Only Ten Books?

"Books are a uniquely portable magic."--Stephen King

Recently, everyone on Facebook seems to be posting what their 10 most influential books are. It's crazy that people can have ONLY ten.

I mean, most books have affected me in some way. They taught me about the world, how things are, how they were, how they could possibly be one day.....
They've taught me compassion, equality, fighting for justice, what love is, and how to really laugh.

What surprised me most is....that out of all of my facebook friends, no one has tagged me yet. I read all the time....so it kind of amazed me.

Something that bugs me though is that everyone seems to list tons of classics or philosophical books. I mean, with a couple of my friends that's not surprising.....they read and enjoy those kind of books. But with a lot of people....it just seems to be a way of showing of how many "literary" books they happen to have pawed through.

Mine.....are mostly from childhood. I read a lot back then. And they all affected me in some way to change what kind of reader and writer I am and what kind of person I am as well.

So...I guess I'll try to pick my top influential books.

Where the Sidewalk Ends--Shel Silverstein
This was the first real collection of poetry I ever read. I mean, if you don't count a big book o' nursery rhymes. The poems were funny, weird, and filled sometimes with a little bit of wisdom. It lead me to read more of his work, as well as spark my interest in poetry.

Favorite poem: Magic

 "Sandra's seen a leprechaun,

Eddie touched a troll,

Laurie danced with witches once,

Charlie found some goblins gold.

Donald heard a mermaid sing,

Susy spied an elf,

But all the magic I have known

I've had to make myself."

Matilda--Roald Dahl
This might have been the first book by Dahl that I read. If it was, it made me an instant fan. The humor of his style was hilarious and probably responsible for my seeking out his other books, as well as others by British authors. I connected very deeply with Matilda. I learned to read at a young age as well. I also read a lot and sometimes above my reading level. My parents, unlike hers, encouraged reading but I knew how it felt to be treated unjustly by adults. I was also very shy and did not really have many playmates outside of school so I also understood the feeling that your books could be some of your best friends. Books never let you down.
Favorite quote:  "So Matilda's strong young mind continued to grow, nurtured by the voices of all those authors who had sent their books out into the world like ships on the sea. These books gave Matilda a hopeful and comforting message: You are not alone." 

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone--J.K. Rowling
This is what started it all. I think what I love most about this book is the sentimental feeling I get when I read it. I can remember the magic of hearing this story for the first time. There's something warm, cozy and comforting about slipping into this book. This is only the beginning...but it's a good one. This taught me about loyal friendships, strength in the face of adversity, following your instincts, and being brave because it's the right thing to do. It also made me long for a Hogwarts letter.
Favorite quote: “It does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live, remember that.”

Fahrenheit 451--Ray Bradbury
I first read this in the 10th grade and it pretty much changed my life. The horror of a society that would willingly destroy knowledge by burning books has stayed with me. Books are some of the most precious things in the world.
Favorite quote: "There must be something in books, something we can't imagine, to make a woman stay in a burning house; there must be something there. You don't stay for nothing."

The Princess Diaries--Meg Cabot
I am Mia. Or, at least I used to be. This was so close to my own personality it was frightening. I connected with this character in a way that I've never connected with another since. This was a comfort to me in high school. This series taught me that it was okay that I was weird, a little anxious, awful at math and having no luck in the love department. It taught me that everything was going to be okay....because yes you make mistakes in life. But you can always make up for them.
Favorite quote: "Needless to say, the fact that he actually spoke to me at all practically caused me to pass out. And then the fact that he was actually saying something that sounded like it might be a prelude to asking me out - well, I nearly threw up. I mean it. I felt really sick, but in a good way."

Harold and the Purple Crayon--Crockett Johnson
This has been a favorite since I was very small. Something about Harold being able to use his imagination to create the world around him really stayed with me. Probably one of my favorite parts is when he's making a city of windows, looking for his own.
Favorite quote: "So he left the path for a short cut across a field. And the moon went with him."

The Westing Game--Ellen Raskin
This is probably responsible for my love of mysteries. The twists and turns of the story were always fascinating to me. Every time I read it, I would find something new. A foreshadowing thing, a betraying speech. Something every time that would lead me to he culprit, which of course, I already knew. Still, it was interesting to pick apart the story and see how the author got to the conclusion. It fueled my interest in writing my own mysteries.
Favorite quote: "Sunset Towers faced east and had no towers."

Hamlet--William Shakespeare
This was not the first Shakespeare I ever read but it is the one to have the most profound effect on me. I read this for the first time in high school. I had a hard time really understanding it at first but I came to really enjoy it, especially some of the usual Shakespearean jokes. I read it the second time in college. This time was easier since I knew the basics and for the first time, I really started to sympathize with the characters more....even Ophelia, who's kind of a drip. The last time I read it was when my grandmother died suddenly. For the first time I truly understood the despair that Hamlet was wading through. The words became.....not really a comfort but more like an outlet, a momentary relief that someone else, long ago, had felt that bad too.

Favorite quote(s): "I am but mad north-northwest. When the wind is southerly, I know a hawk from a handsaw."

"There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Murder on the Orient Express--Agatha Christie
This was the first Agatha Christie I ever read. Therefore, it is the most important. While The Westing Game was the start of my love affair with mysteries, this was the book that began my deep and unending love for Hercule Poirot and his little grey cells. The little bald man is potentially more intelligent and badass than Sherlock Holmes,(which is saying a lot since I also love his adventures) mainly by the fact that he is a more believable and sympathetic character. What strikes me about Poirot is even when someone has done evil, he feels truly terrible about that person's fate....something that is not always shown in the stark black and white divide in a lot of entertainment. Agatha Christie had a way of making real characters with all their flaws and quirks. Reading this led me to her other work, as well as her autobiography.....something that was highly influential on me. I always thought I was destined to be some kind of serial killer because of the morbid thoughts, anxieties and odd images of what ifs that entered my mind.....but Dame Agatha also would wonder daily stuff like....."What if that champagne had arsenic in it? What type of poison would go undetected? Why do people use letter openers when they're so readily made into a dagger?" So I wasn't crazy....I just probably should write mysteries like she did.
Favorite quote(s): "I am not one to rely upon the expert procedure. It is the psychology I seek, not the fingerprint or the cigarette ash."
"The impossible could not have happened, therefore the impossible must be possible in spite of appearances."

Wait Till Helen Comes--Mary Downing Hahn
This is one of the reasons I like horror books. Not kidding. This was the first story I ever read that had a really creepy ghost in it. It scared me but opened the door to a morbid fascination with things that go bump in the night. Despite the fact that I have a lifelong fear of those possible things in the dark (like ghosts), this made me sympathize with a ghost....and start to ask myself if maybe, they were around because they were lonely or needed help. It humanized spooks. I also got to meet the author when she visited my elementary school, which was pretty cool.
Favorite quote: "She has a maddening habit of drifting away into her private dream world just when you need her most." 

These were the books that had the most profound effect on my life. There are countless more that I've read within the past few years that have also changed me in some way....Letters to a Young Poet, On Writing, Tales of a Burning Love, and Pride and Prejudice to name just a few. But the fact is, every book changes the people who read them, whether just a smidge or in an earth-shattering way. That is the beauty in reading.

"Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counselors, and the most patient of teachers."--Charles William Eliot

A Day In the Life of an Aspiring Writer (Who Is Very Partially Employed)

My hours at work have been cut waaay down and I haven't had luck finding a new job yet. I'm stressed, worried, and trying to figure out how to hold out until the fall when the possibility of a decent part time job might open up. I've been trying to write but more in a half-assed kind of way. Then I saw advice Meg Cabot had for aspiring writers. So, I'm trying to get off my ass and do something about the two books that are currently vying for attention in my head. 

This is not productive in that vein, but it's a fun-ish exercise. (Yes I know fun-ish isn't a word but you know what, bae and selfie shouldn't be considered words either.)

7:30am: Woken up by fiance's alarm going off. Go back to bed.

8:10 am: Woken up again by fiance kissing me goodbye before heading off to work. Roll over and go back to sleep.

9:30 am: Woken up by the alarm on my cell phone. Hit the snooze.

9:35 am: Woken by alarm again. Hit snooze again.

9:40 am: Alarm again. This time silence the Darkwing Duck theme song. Check Facebook. Be distracted by things online.

10:20 am: Accidentally scare fiance's sister when I pop out of my bedroom. 

10:21 am: Bring laundry up from the basement. Begin sorting.

10:30 am: Say screw it, grab some clothes and go take a quick shower.

11:00 am: Get out of shower. Get dressed.

11:02 am: Open fridge and try to decide what to have for breakfast. Change mind several times. Finally pop frozen waffles in toaster oven. Turn on Keurig.

11: 06 am: Get distracted by webcomics.

11:10 am: Make tea. Check waffles. 

11:15 am: Update Goodreads.

11:20 am: Settle down to breakfast while watching an episode of Murder She Wrote.

12:23 pm: Finish reading A Fractured Mind.

12:47 pm: Make some more tea.

12:57 pm: Turn on Youtube playlist. Grab headphones. Begin working on character plotting for story.

2:47 pm: Take a break. Grab some hummus for lunch and watch a little Criminal Minds. 

3:16 pm: Realize what time it is and turn computer off. Head out door with library books. 

3: 22 pm: Finally manage to get out of driveway and into the stream of traffic. 

3:24 pm: Attempt to get gas. Have card not work. Go inside to ask about problem. Realize was putting wrong zip code into machine. Get gas. 

4: 05 pm: Grab previous week's paycheck from work. 

4: 16 pm: Arrive at friend's house at same time she does.  Hop into her new car. Discuss what's been going on and the previous weekend's activities. 

4: 25 pm: Arrive at library. Return two books and renew the third. Browse around and check out three more books. Escape before adding even more to stack.

5:03 pm: Arrive at other friend's work. Wait for him to get out. Eventually he does. 

5:17 pm: Get dropped off by car. Enter car and head back home. 

5: 56 pm: Arrive home. Greet people and dump library books on shelf. Finish sorting  laundry that had forgotten about earlier. Dry still-damp hair.

6: 15 pm: Glomp fiance when he arrives home. 

6:17 pm: Grab 3DS and check up on friends in Animal Crossing.

6: 25 pm: Sit down to dinner.

6:40 pm: Trash paper plate and napkin. Toss fork into dishwasher. Retire to bedroom. Read first chapter of Remembered Death. 

7:00 pm: Put headphones on and resume working on character plotting. 

8:45 pm: Take a break and look at employment listings.

8:50 pm: Become depressed over listings. Go on Facebook instead. 

9:04 pm: Watch more Criminal Minds. 

11:20 pm: Get distracted by fiance. 

12:09 am: Get ready for bed.

1:00 am ish: Eventually fall asleep.  Guesstimate.

And then do it all over again in varying amounts of time spent doing the things, interrupted by random fun, errands and actually working.

I need more ambition than I have. 

The Time I Fell In Love With a Fictional Character

I know, I know.....teenagers say this. Usually it's someone from a movie or a book or a show.

My friends and I used to joke about being in love with characters from anime or books. We'd make lists of which male characters were "ours." 

My best friend and I have also joked about being in love with Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.

But this particular instance that I want to talk about is the few months in which I actually fell in love with a fictional character.

No joking, no making lists. Real. Genuine. Love. 

This is about the time I fell in love with The Doctor. 

                                          vashtaneradasbitch.tumblr.com -

 I mean.....just look at that face. How can you not love that face?


It started out as admiration. I truly admired him. He's brilliant, eccentric, compassionate, fun-loving, and amazing. He can be a bit rude sometimes but he doesn't really mean it in a nasty way. At least, as long as you're not being an ass.

He also never gives up hope. Not really.  He will do anything for his friends and what's more, he brings out the best in them. He shows them how amazing and adventurous life can be. He teaches them what loyalty and compassion truly is. He shows them how brilliant they really are. 

He hates weapons. He looks for non-violent solutions but knows that sometimes you have to take a stand. He says never give up; there's always a loophole; there's always a chance; sometimes, some days everyone lives!

He is a kind man but also a hard man. 

As I continued watching his face and personality change, I saw what remained the same. The dark side of him. The anger. The guilt. The sadness. 

I bawled my eyes out when he said goodbye to Rose. I rejoiced when he found Donna again. I cried again when he said goodbye to Rose yet again....and cursed the writers. And then I just cried a whole lot more when Ten turned to Eleven. 

And as I got used to Eleven, I continued to see those same pieces of who the Doctor really is all along. The Boy Who Ran Away. The Oncoming Storm. The Thief. The Raggedy Doctor. 

And I saw a great man. He's a good man, no matter what wrongs he may have done, what mistakes he had to learn from, what horrors he unleashed on enemies. (I don't care if he murdered Empress Rossca's children; they were spiders, they should go the hell away.)

He tries so hard to do the right thing, to save everyone, to keep on standing up for what is right. A lot of the time, it doesn't work out as well as planned. People die, good people. He has to say goodbye to so many friends. The world may be saved but not everyone is there to see it. Not everyone knows what good he does to keep the universe safe. 

He's just one man. 

And I know that he's a fictional character. But for one summer, he was as real to me as you, (people of the internet), and I. I loved him. Admired him. And most of all, aspire to be as great a person as he is. For an imaginary man. 

Considering how some of my peers might idolize the Kardashians or some crappy rapper, I guess maybe having a fictional character for a hero isn't that bad.

I'll keep hoping,  like a child, that someone like him is real. I'll wish harder than I ever wished to see the Borrowers in my living room wall; more than wishing my animals could talk; even more than while waiting for my Hogwarts letter that never came. Because The Doctor is just the kind of brilliant man to save us from ourselves. 

But in the meantime, I'll try to be that kind of ....woman. I think that the way the world is going, we could all gain a lot by aspiring to be brilliant. 

                                              www.fanpop.com

Just When I Think I'm So Grown Up....

I was at work at Grace Bros tonight and overheard my coworkers talking about someone.

Humphries: "She's so quiet you know....just walks by without really saying anything." That grabbed my attention. I moved nearer, pretending that I was straightening clothes on the rack.

Humphries: "I wouldn't mind going out and having a beer with her but she's just..."
Rosie: "Yeah I noticed. She doesn't always seem to know the right thing to say. It's too blunt."
Now I was really curious....and also concerned. The very human thing, you know. Overhear some gossip and instantly think it's all about you. Obviously.

But I legit thought it was about me. I already know everyone gossips. It happens. I gossip a lot too. Try not to but...it happens. But one thing I know about gossip is that no one is safe from it. Take part in it and as soon as your back is turned, you're the one being gossiped about.

So, I really honestly thought they were talking about me. I'm quiet. Sometimes maybe too blunt.

Especially the way they kept saying "She's such a nice girl but...."

I'm a nice girl. At least, that's what my co workers think. I think.

Humphries: "She's such a nice girl but she doesn't know how to talk to people."
Rosie: "Yeah a customer already told her 'I'm not sure if you realize that but you sound really rude'."
Then I knew it wasn't about me....because I hadn't had a customer tell me I was rude. I'd been called other things but....not rude ahah. So I did relax.

Another coworker asked who they were talking about. They replied with my name. I blinked and went "What?" Now they knew I'd been eavesdropping. But one of them turned and laughed "Oh no not you....the other ____."

It made sense. She's actually even more introverted than myself. And suddenly I was feeling pretty good. Finally, I thought. I was not viewed as the weirdo. I was the social one. I had carefully constructed this friendly, open, ever-helpful, occasionally sarcastic persona that I plastered on like the smile on my face as soon as I walk in the automatic doors. No one saw through it.

Another coworker told me today that I'm always laughing. But I couldn't tell her that 75% of that laughter is forced by nerves.

When I learned that the gossip had not been about me, I felt superior. Powerful.

And then another part of me, the shy, ever-careful, compassionate part of me that gets pushed to the side lately woke up. And I felt horrible.

Why should I feel superior to her? Why should I find this powerful that I'm somehow saved the gossip about being "a nice girl but.....you know"? We're not that different, her and I. I've just forced this friendly suit on while she remains herself.

Maybe she's the superior one. She is her whole self. I pretend. And even though they view her as odd, they still said they wouldn't mind grabbing a drink with her sometime.

I still have yet to get even an almost invitation.

And then I was nearly overwhelmed by the desperately awkward and self-loathing teenager I once was.....because I've tried so hard for over a year now for them all to like me. And while they might like me, they still don't want me to be their friend.

I'm again that 13 year old, sitting alone in the cafeteria, trying to hold back tears. I'm the 5 year old hiding in the coat closet on the first day of school. I'm the college freshman, trying not to puke as I bypass the cafeteria to hide in my room, far away from the possibility of being left out.

I'm always that kid, no matter what I do.

So I'll keep sitting here on my laptop late at night, listening to melancholy music, writing about life and what I can't change. 

Once Upon A Time......

What stories can I possibly tell? That's something that bothers me as I look at a blog that goes unwritten, stories that sit unfinished and notebooks that remain blank.

So I'd better start scribbling something. 

I know I have plenty of stories to tell. I used to amuse my grandmother with re-tellings of my day/week, exaggerating just to make her laugh. I have revealed lots of childhood and high school to friends and my boyfriend...who now know far too much about my issues with dairy and sunshine, as well as parts of my previous sex life that should remain secret.

I have mastered the art of telling long convoluted stories with little to no point because my father tells long convoluted stories with little to no point. Which is also probably because my grandpa used to tell long convoluted stories with little to no point. Seriously, his "a little birdy told me" tales made opening Christmas presents last a really long time. And see, I'm telling one now....jsut getting around to talking about which long stories to tell.

Maybe I'll tell short ones.

I could tell the one about the time I was dusting my dad's workshop with a tiny brush and pan when I was about 4, maybe 5 (I wasn't in school yet that much I know) and the new vice he hadn't gotten around to securing yet fell off the counter and onto my little foot. And how I lay on the couch, one foot still encased in a Little Mermaid sneaker, the other sitting naked in the giant metal bowl we used to popcorn. Only it was full of ice water. And that's what my mother came home to: Her nervous and concerned husband and her sniffly, teary four year old wit a puffy foot soaking in ice water.

And that's when I wasn't allowed to go in my dad's workshop anymore. Didn't stop me though. I still have little purple lines on my big toe from that experience.

OR
 I could tell the one about the time I got the BRILLIANT idea to tie my large, rambunctious Black Lab/St. Bernard mix dog's leash to the handlebars of my bike. And then tried to ride around the yard like that. After having watched the live action 101 Dalmatians where I saw exactly what can happen when you tie a dog's leash to a bike.

But I'm a slow learner.

OR
I could tell the one where I was at my grandparent's house, swimming in the pool and suddenly had to pee. But everyone was outside and I was little and afraid of the shadowy hallway to the bathroom in the house. And how my uncle just told me to go in the nearby bushes. And I was just little enough to listen to him and not know any better. So I didn't tell him that girls can't pee very well without making a giant mess or going on themselves unlike boys who have an easy time because they can just whip it out. Though....I don't think I even knew that boys could "whip it out" since back then, I still believed that boys just had a weird shaped lump on their nether regions like a Ken doll.

Anyways the point is I started peeing behind a bush and then kinda on me once I realized that a plane was flying by overhead. I got all embarrassed and self conscious and started yelling at everyone that they'd told me to pee in public and I was irrationally convinced that the people in the plane had seen me taking a leak.

Again, irrational because all anyone would have seen from the plane (if they'd even been looking down) was a blue blob (the house) a smaller blue square (the pool) and tiny dots (us).

The possibilities for stories are endless. Though maybe I'll stop there today. Leave some more for later.

Trust me....I have plenty more. I should probably just bang out a memoir or something. Though my childhood was pretty normalish. And probably boring to anyone but me.

But I need  to go pack for moving. Again. That story hopefully I'll tell next.

Re-emergence

And then suddenly, I returned.

I can hardly believe that it's been about 7 months since the last time I wrote on here. If anyone is reading this at all, I'm really sorry about the long absence. Stuff happened, a lot of it, which is actually what I was going to talk about today. 

Something I've been struggling with recently is how to describe exactly what happened and more so, how I've been feeling these past few months. I don't know how to express it without it sounding kind of bad or possibly worrying those who love me. But I'm finally able to write something. So I kind of have to. For my own sanity.

In truth, everything started before the tumultuous event and then exploded.

I've been feeling kind of....hopeless for awhile. Since my job changed really. And I've been stuck in retail since October. It's draining and frustrating and somehow my creativity just dried up.

However I still had random bursts of writing. I still had my friends and my boyfriend, (who I'll call Flynn) to spend time with. I hung out with my family when it was possible. But I missed them terribly and I hated my job.

But things were still fine such as they were. Until the end of January. Until the end of my grandmother.

I tried to write about it because that's how I've always coped with everything in the past. I'd had my heart broken before and had been blocked in writing but half sentences and phrases or thoughts still escaped here and there.

This time....after a desperate stream of conscious poem during a vague night at work and a paragraph that ended before the fateful words I couldn't say or write.....other than those things, I wrote nothing. I was done.

There were no more words inside of me. They'd all dried up. And what's more it hurt too damn much to say them. To say anything really.

I couldn't even speak them out loud. I said words, everything other than what I needed to talk about because I was afraid of tears. I said everything but what was important, anything but what truly mattered. Nothing about what was going through my head and heart. I'm going to try to write it all down again, in order, because I need to get it out. But for now.....the aftermath.

I went through the days after I was dropped back off in my life. Every day felt the same. I got up and went to work. Or I slept in later and dragged myself to errands. I made myself go to stores, the bank, the laundromat, the RMV. I made phone calls, hands twitching on the table. I hung out with everyone but that felt like an effort. It was so hard to keep up some kind of happiness, a front so no one would worry.

Work was almost unbearable. I had to be cheerful all the damn time, so at the end of the day all I wanted to do was disappear into fiction, into someone else's life. So I watched movies and TV. I binged on NCIS, NCIS:LA, and Bones. I avoided certain shows my gram and I used to watch together or talk about.

My roomate, Dash, started a new job an hour away and it took up the majority of her time. So she mostly moved in with her boyfriend and his friends. My despair deepened over that time. I was alone except for work and the weekends. Flynn's family had me down once a week for dinner. My doppelganger hung out now and again but sometimes I wanted to be alone. It made it easier to not have to fake emotions. However it was stll difficult to sleep at night.

The point is that the days all drifted together. This deep sadness had an unshakable hold on me. I'd think maybe I was okay but then why was I still sad-- and then I'd remember and it would continue. I slept with all of the lights on, fearful of the world outside, the possible spirits in the apartment, and my own imagination. I stopped caring about cleaning things, looking as presentable for work, getting out of bed before 2 pm.

At some point I became aware that I was not happy, As in, I had not, in fact. been happy for a long time. At first, because I'm a twitchy paranoid person, I thought that it had something to do with my relationship. Oh no....was something wrong and I yet again took forever to notice? But that was stupid. Its' not Flynn's fault if I'm not happy 24/7 just like it's not my fault if he's not. So I felt back over the web of time and my vague emotions and realized that the last time I had been happy was about 2 minutes before my Dad told me what had happened, what had changed for all of us.

So in fact this was still grief working it's way through my system. Which only made me feel slightly better.

I didn't know how to talk about this. I hid my tears because I didn't want to bother anyone. You know how society is about grief. Cry up until the funeral and then you should have some closure. But you better damn well be your usual cheery self the day after.

So that's what I faked.

It was not that I didn't feel emotions. I did. It was just....all I felt were the negative, bad one. Sadness, anger, hatred, annoyance. Joy, laughter and happiness were just out of reach. They touched me lightly, like the way a warm spring breeze brushes your face. And then they were gone.

I couldn't write. Reading was an effort. Crowds made me grumpy and panicky. Traveling caused irrational rage. Almost everything I had enjoyed before was not fun anymore.

All I could do was continue on this long, dimly lit path, holding onto some kind of half-hearted hope that things would change. But all the while, I doubted that they would.

Slowly though, something did change. Allie Brosh, of my favorite blog ever Hyperbole and a Half, came back. And her new entry reverberated within me. I had not been to those same depths as her....but I understood what she talked about. To some extent. And suddenly, I had a positive emotion: Relief.

I was relieved that she was okay. As much as she is at this point. That she was still alive.
I was relieved that she was making it.
That she had written again.
And suddenly, I had hope that I would be able to write again.
That maybe my creativity was not an old well that had been sealed out of tragedy.
That maybe I did deserve to be happy again even though my grandmother was gone, even though I had regrets, even though.......everything.
That maybe I could feel happiness again. Someday.

I expressed how I felt to Doppelganger finally. I knew that besides my family, (who I couldn't let myself talk to about it because FEELINGS), she was the one person who could understand the level of grief that I was still wading through. And she did.

I gathered courage over a month ago and made a spontaneous decision to go back home. Back to VT to visit. And everything had changed, just as I knew it had. Just as I had tried not to acknowledge it had. But I refused to get used to it. I refused. But something within me changed.

When I got back, suddenly there were feelings. Overwhelming ones. I was nearly knocked over by laughter. I vibrated with rage. I was pumped full of determination. I was full to bursting with love.

And slowly, the anxiety came back as well. That was the only thing I had not missed over the dark period.

But that is a tale for another day.

For now, I am full of feelings, both good and bad. Sometimes it's a confusing swirl of them. Some days it's still hard to move or do anything resembling productivity or any kind of activity. But things are getting better.

And I've got the writing itch again, with words and poems bursting out of me in what looks like an endless sea. Months of feelings I couldn't express are just falling out faster than I can write them. And I'm full of an emerging drive to make life better. One word at a time.

Navigating the Love Sea

I really have abandoned this blog. I didn't mean to......it's just....I moved. And got busy. And all of a sudden I wasn't sitting sadly on my couch at 3 am listening to Third Eye Blind and writing about life. I was off.....actually living it. 

So I really am sorry to whoever has been reading this and waiting for a new entry. I didn't disappear. I'm here. 

So....I figured, here's something that I wrote a couple months ago........with a few thoughts and an update of sorts. 

There will be an actual new entry soon. Promise.

"It's really hard to navigate the romantic waters when you have no compass and barely any idea what you're looking for. 

Dating websites are the grounds for possible happiness. But the overall experience is hit or miss.....sometimes with a whole lot of misses. 

I joined one such website last month. For the most part, I've sat back and had others message me. I've only actively pursued one guy ever in my entire life and my confidence level is not quite up to the challenge again. 

But I did always respond. Whether it was to call some dude out for being a despicable human being (Seriously.....NSA hook up with you? And keep it on the DL because you have a GF? Asshole) or to joke around with some wisecracker, I did write back. 

But I was unsure of whether I really wanted to meet anyone in real life. As long as they were just online, they were okay. Safe. Fake people....words on a screen and a couple pictures. Nothing tangible. 

I even had a massive panic attack at one request to meet up.

But spontaneity made me agree to take a chance and meet up with one guy. It went well.....at first. But then my anxiety, intuition and best friends were all there to point out that I might be repeating the past again.....down a long road of dependence and control. Somewhere I promised myself I'd never go again. 

Plus, he was kind of a dick. 

Regardless, I was disappointed. Disappointed in that jerk....that he was a jerk.  Disappointed with myself for being unable to judge character. And rather angry with the universe for thrusting this lesson on me yet again. And I'm overcome by the fear that I'll keep making the same mistakes. I had hopes.....though admittedly not for any one person. 

Just the hope that someone would want me. Me, for all of me, not just because I'm apparently cute when I get mad or that I'm easily manipulated. But because I've got a big heart and I'm too honest. Because I make weird voices, act like a nutcase after sugar or caffeine, cry when characters die in books or movies, scream at spiders, and do anything for those I care about. Because I make promises and keep them, absolutely have to write ideas down as they pop into my head on anything available, and might need to have a reassuring hand touch mine in the dark. 

I want someone who will appreciate my sense of humor, understand my quirks, deal with my occasional temper and hold me when I'm crying, even though I might tell them to go the hell away. I want someone who will dance like a basketcase with me, someone who can deal with my oldies playlist and not make fun of me, talk about weird stuff until 3 am, and who can appreciate how much my family and friends mean to me. 

And it's really scary to pin these hopes to another again. But I find myself reaching out from inside, always hopeful that maybe....that person is just around the corner." 

I'm guessing that last sentence or two was influenced by Simple Plan's Just Around the Corner. Knowing me, I was probably listening to it on some mildly sad/sappy/emotional playlist while writing the above because I was feeling kind of sad....sappy.....and emotional. That used to happen a lot. But not since August. Because around the beginning-ish of that month, I decided to say....screw it. Well, not really "screw it" but more like ......screw feeling sad because I was alone. Screw being afraid of falling in love just because I didn't ever want to feel like I'd rather be an emotionless Cyberman rather than feel anything ever again. 

As a valley girl would say, that is soooooo 2011. 

But basically, I figured out a couple things: A) I was entirely over my ex Homefries, B) I was not terrified of falling in love again and what's more, C) I actually was more open to it. As in, not pretending that internet people aren't tangible. 

I told the universe in a tentative manner that I was wearing my big girl pants. Finally. So bring it on, oh great and powerful universe cupid!


And the universe did. ^_^

Totally promise......more blogs in future! And hopefully more frequently. Updates on past few months!!