A Girl and a Journal

2010-06-14T11:20:00.000-07:00

The air feels so heavy, yet so familiar. It's the unforgiving Florida heat that permeates my senses. It rushes from the interior of my car and crawls up my nostrils. I exclaim, "Damn, it's hot", then chuckle to myself.

The past few days have been a hard life lesson. Sometimes we just have to let go of people/ideas/ things that we know are not good for us. My heart flutters endlessly and my mind is in a state of constant fickleness. This time, I think I will be okay. I am a single girl now. Whatever that means. I've never been "single" my whole life. My friends and families surround me like a big oven; warming me up and keeping me contained. I have only ever had two serious boyfriends. But that is fine. I am sure I will have more. I just hope they forgive me for my imperfections. I hope my future boyfriend will stick with me through tough times. Won't fault me for being sexually inactive. Will think I'm sexy if I'm reading a book and not only when I'm naked...

I just finished watching Cyrano de Bergerac. I have a terrible time pronouncing the title. My friend Stephanie (who has taken French classes) likes to correct me when I say it. She says it through her nose and it really doesn't sound all that pretty. But oh god...when Cyrano's love interest mutters his name, I swoon.

Sometimes I wish my life was a French drama.

2010-05-05T00:43:00.001-07:00

He loves me, he loves me not. I love him, I love him not.
I always imagined that love was something that was supposed to hit you.
Right in the chest.
Never questioning.

It's so crazy how hurt I feel. I feel like my heart is being squeezed. Though, not in a good way.
I want to run back to him so bad, but I know that would be bad for me.

So I sit here at three in the morning and think, think, think.

Roommate From Hell

2010-03-22T20:26:00.001-07:00

The roommate from hell knocks on doors, whistles loudly.

Shuffled feet, swishy pants fill the wooded hallway.

Knock two times, thrice he opens my door

his woolly hair massing together in a type of Jewish fro.

That breaks my concentration,

my frustration boils over.

Answering his pointless questions with short answers,

as he gallivants forth.

"Hey I never noticed that quilt before," he chatters unaware

that the tops of my arms are shivering, on end hair.

"I don't know where it came from," I answer back,

hoping he'll get the message and GET THE FUCK OUT!

Charges due

2010-03-16T07:55:00.001-07:00

Charges due on that history of journalism class
That droned on and on for three hours
My fingertips aching from typing out odes
To Benjamin Franklin and some guy that died in a snowstorm

To learn history so dryly is a cruel thing
Something no esteemed professor should commit
A crime against our fore fathers
School taken for granted once again

A concrete room with no windows
To gaze out of when the past got tough
Enough to lift my fingers from the keypad
And sit placidly, like a lake bed for mosquitoes
Enough, enough, enough

Charges due on the class I dropped
So easily a fortnight ago
Using my spare time on Wednesday nights
To speak German and write poems
About crimes against humanity
Historically speaking

Charges due later this evening

Fingernails

2010-03-01T12:24:00.000-08:00

The dirt between my fingernails is removable
Shaking a keyboard upside down never did anyone any good
Just got food crumbs and dust all over a clean counter top

I wonder how many fingers have touched this keyboard
Dirty fingernails and all
On the third floor of library West

Staring at dual screens dreaming of magnolia trees
That protect my bare feet
And how sometimes I like the sprawl of a suburban city
With its pockets of goodness that are so hard to find
But sweet like a persimmon seed, over too soon

Sometimes I can't decide
What is good for me or not
So I shake my head and scream at my Dad for not understanding
Warum kannst du nicht mich verstehen?!
And I wonder at my German, and if I'm really all that great at it.

If I'm actually destined for greatness, or if it's all just a facade

Maaaarrmmaalllaaaade
On a hot Florida day, the mosquitoes even stay away
from an un-screened porch that smokes from the heat
The cloth chairs warming my achy thighs
From biking all those miles

Where the sweet tea bubbles on the mosaic table
The ice has long since melted away
Life seems too good to sit around
And wonder if you're living up to everyone's standards
Wondering if and when, how and where, why and what

Digging around in the dirt
One day I'll clean my fingernails

bruised apple

2010-03-01T11:55:00.000-08:00

bruised apple
punctured hole
carried from Tallahassee by a lassie
to remind her of home

of organic gardens
coffee shops tucked away
a perfect bruise makes her want to stay
to remind her that nothing is perfect
except the place
she grew up in

yet she feels the need to face
a different world
unlike her own
although a bruised apple
believes every place is home

Onion Breath

2010-02-17T21:23:00.001-08:00

Onion breath

Permeating the pockets of my mouth

Wafting down my throat

The scent seeping through my teeth

Inhaling sweet air

Exhaling sweet onion breath

I brush my teeth

But it doesn’t help

Onion toothbrush bristles

Scrubbing at yellowed teeth

Scratching the enamel with onion scent

Scraping the tongue with onion hairs

Onion breath

Fickle-uality

2010-02-15T21:14:00.000-08:00

Fickle.

That word never meant anything to me until I broke the heart of the boy I loved.

Twice I broke his heart, and fickle was my excuse.

I was not fickle when the freshman

A year younger than I

met me at the gazebo near the lake

Where the wind had not yet picked up.

I sat coolly on the railing, my right leg dangling in the tall grass

He approached me cautiously and I took his lips

knowing he would surrender them to me.

Knowing I had caught his heart

and I have yet to know what that means.

To hold a heart so tenderly in your hands

the slightest word can pierce the muscle

What a cruel girl I was to ignore him

when he approached me days later.

There was another boy that felt me up

in the dewy field.

It felt nice for a moment

Then I was done

Done with him

On to a new adventure.

Because holding a heart in your hands is too heavy

and it was better to let it go.

"You don't owe me anything," he said nonchalantly

over the phone

His voice reduced to a monotonous whisper.

To feel your heart beat fast,

your breath quicken and salt-water

well up in your eyes means something right?

Frantically I searched the Web

Depression does reduce your sexuality

Does suppress your libido

Either that or makes you want it more

Which one am I?

Who has the answers?

I want to keep searching for the answers

Because

Life is not short

Life is long

because it goes on forever

And ever and ever and ever

Pants Are For Losers

2010-01-21T18:53:00.001-08:00

If I think about it too much, words are hard to find. How is the university student supposed to stay alert and imaginative when they don't even have time to read a book? Sure, I have time, but my mind is already so mushy from hours of work, that internet TV is the only thing I can handle...and sleeping. Not to mention I'm not eating that much, and because of that I've gained enough weight to not be able to fit into my size 2 pants? That's a lot of freakin' pants I can no longer wear! Oh, and the financial troubles. I have a feeling those kinds of troubles are here to stay.

My German workbook is still glaring at me, even though I completed the work over the course of this week. I'm out of studying ideas! It's not like you can read a bunch of German sentences over and over again and get the "gist" of it. I did, however, go to a German language meetup down at Cafe Gardens, a quaint little restaurant/bar situated in an ivy-covered courtyard with stones inlaid in the dirt. My German teacher Sarah told the class about it earlier today, and Nathaniel convinced me over the phone it'd be a good idea to go. I'm glad I went. I realized I need to get out more and show my face in this town that will be my home for the next two years.

Ich bin eine Studentin. Ich studiere Journalismus. Ich wohne in Gainesville aber ich komme aus Tallahassee.

I wonder if I'll stick with German that long, I hope so. I really need to know a second language. Every other person in the world (albeit for America) does.

Well, I'm going to sign off and immerse myself in this depression over my pants. My ten pairs of practically new pants.

Come Visit My New Blog?

2010-01-20T18:58:00.000-08:00

No News is Bad News

Work Work Work

2010-01-19T19:31:00.000-08:00

There is no way any sort of language class can be easy. Except if you are taking German I and already know German? Like three of the students in my class? In my opinion I think that is unfair, and it ruins the curve (if there is a curve). During class when we are reciting a conversation, the kids that already know German speak too fast, and than the rest of the class is left behind.

School has been getting really difficult. Teacher's are starting to assign projects, papers, and homework. There are already tests on the horizon, and a German vocabulary quiz tomorrow. Memorize over 100 words, get tested on 15 of them. The workbook is just daunting, and sits on my desk looking rather boring with its cheap paper. Why did that cost me $60?

I can't think of much to write because my mind just wants to shut down.

Blegh

2010-01-14T17:05:00.000-08:00

I don't like angry confrontation. I don't like being called an idiot by a person on a bicycle that also did not obey the traffic rules. I'm so used to bicycling to UF that when I was driving, I completely ignored a stop sign.

I stopped short as a student went rising past. From my perspective, I wasn't even that close to him. He looked at me with wide eyes and yelled, "Woooooah", in a 'I'm-better-than-you-because-I'm-on-a-bike' way, "you have a stop sign!"

"No I don't!" I yelled out the window (because I seriously thought I didn't).

"Look right, idiot!" he shouted with his I'm-a-vegan-I-compost-and-I-am-an-art-history-major glare.

Guuuh. Sorry, I'm just upset. Even though it was mostly my fault, I kind of think he should have owned up to it a little. I'm pretty sure cyclist's have to follow the traffic laws too. I always look both ways when I roll past a stop sign on a bike. Not the safest method, but it saves a lot of dismounting and mounting again. And I wouldn't call someone an idiot for making a mistake. How is that supposed to help someone learn?

It feels good to write this out. I don't think I am an idiot, and I hate it when people call me that.

College 101

2010-01-13T11:02:00.000-08:00

A room in a state of disarray is one of my pet peeves. Come to think of it, I have many pet peeves, and not in the slightest clue where the phrase 'pet peeves' stems from. There are German note cards littering my floor, my couch is cushioned with outfits I tried on from mornings past. My desk is holding those crumpled receipts that I keep just in case I decide to get my money situation together. I keep saying to myself, "I'll do that when I'm older". But when will I be "older"? I didn't make my bed this morning (which is unheard of), and I didn't change the toilet paper roll. My shoes are not in the closet, and there is a television sitting in the middle of my floor with a James Dean poster lying on top of it. The makeup on my bureau isn't organized and I still haven't taken my shoes off.

It just dawned on me that I've finally become a real college student.

A Very Depressing Post

2010-01-11T14:18:00.000-08:00

My Canon Rebel has still not come in the mail, and it was shipped on Thursday! This is disappointing. I'm wondering if there is some sort of Gainesville ritual when it comes to acquiring packages. I say this because I stupidly walked around the house in search of a mailbox, when it dawned on me that the little letterbox attached to the front porch is where the mailman/woman delivers the goods. Maybe they took my camera? Unlikely.

I am ordering the NY Times (Monday-Friday). I am excited about this, because I will finally have something to read in the morning when I eat my egg sandwich. Buying a subscription is sort of required for my Introduction to Journalism class, which is my favorite class right now, and it is only costing me $36 for the semester. Apparently this is a deal, but from what I have learned as a university student, deals do not make me any richer.

On a more somber note, if this blog post couldn't get any more somber( lost package, debt), my banjo strategy did not work. It is a big time-killer, however, and unbeknown to Jessie and Stephanie (yet) I'm going to try and set up a little gig here in G-ville. The Cicada Ladies aren't dead yet. Of course I will talk to them first before I seal the deal, but I'm searching.

I'm going to be starting a new blog for my Intro to Jou. class. Four posts a week of me commenting on international/ national/ local news. Whoever reads this blog, please feel free to comment on that one too.

Lo-Fi, High Style Submission for UO

2010-01-08T12:45:00.001-08:00

With the Power of the Banjo, I shall Summon Friends!

2010-01-07T19:38:00.000-08:00

It is cold here in Gainesville. Or as the Germans would say: Es ist kalt! I just went outside to take the rest of my clothes out of the dryer. I have to go out the front door and all the way around to the back of the house. And you know what? I do not mind! I haven't had a washer and dryer for the past three years, and now I have one at my disposal. I do not have enough hangers though.

My classes are going well, but I've already been slammed with some homework. I studied today... It's Friday! I learned about digital camera's for my Photographic Journalism class. I also learned how to say the days of the week in German, count to twenty, and tell someone my name.

Guten Tag! Ich heiße Melissa. Wie heißt du? Wie geht es Ihnen?

I feel like my eyes are burning out of their sockets from having to read so much. It doesn't help that I've been glued to my laptop since I moved here. Hey, what can I say? I have no friends yet.

I did make orange juice with Daniel the other day. We picked oranges from our orange tree, and they were a little too ripe. But mix it with water and it tastes just fine!

I researched bluegrass jams in the Gainesville area. Not too much is coming up. I might just bring my travel banjo to school and play in the Plaza of the Americas (a very large green space). People might approach me because they are interested in banjo, and then they will realize they want to be my friend, hang out with me, and study with me... and stuff. It's a foolproof plan, but what if someone asks to play it? I hate it when people ask that. Especially sick people, or people with sticky hands, or people who play mandolin (horrible gasp). Just kidding Jessie!

Plus I have to bike to school... Sigh. Maybe.

I just realized I bought three Toblerone's at CVS. I meant to only buy two. Here is a picture of me attempting to balance a Toblerone on my head. It worked great the first time, the second time... not so much.

Ow, my ears.

2010-01-05T20:11:00.000-08:00

If you have never biked fifteen minutes (heck, even five minutes) in the freezing ass cold with three layers, a thin pair of gloves, and no facial protection, I wish I was you. When everyone here in Gainesville was complaining about the cold weather a few days ago, they must have been sensing the freezing temperatures that blew our way today. My teeth were chattering, my fingers were going numb, my nose was running, and my ears were hurting. Biking in the already cold was just a nightmare.

I did make it to class though, with plenty of time to spare. I woke up two hours early, and biked to UF forty-five minutes early. I like to be early. I guess I just like to be sure. Sure that I'm in the right class, and sure that I'm in the right building. I had Photographic Journalism and German today. Two very challenging classes, but they will be a lot of fun! When I find myself getting excited about putting a news story together, editing myself, and interviewing people, I know I have chosen the right major.

All four roomies are home now and it's just great! Lu taught me some Chinese and Daniel and I laughed over our horrid pronunciation. Won Don (or something to that nature) and I like to talk about my studies. He actually has a wife and some kids in Birmingham and he came down here to do research for Shands on human diseases.

I studied my German out loud to myself and drank a cup of coffee out of a 4-in-1 coffee cup that Nathaniel gave me for Christmas.

It was a good day overall. Not too much to write about, just general things, and sometimes I like general things.

My ears still hurt.

I Am Journalist

2010-01-04T11:47:00.000-08:00

In order to be a journalist, you can't get offended. Even when an older man asks you if you were raped in Jamaica. It seems funny now that I write it out, but it definitely gave me the chills when the words escaped his chapped lips. It made me tighten the muscles in my thighs, and it took a lot for me to say: "No, thank goodness. But there is always that possibility. In fact there was this female journalist once...". And that was the end of that. Some people just can't censor themselves, or maybe he was genuinely curious.

I'm at that used book cafe again because there are still no he-roommates in sight. There was a man sitting at a table beside me. He had on a dark blue baseball cap, a worn leather jacket and he was writing on a notepad, carefully checking a book called "Many Words". His name is Gary*, but his friends call him Swoop. He was a member of the hippie-era, but he informed me that was not what he called himself.

"The straight people called us hippies, but we referred to ourselves as 'Freaks'."

It sounded good to me. He is a man of many stories. I haven't had that much information about communes since I watched the documentary 'Commune'. He lived in Morningstar outside Santa Fe and told me about girls in long dresses collecting watercress by the river. I can't say too much because he is writing a book and is very adamant about not having his work on the internet.

He is a born-again Christian which was odd to me because he was prying for information on whether or not I had a boyfriend.

"How long have you been here in Gainesville?", he said.

"My boyfriend and I came down here in the beginning of December."

"You still have a boyfriend?"

"Yes. Yes in indeed I do."

Sometimes it seems that no matter what guy (or girl, sometimes) I give any sort of attention to, they somehow assume that I am single and very interested in them. No matter how old they are. Not every guy, but a lot of them. It gets exhausting, but I never get offended.

During our conversation, I realized how much I love hearing peoples stories. I thrive on them. I guess that is why I love reading peoples blogs. Especially when they talk about the good ol' days, days that will never be recorded. Unless I record them!

I remember when I was little, I used to listen to a man in a wheelchair for an hour, sometimes two. He went to the Unitarian Universalist church and he was a very old man. He had patches of white hair, and liver spots all over his face. His frail hands shook slightly whenever he opened his mouth. Sometimes white spit would froth at the corners of his lips. I wanted to gag, being 10-years-old and all, but I listened, all the while keeping eye contact, even if his eyes wandered. He told me amazing stories about the war, I was never sure what war, but it must have been WWII. Sometimes he would repeat the same story over again, but it didn't bother me. I was transported back into a time of fighter jets, uncertainty, and uncleanliness. There were no mother's trying to get me to go to bed, and no brother's bothering me. I was a soldier.

I guess that is why I love hearing stories. I become the person that is telling it. Sometimes I want to cry because I feel so honored that they trust me with their past lives. I was certain at that moment when Daryl was telling me about living in a pup tent in the Rockies, or hitchhiking from Berkley to LA, that I wanted with all my heart to be a journalist. I dropped my European Union course and let out a little sigh of relief. My future job will somehow involve people and my pen, and that is that. No diplomatic, or political bullshit. Just people, and me.

Oh, and some white gloves.

*not real name

Here I Am

2010-01-03T14:46:00.000-08:00

There is no internet at my new place. Well, there is internet but I copied down the wrong pass phrase and one of my three male roommates left two nights ago to take his girlfriend back to Cincinnati.

I'm all alone in a very large house with no internet. It is surprising how much I am accomplishing. I am actually going through my piles of crap and sorting everything out. I am throwing things away. I am saying to myself, "Do I really need this?". It's pretty cool.

Being alone can do things to a person. They make a person get out there and explore. I rode my bike to UF through Gainesville's 'Frenchtown' and found all of the buildings where my classes would be located. I rode in the freezing cold and realized that I needed to buy some nice gloves. Because unfortunately a journalist needs their fingers. I rode through town without listening to music and experienced the Sunday quietness. It was lovely. The students all come back into town tomorrow and the streets will be more crowded and the nights will fill with drunken yells and high pitched screams.

I am sitting in a very nice book cafe, which is how I am able to blog. The staff isn't so friendly. They have this 'I am too cool' demeanor about them, which is typical among the vegan/veggie bike crowd. Would it hurt someone to smile, or ask if I need anything? I guess it would. At least the coffee is good.

Being surrounded by books gives me a sense of peacefulness. It makes me want a library in my house, whenever I buy a house that is. All these books are pretty old. Nathaniel is taking an Intro to C++ class next semester and out of curiosity I pulled a C++ book off the shelf. Attached to the back page was a floppy disk! I kind of want to get it for him anyway. It's only $3.99.

The coffee is getting cold but my fingers have finally warmed up. I'm going to drive to Target sometime after 9 and use my gift card to buy some nice white gloves.

Almost There

2009-12-30T07:29:00.000-08:00

Oh man, oh man, oh man.

I am leaving in two days. Two days.

My good friends Heather and Stephanie helped me pack yesterday. Heather came over first and we cleared out the kitchen and Stephanie came over between her work shifts. I am pretty much done. Now all I have to do is throw away the old food in the refrigerator and clean the place, although it is more dusty than anything.

Nathaniel is sleeping beside me and he is not snoring, which is lovely. He is sleeping peacefully, and he will sleep peacefully all morning long until noon, so I decided to keep myself busy. His room is such a boys room and it's strange, because I have no desire to clean it up. Being with him has let me turn down my control factor. I've come to understand that most people who are living in their own place, that they finance themselves, can handle their own messes. What a funny realization.

He has work at three, so I will head back to my house and do all the last minute cleanup. I'm meeting my mom for dinner at the restaurant I used to work at, and then I'll head to her house to gather any things I left behind. I have a busy day and it will all start after noon! Perfect! Because my life starting January 5 is going to be a life filled with long nights and early mornings. I'll savor what I have now thank you very much.

Until next time.

Oh, the photo above is of his cat Sachi's whiskers.

Boyfriends

2009-12-26T20:31:00.000-08:00

The other day I found out that my ex-boyfriend of four years had split from his live-in girlfriend. And you know what? I didn’t freakin’ care. All I wanted to do was say ‘I told him so’. I remember what happened that day when I went to go get my ‘stuff’.

The stuff I had left there and still needed in my then single life. Stuff like books, and that pair of socks, and those CD’s that he never listened to.

We were standing by his Volkswagen station wagon and I had a stack of things in my arms. He told me that a girl would be moving in to the extra room. Maybe out of jealousy, or maybe out of love, I told him, ‘Don’t date her’. I said, ‘You should never date your roommates’.

I don’t know what made me say that but I felt it in my heart that this could be a disaster for him. And sure enough, it was. He is now living with an ex-girlfriend. I can’t imagine how awkward that is, but it makes me feel pretty good that I was mature enough to make the decision that I did not want to live with him when we were together. (I had the option to move in when my lease was up.) I thought to myself, ‘I am way too young for that shit.’ And sure enough, I was right

It makes me happy that I could make that decision on my own.

I saw him the other day at a Christmas Eve party and I realized how different we both were. I could not have a normal conversation with him. He was way too out there. I wanted to talk about life, how it was going, and how were his parents. But he was way too interested in rolling around on the floor with his stomach full of Russian vodka.

Luckily, I can hold my vodka.

Maybe I’m being bitter. We did not have the best break up. I had just gotten off work (I was a hostess at a very fancy restaurant) and he invited me over for soup and wine. I was irritable already and when we started drinking the Monticello wine that tasted overripe, we started getting argumentative. We started fighting. And it ended with me yelling, ‘Well if you’re not happy, break up with me!’.

Door slams. I drive off in a huff.

And that was that.

Now I’m sitting in my present boyfriend’s bed. His name is Nathaniel and he is sleeping peacefully while my fingers type type type. Sometimes he snores, but I still love him. I hope we can work things out like adults when situations arise. I hope we can be happy with the decisions that we make.

Oh, and thank you Ms. Moon for inspiring me to write about this. It was something I needed to do.

Moving Blues

2009-12-26T14:48:00.000-08:00

I’m looking around at everything I have to move and it all seems cemented to the ground. It’s just now hitting me. Even though I’m only moving 2 ½ hours away I feel like my life is being uprooted. I feel like it is changing. When I went backpacking in New Zealand that was not life changing, that trip added to my personal experience.
But now my life is beginning again.

There are silver fish in every cardboard box and my clothes have become an un-climbable mountain on my little twin bed. All the dust is getting kicked up into my face and I’m remembering how the last time I moved I was ready. Now I’m not so sure.

Nothing wants to go into a box! Everything wants to stay in its little place. I want someone to come over and do this for me because it is almost too much work. It is almost too painful. I’m sitting inside just like I sat inside all those days before.

It’s pretty outside but I have no yard to go play in. My new house will have a yard but I think I will feel timid to bring a blanket out there and lay down. I’ve met my new roommates and I think they are nice but will they be freaked out by how I do things? Will composting seem foreign to them? Will they get upset if I play my record player when I’m cleaning up my room? Will I be able to have my friends over?
There is so much I am unsure of. The only thing I am sure of is that it is time. Time for me to move on. I will get stuck here just like every other person I know that is too scared to try something new. I’ve earned this opportunity.

Now I have to figure out what to pack next.

Santa Time

2009-12-24T21:17:00.000-08:00

Oh wow. I was just at an amazing party. Let me tell you, I get party anxiety. Really bad. Especially parties that my ex-boyfriend of four years is attending. It turned out fine though. We hugged, chatted somewhat. He's a strange boy. He's very yoga-ey and spiritual. I'm more girly girl and brash.

I'm now laying in bed at my mom's place and I can hear my younger brother whistling in the other room. It's midnight and he still whistles. It reminds me of when we were younger. I would get so mad and storm into his room and yell at him to be quiet so that I could go to bed. I'm a lot nicer now. I think it helped that I moved out.

I can't believe how tired I am. It's time to go to bed and wait for Santa to break in.

Ciao!

Short Hair is Short

2009-12-23T11:26:00.000-08:00

Holiday Stresses

2009-12-22T09:06:00.001-08:00

I am getting my hair cut today, and not just any haircut. This haircut will mark the shortest my hair has ever been since I was born, or maybe around two-years-old. For the past week I have been imagining what my hair would look like if it was up by the tips of my ears. I have imagined very hard and decided that I would love it. And if I didn’t love it so what? It’s just hair! I am fortunate enough to have hair that grows back. That is what I am thankful for this holiday season.

I have to go pick my cousin up from SAIL around 12:30pm and I’m still sitting on my couch looking at this damn scarf I’ve been knitting for the past two days. I sure as heck don’t want it (because I have too many scarves) and I don’t know who to give it to. It’s purple, yellow, black, and blue and it is very funky. I’ll figure something out.

I also have to venture to the mall and I am frightened by this. It is way too crowded over there and I’m afraid all my gas will run out from idling in the parking lot. I have to return some tights to Banana Republic. The package says the tights are M/L and they barely reach my thighs. I am pretty sure there is no children’s Banana Republic so I’m going to try and get my $14 back or another pair of tights.

As the end of the month gets nearer I get more and more stressed out. My dad is coming down from Washington DC to help my move and he just informed me he would be sleeping on my couch on the 31st. My boyfriend is having a party that night but I don’t want my poor father to spend New Year’s Eve alone. The dilemma is my dad will want to attend said party and that is not happening. I love my dad with all my heart and it is great that he wants to spend time with my friends and take part in our events, but it makes me uncomfortable to be under the influence of anything around him and I’m not going to forfeit a glass of champagne on New Year’s.

I don’t know what to do.

Well, it’s time for me to go get my cousin, go get my hair cut, brave the Governors Square Mall and finish this scarf.

Till next time.

The Beginning

2009-12-21T17:08:00.000-08:00

Isn’t it crazy how a person’s genuine feelings can hurt another person’s feelings? Sometimes I think people are annoying, or mean, or ignorant, and it is how I feel. This would hurt these people however and they might resent me.

I’m sitting on my green tea couch (it seriously resembles the color of green tea) and I am drinking my boyfriend’s beer. He left it in my fridge so it is fair game. I just watched a movie called ‘Cash Back’ and it made me think about a lot of things. Like feelings. We have so many as human beings and sometimes I catch myself looking at a dog and seriously pondering if they ever feel hurt, or happy, frustrated even.

I was looking at a dog today, a very old dog named Pearl. It is my best friend Jessie’s boxer and we were out at her parent’s house in Lloyd, a little historic town. Pearl has wandered behind a chair in the hallway. This particular chair had a blanket draped over it and the long part of the blanket was hanging down the back. In my mind Pearl was enjoying the feeling of the blanket on her back. Enjoying. Can a dog enjoy? She stood there for several moments and I couldn’t see her eyes but I imagined them being squinty-like. It would be easy for someone to tell me to go talk to a veterinarian and propose my questions to them but that is just too easy and I don’t like instant gratification.

I am starting up this blog right at this particular moment because Jessie’s mother Mary inspired me. She writes in her blog every day, sometimes twice a day. She told me that it is a challenge to try and think of something to write about. But even if you start to write about the weather things come to your mind that you would never have thought would.

Besides, I just got accepted into journalism school, so it would be a good idea for me to challenge myself. I must make a pledge though.

I will never make myself feel guilty for not writing in my blog one day. Because I am tired of making myself feel guilty. If I wake up at noon so what? If I eat almost an entire bag of cookies so what? So what so what so what? I will only feel guilt if I hurt a living thing.

And maybe if I don’t study for something.