A Bit of Light Reading

At the advice of a friend, I went back and read some of my previous writing. Nothing from here. From way back. Before MySpace and Facebook, before high speed internet was common, before I had real challenges, before I became so jaded.

It's amazing how important and critical every single thing can be when you're sixteen. High school bullshit is the end of the world. Your world. Which happens to revolve around that one guy that never deserved your attention, let alone your whole heart. But everything is new and crazy and wonderful and terrible and exciting and scary and it all matters.so.much. You know everything, and nothing. You know exactly who you are, but you're more lost than you'll ever be. Love is a storybook. It's poetry and beauty and late night phone calls that last until morning and tearing your heart out to make sure it's still beating. It's when part of you still believes everything ends up like the movies. I'm now convinced that Disney gave us unrealistic expectations of love. And Hollywood did nothing to correct the problem, but made it so much worse.

One entry reads as follows: "Things with *name removed to protect the guilty* are definitely over. Just admitting that kills me because of everything we went through. Looking back on how I felt about him just blows my mind. Part of me keeps hoping something amazing will happen and we'll get back together, forever this time, but I know that's stupid. He's hurt me so many times. But somewhere I know that if he showed up and wanted to try again, I would. Because I love him."

The second worst part of that entry is that it occurs nine months into my new relationship that I was so desperately trying to make into something is desperately wasn't. The absolute worst part of that entry was: but I love him. He lies to me about everything, but I love him. He disappears for days without a word, but I love him. He tells me I'm not pretty, really, that my red hair and great eyes are the only things that make me special, but I love him. When the fuck did love excuse horrible?

But he said he wanted me. So I stayed. I prayed that things would change and happily ever after would one day magically appear. I allowed myself to be in an emotionally unhealthy relationship because I was scared I wasn't worth enough without him. I believed I mattered more because he wanted me. I gave that authority away, to another person, which is just flat-out appalling, and far too common.

Did I say this was before I was jaded? I meant that I could pinpoint the moment it happened. For those of you who have wondered how the hell I got this way, there's your answer. There's always one that ruins it for everyone else. In preschool it's the kid who eats all the paste. In high school, it's the kid who somehow cheats on the open book test. In work environments, it's the person that always shows up late so everyone gets watched. In love, it's the first one who breaks your heart. The shining moments of glory and sins of the first love will forever be the standard by which all others are judged.

I counted at least four times in that particular journal, which spanned about a year and a half when I had "finally figured out what love was." And I'm pretty sure each time I had no fucking clue. And I'm even more sure that even now, almost ten years later, that I still really don't. Maybe it's not a constant. Maybe it's something that changes with you, and the key is finding that person who will weather those changes and still find ways to amaze you.

A Commentary on Abnormality

The weather today was crap-tastic. Actually, it's some of my favorite, under the right circumstances. Those being ones where I can stay in bed all day, watch movies and eat soup. However, today I had to be at work.

There's something surreal about knowing your job will end in exactly ten business days. Oh wait, make that nine. What little motivation once existed to be productive or even look busy is gone. One on Ones with your team? No point. Listen to calls? Not so much. Work on projects that have been in progress for months? Nope. Everyone is going to different teams and that stuff is being handed over to admins. So what's left? Production? Ha. Like we've had any deals to work in months. You can always just mess around online and check out web comics and the like. I found the end of the internet, by the way. It's here: http://satkobes.smspurga.ru/c2h4cn.html

Minor distractions throughout the day include, but are not limited to: meeting with not one, not two, but three directors and a manager just to see "how I'm doing." Nothing like reminding me repeatedly on a daily basis that my plethora of contributions don't mean a damn thing. Oh, then there's gossip about the party on Saturday. Who got trashed, who looked like shit, I can't believe they're married to that, did you notice so and so wasn't there.... And the beginning of what I fear will be a neverending line of conversations that start with "So, I've got this friend that you should meet. I think you guys would totally hit it off." Note to my friends: if you ever seriously do that to me, I may never forgive you.

So the resulting situation: I'm at work, I don't give a shit about my job, and I want to be at home.

And then.

I'm at home, with my bed sitting right there, looking kinda lonely and rejected. Why? Now I want nothing to do with bed. I want entertainment. Maybe it's because I wasted eight hours of my life today and don't want to do it anymore. NOW I want to be productive. This isn't new. My mother often lamented the fact that I am mostly nocturnal. So, a little from column A, a little from column B, but I still have nothing to do.

So, my observations.

1. The grass is not always greener somewhere else. It's human to never really be satisfied with where you are, but this is ridiculous. I know better. It will not be fun to call that person up and go hang out. I know I'll be miserable the entire time. Then I'm just using them for my own amusement, which isn't really a nice thing to do. And, since I wouldn't be having a good time, the bad Karma would be squandered on something that's not really worth it. But here's the progress I've made.....I resist the urge and don't call. Hooray for maturity.

2. I still, STILL, have not learned how to spend large amounts of time with myself. As an only child, you would think I'd be used to that. Did it all the time. Maybe that's why I hate it now. Maybe I just hate who I am now more than I did when I was a kiddo. I'm not so sure I'd be friends with me. And that, I've decided, is A Big Problem.

3. I will never understand why I want ice cream when it's freezing outside. Never.

4. I'm a spoiled brat.

5. I must be getting happier. I don't really have anything to write about. I've found that I can only be creative and expressive when I'm not doing so well. Here's where I apologize for wasting your time if you were hoping for something substantial. I'm taking requests, if anyone wants me to wax philosophical about their favorite topic or argument.

The Breaking Point

And I was doing so well.....

There are inevitably things in every life that test one's limits. Some are minor, and you come through with no issues. Others challenge your very will to exist. In times like those, I guess people turn to whatever it is that should help them. Maybe that's a god, friends, a lover, shopping, food, an old addiction, or a new one. But here's the problem. At some point, all of those will fail you or kill you. Then you're left with the same demons that you were running from in the first place, and then some.

But here's something that I've been curious about since I was young. Why do we run for something better; an escape, a salve, anisthetic? What do you do when you have a cold? Chicken soup, tea, painkillers, maybe some NyQuil. But do you ever just have a cold? Why is there this overwhelming need for denial of the experience? Pain and suffering aren't exactly fun, but they're key parts of being human and alive. I won't pretend to think it's normal, but I've generally gone head-first into every experience, good or bad, if for no other reason than the fullness of that experience. Confront the situation and emotions head-on and embrace whatever the result may be. Children do it on a daily basis. It's part of their self-discovery and familiarization with the world. In adults, I guess it's masochism.

But regardless of one's natural tendencies toward managing this life and everything that comes with it, everyone will at some point face challenges that require a certain degree of suppression. Maybe you have to be strong for your family, maybe you're supposed to set the example, maybe you have to have the self control for both of you, maybe you'll get arrested if you don't, maybe you've got resposibilities and obligations to fulfill. When this happens, there will inevitably come a point when everything you've built up has to go somewhere. And god help whoever or whatever is around when that happens. If it's no one else, then it's yourself. Something will become the target of that release. For children, that's a tantrum. For adults, it's sadism, or something. Then comes the rationalization for the outlash, and the apologizing, and the lost friendships, or the broken homes after a divorce.

So, then, we're left with a choice of sorts, aren't we? Experience everything and risk the pain, or suppress and risk hurting others. That's over-simplification, really. There are degrees of compromise within each option and the blending of the two. Sure. But generally people will gravitate towards one or the other. I can't say which is better; it's relative to the person, really. Just like the threshold of what one can and cannot cope with.

I don't have the answer. I rarely do. Maybe the answer lies not in how you deal with what life has to offer, but in how that translates into the way you treat other people and yourself.

Just a thought.

Addendum

To the previous.....but not on the same exact topic. In my head there's a connection, but I don't have the energy to explain.

Sundays.

Since I can remember, Sundays were spent with my family. Lunch wherever, then back to the house to just spend time together. In the past couple of years, those days took a detour. Progressively less time spent at the house with my family. There was still lunch, but even those got fewer and farther between. Now I look back and realize I haven't sat down to a meal with my mother and grandmother in months. Thanksgiving doesn't count.

I could blame the trend on a few things, but in reality it's my fault. See my previous quotable blog about "No One Makes You Do It." I chose other things and people over the family. It used to be the four of us, then daddy was gone, and it was just the three. And it was kind of empty. But we slowly found ways to fill that gap. Not replace him, we never could. Nor would I want to. Daddy, I miss you so much sometimes.

A relationship or physical distance is never an excuse to neglect your family. Ever. Especially if that distance is a tiny 35 miles from Plano to Southeast Dallas. I'd make that drive for friends in a heartbeat. Why then, is it just too much to do it once a week for the people who shaped who I am?

And now, the regret. They can't go out and enjoy lunches anymore. They're mostly confined to the house unless I'm driving and then trying to escort them wherever, praying neither falls. Because if it's not distance, it's my selfishness. It hurts more than I could possibly express to see my mother right now. I almost don't recognize her, and it's hard to find the real person behind the medication and exhaustion. So I avoid it, because it sucks for me. I made life hell for her in my teens, and I still can't get over my ego to be there for her when she needs me like she never has.

I've really been craptastic as a daughter and granddaughter. But I guess there's still time. There's always time. Until there isn't. And that's a regret I could never carry. Tomorrow is Sunday. And I'll be in the ghetto. With two of the most amazing women I've ever known.

This detox is going to kill me.

My Own Personal Jesus

I like to think that I'm unique, maybe a little fucked-off kinda special. But I know that much of my generation probably feels the same way....hell....I'm sure every generation does. This is probably more of a commentary on humanity than anything else.

But.

Today held one of those moments that really focuses on ones own little quirks. For me, music is so much more than background noise for my life. I can't deal with total silence. If I'm doing anything, I need this stuff to sustain my focus. Or break it. Either way.

A number of times in my life, a certain song or album has come along at the perfect time. Any other day, I would've thought "yeah that's pretty good." But at these times, I obsess to a degree that borders on ridiculous. Then, for the rest of what will probably be forever, that stuff is linked to where I was at that time. Mr. Crowley = Michael. Freshmen = Kirsten, Carey, Krissy. Everclear = shithole apartment in the ghetto. Vault = it's good to be young and stupid. Has Anyone Seen my Baby = how could I have ever been so fucking stupid. Meat Loaf = you know you need to get out, now. Etc, etc, etc.

When things affect me to a large degree, meaning when I go through extremes of emotion, I revert into the kid with the headphones in the corner. My music saves me. From others, from myself, from reality, probably from you. Sometimes it's healing. Sometimes it's a sharp little knife that breaks open the scars to see if they still bleed. They do.

Thus, today I find myself sifting through vinyl at Half Price Books for an hour. Looking for what, I don't know. Probably something to make me feel better. Generally, I find an answer. Or some kind of band aid. Not today. Today I find memories by the pound in the form of 12x12 cardboard covers.

The More Things Change

Earlier today, I was passing time in a trivial way with a few not-so-trivial friends. I remember saying something to the effect of, "It's okay to be a heinous bitch, as long as you're hot." While this was just one line in a chorus of sarcasm, I began thinking about the truth and consequences of it.

Later in the day, I saw a friend that I haven't had the chance to hang out with in what seems like forever. He's been through some major stuff in the past year. And, as is the case with many of the people I care most about, I've been a useless friend through most of it. Darin, baby, I'm so proud of you.

In between those two events, I get a call that gives me flashbacks to college, from someone I would have died for at one time. I knew that tone of his voice, that unspoken desperation, and that sinking feeling that there's nothing I can do.

Of course I have a point. Be patient.

How much potential does physical change have to alter one's self? And is time more powerful an agent for change than experience? Or can one memory throw one full force back into old habits, healthy or otherwise? And when does one, after endless trying, throw in the metaphorical towel and give up on another when nothing changes or (even worse) when so many changes result in the unforgiveable?

I don't have the answers, but I can speak to some of it. Perhaps physical transformation doesn't really change a person. I believe that, when the change is positive, the outside finally matches the spirit that's been inside all along. "Baby, you look wonderful. And it's not just your body, it's that glow I haven't seen in you for so long." I know I'm now more comfortable with myself than I've ever been. Whether it's external stuff or experience, I still can't tell.

On the darker side, some things may never change. Addiction, elitism, narcissism, pathology, dishonesty. Maybe some have yet to experience that catalyst which will throw their world into a tailspin and force them to evaluate. Maybe they refuse to adjust. If one is any of the above, no amount of surgery or makeover will change the behavior. It may, however, reveal it.

So, what's the lesson here? I'm not exactly sure. But this I know........It takes a special kind of person to observe life's events and then choose to really improve themselves. It takes immeasurable courage to admit that this part of who one has been for the better part of one's life, is wrong. They blame no one else for where life has taken them, and take active steps to correct the balance.

They are my heroes.

Ah, Clarity

I'm a big fan of letting life roll and simply enjoying the ride. Of taking in the experiences, good or bad, and learning from them. Sometimes it's an easy lesson; sometimes it breaks you. Sometimes you're grateful to make it out alive. At some point, you have to hit the brakes, or hit the wall. Or both. What good is real experience if you don't take just a little time to evaluate it?

I also really believe in being true to, and listening to yourself. And that's where I sometimes get tripped up. I'll ride out a situation long after I know it's a bad gig, just to see if maybe something will get better around the next curve. Lesson: it probably won't.

Having said all that, these past couple months have provided more insight, experience, lessons, fun, and pain than I thought possible. It's exhausting, but I love it. Thank you to those who force me into experience and self evaluation. Thank you to those who keep me grounded. Thank you to those who know I need honesty, not pandering. And thank you to those who say what makes me feel better, even when we both know it's crap.

I really do have the best friends in the world.

Addendum to the Application

I found something that more perfectly adds to the "Application to be my Boyfriend" than any question I could ever ask. Excuse the plagiarism, but it's straight from this new book I'm reading. Sometimes, other people have found ways to say exactly what you want better than you ever could. So here it goes.....

"You don't pronounce dog "dawg", lounge in Sean John velour, and you know jewelry belongs on a woman, not your neck. You don't refer to yourself in the third person or drink anything pink. You do eat carbs but will never Blackberry over dinner. You would never say "the bomb," or "nizzle," but an occasional "bi-atch" for good measure is okay. If you always order teriyaki at Japanese restaurants, I'm not the girl for you. I need someone with a sense of adventure, even if that means a spicy tuna roll. LOL would never be used in any of your communications with me. You've experienced pain at one point in your life, have evolved communication skills, and want to find a partner. You're intelligent, tender, and audacious with an enduring sense of character. You know when to swallow pride, grab me, and fight for it. An emotionally available man who doesn't acquiesce because it's easier than confrontation has a spot beside me. Men with mommy and daddy issues or who manage their anger with drugs or alcohol need not apply. A robust sexual drive is essential, really, no seriously, I mean it. Enjoy photography, listening to music, with me by your side, sipping wine from your glass (preferably, you'll be the one creating the music with your acoustic guitar? My God, noting is sexier) Holding my hand and kissing me on the street is a have-to. It's all about passion. I crave it and give it, good. A good first date would include honesty and alcohol. And, most of all, be armed with an attention span, and appetite for everything, and an open mind."

Roller Coaster

I find that categorizing any one thread of consciousness as "life" to be a little redundant.

However, since my thought patterns bounce from deeply personal to trivial to profound to ridiculous in a matter of minutes, I'll allow it. I choose to blame this one on either inefficient choices or my own inability to focus. Either way.....

The past few weeks have been a little blurry. I have, for the first time in years, lost my sense of time and perspective. I can't say that I hate it, but it's not comfortable. My immaturity has led me to seek out all forms of distraction from what I should be doing while my responsibility has kept me somewhat grounded. Somewhat.

I can't remember a time outside of my mid-teens (just like everyone else) when I've been through such extremes of emotion, mental stability, and the most frightening of all, consciousness.

Gut-wrenching pain to childlike euphoria. Complete apathy to undistracted motivation. Unquestionable confidence to crippling fear. Irrational rage to quiet resignation. Fill in with varying degrees of numbness and salience.

A profound thing happens when you realize you have the power to control a large part of what happens in your life. It's empowering, and terrifying. Think about it. If you don't like where you are in life, you can change it. Sure, things might get worse before they get better. Or they may not be what you thought. But therein lies the experience. And it's all about the journey, after all.

In the middle of recent events, advice from multiple sources has come flooding back to haunt and help me. Some came from my mother, from friends, mentors, my own crazy mind. Some I should have listened to the first twenty times, some I thankfully took immediately to heart, and some I've yet to get through my head and really accept. So, for purposes of The Greater Good, I'd like to share some things that have saved me.

First and foremost: Pinpoint your passion.

Don't expect anyone else to make you happy.

Don't compromise what's important to you, for anything.

You don't have to make the same mistakes twice. Or maybe you do.

You are beautiful.

We only get one shot at this life, and wasting time is the biggest disservice you can do for yourself or anyone else.

Your parents are human, too.

A great smile and cute shoes will only get you so far. After that, you'd better have some substance to back it up.

Don't expect him to change. Choose what you can and cannot accept, then decide if it's enough.

There are an infinite number of people in this world to love and share infinite lives with. Who's to say there's really only one?

Failure doesn't build character.

Rage against the dying of the light.

If you do not find peace in yourself, you will never find it anywhere else.

Your behavior has consequences.

Be willing to fail.

The quarter life crisis hit me square in the face like nothing I've ever experienced. Why? Probably because I expected it to. Maybe I needed an excuse to pull my head out of my ass for a second. I need to remember a few things, above all. I'm young. Really. At 25, I've experienced more than I ever thought I would and more than many of my friends ever will. And for that I'm grateful. But I know now that I've barely scratched the surface of what life could be. I have all the time in the world to check things off my list. Or crumple it up and throw it in the fire, ready to accept whatever things that forces stronger than myself have planned.

I hope some of this is helpful. Some of you will dismiss these as emotional masturbation. That's fine. Maybe it is. Who's to say I've never been selfish? But rest assured, my intentions were mostly noble. And finally, something new, for the looking forward....

"Believe, when you are most unhappy, that there is something for you to do in the world. So long as you can sweeten another's pain, life is not in vain." - Helen Keller

Every Now and Then

A Horoscope Hits it Right on the Head......

Cancer for 10/29/07

"You must learn how to hold your emotions to yourself in order to be more effective in the world. Keep in mind that this won't make you feel any less. In fact you will be more inclined to stay in touch with your feelings once you realize that you don't have to expose any of them unless you want to. Don't worry about what you don't say; you'll know when it's time to share."

Florida, Etc

I was really hoping that this would be more interesting. But here you go, nevertheless.

I wake up at oh my god o'clock on Tuesday to get to the airport. The travel out there was fairly uneventful. The Atlanta airport has smoking lounges, for which I was most grateful, until I got out of them and realized I had to smell like complete awful. We get into Ft. Lauderdale and, after a brief yet spirited debate over whether we should drive the HH3 or the Pontiac SUV, we get to the hotel. The Hard Rock. Most excellent. If there's one thing I love more than travel, it's music history. I had, of course, a sweet ass room. And I've decided that ritzy bathrooms with way too pretentious showers make me almost as happy as travel and music. Especially after a day on an airplane. So it's dinner, drinks, and bed.

Day two. Drive around and visit most of the dealerships in the area. All I remember about that day is the (excuse the overuse of the word) most pretentious mall I've ever seen. Upscale foodcourt with nearly the best salad I've had in my life. I later learned those monsters started at $24 each. Glad someone else paid. I called it a fairly early night that evening, since the day before was a beast. Thanks Denise.

Day three. Quite possibly the best day at, ahem, work I've ever had. From about 9ish to noon we go to the other dealerships, then it's back to the hotel for a bit of down time by the immense and wonderful hotel pool. The tan is maintained through at least the end of October, a good run for the year. Thank you southern Florida.

Day four involved four of the most painful hours in a car I've ever experienced. Florida doesn't have much in the way of scenery along the main interstates. But anyone who has taken their bike out for any amount of time knows that to be true of most states. The rest stop on ramps were fun, and the brakes on the car work just fine, thankyouverymuch. Also, radio down there sucks. They love Nickelback way too much.

The rest of the trip was spent in Daytona, at the massive Rossmeyer compound surrounding the dealership. The fundraiser dinner, I hear, was good, but the party afterwards was killa. This was the introduction of my girl Shel to the trip, the beginning of several late late late nights, and the reason I'm still probably hung over. Managed to find a few dives with great patios and views, as well as an education about what they call Red Tide.

Small annoyances on the travel back home, but ending with dinner and a few beers with a good friend. I missed you guys.

I saw some interesting things, had a really good time for a work trip, but found out a little more about myself. This was, I believe, part of the plan. I need to drink less, smoke less, eat less. None of that is news. I also need to worry less about what I think people are thinking. I will start finding those cool things that I want to do, instead of sitting around wishing I'd done them when I had the chance. I should have learned that lesson while riding through the Black Hills a year ago, but I didn't. But like a really smart guy pointed out to me one time, I need to learn every lesson twice. And, after reading this, I also resolve to remember more, and write like I know I can.

Florida and Biketoberfest

Heading out to FL to do some work type stuff. Two years ago I worked Bike Week in the Spring. The dealership begged to have me back for Biketoberfest and I've been dying to go back ever since. Now I get to. But I'm missing the excitement that I feel should be in here somewhere. Maybe it's because I'm not really working the event. Maybe it's because I know I'll miss half of it. Maybe it's because I'm a little more than jaded on travel for now.

The latter makes my heart hurt. Travel, of any kind, makes me happier than most things. Today I resolved to find new things and places to explore and experience, even though I've been there before. There's too much of this world not to take it in the biggest gulps and gasps possible, and to find the extraordinary in the every day. So that's the plan, no matter where life or my job may take me.

Wish me luck.

I Agree with Scott

I don't want to post a "Never Forget" bulletin and feed into the emotional pandering that seems to happen this time every year. But I do find it healthy to reflect on then and now.

Let's start with the obvious. Where was I? In the middle of my Intro to Criminal Justice class at UNT, Sophomore year. It was a huge class, and I think half of us ended up graduating together with CJ degrees three years later. We had a guy in the class who worked for American Airlines. He stands up, and tells everyone he's got to leave. "A plane just hit the World Trade Center." Sure it seemed odd, but he left and we finished class. When we got out, everyone was watching the TV's posted around campus, and it was only then that we understood what had really happened.

I met my friend Sara at our smoking spot, called my boyfriend, told him we were going to war, and left school, since everything was shutting down. We jumped in her car, put the top down and just drove around for most of the day. We listened to talk radio, since there was no music playing that day. We talked about how weird it was to not see planes in the sky. We debated, both internally and with each other, what this meant for our liberal political views.

Now, six years later, I think we know the answer. It meant that little would change. We were suspicious and untrusting of our government then, and we still are. We supported our soldiers then, and we still do. What are the implications? I don't know. I don't want to think an event like that would have no impact whatsoever. But I would want to believe that people now think more for themselves than they did before.

But that's just me.

Agreed

Certain things define who we are.

The movies, books, work, art, and people we love.

These passions make our identity and when we are without them, we are less than ourselves.

Found this last night....love it. Read it again, chew on it.

RoT

So, got back from Austin yesterday. I'm completely wiped out. But there are things of note to share.

The first being that this was so much fucking harder than I thought it was going to be. For those who don't know, I HAD to go this year for my twisted brand of closure after Stuart left us....He always begged me to go and I always found a reason I couldn't. So this year, there were no excuses. So, I went down to Austin, saw my dealership buddies, went to the rally, and had this overwhelming sadness when I left. I think that I expected to turn around and see him every ten minutes or something. But I think I feel better now. So, yeah, got the shirt, got the patch, got the tan, got the stories. Totally worth it.

Update: when I get my comp back I'll be able to talk to you guys more, but for now, I have to sneak the MySpace like cigarettes in high school.

Here We Go Again

I applied for Grad school yesterday. I look to start back in the fall. God help me, I never thought I'd get an MBA. It's not my thing. But getting p-a-i-d is most definitely my thing.

So the app is in, the recommendation requests have been made, and the GMAT is in a couple weeks. The best part, you ask? It's all free.

So once I'm making fat bank, I can afford law school like I've always wanted.

Shit.

Game 7.

Only one of the first round. Stars looking like they're going to pull off the improbable. They've got huge momentum going into this last game, and they are dominating the shit out of Vancouver. The scores are close, but the games are not.

Midway thru the second, it's looking good for the boys. They're up 1-0, and the Canucks are playing like shit. Then the Sedin's finally earn their paychecks and we're tied. No biggie. This series has been tied for what seems like an eternity anyways. But then the refs start running the game and calling penalties like they've forgotten it's a hockey game. Apparently their heads are with the NBA right now cos they were calling anything that looked like a foul and sent the Stars to the box for most of the third.

So, we're out in Round One again. But at least Turco proved that he can kick some ass in the playoffs. Morrow had a phenominal first season as Captain, and Modano almost earned his paycheck. I'm left to wonder if Zubov had not been hurt if this would have all ended differently. Luongo was good in the series, but how can you not be good at 6'3"? He's effing huge, and maybe if there had been a normal sized human between the pipes we could have had a better shot. We certainly outplayed them.....

But there's still a lot of good hockey to be played before the season is over.

Go Sharks. Go Sabres.

And, god help me, for this next round only........Go Ducks.

Best It's Ever Been Said

So....I'm in love with this movie, as a whole, but this monologue won me over. It hasn't applied to me in years, but had I been able to articulate it like this back then, it would have been so much easier. But then again, when in the middle of stuff, you can't have this perspective. Forgive the mush; it doesn't happen often:

"It turned out, he wasn't in love with me like I thought. When I'm trying to say is, I understand feeling as small and as insignificant as humanly possible. And how it can actually ache in places that you didn't know you had inside you. And it doesn't matter how many new haircuts you get, or gyms you join, or how many glasses of chardonnay you drink with your girlfriends. You still go to bed every night going over every detail, and wonder what you did wrong or how you could have misunderstood. And how in the hell, for that brief moment, you could think that you were that happy. And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long "all that" may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade."

Fuck. Brilliant.

Happiness Is

A shiny silver Harley back in my garage.

She's so pretty, I'd almost forgotten. I missed my Sasha, more than I realized. Got to take her out for the first time in forever today, and she rode like a champ. Just like your mom.

I Hate Thinking of Subject Lines

I Hate Thinking of Subject Lines
Current mood: crushed

I know there is supposed to be this great plan and a reason for everything and that someone is in control of things that happen, or something. But I don't know if I'll ever understand why some things have to happen. I don't really have the right words at the moment, just ramblings. This man was one of my role models. I learned how to ride on his old V-Star, and he always had my back, regardless of the situation. When I was a new rider, he slowed down the haul ass of the club to make sure I was taken care of. I was one of the first females to be able to ride with those guys, because he said so. When Daniel and I first got together, he told "the new boyfriend" to take care of me, because I was like a daughter to him. I called him dad, old man, Dawg. But was one of the few who could call him other things that only "the daughters he never had" know about. It still doesn't seem real, and I miss him more than I realized I would.

I can't speak of him as an officer, or a friend like others can. So I'll leave that to one of his PeaceKeepers brothers:

Brothers,
Always remember the good times. Dawg was the living personification of the Peace Keepers Motorcyle Club. He exemplified the concepts of Loyalty, Honor, Duty,and Brotherhood that this club stands for. Everyone of us has experienced the wonderful person that Dawg was. We will never forget his generosity-what is mine is yours, his compassion, his humor, that quirky smile that leaves you wondering "what is he up to now?", his commitment to his core beliefs and values, his devotion to seeing things through, his commitment in the way that he took care of those who needed help, his devotion to duty and responsibility in that he never shirked his duty whether it was his family, his job, his community or his club. We have all experienced that sense of belonging that only Dawg could bring. Dawg was a builder-not a destroyer. Dawg was a mediator and a mender. Dawg was a protector. Dawg stood his post and took care of his watch. Dawg was a leader and it was easy to follow. Once again he is ahead of us, scouting out the path to a fabulous ride. We will see him again-no doubts about that-but for now, I already miss him. Terribly. Keep the Faith.

Stop Whining

No One Makes You Do It By Michele Hickford

I'm sick and tired of people blaming their situations or mistakes on other people. Would you please stop with the whining? No one makes you do anything. Ok, I'll qualify that slightly. No one makes you do anything -- unless you're 10 years old, or there's a gun to your head. As an adult, every single decision you make, every action, every choice -- you made yourself. All by your lonesome. You may have had input. You may have had suggestions. You may have had guilt thrust upon you. There may have even been begging or moaning. But at the end of the day, you were the one who took the action. You always had the choice to not take it. No matter what the consequences, you always, ALWAYS have the option to do something or do nothing. But all too often, we forget that. We forget we have a role in our own lives! Granted, there are certain events it would appear we have no control over, such as natural disasters or sudden illness. My house may get blown away in a hurricane some day. I can't control that. But it was my choice to live in Florida. Just as it is my choice to pay for insurance, and shutters, and 4,000 batteries and 900 cans of tuna…but I digress. The point is: you are actually very powerful. You have the power to affect change in your life simply by the choices you make! I can't believe how blatantly obvious this sounds, but I also can't believe how many people cannot seem to grasp this simple concept! You, yes you, are the architect of your life. Every action you take in your life is not just an action, it's a choice. Every day, you are making thousands of little decisions. Hit the snooze button again. Donut. Large fries. Run the red light. But therein lies the problem. We don't see them as conscious choices. We do something, not recognizing the choice was always there to not do. Yes, one night you got a little reckless and had three too many Fuzzy Navels, but you always had the choice to stop at two. And then the heavy petting turned into much more, and now it's turning into a bouncing baby boy, but you always had the choice to keep your pants on. Because you didn't recognize you had the choice, or take a moment to consider the options, or more importantly, the consequences, you will now try to explain away your actions with another incredibly lame excuse: "What could I do? It just happened." My friends, things don't just happen by themselves. If that were really true, why wouldn't it happen in all aspects of our lives? I mean, you could wake up one morning in Bulgaria and have no idea how you got there. Just think, one moment you're talking to this guy in a Starbucks, and the next thing you know, you're wearing a fur hat and eating a kebab. Maybe, you wake up one morning and find your kitchen has been completely remodeled, or you can spontaneously speak fluent Japanese.

It doesn't just happen. Almost nothing in your life just happens by itself. You make it happen.

Of course there is a big difference between wanting it to happen, and allowing it to happen. In many cases, you don't necessarily want it, but you let it. After the fact, it doesn't really matter, because you still have to deal with it.

You didn't want to gain those 15 pounds, but you allowed it. You didn't want to get pregnant that night, but you did nothing to stop it. No matter what, it's still your responsibility for the event and the outcome. It's your responsibility. Nobody made you do it, except you.