood a large slate bluff, capped by tall trees and dewy moss. The skies were a crystal clear blue, even though weather forecasts had promised showers.

The surrounding visions and our surging hike uphill reminded me of The Lord of the Rings and days when people walked everywhere because there were no cars or planes. I felt a bit nostalgic, and liked the idea of pretending we were on our own little journey, back in a distant time, striving to reach home or to save the world from Sauron. (Hey, your mind wanders when you're stuck walking for hours on end, okay?) We talked about how quiet it was and it reminded me of how Aragorn is able to hear the Orcs speed up just by listening to the ground. It made sense- he could hear them because the world was more quiet. I could hear each and every footstep Jon made, and as I was walking behind him, could also see each and every time he slipped on a rock, root, leaf, plain old dirt, or his other foot.

As we padded onward, I began to feel a sense of peace, which immediately gave me the urge to babble incessantly. At first, I resisted, thinking I would spoil the solemnitude for Jon, but then something got us talking and we never stopped again. We discussed my aversion to politics and the people in Berkeley who have been protesting anything and everything for years. This led to talk of Russia and China and whether communism had ever really existed there.

As we chatted, the trail wound us through the thick brush. It would tease us with glimpses of the river before yanking us back and uphill, toward the bluff. The trees were covered with a million varieties of moss, each greener than the next. Jon and I joked that they looked like the home of the Keebler Elves, but I didn't see any.

Out in front of me, Jon was breaking the wind and heading us up the trail. As a result, he was constantly ensnared by members of an entire army of spiders. They lined our path on both sides, catching any part of us that dared peek out of the two foot trail. Sometimes, Jon could see them land on his arm, and he'd jump a foot high and hurriedly brush them off. Sometimes, he would get close enough for me to see the scores of spiderwebs that covered his backpack, forming silken layers. Sometimes, the mouthpiece of his CamelBack drinking hose would brush against his arm and he'd jump and scream like a little girl, much to my amusement.

Several hours passed, and we began looking in earnest for the bridge that would take us across the river. Yet, every time we neared the river, instead of crossing, it veered back toward the mountain again through a series of steep switchbacks. After still more hours passed, we really became worried. If we didn't turn back now, we would not make it back to the car before dark, and wandering through the thick underbrush in the middle of the night with only one flashlight and thousands of bears did not seem appealing.

But, the stubborn hiker in us refused to turn back. We wanted to find the bridge, determined to make the complete hike. And fortunately, just as we were thinking our stubborn sides be damned, there it was. Granted, it crossed over a waterfall, but rivers have to start somewhere, right? So we parked on the bridge and had lunch. Surging below us, the water ran deep, over rocks so huge they seemed ominous and alive. I kept picturing them being there since the mountain range was created, having formed and rested here on this hill ever since those plates crashed into each other. We watched the water in silent awe and ate our granola bars and bananas. Mosquitos bit me on each shoulder, leaving me with symmetrical bites. Jon threw part of his banana into the water to see if it would splash. (Your guess is as good as mine.)

After a quick rest, we continued along the trail, expecting the road back to the parking lot to meet up with us soon. Then, just ahead there was a clearing, and we shrieked in joy until we realized it was the river again- the same river we'd been walking along the whole time. We still hadn't crossed the right bridge.

Our shoulders sank and worry started to wedge its way into our hearts, but we plowed on. We were confident that the directions we'd been given were correct, and that they would eventually lead us to the right place.

As we followed the river, our conversation began to meander from the intellectual topics we'd started with down what would be an horrific decline. We pondered what we would do if a bear sauntered over, intent on killing us (Grizzlies do it for fun, you know). Since neither of us knew what one is supposed to do, we discussed what we would probably do. Most of these scenarios involved Jon seeing the bear, pissing his pants, screaming like a little girl, and running off into the wilderness, leaving me laughing on the ground in front of said bear. We even talked about us blogging about that discussion, and how he would describe our horrific incident as the proudest moment of his life where he fearlessly and courageously defended me in the face of danger. We also talked about how I would post a blog in response declaring his story a lie, then tell the sordid truth of how he only saw a frog and THOUGHT it was a bear, before pissing his pants, screaming like a little girl, and running off into the wilderness.

After about 5 or 6 hours of hiking, and after we'd decided we would rather walk naked across the river and climb up to the road on the other side (leaving me to wonder if vaginas rescind when in freezing water just like testicles do), we came to our third bridge. Now let me remind you, we were only supposed to see two total.

By the end, we'll have seen five.

We rejoice (yet again), and stop to admire the river (yet again), which has gotten even wider and more daunting. After crossing, we proceed to climb straight up a giant hill for about 45 minutes (which was a load of fun) until finally...we see a sign, a clearing, some cars, and, thankfully, the road.

From here, Jon said, it's a straight shot back to the parking lot. It's a straight, smooth walk. The hard part is done. We should make it back before dark, and make it home in time to meet the people we had plans with that night.

What's the old adage about speaking too soon?

Yeah...straight shot back to the parking lot from here, my ass. Remember that whole adventure thing I was talking about? Well I got my wish. We walked down that road for eons. The world was considered and created in less time. It was getting dark, starting to rain, and the road was not only NOT straight, but it took us up and downhill, over and over again. We were exhausted. Jon complained that his heels were rubbed raw and his knee was about to give out. My feet were aching balls of fire, as my shoes were just a TAD bit too small for me. So, with every step, they rammed my toenails back into my feet, causing unbearable pain. My heels were rubbed raw as well, and every once in a while I would experience the fresh sting of a bursting blister, wincing as the fresh and sensitive skin rubbed against the hard leather ridges of my boots.

Hours dragged passed, and even though there was still no sign of the parking lot, we always knew it must be somewhere nearby. Around every corner, we believed it was just there, waiting for us. We even said it before every corner- so frequently that we started to consider it a jinx. We agreed to not say it anymore, hoping it would make the little leprechauns that kept moving the parking lot leave us the hell alone.

So we walked and walked and walked. We dreamed of getting into the car. The thought of taking off my boots and putting on sandals was orgasmic. Jon said he'd kiss the car as soon as he saw it- and would use tongue. Then we spent the next few minutes pondering how you could give a car head (I didn't like the tailpipe idea as I've always considered my car female).

Meanwhile, our conversation continued its decline into absurdity. We talked about our longest-running sexual fantasies, to favored positions and why men enjoy ejaculating all over women's breasts and faces so much.

As it got darker and darker, I started to discourage Jon from flagging down the next car that drove by and asking for a ride, arguing that it was probably a serial killer returning from dumping his latest body who was just thinking "Man, that's done, where am I going to get my next victims?" when Jon and I appear and ask for a ride. I mean, never ask for a ride or trust strangers when the place you're trying to flee could ever be described as "a great place to dump bodies" or "serial killer country." If you watch a lot of movies or lived in Washington during the Green River Killer era, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about.

Then, as if to prove my point, we came upon a red car on the side of the road that had been COMPLETELY FLATTENED. Now, we're not in the middle of the dump or the junkyard, we're out in the middle of a mountain range, so question #1 is how did it get flattened in the first place. The second question came to me as I went to look at it and realized that it was covered, and I mean literally COVERED in bullet holes. There were even still bullets in the holes, and they were pretty big- probably 1/2 inch in diameter. Our eyes widened in fear of whatever hillbilly psycho was lurking around the corner, loading his gun, and we hightailed it out of there, going as fast as our mangled feet would allow.

But as it got darker, all of the scary things we'd talked about became a real possibility. It's dark, we can't see anything, and there are bears and cougars and who knows what else around. My eyes were wide as I constantly scanned the nearby brush, never wanting to walk too far away from the middle of the road, wishing I had one of Jon's knives and my maglite from the car.

Fortunately, we were bright enough to be semi-prepared. We had two flashlights, one of which was left on in Jon's backpack, and was of no use to us. The other only served to show us the few steps in front of us, but ruin our night-vision to anything outside that scope. Eventually, we just turned them off, thinking they were more of a homing beacon for nutties and psychos than any sort of help.

Still walking, it was pitch black by now, and luckily, not that cold. To our utter chagrin, the road took us far away from the river- so far we couldn't even hear its rushing waters anymore.

Jon started praying to God, even though he's never been particularly religious, promising to never ask for another thing as long as he lived if God would just give us the parking lot right now. We joked about how Jon was forsaking his prayers for the first-born son he'd have who would probably end up with cancer, leaving his wife to wonder why her husband wasn't praying for their child. But nevertheless, we wanted that parking lot.

By this time we were exhausted, sweat-soaked, and our feet were in total pain. And we were still walking, with no end in sight. The conversation turned to questions of "what celebrity would you sleep with if you were gay?" And "if you could sleep with one straight celebrity for one night, who would it be?" My vote was Salma Hayek or Peta Wilson and either Brad Pitt or Jude Law. Jon apparently likes the pretty boys and voted for Paul Walker. I can't remember his female choice.

We came upon a clearing on the right side of the road, and I was ecstatic to see a truck parked there. But as we approached the truck, we realized it was not our parking lot. I felt really freaked out because the truck looked so...hillbilly-ish. I just kept picturing those crazy guys in Wrong Turn or the inbreeders that lived in the house in the boonies in X-Files who kept their mom (who had no arms or legs and apparently lived on some sort of modified skateboard) under the bed.

So we turned around and walked some more. Jon must have sensed that I was getting freaked out, picturing serial killers at any turn, because he told me to give him a hug to see if it would make me feel better. All I can say is I am sure as hell glad I wasn't wandering around the Cascades alone in the middle of the night.

Further down the road, we caught a glimpse of a light and relief surged through my veins. It was probably a light in the parking lot! But no, it was just a family out camping along the river. Jon asked them how far to the trailhead and they said 1/4 mile. Woohoo! We were close!

So we kept walking until we came to a bridge (bridge number 4). It was closed off to vehicles and from what little I COULD see, led into a mysterious black tunnel. Great. A sign on the other side of the river said "Taylor River Trailhead." Taylor River? This is where I got really pissed off. Taylor River? Where in the FUCK had the Snoqualmie River gone? When did we lose it? And were we following the wrong river the whole time?

We got out Jon's map, which told us where Taylor River was, but neglected to tell us where the parking lot was, where the Middle Fork trail was (the one we were originally on) or where we were at that exact moment. It showed us a plethora of squiggly lines, but nothing was labeled that could tell me which little line we were standing on.

In a scene straight out of Blair Witch Project, we tried to walk into the dark and mysterious tunnel, but it was really shady and so we just stopped and turned back, thinking we'd rather just chance backtracking the wrong direction and bother the people for some more specific directions. Namely, where in the hell are we and where is my goddamned car?

We sat on the bridge for a little bit and read the map. I stared at it and stared at it and decided that if we had to spend the night and try this all in the daylight, the map was being used as kindling.

Deciding against this, we found our way back to the people, and, thankfully, they knew their way around the woods. It turned out we had passed a turn to a bridge about a mile back. A turn? The directions didn't mention a turn? And what fucking bridge?

Welcome to bridge 5. Remember how there were only supposed to be 2?

Luckily, the father offered to drive us to our car and we graciously accepted. At first, he was intimidating. He was really skinny and had a deep, gravelly voice that sent shivers down my spine. But this was all offset by the very normal looking kid, dog, and wife that made up his entourage. I felt that he was on guard because we were strangers in the middle of the night and thus tried to put him at ease by standing in the light and babbling like a harmless idiotic female. The other guy offered us a beer, which really sounded heavenly at the moment except for my more pressing desire to get the hell out of there. I wanted no further delays.

So we ambled along in his truck, making idle and slightly uncomfortable conversation, watching in awe as we backtracked about a mile, turned where we had seen that scary hillbilly truck, crossed a bridge, followed the road another mile, and sailed into the parking lot. Hallelujah! I have never hugged my car so hard before.

So we made it. We drove for about an hour over a bumpy, pot-holed road to get home, and saw a big fox on the way, but I didn't care. A big old grizzly toting an AK-47 could have come out of the woods, followed by a serial killer, hillbilly, cougar, and 5000 spiders and it wouldn't have mattered because I was in the car. I love my car.

We made it home a little after midnight. It was pouring down rain. I was in so much pain- sore, tired, my feet were no longer toes and skin and bones and muscles- they were just blazing, aching bundles of pain. I was starving but I didn't have the energy to cook. I grabbed a granola bar and two big bottles of water, which I downed immediately, before passing out for about 12 hours.

It's days later, and there are giant holes in the backs of my feet, on my toes, and huge blisters under my toenails. Earlier today I used a knife to drill a hole through the nail so this brownish, Iced-Tea colored liquid could ooze out. I told Jon about it and he almost barfed.

Final count? Jon looked at a better map and calculated that we'd hiked over 30 miles total, most of it uphill.

So I got my adventure. Ask and ye shall receive. It will take some time before I go back out hiking, mostly to make sure I'm healed and to get some better shoes. All in all though, it was a thrilling time, and one hell of a great story!

(For Jon's version of the story, which I have not read at the time of writing this, go here.)

About Me...Again

2006-10-06T15:43:00.000-07:00

I’m crazy.

I read magazines from back to front. When I get on a roller coaster, I scream bloody murder, yet insist on sitting in the front car and keeping my eyes open. I must always carry chapstick. In my room there is a box full of things I want to do with my life, and I just did one last weekend.

Playing piano is my secret passion. (That, and Star Trek: The Next Generation). When it’s raining, you can find me dancing in the middle of the street. If you see me crying, it’s probably because I just saw a Porsche being driven 20 miles below the speed limit. I hate having pictures taken of me, and I’m always writing stories in my head.

Quite accidentally, on my bookshelves I have Fix it and Forget it: Recipes for Entertaining next to The Lord of the Flies; The Bible in between The Closing of the American Mind and Heart of Darkness; and The Feminine Mystique surrounded by semi-trashy romance novels. I can distinguish the ironic from the sad.

I hate it when drivers don’t wave after you let them pull out in front of you. People who lack deadpan, sarcastic, witty, dry senses of humor often think I hate them at first – mostly because they don’t realize everything I say is the creation of my deadpan, sarcastic, witty, dry sense of humor. And yes, that is the proper grammar.

I simply cannot stand being bored. As a result, I’m really good at self-entertainment. Instead of a green thumb, I have a green hand. I love helping people when they aren’t asking for it. I’ve got a black belt in debating and am not afraid to use it if you deserve it. My golden retriever, Rosie, was one of my best friends in the world.

I am definitely a Gemini and definitely not schizophrenic. The voices in my head agree. If I had a nickel for every time someone asked me what I want to do with my life, I would be really good at nailing people in the head with nickels. I enjoy Garfield, peanut sauce, the sound of fast typing, and Aquafina. I am kidding with you 99% of the time and if you can’t handle that then you better walk away now. My cat, Loki, is the only animal in my family raised solely by me. She is independent, loving, never boring, afraid of nothing, loves to play, hates being in a cage, and is quite the little bitch. Nicely enough, my dad always says she’s definitely MY cat.

I am outgoing and assertive, yet still that shy little girl peeking out at the other kids from behind her mommy’s back. I remember everything. Ignorance in others brings out the verbal predator in me. I suck at mailing things. Once, I asked for an “iced hot chocolate” at Starbucks and the woman gave me chocolate milk. There are two things I take very seriously: driving and going to the movies. I love people who always say please and thank you. I hate people who take risks without appreciating them. I’m good at keeping in touch.

I believe you can find out a lot about a person just by fighting with them. Since I am the youngest of five and the only girl, I have a lot of experience with this. I think I believe in reincarnation…or at least I did in a past life. I know that if I ever go skydiving, they will have to physically throw me from the plane, but once I land I will ecstatically want to go again. I think a man in a black beanie is oh so sexy, unless he’s robbing something.

I love my family, even if they do tease me incessantly. Then again, so do most people. Apparently I learned to talk when I was one year old and haven’t stopped since. No matter what happens I know life goes on.

Some people think I’m quiet. I have a tendency to always look at the world and think, “Now, if we were in a movie, here’s what would happen next.” At any given moment I am reading five different books. I really love first-person shooter video games. In my life I’ve had 29 cats, 5 dogs, 1 rabbit, 2 iguanas, 2 geese, 4 goats, and a plethora of fish (including Dinglebob and Biffledorf, my two goldfish).

I’ve been called the dumbest smart person. No matter where my career goes, I will always be a writer. No matter how long I live, I will always be a smartass. At the end of the day, I’m always sorry it’s over. In the morning, I’m always excited for what’s to come. During the time in between, I dream in epic sagas and must always have chapstick and a glass of water by my side.

If you’ve made it this far, kudos. If you want more, see the rest of my blog. If you’re expecting answers, you’ll only get questions. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you’re expecting this list to end, it never will so I’ll just stop.

(For everything else, please speak with my receptionist).

Retrospection

2006-10-06T14:16:00.000-07:00

{This is a short story I wrote with my friend Jon. He wrote all of the paragraphs in third person, as well as the poem. I wrote everything in first person. Be aware- it's really dark and disturbing (even though Jon and I are not). If it bugs you too much, read something cheery, like Meet a Real Bitch or Curiosity and the Cat. Have a nice day!}

"If all your world is dead and gone, unchanging with the seasons;
To want to go on living then, one must find their reasons."
- JoMo 3:14

In misery, he falls to the ground. Tears seem to seep out of his weary eyes, as he scrapes, drags, and lurches his broken, bloody shell of a body across the rocky road. The ominous gates stand tall behind him, their cold blackened iron depths forgiving none who pass. As they slowly close, he feels the echoes of their bolts locking tight reverberate throughout his foresaken bones. One muddy finger rises to wipe away the wetness on his eyelashes long enough to take one final look back inside. Row after row of tombstones stand still in the driving rain, guardians of lives he never knew. Mimicking his falling tears, the water splashes hard against the cold granite of each stone. With one last stuttering breath, he mouths one single word. "Goodbye."

Do you know what it's like to have to remind youself to breathe? I choke if I forget, like my body knows that I don't care anymore and doesn't even try. I lay on the road, desperate to block out the thoughts that hammered like sharp thin nails into my brain. I felt the kind of loneliness that squeezes your heart and numbs your bones, and it wasn't that I'd never find happiness again, it was that I didn't care because I'd forgotten what happiness felt like. I heard someone screaming in pain and torment and looked around, only to find myself completely alone. I wasn't scared - if you're ready to die, you're not scared of anything. The rest of your life is simply the gate before the ultimate freedom, and it doesn't really matter who leads you through.

The screaming continued - and it sounded like someone's soul being torn in half - and then I realized it was me screaming. The rain stopped, and my tears stopped, and suddenly silence came crashing down, drowning my screaming as if my head was held underwater. Everything was thickly still except for my mind, which squirmed like a worm in the apple of my skull. I struggled to my feet, needing to get away from this place. I took one look back - knowing I shouldn't but NEEDING to - and then I forgot to breathe, and the nails pounded and the worm squirmed and the road rushed back up to meet me.

Sonnetts, hours, oceans, epics, universes later, his eyes fly open. The brown, muddy road lies inches from his brain, as it should be. His muscles and bones and nerves with all of their sinewy, synaptic depths quake and quiver as he opens his mouth and oxygen floods his lungs. Like a thick molasses sludge, he slowly rises, his body a lithe, towering mass in the middle of the long, winding road. Step by step, his beaten body surges forward, leaving a trail of connected footprints in his wake. With each movement, the bones that are broken creak and scrape, drawing fresh blood to add to his already soaked clothes. As he staggers forward, images...no, real...buildings begin to take shape, amassing in grey blocks of despair. None stands whole. All are ruins - blasted, bombarded, decimated, and destroyed- these buildings have fallen...as has he.

As my gaze slithered over all that was left, a black wave of loss drove me to the brink of insanity. Broken stones jutted from the dark ground like rotten teeth in black gums. A glint of silver caught the cold moonlight, and I saw in the wreckage a shattered picture frame. Thoughts of what I had left in the graveyard ambushed my swollen mind, making my skull ache with equal parts mourning and madness. Hot tears poured from my eyes as I begged myself to forget, but the memory burst through like someone crushing an egg in their fist. I remembered what I had done, the horrific decision I had made, and felt my heart shatter in my chest like fine porcelain. I was already dead inside and nearly dead outside. I couldn't tell you what I felt, because I didn't feel anything anymore. I was just looking for the perfect place to die.

The air reeked with the rank stench of death. It was so thick, it seemed to be smearing a hefty, oily coating of pungence on the wind. His fingers rolled up into his palms, digging deep, forming fists clenched so tightly the skin was translucent straight through to the bone. His eyelids grew heavy in remembrance, but he forced them open, searching...always searching. He passed sunken building after building, each wreckage a testament to his betrayal - to his hell. Faces, pale and deathly...deadly...materialized out of the rancid mist. Their skin was a mottled, rotten flesh, draped loosely over old skeletons. Long, bony fingertips rose to tap impatiently on the cold stones of the buildings. For as far as his blurred and bloodied eyes could see, they arose, surrounding him with a death unmatched by any graveyard. The death pervaded his senses, encompassing him and the surrounding world entirely. Nothing stirred in this barren wasteland. If there had been flies, they would have feasted on the mutilated carcasses of those that stood before him. As it were, only their faces, marred by empty, sunken eye sockets, moved- turning to stare...and condemn. At last...he is met with his jury.

They had finally come for me - the ghosts of my past. I was surrounded by horrifying, ghastly, deserved wraiths made corporeal by my failing mind. They drifted closer, and I felt my skin crawl and my lungs corrode as I moved among the ranks of the dead. Their eyeless gazes tore into me like bitter fangs, impossibly realizing who I was and hungrily drinking in my guilt. I was being judged, and like a murderer found drenched in his victim's blood, I knew there would be no lenience. As I staggered along, my broken bones grating, my wounds leaking crimson with every heartbeat - my terror was tempered with the weary knowlege that my journey was almost over. I think I'd always known that they'd come back, that this would be the consequences of my actions and the debt of my mistakes. Then I saw it, looming out of the dark, and I knew I was almost there.

Their yowling, shrieking voices demanded blood. Knowing that which already soaked his skin was nowhere near enough, he raked his fingernails down his cheeks, his arms, his legs. Deep ridges filled with separated flesh and fresh blood. In his right pocket, he felt the weight of the picture frame, that single snapshot of his happiness, and grated the metal edges across his skull, filleting open the flesh until it hung in wet, dripping flaps. The glass shards he used to dig deeper into his aching limbs, severing tendons from the bone, one by one. His actions were frenzied, mirrored in the pool of viscous sanguine liquid below. Like a razor, the frame slashed through his body, decapitating all but the one thing he wished to lose...his memory. It eluded him cleverly, seeming to know that until it was gone, he would be forced to remain living...to remain...unresolved.

Behind them, it growled with its growing tenacity, snarling, feeding off of his unending desire to die. Looming over him, it snaked tendrils of darkness out to poke at his brain, screaming unbearably for him to remember, screaming and screaming and pushing and pulling and he was bleeding and falling and their hands pulled as they came for him, mouths opening, he screamed they tortured murdered mangled please die please die I want to die and then...they were gone.

A simple flutter and he was alone. Floating, softly as a feather, he watched the photograph alight ever so gently on the ground. And there it was, a thousand words of torment more painful than any open wound. It was what he left in the graveyard and the only thing he wanted. His happiness. It was more than smiles and love and friendship. It was everything. He exhaled, shoulders sagging, and dropped to the ground, grasping it in one hand, leaving a trail of bloody fingerprints. As the tears fell, as the unextinguishable pain soared through his veins and out the raw wounds, he watched it crumble into ashes, and blow away.

The dark forms were gone, and as the shadow ebbed away like a thick black tide, I forced my dimming eyes to study the photo in my hand one last time. How it had arrived here I did not know, but it had saved me from the darkness, and the madness. Things could not be undone, but I had at last found peace, the sort found in the face of man who expires quietly in his sleep. I had left a graveyard to find a place to die, and I had finally found that place. As I lay there with my torn cheek on the cold ground, I could hear the last of my blood trickling out of my veins and seeping into into the hard ground. I made an effort, and the last breath of air sighed out of my lungs and past the last smile I would ever make. And as my eyes slipped closed one final time and the darkness rolled down like a black curtain, I knew I was finally free.

"If soon their reasons are not found, all they have is sorrow;
Their soul may wander far and wide, but never see tomorrow."
- JoMo 3:14

googlism

2004-10-18T13:32:00.000-07:00

This is inspired by a friend who did the same thing at www.googlism.com. I thought I'd share!

Googlism for: laura

laura is new
laura is a racist and a total phony
laura is full of it
laura is a big skinny idiot
laura is no hillary
laura is hardly a sympathetic martyr
laura is a sadistic witch
laura is like playing with fire
laura is dangerous
laura is born
laura is a lesbian and fucks chickens
laura is 'styling'
laura is such a bitch it is unnatural
laura is being fucked by a guy with a very thick cock on the
laura is behind this
laura is luke's heart & humanity
laura is your god
laura is a 39 year old 5ft 5 1/2 in
laura is mainly interested in
laura is a single mexican woman from hermosillo
laura is an unsaved
laura is right
laura is a braggart
laura is an acoustic craftsman
laura is away
laura is keen on sending messages in odd ways
laura is melting
laura is a tremendous person
laura is my hero
laura is glowing
laura is so used to people that don’t think for themselves
laura is an aspiring model in georgia
laura is judging on sunday
laura is confused
laura is something else
laura is big news
laura is a professional in every way
laura is good in bed
laura is currently undergoing simultaneous seed multiplication in south australia
laura is mainly interested in passing moral judgements
laura is jewish
laura is an incredibly ticklish girl under any circumstances
laura is also the only girl in america who is rated number one in competition against boys her age
laura is also very versatile
laura is a nice woman
laura is extremely adept at computer hacking and can find almost anything without leaving a trace
laura is 3
laura is even inconsistent with her judaism
laura is big on the philosophy that people must take full responsibility for the messes they put themselves in
laura is justly proud of her archery skills
laura is lusting for you
laura is a goddess
laura is an i
laura is dangerous
laura is tops at wimbledon
laura is good emma is dumb
laura is so fucking cool she
laura is that george
laura is good in bed
laura is the best singer in the world
laura is my favorite crayon
laura is a man
laura is a mysterious young girl that seems to have a connection to your late wife
laura is here

what I learned from C.S.I.

2004-10-07T02:36:00.000-07:00

1. Never touch anything. Ever. Not if you're committing a crime...not if you've just walked into a crime scene...not if you've just realized that someone has committed a crime against you. Don't even think about touching anything. And even if you're absolutely sure that you haven't touched anything, you still probably have.

2. Bugs are REALLY cool! They're the good guys. And the fact that they're usually found eating your rotting, dead flesh is a good thing!

3. Coroners are EXTREMELY and weirdly de-sensitized to the sight of bodies in any shape and condition. Enough so that they can eat and drink while looking at one.

4. People never ever tell the entire truth. It doesn't matter whether they're innocent or guilty. They're always hiding something, either because it makes them seem guilty (and they are) or because it makes them seem guilty (and they aren't).

5. Be thankful for DNA. It's the end-all be-all of every investigation, it's itty bitty, and it's everywhere.

6. No matter where you put a body, someone is always going to find it. And it doesn't matter if you bury it in sand, concrete, or dirt. It also doesn't matter if the body is chopped up and spread about, left on the side of the road, or burned entirely from head to toe.

7. There are tons of really cool gadgets out there that can identify blood, DNA, minerals, fingerprints, spores, fiber-type, and pretty much anything else that's in microscopic form and floating around a crime scene. And once blood gets on something, it's never leaving. They can always find it. Even years later.

8. Defense attorneys really are assholes. They always show up just when the suspect is about to tell everything and instruct them not to say another word.

9. Whoever you think is the killer, usually isn't. And whoever you are sure isn't the killer, usually is. Unless they're trying to throw you off, then the one who isn't is, and the one who is isn't. OR, it's neither of them and it's someone entirely different.

10. That job really really really really really really really sucks sometimes. Like when they find a kidnapped and murdered baby lying in the bushes, and have to fend off the hysterical mother.

do the puyallup

2004-09-26T21:09:00.000-07:00

Looking for a great time?

How about OODLES of rides, HOT Scones (perfection!), Elephant Ears, Roasted Corn-on-the-Cob, Earthquake Burgers, HOT Scones (delicious!), Fresh Salt Water Taffy, Farm Animals as Far as the Eye Can See, Thousands of People, and oh yeah, HOT Scones (yummy!)???

If all of this sounds like BUNCHES of fun to you, then go to the fair! It's open every day from 10-11 and costs $10 and oh yeah, today was the last day.

Oh...you didn't make it...don't even live in Washington...hmmm....that's a bummer...

But guess what?

I GOT TO GO!!! And it was fabulous! I had a great time! Woohoo! Sucks to be you!!! Rocks to be me!!! :)

No really, it was a good day. I haven't been to the Puyallup Fair for years and I really missed it. I mean, what is it about fairs (other than the fact that they so totally rock!)??? I think it starts when we're just little tykes and our parents take us there, stick us on a bunch of rides, get our faces painted, and feed us a bunch of fried, sugary food that we're not normally allowed to eat. And we do it every year, for the rest of our lives (here's hoping). And I think it becomes this wondrous day of gluttony- I mean, the sole purpose of the fair is to have fun. No one goes there thinking "Dammit, I have to go to the stupid fair again" (like we all think when we're heading to work or school or church). Instead, it's "yay! I'm going to the fair! I'm going to eat five thousand scones and ride the roller coaster until I puke! Woohoo!"

Or at least that's what I think.

So today was a good day. I went with my friend, Brandy, who had already gone twice. We started off by wandering through all of the exhibits.

First we went to the Poultry Barn. In it there were a lot of chickens, including a few that had been spray-painted blue as part of some sort of "USA-Red, White, and Blue" theme. Right outside were a bunch of Tempermental Turkeys that would puff up all of their feathers and turn around, shoving their bare asses in our faces. It was really funny, because if we pissed them off even more (which means we stood a little closer to the cage and stared at them with wide, creepy eyes) they would make that really loud GOBBLE GOBBLE GOBBLE sound and hold their breath so their faces turned a bright Violet color.

Then we saw the Horses, Cows, and Pigs. We saw one horse who...ahem...demonstrated...why there exists the phrase "Hung Like a Horse." Brandy, who is clearly going to be a farmer some day, couldn't hack the pungent stench reeking from those barnyard asses and had to hang outside for fear of throwing up. The last straw, I believe, was when she turned and saw a cow who, apparently...um...had a little case of the runs, and was, as she so aptly described it, "Leaking Shit Out of its Ass." Mmmmm, tasty. I don't know though, she may have it in her yet to spend her life shoveling horse shit. What do you think?

I must admit, however, that she did stay long enough to see the week-old piglets fighting to the death over their mamma's tasty titties. (However, we both remembered at the same time dissecting pigs about the same size in biology class in high school. How sad. I remember my teacher made us watch Babe and Gordy after we were done. Sick bastard.)

We also saw a lot of hobbies and craft stuff. Most of it was uninteresting, QVC-types selling the next new Wonder-Appliance. But it did include the biggest Dahlia I've ever seen, the Record Winning Great Pumpkin (958 pounds!!!), honey bee farms, a demonstration on why we need to preserve the flood plain (the guy made me help him), free samples of chocolate milk, the Republican National Committee Stand, giant decorative landscapes comprised entirely of fruits and vegetables, a HUGE dollhouse completely decorated (inside and out), and the largest collection of Pez Dispensers I've ever seen.

However, this paled in comparison to the collection of Mullets I saw wandering around, as well as hot guys paired with ugly, skanky chicks (all with bad dye-jobs and caked-on eyeliner). And, in a rather touching moment of intimacy, a guy standing about 6 inches from me decided to "goose" his woman, reaching her "Front-Side Naughty Place" via her ass-crack. Brandy's response was "Well, I hope he at least bought her dinner first!"

So I dragged Brandy along to see more animals, and made her watch the State Grand Championship Dog Show, an event which I won with both of my dogs. We only saw the tail end of it, but it certainly brought back happy memories. She bet that a Golden Retriever would win, and I thought the German Shorthair Pointer was looking pretty good. She was right though. (I should have remembered...Golden Retrievers RULE!!! (Miss you, Rosie!)).

We were going to go on some rides, but seeing as they cost ONE DOLLAR PER TICKET and rides are SIX TICKETS making it SIX FUCKING DOLLARS PER RIDE, we decided not to. Maybe when I'm old and rich. So we settled for a gondola ride (which I think is actually called "Sky Cab" or something) that took us up and over the entire spanse of the fairgrounds. When we reached the other side, I went to hand the guy our tickets for our return trip when Brandy violently yanked them out of my hand and showed them to him. The man laughed and asked why I wasn't qualified to show him the tickets. I didn't know what to say because our cart was already leaving and I didn't know if there was proper time for something witty and sarcastic, so I just said "She's the boss!" and he laughed. But as we left, I added "Well...the word starts with a 'B' but it's not 'Boss'." Ahhh...Good Times.

So, the food. Yeah, we ate a LOT of food. Brandy had a corn dog, curly fries, two sodas, an elephant ear, and half of a blooming onion. I had a piece of saltwater taffy, a soda, two scones, and the other half of the onion (which we both agreed was no Blooming Onion from the Outback Steakhouse. Mmmmm...).

All in all it was a great day. I wanted to go back to get another scone to take home, but the lines were long and Master Brandy decided we HAD to leave at that EXACT moment and could NOT wait ONE more second! (She's lucky I love her enough to forgive her for such moments!). I did wait patiently, I might add, whilst she purchased all of her food including the two 10-pound bags of kettle corn she lugged around like a pregnant woman with a craving. I searched forever to find a souvenir, in case I never get to go again, and while Brandy's idea of getting a Doo-Doo Head (I think actually called a Doo-Dah Head, but I like my words better) was nice, I ended up with cute little cow that has "The Puyallup Fair" branded on it.

And, in keeping with Fair Tradition, we got the requisite black and white booth photos. I had to fight her for my half of the picture but she had to take up the whole damned frame, so that's why my face is cut in half.

So after seven Full-of-Fun Fair Hours, we left, touting Brandy's cheap glasses she won by tossing dimes into them, and giggling like itty-bitty school girls at the stamp the woman at the gate put on our hands that said "Thanks for Coming." In what will probably be our Greatest Moment of Immaturity we Tee-Heed over jokes like "What does the prostitute say to her customers after they leave? Thanks for Coming!" Tee hee! Tee hee!

So I say YAY to the fair. Find one near you and go to it. Eat as much food as you can hold, and go on tons of rides. Forget work and school and obligations for a day. Spend money. It will be well worth it in the years it adds to your life by getting rid of some stress. I know I definitely feel better- enough to move my IMood Indicator from "Exhausted" to "Happy". :)

100 things about me

2004-09-25T03:59:00.000-07:00

As I start this list, I am sitting in my pajamas on my big comfy couch, drinking a Mike's Hard Lemonade (one of several), and watching The Prince and Me (which I am actually really really liking. Stop laughing please.) (No...really...stop laughing.)

My dream car is a 1966-68 Ford Mustang, Blood Red with Black interior. It's the cute, feminine muscle car. My other less-of-a-dream Dream Car is a Porsche. I think a Porsche would be well-served by me, as I can actually drive well, and like to drive fast.

I'm 5'10", and I've been 5'10" since 7th grade. This is probably where I got my habit of liking older men (aside from that whole maturity thing), since all the ones my own age were 2 feet shorter than me and remained that way until half-way through high school.

I have an extreme irrational fear of spiders and mosquito-eaters. If there is a spider on my wall and it is in a position where I'm not completely confident I can kill it before it A) Jumps on me, B) Runs and hides where I can't find it, or C) Falls directly on to my face, then I will just sit and stare at it until either it moves where I can hit it with a volleyball or can convince some nice friend to come over and get rid of it for me.

I hate the death of any living creature. This is to say, if there is a spider outside of my house, I will be very upset if someone kills it. Most people find this odd about me.

I SUCK at remembering what day it is. I know the month, but never the actual date. I am extremely punctual when it comes to being at a certain place at a certain time. But I always miss birthdays and holidays- not because I forget the date of them, but because I never realize the day has come around.

I think Viggo Mortensen is REALLY REALLY HOT. He's tall, he's pretty, he's all rugged and manly, he's smart, he's got a great ass, and from the tight jeans he's wearing in this movie I'm watching right now (Hidalgo), he's got quite a package going on under them pants. :)

I have chronic allergies. I'm allergic to dust, mold, and feathers, which translates to being allergic to the entire world. As a result, I'm used to living day in and day out with congestion and sinus headaches. I don't realize it because I don't know any different- it's the story of my life. Doctors always tell me I don't complain enough.

I have dimples. Both cheeks. (On my face, not my ass). They're really deep. I forget they're there until someone points them out. When I was born the nurses all thought they were so cute that they kept trying to make me cry so they could ooh and ahh over them. Isn't that sweet?

I love books. When I'm in a bookstore, I'm like a kid in a candy shop. However, I have yet to read most of the books I own. I'll read books from the library first. I guess I figure that I can always get around to the ones I own...

10.

Speaking of which, at any given moment, I am reading about 7 books. Some I have been reading for years. For example, I read Catcher in the Rye over 3 years. No, I'm not a slow reader. Just an "occasional" reader. Every once in a while I'd pass by the bookshelves and notice it, then pick it up and read a chapter. I do this a lot.

I'm a really fast typer. I never officially learned to type- I am just sorta self taught. However, my mother, who was formally trained, said that what I taught myself is almost identical to the formal way. Somehow my fingers just figured it out.

I showed dogs for 10 years. At first I showed a dachshund, only she was old and not that into it. Then I showed a golden retriever and a border collie for the rest of the time. Both were champions, and won everything they entered numerous times, including the "brace" event where they were tied together by a 6 inch "y" shaped chain that was attached to a leash (an event that forces them to act as "one").

When I was in 8th grade I was supposed to get braces for teeth that had come in over baby teeth and were, therefore, jutting out pretty far. One week before my appointment I backed out, telling my parents I would rather wait and see if they grew in. It was a good choice. Within a year they grew in perfectly and now it appears as if I have pretty much straight teeth.

I like a lot of what most people would call "really bad movies." I think my tolerance for movies is just really high. So, stick a really hot guy in a piece of crap movie and I'll probably watch it, maybe even buy it on VHS.

I love sauces. As a kid, my parents thought I was weird because my mom would make spaghetti, and I would rather eat a bowl of the spaghetti sauce than the noodles. To this day, I still would rather eat the sauce, and if I do have the noodles, I'll eat them plain, or with parmesan cheese.

I collect sunglasses. They're kept in a giant lunch box in my closet. I never go anywhere without a pair.

Every night I go to sleep, I will wake up naturally almost exactly 8 hours later- sometimes to the very minute.

On the pinkie toe of each foot, I have a split toenail- meaning I have two
separate toenails that grow side by side on the same toe. I got it from my dad (isn't genetics interesting?). It sucks because the outside one gets caught on things and tears off and sometimes I'll look down and realize there's blood all over my foot.

My parents encouraged me to do anything I was ever interested in. As
a result, I've played tennis for 18 years, volleyball for 12 years, softball for 4 years, piano for 10 years, flute for 14 years, saxophone for 1 year, bassoon for 1 year, piccolo for 13 years, debate for 10 years, soccer for 1 year, basketball for 6 years, and showed dogs for 10 years. I took gymnastics and horseback riding lessons for three years. I was a Blue Bird and then a Girl Scout (until my parents bribed me to quit by buying me a dachshund and telling me I could show her, which was my original request. They thought my girl scouts leader was a bitch.)

20.

I've studied a lot of languages, and can pick them up and understand them
pretty quickly. I know the basics in German, Spanish, and American Sign Language. I've studied (for years) French, Latin, and Italian.

I am second generation American- my grandparents came over here from
Norway early on. Unfortunately, my Norwegian culture is limited to my name, occasional news of relatives that still live there (whom I've never met), and some foods that I never really noticed that other people around me don't eat (until recently)...like Lefse (yummy potato tortilla-type things with butter and cinnamon and sugar type stuff melted in the middle...mmmm).

I have kept a journal for 6 years. I'm actually working on the fourth one, having filled up three already. I've filled up one and a half since last January. What can I say, it was a heavy-drama period.

I'm really sensitive to drafts- meaning I can't sleep with a window open, or with a fan blowing- I'll get a horrible sinus headache and wake up with a sore throat, then get sick. Air conditioning in a car is like sinus-death to me. I'll get an immediate sinus headache (ever felt one of those? They hurt pretty bad and nothing makes them go away.)

My piano specialties are Chopin, Beethoven, and Brahms (the first two
being my absolute favorite composers). I know the Moonlight Sonata by heart, and have made people both cry and give a standing ovation by playing it. My goal now is to learn Chopin's Nocturne in C# Minor (it's the song Adrien Brody is playing in the beginning and in the preview of The Pianist).

I've had the top cartilage of my ear pierced for 5 years. It hurt like hell and took 6 months to heal. My parents were shocked and sickened when they saw it, but apparently not so much that they remembered it considering they expressed the same shock as they continued to completely forget its existence and re-discover it for 4 years.

One time some irritating guy kept IMing me for a picture, trying to get me
to cyber with him. So I sent him a picture. Of a man. Happily enough, he stopped bugging me immediately.

I taught myself to read when I was 3, using a book entitled "A Pig Can Jig." My mom gave it to me and after playing with it for a few hours, I figured out the words and read it to her. She was shocked.

I can remember my first steps. My parents never believed me, until I
described the exact image in my head. I was standing by the couch, and one of my brothers was calling me to him, arms open wide. I stepped out and into his arms. For the next several minutes, my brothers were calling me from one to the other, and I walked back and forth.

I love a good medium-rare steak, surprisingly enough, without any sauce
whatsoever.

30.

Like a true writer, my dreams always appear in these complete, long, epic
adventures. They're always really weird and I write them all down in my journal. I like telling people about the weird and interesting ones, and they always laugh and tell me I'm strange.

I have four older brothers, all at least 12 years older than me.

No one in my family has the same hair color. We're all naturally very different, and my dad's is the only one even close to mine. My Mom has almost black hair, which she has dyed blond since she was 22. One of my brothers has platinum blond hair, the second has sandy blond, the third has medium brown, and the fourth has darker brown. My dad has medium blond hair, and mine is sort of a dirty, dark blond. Hmmm...maybe we're all the result of several different mailmen?

When I was young (like first grade young), I had an extreme fascination
with the Third Reich and anything having to do with WW2. I read every
book I came across, and was an expert on Hitler, the Nazi Party, and Germany. I got over it by junior high and have since forgotten pretty much everything.

I was raised Lutheran, not because my parents are religious but because they wanted me to have exposure to religion (so I could make my own choice later) and also so I would have a sense of morals. Now I don't ascribe to any religion in particular. I took a "What is your religion" quiz online and it told me the top 3 religions that matched my beliefs were Hindu, Amish, and Protestant. Hmmmm...

On another note, I LOVE churches, and I LOVE going to services. Churches are always really pretty, and I love the solemnity of a church service. Additionally, I think organs make some of the most beautiful music ever created.

I have wanted to be a lawyer since I was 14 and started debating. I have not changed my mind since then. After people get to know me, regardless of whether they know I want to be a lawyer or not, they almost always say "You'd be a great lawyer."

I could also see myself being a teacher, doctor, FBI profiler, and engineer. If there was only one thing I could do for the rest of my life, though, I'd be a writer.

I've had a bazillion jobs- waiting tables, slinging bagels, managing a movie theater, running the movies, coaching volleyball, teaching computer classes, and running my own store.

When I was in elementary school, I always half-assed those Presidential PE
testing things...so I'd run a 15 minute mile (because I'd walk the whole time) and never scored really high on anything because I never cared. In middle school, my competitiveness kicked in and I decided to start trying. After that, I scored in the 99th percentile on everything but the Flexed Arm Hang. I ran a 5 min 57 sec mile, and did 64 situps in a minute. :)

40.

I like driving really really fast, but have never gotten a ticket.

I was a vegetarian for three years until I made my family dinner one night
and the chicken I was cooking smelled so good I kept nibbling at it, then decided I missed it too much and said fuck it to the whole thing. I haven't looked back since.

My favorite position is On Top because it feels better and I get to do everything for once.

I can sleep pretty much anywhere- in cars, on planes, on the floor, on the
couch, in class, on the bus, on the floor of a bus, and if I drink enough, with my head propped up against the corner of a desk.

I'm really picky about who I let sleep in my bed. If it's not someone I really like, then I'm way too uncomfortable. And if it's anyone new, I can never sleep for the first few nights. I'll usually lie in bed the whole night either staring at the ceiling or them. (Yikes!)

I don't like dating. I hate forced situations, and I'm really picky about who I like. Basically, I'd rather only go out with people I really like, and that isn't too often, which is fine because I like my alone time.

I'm really good at keeping in touch with people. In fact, when I moved back to Washington from California, I found that I had kept in better touch with more people than the people who had actually stayed in Washington. And I still talk to my old friends in California.

My nicknames have been and still are Whora and Spora.

My favorite drink is a Mudslide. The runner-ups are Pina Colada and White Russian.

My favorite beer is Guinness. The runner up is a good Hefeweizen.

I have a really stable personality, meaning it doesn't change much. This is not to be confused with having a boring personality. I've been accused of being a lot of things, but never of being boring.

50.

I refuse to stay friends with people who fight dirty- meaning when we get
into an argument, they do everything they can to make me feel as horrible as
possible- from calling me names, to trying to turn people against me, to actually physically trying to hurt me. We're not in junior high anymore and it's not worth it.
When I was in junior high I was fascinated with vampires. I once jokingly told a boyfriend that I was one and lightly bit him on the neck. He REALLY liked that, and was thereafter obsessed with the idea. Yeah, okay.

My hair has been Red, Purple, Green, Blue, Bleached Blond, Streaked Blond,
Dark Brown, and Black. I fried it so badly once that the top part broke in half and fell off. When I dyed it black, it was only supposed to be temporary. But when it still hadn't faded after a month, I noticed that the bottom of the box said that if you had hair lighter than a brunette, the color would not come out. Thanks fuckers. So I had to bleach it to get the color out, and the color hair you see in my picture above was the color I got. On a related note, whereas I'd worn mostly gray and black before, I started wearing more colorful clothes (if you're White and you have dyed Black hair, you look Goth, which I wasn't). This trend has continued, and now I wear all colors, even Orange occasionally.

My favorite pizza is half-vegetarian and half-hawaiian. Unless I'm at McKormick and Kuleto's Seafood Restaurant in San Francisco. Then my favorite is the Spicy Rock Shrimp Pizza (spicy rock shrimp, feta, mozarella, and homemade pizza sauce made in a brick oven). Yum.

I'm crazy and I love to do crazy things. I once picked up and drove
to Lake Tahoe late at night. I've gotten lost in the woods for an entire day. I like to just get in the car and go somewhere. Most of the time I can't find someone to go with me, in which case I've become used to going on my own.

Every boyfriend I have ever had has promised to teach me how to drive a stick shift (literally...get your mind out of the gutter). I still don't know how. At this point, I figure it will be the man I marry who actually teaches me how to do it.

I'm really really shy but after years of customer service and force of habit, I've made myself overcome most of the symptoms to where I'm actually really outgoing. My shyness still surfaces when I have to call someone I don't know, and when I have to tell someone I like them (even if I know they like me for a fact).

I absolutely can't stand people who have to argue with everything.
At some point I have to tell them to just shut up and let things be. I find it ironic because I'm going to be a lawyer, and all of my friends are debaters, two attributes that make people extremely argumentative.

I hate it when people talk shit about someone who is my best friend or
boyfriend. I mean, you've got other friends to bitch at...are you really that stupid that you think I'd be sympathetic to you, want to get involved, or want to hear it at all?

I'm not afraid of heights, but I don't trust ladders. The higher I get on a ladder, the less in control I feel, and I don't feel I can trust my life at 30 feet up to some child laborer in a third world country who's being paid 2 beans a day to make ladders for us stupid American consumers.

60.

I'm one of those people who is extremely prepared for everything. In my purse I've got medications, floss, makeup, a flashlight, bandaids, finger nail clippers, and a knife. It's a small purse too. In my car I've got a complete First Aid Kit, a change of clothes, and enough stuff to last me should my car ever break down in the mountains or the wilderness. Hey, it runs in the family.

I've got like 50 people on my AIM buddylist, and most of them I never talk
to or don't know who they are. And this is after I've cleaned it out. This includes people I've never known (but found them on a list for Interview with the Vampire) named Armand, Lestat, and Louis whom I put on there years ago just for kicks.

On a related note, I love reading people's away messages. There are people I haven't talked to for years whose away messages I read daily.

I have a highly developed sense of manners. It's kinda bad because if I forget to say thank you, even for something really really small, it will bug me and I'll feel guilty until I do say it. It also means if someone doesn't say thank you to me, I will notice and it will bug me until I force myself to forget about it.

I have really really quick reflexes. This is what makes me good when I play tennis or volleyball and am up at the net.
I don't belong to any particular political party, and I refuse to choose one. Sometimes I go one way, sometimes I go the other. I'd rather just vote by person, by issue.

I like the idea of reincarnation. I think it makes me feel better about death. I also like the idea that Heaven and Hell are what you make of your life on earth.

For some reason, I can't dive head first into water. Once, in high school PE, we were required to dive head first off of the high dive. I went up there, determined to just do it. So I put my arms together, and pushed off...halfway down I freaked out and pulled my head up, and went SMACK...I belly-flopped on to the water. Everyone in the whole pool heard it, and I went home right after that. My body hurt for like three days.

I love LOVE horses. Once, while I was at my cousin's house, I went into his neighbor's yard (who wasn't home) and hopped bareback on to his horse. The horse bucked a bunch and tried to bite me, but I rode it anyways. :)

My favorite holiday is Christmas. I love everything about it- the snow, the smell, the lights, the presents. When I have kids and a family, I'm going to make sure we live in a place that has White Christmases and Christmas will be a big deal with lots of lights and events and family and presents and Santa Claus and such. I want to reinvent the magic I lost from when I was little.

I love Violent Femmes. I've seen them live at the Greek Theater in Berkeley, CA and it was awesome! My favorite song by them is Add It Up, for the line where he says "day after day I get angry and I will say that the day is in my sight when I’ll take a bow and say goodnight."

70.

I have a really large vocabulary. Partially because of debate (after I started, my dad said he needed a dictionary to understand what I was saying), partially from reading a lot of big books, and partially because I do a lot of crossword puzzles. I think that runs in the family too. My grandma can do any crossword imaginable and will finish them all. The same goes for my parents, who regularly finish New York Times and Wall Street Journal crosswords at the drop of a hat.

Several years ago a friend and I wrote a screenplay and entered it in Project
Greenlight's Screenplay Contest. We wrote over 300 pages in one month, long distance, over the phone. We didn't win, but everyone who commented said our writing was amazing.

I am a Gemini, and even though everyone says this, I really do match up with the description. "Gemini, the sign of the Twins, is dual-natured, elusive, complex, and contradictory."
I have two personalities. Not in the MPD sense, but there's a very dualistic and contradictory nature. There's the confident, no-bullshit bitch who knows what she wants, expects the very best out of herself, and refuses to let anything stand in her way. She's intimidating, and mostly exists when I play sports, drive, debate, or work. Then there's the insecure, shy girl who over-analyzes everything, is sensitive to anything that might pop up in her mind, worries about failure, and just wants to be loved.

As far as looks go, I don't really have a set type for what I like in men. I've liked guys from every look. Personality-wise, they're always exactly the same- Extremely intelligent, Really funny, Moody, Sensitive, and Impossible. Hey, I didn't say it was what I look for, it's just what I always get, and I'm okay with that. It's what works. I think. Hmmm...

My favorite dessert is Loganberry Pie with vanilla ice cream.

I once was camping alone and was held hostage in my tent by a bear. It was poking and sniffing at it for about an hour before it finally wandered off. I was freaked out, and I really had to pee, but I didn't feel comfortable walking across the campground to pee with the bear still nearby. That night I felt like the biggest coward ever.

I've been to most of the states in the US, but have hardly ever left the country. I went to Mexico once and Canada thrice.

My goal this year is to find a job that pays me more money and spend all next summer traveling Europe.

Last November I tore my rotator cuff coaching volleyball. We were doing this drill where the girls had to squat with their heads underneath the net without standing up and pass 10 perfect passes in a row back to me. I was hitting the ball at them as hard as I could and after 2 hours, felt my arm snap and I couldn't use it anymore. I researched and found that either it would heal itself or need surgery, so I tried to let it heal, while continuing to coach the team. I took them to semis in the state of CA and still couldn't use my arm. Then a month ago, that's August, it stopped hurting. I played tennis for six hours the other day and it was fine. That's an entire year of healing!
I think it would be a great adventure to get stuck on a deserted Pacific Island. I think I would do well with the survival stuff, and would write stories in my head the whole time.

80.

I'm really organized, and it bugs me when things aren't in their proper place.

I'm not shy when it comes to talking about myself, and am comfortable talking about really personal situations (not with strangers, but with friends). And being naked doesn't bother me...mostly.

I can wiggle my ears.

When I was young, I hated reading. Then my dad sat me down one night
and told me to read more. So I started reading Nancy Drew and romance novels. After my parents made me go to bed I would read with a flashlight for hours. My mom would come by and check to see if she could see light under the door, so I had to be really careful about it.

When I'm trying to get to sleep and am not that tired, I make up stories and act them out in my head. It's like making my own mini-movie to watch at bedtime.

I can't draw at the drop of a hat like those really good artists or my brother, but if I have a little time, I can do a pretty decent job. I'm really good at imitating- looking at a cool picture in a magazine and drawing the exact same thing.

I'm really consistent and not really forgetful. This makes me a good
employee and is why I've been a manager for years now. When I work, whether it's counting money or closing up shop, I can do the exact same thing every night and not forget a detail from the very start.

It takes me a long time to fall in love...and a long time to fall out of
it. Unfortunately.

My favorite out-to-dinner food is chicken strips with ranch, barbecue
sauce, and honey mustard.

I'm addicted to Aquafina. The entire bottom shelf of my refrigerator is full of bottles of it. I wasn't drinking enough water and so I made myself a deal- I will buy myself Aquafina and work a constant supply of it into my budget if I promise to drink at least 4 bottles a day. So far it's worked for about 6 months.

In 8th grade someone dared me to punch a hole in a dime. It took me two days and two hole-punchers, but I did it. I started wearing it on a chain around my neck. A year later some stupid in-bred hussies told me that it was a gang symbol and I hat to be initiated to wear it...they told me to take it off or they were going to beat me up. I was scared but I knew it was all crap, and refused to back down. So I kept wearing it, and they noticed, tried to bully me into taking it off, and I just ignored them. They left me alone after that. I wore it around my neck for 12 years, seeing it as a sign and reminder of the person I strive to be.

90.

I channel with my hands. This means when I'm thinking, my hands are
somehow reflecting that. When I'm driving, and I sense a car is about to pull out in front of me, I point at it and tell it to stay, without even thinking about it. It always works!

Even though I have four older brothers, I am basically an only child. They're all so much older than me that I was practically raised without them there. I think it worked out well- I got the attention I needed and didn't worry about competing with my siblings because they were off to college, but I was prevented from being entirely stuck up and spoiled because I had these thugs around to beat up on me and share in the parental goods.

Four older brothers, all athletic and over 6'2" plus one beefy 6'2"
dad = one well protected girl. That's right...you don't want to mess with me, cuz after I get done with you, you've got five buff and brawny men coming after your sorry ass.

My favorite All-Time TV Show is La Femme Nikita. I think Peta Wilson
is absolutely beautiful. I think Roy Dupuis is really really HOT. I still have Peta Wilson on my computer desktop, and I'd kill to be as beautiful and kick-ass as she is. My second favorite show is Golden Girls.

I'm hypoglycemic, which means if I go without food for a really long period of time my blood sugar crashes and I feel like my entire body is dying. A meal of nothing but carbs or sugar is like death to me- I'll get a headache, a fever, get all sweaty, feel like vomiting, and get that sick achy feeling you get when you're really really sick (like when you're skin and body just feel really uncomfortable.) So I eat a lot of protein and never really think about it unless I haven't eaten for several hours and am thinking about reaching for something sugary.

I hate money. I hate that I have to live by it, and I hate the control it has over the world. If somehow I had just enough to pay the bills so I never had to think of them, I think I would be really happy. On the other hand, I find it would be much easier to do all of the things I want to do with my life if I had a job that pays me more money. Hmm...is that hypocritical, or selling out?

I love plants. My apartment is full of them, and outside I've planted tons of roses and pansies. When I grow up, I want a house with tons of gardens and lawns, full of oodles of roses and every other flower imaginable.

When I was in second grade I spent a few weeks designing my dream house. I still have the plans, and I intend on building the house (with a few slight modifications) whenever I settle down and have the money to do so. It's got to be on the water, with lots of acreage, near the mountains. It will be an older style, with lots of rooms, a library, and a ballroom. (Somewhere, my mother is saying "And what good fairy is going to clean THAT?")

I have a really genuine personality. Take it literally. When I'm happy, I seem
happy. When I'm sad, I seem sad. I usually suck at lying (so my mother tells me) (then again, she always thinks I'm lying). When I don't like someone, it's goes against everything in my nature to pretend to like them. I can be civil, but I can't talk shit about how much I hate someone and then turn around and tell them they're my best friend. I wouldn't say I'm blunt...just obvious.

I want to find someone who is smart, funny, adventurous, good, steadfast, sarcastic, sweet, and can keep up with me without ever telling me he's too tired, too busy, or just doesn't have the time to do what is right. I want this.

< ? 100 Things # >

Washington v. California

2004-09-19T23:59:00.000-07:00

During my years in California, I found myself often regaling the folks there with stories of Washington. And since I've returned to Washington, mine is the voice that speaks to the nature of the Californian. I consider both states a home, and as such, have my likes and dislikes about both of them. So I thought I'd share.

Washington v. California: The Good, The Bad, and the Crazies.
California: The Bad
1. Nutties and Crazies everywhere, always harassing you for change, food, alcohol, or their pet squidget named Muddy McForbanks.
2. Everything is brown and there are few trees. My nickname for it was "The Wasteland."
3. Things are massively more expensive (especially apartments: take for example, a huge 1 Bedroom apartment. In Berkeley, $1600 a month, and it's actually a tiny 1 bedroom apartment, with no closet space. In Auburn, $550 a month, and not only is it huge, but you've got a full kitchen, giant living room, dining room, bathroom, walk-in closets, and a patio. See what I mean?)
4. Lower minimum wage ($6.75 in CA, $7.16 in WA).
5. More pollution, meaning constantly hazy skies and water that smells like ass.
6. Bazillions more people, meaning more competition for jobs, apartments, and most importantly, parking spaces.
7. Lots of hippies who abhor cars and refuse to make any more parking spaces.
8. Traffic. All of the time. Everywhere.
9. It's really loud all of the time, everywhere. It's surprising how you find that you can get used to things like police sirens, fire engines, car alarms, traffic, people yelling, and shopping carts going up and down the sidewalk all night long.
10. Hypocrites. People who make over 6-digit incomes a year, drive their SUVs to work, mow down all the surrounding trees, and would sell their own children for the heck of it who pretend to be peace-loving, tree-hugging, homeless-helping, good people. Assholes.

Washington: The Bad
1. Single-minded back-country hicks. They're everywhere.
2. It rains all of the time. No really. All of the time.
3. Everyone is really religious so you can't talk about things like "goat-fucking" without someone getting offended. Psh!
4. There isn't a whole lot of diversity. You've met one person...you've met them all.
5. My hometown has had the highest teenage pregnancy rate for decades. Enough said.
6. My hometown is also home to the serial killer to kill the MOST people in the entire history of the United States AKA The Green River Killer. Washington also holds claim to other serial killers, including Ted Bundy, who went to school with several of my friends' parents.
7. Mullets. They're everywhere.
8. If you don't want to drink or see a movie and you're not a major nature buff, there's nothing to do. And there's nowhere to go to do anything either. Might as well drink.
9. The whole place resembles the scene in the movie entitled "great place to dump a body." Makes you feel real safe.
10. Lots of Native American Reservations, which serves as a constant reminder of what the government has done to them, as well as provides tons of casinos everywhere. Casinos are fun. But they're ugly.

California: The Good
1. There are jobs where there is less restraint on your appearance and actions...meaning you can wear jeans and call your boss a perverted fucker.
2. Tahoe. It looks even better than any picture you might have seen. It's the bluest and greenest waters imagineable.
3. San Francisco. It's full of old charm, interesting people, great seafood, cable cars, and the biggest Old Navy I've ever seen.
4. Alcatraz. I've been about 10 times and I still love going. If you haven't been, I definitely suggest the night tour. You cruise by the Golden Gate Bridge at sunset, loop around Alcatraz Island, and then you get to wander around it while the sun sets over you. It's absolutely gorgeous.
5. The Winchester Mystery House. Definitely one of the coolest places to go. It's the house that was built 24 hours a day every day for years and years. It's got a seance room, stairs that go to the ceiling, and a window built into the floor. Very cool.
6. Highway 1. If you've got several days to kill, it's the prettiest view on the west coast- drives right along the shore all the way down to San Diego.
7. It's extremely diverse. There are people of every ethnicity, language, sexuality, and even species there. One of my earliest mempories is seeing a half-naked woman walking down the street with her pot-bellied boyfriend on a leash and collar, his hands bound behind his back. I immediately wrote it on a post card and sent it home to my very conservative parents, saying "aren't you glad I moved here?"
8. The Terminator is the Governor. Hahahahahahahaha.
9. It's the best place to learn to drive. After all, if you can't make it here, you can't make it anywhere. And if you learn to drive the Bay Bridge every day during rush hour and manage to not miss any of your exits because you couldn't get over, and managed to not die, then nothing will ever, EVER, worry you about driving ever again.
10. The sunshine. Almost every day, you've got crystal clear blue skies.

Washington: The Good
1. Everything is scenic and beautiful.
2. There's more space...everything isn't developed, so houses are big with parking lots and huge yards.
3. It rains all of the time. And in the summer, when it's sunny and 80 degrees for three months, it's ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL!
4. In California, I had to walk three blocks to where I parked my car (and paid $50 bucks a month for the spot), 4 blocks to the laundry, and 10 blocks to the grocery store (none of which had parking lots). In Washington, I have my own parking space 10 feet from my front door. I have a washer and dryer inside my apartment. And the grocery store is 3 blocks away with a HUGE parking lot.
5. Driving out to mom and dad's house is like taking a weekend trip to the country estate. They have sprawling lawns, orchards, gardens, a waterfront view, and are in the middle of a forest (for privacy).
6. Parking lots. Everywhere. And they're HUGE.
7. It's quiet. No sirens, no nutties, no frat boys, no shopping carts in the middle of the night. When you go to bed at night, you hear nothing.
8. No state income tax. Very nice.
9. If you're a nature buff, there's TONS to do- from hiking to fishing, biking, camping, and mountain climbing. I can go rafting on a river right outside my apartment. And the water is clean.
10. The clincher. Everyday, from my home, from my town, and from the whole surrounding area, this is our view...

100 Things that piss me off

2004-09-09T17:09:00.000-07:00

1. People. In general.
2. Irate customers who think that they deserve to be treated like royalty and you, the employee, like trash.
3. Commercials about drugs that ask "is this drug right for you" without telling you what it treats.
4. Telemarketers. It's a shitty job, but if you ask me, they're asking for whatever angry responses they get from people.
5. Banks and their bureaucratic policies. Policies, for example, that say even though you make a deposit and a withdrawal at the same time on the same day, if the withdrawal somehow overdraws you, and they can charge you $22.00 for it, then the deposit will count as having been placed into the account AFTER the withdrawal took place. Magically.
6. Huge, hairy spiders that wait until I'm just about to get into bed to decide to crawl across my pillow or bedroom ceiling.
7. Anything that wakes me up in the morning. The phone. Nutties on the street. Car alarms. Drunk people. Next door neighbors who decide to chain a young dog outside their apartment and ignore it while it yaps its head off.
8. People who drive in the fastlane going the exact speed limit or below.
9. Those irritating folks in class who think they know everything and are willing to proclaim their idiocy to the entire room, as well as make fun of those around them who actually DO know what they're talking about. Like this girl I knew in college who would make fun of the shy kids who ventured to raise their hands during discussion.
10. Pedestrians in the Bay Area...they're everywhere!
11. Any commercial on TV about insurance or car dealerships...especially if they're shown at 4AM.
12. Vending machines that refuse to take anything but a newly minted, perfectly straight and crisp dollar bill.
13. Anyone who is nice to your face and talks shit behind your back.
14. Passive aggressiveness.
15. Bad leaders.
16. Stores that encourage their salespeople to follow you around and constantly ask if you need help. Like the Gap in downtown Berkeley and any Nordstroms.
17. Lies.
18. Bigots.
19. Anyone who says gay people should not be allowed to marry.
20. Ignorance.
21. Those who argue Russia and China were really communist and all democrats should be called "comrade."
22. People who talk on cell phones while they're driving. You can always tell because they're driving really slow and in multiple lanes.
23. People who talk on cell phones really loudly in quiet places...like the library or bookstore or movie theater.
24. Hippies.
25. The rich yuppies that live on the hill in Berkeley, who wear hiking sandals and ride bikes downtown, proclaiming to love the poor and the environment but treat customer service folks like shit and drive their SUVs to work.
26. Hypocrisy.
27. Flakiness.
28. My mother when she assumes that because I haven't called for a couple of days that I must be dead on top of a mountain or have moved to Mexico to give birth to the love child of my latest conquest.
29. Men.
30. Every time a man says "I just got out of a relationship and am not ready to get into another one." What, do I look stupid? Besides, you can go fuck yourself. All I asked is if you wanted some water.
31. Brad Pitt and the fact that he keeps deluding himself to believe he'll be happy with anyone but me.
32. Totally Repressed Females. Just think of the sorority girl stereotype and you'll know what I mean.
33. The fact that banks and post offices are closed on sunday.
34. Albertson's and their whole campaign when Safeway came out with the Safeway card, saying that "you don't need a card to save at Albertson's." How long was it until they sold themselves out on that one and came out with the Albertson's card?
35. Cats when they spontaneously scratch the hell out of your hand after you've been peacefully petting them for a while.
36. The movie Eye of the Beholder. It sucked. I want the two hours of my life back.
37. People who talk, chew their nails, floss, or breathe heavily during movies.
38. Anyone who knocks on my door selling something or promoting a religion.
39. The junk mail I continuously get in my mailbox. It's just a waste of paper.
40. Sneezes that are teasing me and won't either let me sneeze or go away for good.
41. Anyone who justifies doing something illogical simply "on principle."
42. The guidance counselor at my old high school who told my brother he wouldn't get into Harvard (even though he had straight As and a 1600 on his SATs) and who wondered why in the hell I would think of applying to UC Berkeley (because I thought I would be accepted and WAS you asshole).
43. Those kids we all wish we could go back in time to meet- high school and junior high- and tell them off just because they think they're smarter, funnier, sexier, and more popular than us (but we know are just more insecure, stupid, and ugly).
44. Anyone who thinks that they deserve a refund even after they've watched the entire movie or eaten the entire plate of food.
45. Moochers who reach over and grab things off of your plate without even asking.
46. People in amazing cars (like Porsches) who either drive like old bitties or really badly.
47. When the vibrator breaks or runs out of battery power when you're halfway through.
48. When the guy breaks or runs out of battery power when you're halfway through.
49. Murderers.
50. Intolerance.
51. The ending of Romeo and Juliet. Wake up dammit!
52. That they cancelled La Femme Nikita.
53. Boyfriends who leave without telling you why.
54. That the official soda of UC Berkeley (whose colors are Blue and Gold) is Coke, which is red, and the same color as Berkeley's rival, Stanford.
55. Hangovers.
56. Taxes.
57. Bubble gum packs that explode inside your bag and leave sticky sticks of gum everywhere.
58. Anything that interrupts regularly scheduled broadcasting. Especially baseball games and presidential speeches.
59. People who think that my car is a cop car and not only slam on their brakes but go BELOW the speed limit.
60. The extension cord at work that always just slightly shocks me when I plug it in. If I ever die of electrocution, please use this post as a way to get money from the bastards that A)made it and B)made me use it.
61. The Band-Aid gunk that gets left behind on your skin and collects all manners of dirt and fuzzies.
62. People who freak out at ridiculous and inconsequential things.
63. People who get their kicks off of masturbating next to someone in a movie theater. Dammit, you're ruining my movie and NO ONE wants to see that.
64. My back because it hurts.
65. People who steal right out underneath my nose and do it so badly that I know it.
66. Standardized tests...not everyone thinks in multiple choice!!!
67. The plastic wrappers on CDs that are impossible to open.
68. Bitches...for an explanation, go HERE.
69. Labels.
70. Words like "hella" "hecka" and "hells yeah."
71. Pubic hairs and the fact that they're EVERYWHERE.
72. Trying to find the ringing cell phone buried in the bottom of my purse.
73. When things get underneath my fingernails.
74. Roadkill.
75. Work.
76. Anyone who comes by money easily.
77. Drivers who don't take advantage of free right turns.
78. Pop up ads.
79. Gina Gershon's mouth.
80. Denise Richards when she tries to act.
81. People who try to sound smart by using a lot of big words but only end up making unintelligible sentences, uninteresting sentences.
82. Gender stereotypes.
83. The bottom dollar.
84. Useless death.
85. Whiners.
86. Being sick.
87. Fake boobs.
88. Movies that cop out and take the easy plot home instead of delving into something more original and interesting. Like Identity.
89. Frat boys. The free drinks for girls at parties rocks. But the 200 barely post-pubescent boys running around trying to look cool and get laid is irritating.
90. People who have to stare at your tits at the gym like it's a frigging meat market.
91. Men in Radio Shack and hardware stores who assume just because I'm a girl, I must either be lost or have no idea what I'm looking for.
92. The same men who don't know what a digital coaxial cable is or where it's kept at the same stores after I give in and tell them what I need.
93. People who assume because a girl knows how to fix basic things, drive a car well, play sports, and stand up for herself she must have been a tomboy growing up.
94. Mustaches.
95. Pretentious pricks who try to be cool by pretending to know a foreign language, but obviously don't.
96. People who buy plants and know they'll probably end up killing them.
97. Anyone who buts a Betta in a cup and tries to sell it.
98. The people who thought up that stupid kittens in bottles web page and tried to market it as a real commodity.
99. When I get to the grocery store and totally forget everything I needed to buy.
100. Making this list. It took too many damned hours!!

[ Piss Back Piss Forward ]
{ Piss In This Ring}
[ Piss Into A Fan Piss List ] This RingSurf Net Ring owned by Batinfested.com.

Habitual love

2004-08-28T16:35:00.000-07:00

Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove.
Nay, it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken.
It is the star to ever wandering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved.
-Shakespeare, Sonnet 116

Is it Love, or merely Habit?

Love. It's one of the single most powerful words in the human language. It is the guiding force in all of our relationships, actions, and lives. We love ourselves, our families, our friends, our significant others, our homes, our pets, our neighbors, our land, our country, our world, our planet and even our universe. We love the animate and the inanimate. I love chocolate, chicken strips, Aquafina, and jalapeno poppers. I love the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I love my piano, especially when it's playing Beethoven or Chopin. I love the rain. I love the feeling of an adventure, or fulfilling a challenge.

It's easy to say what we love. Yet love remains the most abstract, intangible, and indefinable element in our world.

And since it is something we cannot define, how do we know if it's real? How do we know it isn't just a habit...something we've become so accustomed to that we feel we don't know how to live without it?

How do you know if that boy or girl you've deemed the love of your life is really that? How do you know that you haven't just become used to their attentions, their presence, the way they make you feel?

I've always followed the advice of someone way long ago- if you have to ask, then you're not in love. If you love someone, then you just know. It's not an issue, it's not a doubt. You love them, and every fiber of your being knows it is true.

It may seem inconsequential, this question of love or habit. If you're in love and you're happy, the distinction seems irrelevant. But what if you're trying to get out of love? What if you're no longer with that person, and you're forced to deal with the leftovers? If it's real love, it won't just go away. And if time eventually does drive them from your mind, does that mean it never really was love in the first place? Was it just a habit? And now that you're broken up, forced to go cold turkey and face the withdrawals alone, does that mean you're just picking up a new habit? The habit of being single again?

In the movie Notting Hill, Will (Hugh Grant) describes his breakup with Anna (Julia Roberts) as "I've been given Love Heroin, and now I'm forced to go without." If love is an addiction, and thereby an extreme habit, how do we ever know it's real? Or is it like he says, when you find the right person, it's like finding the right drug. The people you date and don't like at all are the equivalent of ingesting some excedrin or vitamin B. You get a slight rush at first, but then you don't feel a thing. Those that end up being friends are like vitamin C- good for you, but not really mood altering. And you know it's serious when you get into the hardcore stuff, like the people you love for years and years who are the cocaines and heroins and nicotines- the lifelong addictions that either kill you or stay forever.

After the breakup, when you either recover from the withdrawals or don't, is the only time you can really tell if it was meant to be a lifelong addiction. Years later when you still crave it, still dream about it, would that tell you it was real? I mean, if you can recover from it, then it must not be the love of your life that you can't live without, right?

It seems that a breakup is implied in all of this. In order to ever know that your love is real, you must leave it at some point, try to go without, and see if you can live without that other person. And if the pain goes away, and you get on with your life, then it must not be it, right?

But how long do you wait? A month? A year? Ten years? In the tv show Sex and the City, Charlotte says that it takes half as long as you were together to get over the person. What if you were together ten years, and five years later you're still not over them, what in the hell good does that do you to know? You're probably not getting back together after 5 years apart, so even though you've got the REAL LOVE knowledge, you're still screwed.

But it seems there's no other way. The only way to know if it's not just a habit is to try to break it. If you do, and you still want them, if you still feel the love, then it was real. And if not, if the habit is gone and so is the love, then it never was anything more.

This seems impractical too. If you're in the relationship and it's really bugging you whether it's real or not, you run a big risk in saying anything equivalent to "Honey, we need to break up for a while to see if our love is real or not..." It happens, but you run the risk of losing them.

Then again, if we follow the old adage, if you have to ask...well...

Absence - that common cure of love.
--Lord Byron

Breaking the Habit

So it's Cold Turkey Time, and you're going through withdrawals. How do you heal? What is the post-love equivalent of the methadone they give heroin addicts? Is it like people say, and time heals all wounds? The people I've spoken to list several remedies- everything from removing (and possibly burning) everything and anything that belonged to that person. Others say you have to get out and make yourself happy (which is such a conveniently generic statement it makes you want to punch them in the face...like the people who say "whatever is meant to be will be." Thanks for the wisdom you fuckers). Another person suggested sleeping with as many people as possible, to put the biggest distance between that relationship and now. Others said starve and work out 5 hours a day- make yourself beautiful (I guess becoming anorexic would certainly be a distraction from the pain of the breakup).

And yet, that's what it is- all of those solutions are distractions. All of those solutions basically imply a breaking of the habit. Anything to get you out of your old life, anything that changes as much as possible about it, and gives you a new one. But what about the biggest habit of all? What about the habit in your brain of constantly thinking about that person, of constantly being reminded of them, seeing them in every familiar place?

And the big solution is...well...hell if I know. If it was just a habit, then you'll be healed a lot sooner than if it was real.

I guess the bigger question is would you rather be healed and happy now, or know that you have tasted that intangible and seemingly unattainable element of true love?

About Me in Over 1200 Words

2004-08-09T20:22:00.000-07:00

I'm crazy.

I read magazines from back to front.

I scream bloody murder when I get on a roller coaster, yet insist on sitting in the front car and keeping my eyes open the whole time.

I must have chapstick with me at all times.

I am secretly passionate about playing the piano.

I have a huge list of things I want to do with my life and I just got to cross off five of them.

I like to dance in the middle of the street when it's raining.

I hate having pictures taken of me.

I'm always writing stories...in my head.

I hate it when drivers don't wave after you let them pull out in front of you.

I simply cannot stand being bored.

Instead of a green thumb, I have a green hand.

I love helping people when they aren't asking for it.

My golden retriever, Rosie, was my best friend in the world.

I am tired of people asking me what I am going to do with my life.

I enjoy Garfield, peanut sauce, the sound of fast typing, and Aquafina.

My cat, Loki, is the only animal raised solely by me. She is independent, loving, never boring, afraid of nothing, loves to play, has to be outside all of the time, and quite the little bitch. Nicely enough, my dad tells me she's definitely my cat.

I may act outgoing but am really still that shy little girl peeking out at the other kids from behind her mommy's back.

I remember everything.

I suck at mailing things.

Once, I asked for an "iced hot chocolate" at Starbucks and the woman gave me chocolate milk.

I love people who always say please and thank you.

I'm good at keeping in touch.

I believe you can find out a lot about a person just by fighting with them.

I am the youngest of five and the only girl.

I think I believe in reincarnation...or at least I did in a past life.

I know that if I ever go skydiving, they will have to physically throw me from the plane, but once I land I will ecstatically want to do it again.

I think a man in a black beanie is oh so sexy.

I love my family, even if they do tease me incessantly.

No matter what happens I know that life goes on.

At any given moment I am reading about five books.

I really love first-person shooter video games.

In my life I've had 29 cats, 5 dogs, 1 rabbit, 2 iguanas, 2 ducks, 2 geese, 2 goats, and a plethora of fish (including Fyzal, my betta) and I brought most of those home without permission (can I keep her daddy, pleeeeeeeease???)

I've been called the dumbest smart person.

Before I go to sleep I must have a glass of water and chapstick.

Watching someone sleep makes me feel peaceful.

I can't end this list so I'll just stop.

blank

2004-08-09T14:41:00.000-07:00

A blank page says it all.

Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog Blog blog blog blog blog blog blog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog weblog
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships
Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships Relationships relationships relationships relationships relationships