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Jan. 5th, 2010 @ 12:05 am I like you.
We called him Og the Caveman. He was unattractive, uninteresting, and evidently smitten with the stories and essays I wrote for freshman year's English class. He waited for me every Tuesday and Thursday after class. No matter the twenty-minute long chat I'd have with our professor, no matter my quickly darting out of class to "use the bathroom", and no matter how many times I whipped out the cell phone after class, Og the Caveman patiently dismissed my subtle rejections and walked with me/followed me to my next class, or my car, or wherever I was going that day. Even when I changed the topic of conversation to electrical engineering or road pavement, he viciously campaigned for "Creepy Campus Stalker 2003" with no avail.

Incidentally, it would be another six years before I would learn to solidly reject the unyielding gent.

This creature, whose actual name I could never attempt to remember, was knighted "Og the Caveman" over cheap wine and video games one night in my best friend's bedroom. My best friend, whose name I couldn't forget if I tried, will be called "Blaine" for the sake of this story. Without writing a novel of unnecessary detail, I initially fell in love with Blaine one August morning when he got kicked out of psychology class for showing up in full Dick Tracey get-up. It was the first time I had laid eyes on him, and I instantly knew he was going to be the bane of my existence (or at least of those painfully awkward high school-into-college years).

Blaine and I spent most nights averting our studies with video game marathons and Shakespeare readings.....because we were EPIC nerds.....and one night while laughing wildly over Og the Caveman's increasingly hopeless advances, Blaine suggested solving the problem by showing up to campus and "pretending" to be my boyfriend. Because I am a fool, I loved the idea and we set up a time, date and place.

I think it was a Tuesday. Blaine sent me an email that morning, explaining that since he had to drive his father to the doctor, he might not make it on time to save me from another Tuesday in the Park with Og. Bummer, but I went to class anyway.

Class ended. Og waited. I think we were talking about Chaucer, and I can't tell you how much I hate the Canterbury Tales. We walked outside. I bit my grievances and cursed Blaine under my breath. It was one of those absurdly sunny days, the kind Irony craftily plans for the one day you forget your sunglasses. I don't think I could see three feet in front of me. We walked across the lawn, which incidentally looks exactly like every lawn on every college campus- big, green, and full of bleeding heart liberal youth that rebels against the sidewalk!

I remember seeing Blaine for a split second. I remember feeling shocked that he made it. And then I remember his face pressed against mine. I remember naturally tilting my face to the right. And I remember how his hand's gentle whisp against my hip prompted me to lift myself onto my toes. Because he was kissing me. Oh, God, he was kissing me.

Evidently, Og had been calling my name the whole time, trying to say "good-bye" or something. Evidently, there could have been earthquakes and lightning storms and the Ten Plagues of Egypt and I wouldn't have heard a thing. I don't know how someone calling out your own name five or six times goes unheard, but in the midst of that kiss, the world around me stopped.

I will never know if it was the intensity of the shock, or the sheer euphoria, or perhaps an entirely coincidental momentary paralysis of my senses, but while Blaine was kissing me, the earth disappeared and there was nothing around or beyond us. Most people describe a memorable kiss with fireworks, but I could have been chained to a pyrotechnics's boat in the middle of Navy Pier on the 4th of July, and I wouldn't have heard a thing.

Since then, I've shelved that memory, and that phenomena, as perhaps the bizarre combo of Swimmer's Ear and the "first kiss jitters" (because Mike Semen during Spin the Bottle doesn't really count). I did have a few sinus infections that year.

Since then, I've kissed quite a few boys, and even a couple of men. In retrospect, I've shared more "first kisses"on playground equipment than in any other setting, but I'll save those anecdotes and their corresponding Daddy issues for my shrink.

Fast forward five years, about fifty kisses, and exactly four lovers.

And now it's Super Bowl Sunday. The game is over, and Old Man Luvin is so drunk, I think he's going to pass out in his own bowl of homemade chili. You and I are safely intoxicated, and we've watched our last mediocre commercial. Following my passionate ramble about the mediocrity of said commercials, you tell me that you love how nervous I get when I'm around you.

Fast forward another five minutes, and we're making out in the snow. You've thrown me into a giant pile of snow, and we roll around for another five minutes touching and kissing and violating some old man's front lawn. And I don't remember being cold. And I don't remember feeling wet. Correction: I don't remember the snow making me feel wet. I don't remember goosebumps nor shivers nor the burn against my skin when it touches snow. In January. I would later tell you that I must have lost my baseball cap in that pile of snow, because I would have felt the snow against the back of my neck otherwise, but now I know that's not the case.

If you kiss all girls like that when you've had too much Old Style, you should consider contacting them for a commercial campaign.

I like you. I don't want you to say anything, because I know it doesn't matter. But I just wanted you to know.

Also, I like grapes.
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May. 16th, 2009 @ 01:36 pm Smile
Life is good. I will have an update soon. I would embellish now, but it's a beautiful day and I want to go to Trader Joe's before work tonight.
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Jan. 19th, 2009 @ 08:12 pm General Update
Obviously, I never post on this thing anymore. I'm a Facebook girl these days. But I guess I should shoot a few notes:

1. Same jobs. Money is weak right now since it's January, but I'm sure it will pick up in the summer and I'll be back to desperately seeking a day off. If Dick's doesn't seriously bring in an assload of dough by June, I'm probably going to leave. I'm getting tired of teenagers and white trash tourists anyhow. I still love the place and it's my family away from home, but it's just a waitressing job in the end.
2. Jazz vocals class is fun. Guitar is doing well. I love being creative.
3. I'm going to be volunteering for a drug rehab center, doing advocacy work. I've been wanting to volunteer for a long time now, and this is actually an issue I'm tremendously passionate about. If I can't help my father, at least I can help some people coping with the same struggles.
4. I've been going to the gym every day for a while now. I'm IN LOVE with my gym..........weights, classes, great cardio, a saltwater swimming pool and a jacuzzi tub with a waterfall that kind of feels like one of those awkward Sybaris commericals. I'm prepping for a huge photoshoot I have planned in my head, and needless to say I need a perfect body. I love my body right now, but I'm always striving for that crazy Hollywood ideal. Silly me....
5. I'm thinking about doing some traveling in April before the summer madness kicks off. San Diego for sure, and more than likely Vegas to visit Todd and finally see what Vegas is all about. If anyone has the cash and flexibility to travel with me, let me know!
6. I'm in love with my roommates and I feel like they're my "Sex and the City" posse and two of the greatest girlfriends I could ask for.
7. There's no romance in my life. I have a crush. It's silly and hilarious. I'm okay with it. I finally have all of that "I want to be single and party hard and flirt with boys" adrenaline out of my system, and I think it would be nice to meet someone I want to wake up with some mornings, but I'm patient and focused on other things for the time being. Still a romantic nonetheless.....
8. I can walk through my room now, and soon I'm going to have to take pictures!
9. It would appear that not only do I cook, but I cook well. One day I will be a great wife and mother. Not any time soon, though.
10. I'm going to start hosting Ladies' Hold-em Nights at the apartment. So learn now, if you haven't already. They will likely be on Sundays.
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Nov. 5th, 2008 @ 12:10 pm Indiana went blue.
They said it would be close, but that McCain would probably take it. I mean, nothing beats the adrenaline rush of a Chicago-based black man becoming President, but Indiana going blue induces such a surreal sensation, and I'm proud to have caught a last-minute midnight train to cast my ballot for change. People in this country are seriously pissed about the state of our economy, and foreign affairs (but let's face it, it's mostly the economy), and political bull shit, and everything else that's f%$&ed with our lives for way too long.

People who are normally inclined to vote with family tradition, and to vote for comfortable conservative issues lined with religious ideology were so invoked by Obama's energy and momentum that they actually voted for a Democrat. I'm sure that many of these people had recently lost their jobs, pensions, savings and securities. I've found that red-state conservatism is very stubborn, and I'm flabbergasted and teary-eyed that my fellow Indiana voters decided to take a different route.

I'm so happy that people have faith in the voting system again. I hope they have faith in themselves. I hope we don't stop at voting.

Thanks, Indiana.
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Nov. 3rd, 2008 @ 07:12 pm Happy....
I'm literally catching the midnight train to Indiana to vote tomorrow.

I gave away my shift tomorrow night to attend the rally. Normally, I would never consider giving away work when I could use the cash, but I worked a LOT this summer. And tomorrow night, I'll be living and breathing in Chicago when a Chicago-based man is elected the first African-American President of the United States. I'm not Obama-crazy like everybody else, but I think that's really cool.

Besides, I get to play with my cat tonight.
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Oct. 28th, 2008 @ 01:21 am (no subject)
Tonight I had my first guitar lesson. It was awesome. I don't know why I never got into this earlier. I can already play two chords! Yay!

I can't help but feel like maybe I'm starting to head down the right path. Maybe.

I don't know why, and I wouldn't have known had it not been for my roommate, but apparently NBC has chosen my face to present its "Date My Ex, Please" feature. It's not even a flattering picture. And I'm pretty sure my ex would not recommend dating me.

For the first time I've actually enjoyed the onset of late autumn and winter. I don't know why I'm looking forward to Christmas. I have a broken family, a very sick father, no boyfriend, and I'm not making nearly as much money as I did this summer. But I'm really excited, and warmed by the idea of family, fireplaces, cider, Christmas carols and big fuzzy sweaters.

I know that God is here with me somewhere.

That's all for now.
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Oct. 12th, 2008 @ 10:23 am (no subject)
I forgot how much I love, love, love writing. Of course, I've found that I much better enjoy the light-hearted humor pieces as opposed to the political crap.
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Oct. 9th, 2008 @ 03:31 pm Dear Future Boyfriend....
Dear Future Boyfriend,

I usually write my apologetic letters AFTER the big messy break-up, but I'll save us both time and write said letter now, before you've met me, before I know you, and before things get started (and ultimately) finished.

I'm sorry about everything.

I'm sorry about working all the time and never really having time to hang out. I have two jobs. I bought you a fucking Wii. I thought that would make up for it. I guess it didn't....

I'm sorry that my diet almost entirely consists of cabbage, beans, and eggs.

I'm sorry about my parents.

And my roommates.....

I apologize for occasionally making out with girls. I'm actually not bisexual. Of course I like your penis. But when I'm drunk, I do stupid things, and I thought you were like most guys and you would like it. You didn't. I'm sorry. On a side note, are you gay?

I'm sorry for expecting you to hold my hands in the porta-poddy so that my ass cheeks wouldn't touch the seat during that Radiohead concert. I thought you wouldn't mind. And I mean, I would do the same for you, except you pee standing up and thus have never encountered that problem.

I'm sorry for telling you you kiss like a fish. And that your breath smells like dog food. I made a terrible assumption when that bag of dog food on the kitchen floor was half empty, especially since, you know, we don't have a dog.

I'm sorry that your Mom loves me. She's really gonna miss me, isn't she? Especially since your next girlfriend will undoubtedly be an ungrateful, God-unfearing donkey with a broken uterus.

I'm sorry for dropping inappropriately racist, sexist, and otherwise politically incorrect statements around sensitive ears. The truth is, I love black people. I'd invite them over for some cocktails, but I really can't stand the smell of fried chicken and grits.

Barack Obama.

I'm sorry for making you eat pineapple all the time. It's just that if you want me to swallow EVERY SINGLE time, we've got to work on improving the taste. All I wanted......was to make you happy.

I'm sorry for buying the extra-small condoms. Of course I love your penis. But they were on sale, and I am a pseudo-Jew.

Plus, it ain't that big.

But it's cute!

Finally, I'm just really sorry about everything, and I hope we can be friends. I think you're a great person. In fact, if you ever want to have a few drinks, and like, fool around with no strings attached, give me a call. I actually do that with my ex-boyfriends all the time.

Of course, never when we were together......

Of course I'll still bake you cookies.


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Oct. 9th, 2008 @ 11:29 am (no subject)
Can I train for a marathon in ten days?

Probably not.

I work tonight. I made $30 last night (terrible). I need to make money this week. I have Sunday and Monday off. If my sister didn't have to work, I would totally whisk her off to Vegas. That's still in the works, but I might as well wait until Underwood settles in, and then I can just crash at his place.

Todd is temporarily back in town, so there's a party on Friday night. Of course, I'll be closing that night at Dick's, and there's a staff meeting the next morning, followed by my working a Nebraska game at Kirkwood, so I'll probably be a zombie by Sunday. But we're still going to try to hit up the Botanic Gardens. After a tasty brunch, of course...

Oh wait! I just forgot! I'm going to Dick's on Sunday night to sing with the band! Oooh yay!

It's a good week, I guess. I don't hate myself. I feel less miserable, more hopeful. I love big blue October skies. I love reading and writing on a bench in the Sun.

And I'm proud of myself for having quit energy drinks.
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Oct. 6th, 2008 @ 01:40 pm (no subject)
Money really isn't that important. It's not worth slaving your life over. What matters is love, and passion, and great relationships and a genuine appreciation for life. And it's amazing how much less important money is when you find those things in your life.

Note to self.....
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