Welcome to My Living Novel

Where Does the Time Go?

2007-10-29T23:12:00.000-05:00

It’s been a while since I’ve written in this blog. It wasn’t because I was busy, but because I was uninspired, which is strange because I did so many thought provoking things since my last entry. I went to New York and Phoenix, AZ for work, my first official business trips. A death in the family lead me to my home town, Detroit, MI for a funeral that turned out to be more of a mini-family reunion that an event of mourning. And for the last month, a new man fills my free time and makes me smile more than I used too. Any one of these things should have inspired keystrokes, but my fingers just would not move and my mind despised the idea of ordering all of my thoughts in colorful paragraphs. Even now, I don’t have the energy to relive the past with you, but I can tell you about the future.

My work in the mental health world has finally become rewarding, as I feel like I’m getting involved in projects that are so much bigger than myself that I’m awed by them. I really don’t know how wise it is, but they are training me to be a clinical trial coordinator, to replace a colleague of mine who will be leaving next year. If I officially take over her position next year, we are talking about the fastest rate of promotion in research history. It usually takes a Master’s and at least 3 years of clinical research experience before you’re qualified to be a lead coordinator, but after just one year of experience and a Bachelor’s they are grooming me for the position. There’s, of course, no guarantee that I will get the position. They may come to their senses at any moment. I’m just happy that they would even think of me for the position. It’s nice to have others see something wonderful in you that you yourself don’t even see.

Also, my motivation to write is returning without any rhyme or reason. Suddenly, I find myself jotting down notes whenever I think of something witty, coming up with story ideas, and being so foolishly optimistic that I’m going to participate in National Novel Writing Month again. It’s such a big commitment and such a monumental task, but I know that I can do it. Since I was able to reach the 50 thousand word requirement last time, my personal goal for this time will be 75 thousand words. I know now that this task is not about creating a masterpiece. This is an exercise in personal diligence, which is the virtue that I need to work on the most. I’ve been so lazy lately, becoming more and more of a couch potato every day, staring blankly at the tv screen, and gaining pound after pound as a consequence. You’re truly in a terrible state when both your mind and body become lazy at the same time, but once I start exercising my imagination, I’m hoping that my body will follow.

Reluctantly Upgrading

2007-08-28T15:13:00.000-05:00

I’m starting to think that I will never get out of debt. Just as I was rejoicing about my raise and the balance on my credit card getting smaller and smaller, my laptop decided to take a turn for the worst. My floppy disk drive gave out on me, and the worst part is that there seems to be no replacing it. I’ve always owned hand me down computers, which were completely functional just not very up to date. I'm usually cool with that though because I’m not a big gadget person. I have no desire to update my Playstation One, for any of the latest systems. I refuse to spend my money on a Ipod because I really do enjoy carrying 50 pounds worth of CDs around with me (what can I say, I’m a big fan of cover art). So of course I feel the same way about my computer. I've been working off of Windows 95 for the last 7 years and had no desire to upgrade. The computer itself still works fine. It's only the floppy drive that needs replacing, but it’s impossible to find an external floppy drive that is compatible with Windows 95.

I nearly cried in the store when they told me that there was no hope for my ancient electronic friend, and I was furious at how expensive it is to set up a new computer. I mean I don’t mind paying $800 for a desktop, but when you have to add an extra $150 for Microsoft Word, an extra $100 a modem, an extra $80 for wireless internet connections, and an extra $40 for a printer cable, all of those little extras get you to the point that you want to hit someone. Especially since I’ve always gotten my computers second-hand, the thought of paying $150 for software that I’ve always gotten for free, seemed preposterous to me.

Anyway, my temper has finally cooled down now that I actually have the new computer in my house. It’s absolutely beautiful with its glistening 22 inch screen and the brand new desk that it’s sitting on. I spent entirely too much money on it, and it’s going to take me 6 months to pay it all off, but I think it’s worth it. Knowing me I’ll probably keep the thing forever. Plus, I now have a $1500 reason to finish my novel.

Where Are They Now?

2007-08-07T17:06:00.000-05:00

It’s been over two years since the Ex broke up with me. He was on a mission to “find himself” and wanted to see if he could make it in the acting and modeling market in New York. I didn’t put up much of a fight when he said that he was leaving because I was trying to follow the saying “If you love someone set them free.” It was hard to let go at first because I was so deeply in love with him. I would have even followed him to New York if he asked, but he never did. I cried for two weeks straight over him, partly because I was hurting but mostly because I knew he was making a mistake. What could I do though? We all need to find our own path, so I wished him luck even gave him a book that I thought would help him with his search, but of course things didn’t work out the way he planned. New York was not very kind to him and he wound up working in sales and promotions, instead of actually modeling. He’s become a traveling salesman of sorts, promoting what ever company will hire him at fairs, parades, and conferences. It’s a bull-shit job if you ask me and a bull shit life. He’s always traveling, doing unrewarding work, and missing out on all types of activities with friends and family.

Although we’ve been apart, the Ex and I have continued to keep in touch mostly by phone and a few emails here and there, but this year he’s been unusually good about visiting me. He’s passed through Nashville 3 times already this year and has gone out of his way to make sure that we could be together every time. Although he has not officially said anything, it is clear that he wants me back. A year ago, I would have jumped at the opportunity to recapture what we lost, but now I no longer feel inspired by him. He seems both different and the same in all of the wrong ways.

I hate his new physique. He’s so much leaner than he used to be, and I always used to like that extra bit of weight on him. Plus, he started to shave his head to hide his pre-mature balding, which would be okay if he didn’t have one of those unfortunate heads that just looks awkward bald. His personality hasn’t changed one iota though, but in that sad, pathetic way that lets you know the person hasn’t grown or developed into anything better since you left them. There’s nothing about him that attracts me anymore and all of his moves that used to work every time on me, did nothing for me last night. What ever we had is officially over and it’s so empowering to finally be able to close the book on the Ex. There is no more wondering what if, because I know now that it was never meant to be.

This weekend, I’ve also closed the book on another infamous ex, everyone’s favorite, Rocky. I hadn’t seen Rocky in several months and was not complaining. I just figured he moved on and found someone new, however this weekend I found out from Rocky’s trusted sidekick that he was arrested for another DUI in May and since this is his second one that he has to do some jail time and will then be deported. I tried to show sympathy to Rocky’s sidekick, but all of my insides were smiling. Is that wrong? I mean I can’t really feel sorry for him because he deserves it. I’m just frustrated because I know that Rocky is probably stewing in jail, contemplating on all the people he could blame for his incarceration. He would never blame himself, and Lord knows he would never try to learn from his mistakes or change. I can only hope that he proves me wrong. Maybe being sent back to Mexico is exactly what he needs. Lord, knows the States didn’t do him any good.

Anyway, I’m still coming to grips with the fact that I have an ex-boyfriend in prison, and I’m not sure whether I should be amused or embarrassed about it. I’m just thankful that I made it out of the Rocky relationship undamaged and actually even strong than before. I’m at last in a good place in my life, and I know that I’m stable now because on my shaky experiences with the exs.

I'm Staying!

2007-07-27T12:56:00.000-05:00

As many of you know, I’ve been quite restless in my current job. The mental health field has really been wearing on my nerves, and I was about to give up on it all together and find a new line of work. However, my sparkling annual performance evaluation changed my lack of motivation and indifference into renewed enthusiasm and what once seemed mundane now holds new possibilities for me.

I’m happy to announce that I’m getting promoted from Research Analyst II to Research Analyst III, which is going to be such a relief for my checking account because ever since I moved out of my mom’s place, I’ve yet to figure out how to stay within my limited budget. Also, the upgraded position gives me so much more working experience, supervising any new research assistants that come on the staff and working on a few industry sponsored research studies at Vanderbilt. I just smiled and nodded my head, thinking of how good I could make all of this sound on my resume.

Anyway, it looks like I’m staying put for at least another year or two. I’ll continue to try to work on my novel, but it looks like this whole research thing is actually turning into more of a career than I thought it would be.

I Can’t Talk Now, I’m reading Harry Potter.

2007-07-23T15:47:00.000-05:00

I am in love with the new Harry Potter book. I’m not even half way done with it and I can already feel that the Deathly Hallows is the best book of the series. Rowling truly didn’t waste anytime getting the action started in this book, with a gut-wrenching chase scene within the first couple of chapters. And of course my favorite part, she named one of her characters after me. In this book, she named Dumbledore’s mother, Kendra, and I truly feel so honored to share my name with the amazing fictional woman who gave birth and raised one of the greatest wizards in literary history. It’s still out for debate whether Kendra was a kind mother or a wicked one, but at this point I really don’t care. Because we share the same name, I have a strong personal connection with her and I’m dying to learn the rest of her story. Okay, just coming up for a little air, time to dive back into reading. Please, please, please, let Kendra be the good mother that I expect her to be!

Peer Pressure in a Good Direction

2007-07-17T16:05:00.000-05:00

This weekend I had the honor of meeting up with some college friends for a mini class reunion. We played some Frisbee golf, trekked though some gorgeous Tennessee hills, and gazed gaily at a couple shining stars. It was everything wholesome and pure and was a nice change of pace from my sometimes scandalous city life.

All of my friends were doing well and had amazing stories to tell about working in Malaysia, saving the world one house at a time, and going back to school for a PhD. They made me feel so lazy; as if I was wasting all of my skills and talents by staying complacent with what I have. Sure, I’m doing well for myself, but I’m not exactly doing the work that I love and I don’t exactly have any direction for my future.

My friend Scary offered me a variety of possibilities, but once I poked a hole in all of his suggestions, he just left me with the idea of following what I love. This would be a brilliant suggestion, if only I could figure out what I love. I used to be into cultural studies, human rights issues, and research, but now I feel a little uninspired by those issues. I mean I still adore learning about different cultures, but I no longer feel the need to do a in depth research project on the minute details of mundane rituals. I’m also disheartened by research because you do all of this work, get some data, write some papers, but more often than not all of that information just gets filed away in some library never to be read again. What’s the point of research when the information learned from it never seems to be put into practice? With all of my academic interests dying a slow death, all I have left are my social interests in dance and my passing fancy to write, but even these interests are holding on by a thread.

My biggest problem is that I’m making too many excuses, saying that I can not do this or that because of some bogus hindrance that I’m not entirely sure even exists. Another problem is that I’m not staying informed about the opportunities that are out there. It’s impossible to make a decision, when you don’t know you’re options so my current goal is to update my resume, search for something that interests me, and put my name out there. I started small today by looking into some volunteer opportunities in Nashville, and I found an interesting position being an adult literacy tutor for both native English speakers and immigrants. Teaching has never really been my thing, so I don’t know why this particular posting caught my eye. I just thought it was something of value and that I would get as much out of the experience and my student. I’m going to call the office today, see if they still need any help because Lord knows I have the free time and a lot to give.

Celebrating Independence

2007-07-05T11:48:00.000-05:00

The Fourth of July is quite possibly my favorite holiday of the year because it never lets me down. Other holidays have too much hype surrounding them as people plan for them months in advance. But for the 4th, there are no perfect turkeys to cook, no perfect presents to buy, and no perfect costumes to create. The fourth is all about celebrating independence, leaving you free to do whatever you like no matter how elaborate or simple.

This fourth I freely practiced my right to flirt and have amazed myself at how many men that I have drawn into my circle in such a short amount of time. The pheromones are clearly still at their highest level of potency and I seem to have a date for every night this week. I’ve never been the type of girl to play the field, dating several different men at the same time, but I am quickly learning that it’s not such a bad thing. I’m even starting to see it as a positive thing, and have adopted the “don’t keep all your eggs in one basket” philosophy for all of my relationships. As we all know from my past, loyalty and monogamy have gotten me nowhere, so now I think it’s time to let loose and have a little fun without all of that heavy contemplation that always seems to weigh on my mind.

My friend Barefoot in Blue has even introduced me to the most fantastic, carefree word for all of my new suitors called “bunn.” She defines a “bunn” as a person who is more than a friend but is less than a girl/boyfriend or as someone you spend time with but who does not quite have a label. At first, I was very resistant to adopt this word into my vocabulary, but I have finally reached a point where calling a guy my friend just seems like lying and calling a guy my boyfriend is making more out of something than there really is. Currently, I’m working on 4 bunns, two of them are familiar names to you as the Kid is still around and the Saint has finally worked his way into bunn territory. However, my holiday was all about one of my new bunns who truly made my fourth of July very memorable, yet who is still not important enough in my life to assign a creative code name to.

Our afternoon started innocently enough with dance practice. He is surprisingly motivated to learn salsa. He’s taking private lessons, downloading salsa videos, coming to the club every day it’s are open, so when he asked me if I would practice with him, I knew that he was being sincere and not trying to holla. Our dance session went well and we worked out some new moves that even I was impressed with. It was perfectly friendly dance session, until he had the brilliant idea of hitting the pool and doing a little synchronized salsa swimming in the water. If you thought salsa was sexy on land, you should see it in the water, instantly splashing me into the gray bunn area, where there is obvious flirting, a few massages, and a dozen compromising position. It was strange because it was bordering on the line of perfectly innocence and risqué, and for a moment there, I felt guilty. I wondered what the Kid would think if he would walk into the pool area and see me in someone else’s arms. I wondered if I was pushing things a little too far. Again, I’m not really sure what’s right or wrong in these gray areas anymore, but I think this open dating phenomenon is definitely worth more exploration on my part. So far, I’m having a ball with it, laughing hard with my head tilted back, smiling until my cheeks hurt, and letting the butterflies have free range of my stomach. I know that I’m playing with fire but isn’t that what independence day is about; lighting a fuse and waiting to see whether it explodes into beauty or explodes in your face?

Pheromones

2007-06-28T13:45:00.000-05:00

It’s officially summertime and the smell of pheromones permeate the air like never before. I have men from my past and my future coming at me from all angles, and for a while I was doing a good job of thinking logically and avoiding bad decisions. However, now I think that I have finally worked myself into a confusing situation between two new love interests and I have only myself to blame.

I met the Kid early this winter at Ibiza, but we really didn’t start socializing with one another until a month ago, when a slow night at the salsa club turned into riveting conversation. We have so much in common that it’s a little scary. He even likes the exact same music as I do, which is amazing because no one ever appreciates my choice in music. Anyway, we started hanging out together all the time and I’m officially hooked to him. He always has jokes and seems to have a gift for making me laugh. Plus, he’s one of the nicest people that I’ve ever met. Of course, he says the same about me, that I’m one of the nicest girls that he’s ever met. We even have the cutest disputes about which one of us is the nicest. It’s adorable, but trying to stay on topic, my confusion about him stems from the fact that I absolutely adore him, enjoy the time that we spend together, and miss him like crazy when he’s away. However, what I feel for him is not truly attraction. It’s some strange admiration thing. I find him cute, but not sexy and his height is also a problem for me. He’s an inch or two shorter than me, and he has such a baby face sometimes that he reminds me more of a boy than a man. (I’m not the only one who thinks this either; he even got carded at the movie theater because he really does look under 18).

When I’m with him I feel like I’m going through the motions instead of being inspired by my passion for him. I keep telling him this over and over again, saying that we should only be friends because my feelings for him are not as strong as his for me, but he keeps on insisting that we could make it work. I finally gave into his wishes on Tuesday and was disheartened to find out that I was right the first time; that there is no potential for love here on my part. I still adore him enough that I would be willing to waste my time with him, if it weren’t for another man that I met last Friday.

I still know very little about this mystery man that I met last weekend but my attraction for him was almost instantaneous. It didn’t require anything thought, any contemplation, it was just there. His temperament reminded me a lot of my own, in the way that he rarely smiles and can be as happy, as sad, or as angry as he can be but you would never know it by looking at him because he hides his feelings so thoroughly. However, the few occasions that he does smile are so genuine and so heartfelt that you can’t help but feeling moved. I’m truly intrigued by him and regret not sticking to my conventions with the Kid. Now, I made a once simple situation more complicated than it has to be, potentially hurting feelings that didn’t have to be hurt. It’s especially confusing because I know so little about this mystery guy, that it seems silly to throw the Kid away for someone I hardly know, but on the other hand, I’m not even attracted to the Kid. Isn’t better to leave a relationship that you know is not going to work sooner rather than later?

Anyway, I have all of these ideas rolling in my head, while maintaining a big smile on my face as I try to make the Kid’s birthday today special. I’m making him Lemon Cream Cupcakes, which is a big deal because I really don’t like to bake, but for him I’m always making exceptions. Tonight will be interesting though. Can I wait until tomorrow to reveal the whole sticky situation, or will the truth be revealed this very night potentially ruining the Kid’s birthday celebration? Only time will tell, but one thing is for sure. Once the truth is revealed, it will finally but an end to our dispute about which one of us is the nicest. The Kid wins that race by a mile.

My Spontaneous Side

2007-06-11T10:28:00.000-05:00

I was talking to my international friend the other day and he pointed out a very interesting characteristic about myself that I have never realized before. He says that I get obsessed with things very easily and then all of sudden as if over night, I get deeply involved in a new relationship, a new project, or a new adventure as if it was always planned out that way. When I take time to reflect about my behavior, I realize how right he is. I can really take an idea and run with it, as evidenced by the events of the last couple of weeks.

Just last week, for example, one of my co-workers mentioned going to a drive-in movie. I thought that it was such a charming idea that that very same afternoon I did some research, found where the nearest drive-in was, and harassed my current love interest, Text, until he gave in and decided to go with me. It was a 45 minute drive but it was well worth it, because as soon as we got there we could not stop smiling. It was kind of like going back in time and being part of a more pleasant era. It was so refreshing, until we were in the middle of our 45 minute drive home and realized that we both had to be a work early the next morning. Why couldn’t I have just waited for the weekend? I still can not tell you. I guess that I’m trying to follow the “live each day like it’s your last” philosophy, but I can’t decide whether all my compulsions are destructive, as with my compulsive shopping or constructive as with my new dance projects and social activities.

My latest compulsion drew me to Memphis. The Saint has been complaining about our current hangout for weeks now, saying that this place in Memphis is 100% better than Ibiza and that I should go check it out. He didn’t expect me to actually follow through with his suggestion so quickly. I got two of my girlfriends together in record time and we all took the 3 hour road trip down to Memphis just to salsa. We had a ball of course, but I was surprised that the Memphis club, the High Pointe Pinch, was nothing like the Saint described. It definitely wasn’t any better than Ibiza, just a little different in atmosphere and the amount of guys who actually showed up just to dance. Regardless, of the Saint’s complaints I still think that Ibiza is the better of the two, but going the Memphis was definitely a worth while venture that has inspired me and the girls to take on Atlanta next. Who knows were my next compulsion will take me. All I can hope is that it will be somewhere good.

New Home, New Life, New Obsession

2007-05-16T14:36:00.000-05:00

I’m finally all moved in and settled into my new apartment, and it’s absolutely beautiful. The walls are painted a peaceful shade of yellow and green. My furniture consists of the lushest and most comfortable pieces that I could find, and returning home after a dissatisfying day of work just makes my daily struggles seem worth it. It’s taken a lot of work, but my new place is really starting to feel like a home, but regardless of all the homey feelings that I feel when I walk through the door, I still get a little lonely. It’s my first time living alone without family, without roommates. Don’t get me wrong I love my solitude and nothing gives me more joy that getting home from work early and just enjoying the silence of an empty house. However, there is a big difference in momentarily being home alone, and knowing that you will always be home alone.

To remedy this loneliness problem, I’m giving myself a new project. I know that I should be writing, but I’m afraid that writing will make me feel even more secluded than I already am, living solely in my head and not in the real world. Instead, I’ve decided to take on a new dancing project where at least all my solitary practices at home get to be applied in real life every weekend.

I’m already an expert follower when it comes to salsa, but I know little of how to lead or to create new moves. My goal for the rest of this year is to become an expert lead and choreograph some fantastic new moves that would have people trying to figure them out for years to come. I want to create a new style of salsa, a type of sexy girl on girl thing, where each girl goes back and forth between being the leader and being the follower. In order to do this, I’m going to have to figure out how to translate my choreography skills from the college stage and to the salsa nightclub.

I’m really enjoying this new project so far because there is never a dull moment anymore. Even just sitting in my chair at work becomes an opportunity to think about turning methods or an interesting dip positions. We’ll see how long this new obsession lasts and don’t be surprised if the next time I see you that I try some of my new moves out on you.

I Survived It All!

2007-04-26T16:31:00.000-05:00

On the outside, I seem to adapt well to change, but on the inside, change makes me want to go hide under a rock until everything goes back to normal again. There has been nothing but changes at work because the Fossil is retiring. They gave me a crash course in phlebotomy and ECG usage and then flung me into the clinic with a needle and some electrodes in my hand, patted me on the back, and told me good luck.

The ECG was pretty easy to master, but I still get so nervous when it comes time for the blood draw that my hand starts to shake. I don’t even know why I get so nervous about it. I guess I just feel bad about poking someone with a needle and making them bleed even if it is for a good cause. Despite of my shaky fingers, I’ve completed 5 blood draws so far, and I done all of them on the first stick. I’m so proud! However, I have always been supervised for my blood draws, but starting next week I’m on my own and it makes me sick to my stomach to think of doing a blood draw, without having some moral support behind me. Even though, I like having the Fossil around when I’m drawing blood, I am so happy to see her go. Today is her last day and I was jumping for joy when I saw her leave early today. I just shook my head and thanked the Lord for letting her be so lazy that she couldn’t even put in a full day of work on her last day.

I’ve also been cleaning house with my social life, finally getting Rocky out of my present and into my past. It was definitely a struggle, but I think that he has finally realized that I’m never going to take him back and has at last stopped calling me and has stopped leaving little presents at my door.

But the most worthwhile change of all was finally getting my own apartment. I move in May 1st and can’t not wait to finally have my own place with no roommates, no parental units, just me. This weekend, I’m going on a furniture shopping spree for living room and bedroom sets. I’m probably going to spend a small fortune and run up a few credit card bills, but my mother says that now’s the time to get what I want even if it’s a little expensive. She says that once life starts to happen with marriage and children that I will spend the rest of my life settling for what is practical instead of what I want. I should treat myself to luxury while I can and before one thing really does lead to another.

It’s still amazing to me how many changes that I’ve made this month. I’ve definitely experienced a few growing pains, but each ache of exchanging my old habits for some new wisdom was well worth the effort. April did more that just shower a little change over me. It quite literally picked me up, tore me apart, and created a new me. Luckily, it seems that the worst of the storms are over, andnow all that I have left to do is to sit back and enjoy the bloom of all of my May flowers.

Text

2007-04-23T16:19:00.000-05:00

About a month ago I met this guy at Café Coco. I was with my good friend Barefoot in Blue who is notorious for finding intriguing men to entertain us. I was sitting at the table enjoying my food, when Barefoot in Blue returns with three TSU types. Anyway, one of them in particular took a liking to me and when he found out that I salsa dance, he tricked me into giving him a hour long lesson right there in the café. He took me to the junkbox, let me pick out 18 songs of my favorite salsa songs, and the rest is history. We even got a few random locals involved with our lesson that ran way past 5 o’clock in the morning. Since that night, we emailed and text message constantly. He seems to have a particular aversion to actually talking on the phone, so I like to call him Text because I can always see his words better than I can hear them.

Text is a delightfully sentimental fellow and does the sweetest things just to prove that chivalry is not dead. For example, after our first date he sent me a thank you email saying how much he enjoyed my company and wrote about the particular parts of our conversation that he liked the best. He even attached the tracks that the piano man sang during our first date. Plus, he really listens to every word that I say, and if something I say interests him, he’ll actually go home and do research on it.

We talked a lot about music on our first date. He’s a Jay-Z, NWA type of brother while I’m a hopeless rock and roll girl. Anyway, I mentioned the Gym Class Heroes to him saying how they’re a good fusion of rock and hip-hop, and Text actually looked them up and surprised me with tickets to go see them in Louisville. I was so amazed. Who does such thoughtful things? Plus, the drive up to Louisville really helped us to learn a lot more about each other.

The concert was excellent and though Text in an advent hip-hop fan, he had to admit that these rock bands were great. The opening act in particular was fantastic. The band’s name is This Providence and their music was so good that I had to buy their cd right then and there and I’ve been listening to it non-stop ever since. And of course the Gym Class Heroes were wonderful, definitely worth the three hour drive.

Anyway, Text has really impressed me, but don’t worry I’m not rushing into this one. Everything is moving at a snail’s pace romantically which is all right with me because I still have a little Rocky drama left to deal with. Also, I’m resolved not to make Text into my knight in shining armor. I always build my men up too much in the beginning, only enjoying the good qualities and ignoring the flaws. I’m well aware of Text’s pros and cons and refuse to get swept up in a rollercoaster of emotion just because things seem to be going well because that’s exactly when things tend to blow up in my face.

A Man Obsessed

2007-04-02T15:34:00.000-05:00

It’s been 3 long months since we first broke up, and still Rocky refuses to go quietly into the night. I’m starting to realize that Rocky is not a man in love, but really a man obsessed and his obsession has taken him to new level of stupidity.

The Saint told me that Rocky brought him a beer Friday night and then bent his ear about me. Rocky asked the Saint to help him get me back, and if he was successful at getting us back together that he would pay him 2 THOUSAND dollars. I could not believe my ears, but this scheme is just so illogical that it has to be true. Rocky is definitely not the wisest man that I know, and it speaks true to his senselessness that he would think that he could buy me back and that he could think that the Saint would not tell me the truth.

Of course, the Saint is going to tell me the truth about the offer. The Saint even seriously tried to convince me to get back together with Rocky for about two days to get the money and split the two thousand dollars. I laughed at how excited the Saint was about the whole idea, but I didn’t even consider that offer for one minute. Rocky is a complete idiot and I can’t, in good conscience, take average of someone who lacks all common sense.

I'm Getting Out

2007-03-29T11:07:00.000-05:00

I officially know now, that the mental health profession is not for me. I’m so disheartened with the entire process. It just doesn’t work and the patients will never get any better. It’s not even that I’m disappointed in the doctors. They truly are doing the best that they can with the legal restrictions that are placed upon them. It’s just the very nature of mental illness. Even the most thorough, most talent psychiatrist only has marginal success in improving symptoms. I hate to get so cynical at such a young age, but I’m really starting to see that some patients are hopeless. There’s this one in particular who I was so concerned about when I first started this job because bad things kept happening to her and she would call us every two weeks in a new crisis. She would always insist that if we would just adjust her medication by 1mg that somehow it would fix everything, but that’s never the case. Now, I feel myself sighing and rolling my eyes when ever she calls, because I know the situation is not as serious as she makes it seems, and that she gets herself into this trouble so she has only herself to blame.

All the psychiatry field is about is maintaining marginal functioning and praying that the patient doesn’t work themselves into another hospitalization and I’m tried of being part of such mediocrity. There’s got to be something better out there for me. Now, don’t worry, I’m not quitting my job anytime soon. I’m just renewing my search once again to write and to find a new career path for myself.

The Fossil Still Manages to Ruin the Day

2007-03-27T14:49:00.000-05:00

I’m shaking with fury because the Fossil is a useless old hag that shouldn’t even bother waiting until April the 27th to retire. She should retire today! I hate her!

I know that you should not hate anyone, but I refuse to deny the way that I really feel right now. She is a completely useless artifact that wastes my time and makes the simplest task as difficult as climbing Everest. Today, the lazy bitch tells me that she is not coming tomorrow because she has a dentist’s appointment in the morning. This dentist’s appointment has been scheduled for only God knows how many months, yet she waits until the day before to tell me that she is not coming. Now, I have to reschedule a blood draw and reorganize my entire work week to squeeze in an additional person that was supposed to get taken care of tomorrow. I told the Fossil in as calm as a voice as I could muster that it’s not very considerate for her to give such short notice. The bitch then had the nerve to say that she thinks that she is being very considerate because she could have just called in sick and given no notice at all. I wanted to wring her old shriveled neck. She has gotten spoiled with the flexibility of this job and she thinks that she is entitled to so much leeway. I don’t even understand why the Fossil thinks that she even needs to take the entire day off when she has a morning appointment at the dentist. Most people are clever enough to manage going to the dentist then going to work right after that, but I guess she’s just too daft to pull off such a simple maneuver.

Oh, and she arrived late today as usual, and left early, even better. She does not even deserve a paycheck for the non-existent work that she pretends to do. I could get a volunteer to do be more dedicated than she. Oh, April 27th please come quickly before I accidentally knock her out, while secretly hoping that when she falls that she’ll break a hip and be really jacked up. I’m not worried about jail time, because I know how to plead temporary insanity, but at this point that plea would probably be the truth. She is driving me crazy.

Let’s take some deep breaths now. Inhale. Exhale. Wooshaa! After all, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not really that big of a deal now is it? She will be gone in a month and when I stop to think about it, that lazy monster only works 4 days a week anyway, leaving only 18 more actual work days with her. Surely, I can last for 18 days.

Gosh, I will be the happiest person at that retirement party. I might finally even show them a dance or two, I’ll be so relieved. However, I will not wish her good luck or best wishes. I will never again say a kind word to her or show her any consideration because she has not shown any toward me. She’s at the top of my black list and will stay there for all time because she is a fossil and for some inexplicable reason, not even time makes fossils disappear completely.

P.S. 2 hours later...Yea, for small victories! I told the research doctor, who I endearingly call the Bitch, about what the Fossil did and she agreed that the Fossil should come in tomorrow. She decided to take matters into her own hands and called the Fossil and sorted the whole matter out. I was so proud of the research doctor for using her bitchy nature for a good cause, and I think that such a good deed should not go unrewarded. Therefore, I'm discontinuing her title as the Bitch and renaming her as Mon Petite Chou which is French for my little cabbage. Believe me this is a very suitable name change.

Inspiration Strikes!

2007-03-20T13:30:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I was determined to write, so I sat down at my computer and worked a bit on my Nanowrimo novel. I wrote three pages, but I wasn’t happy with anything that I created. The writing was sub-par and would never have a chance of being published. I really was starting to wonder how did a story about space-traveling yetis ever sound like a good idea to me. I naively thought that I could somehow make it a serious book, even along the lines of an Animal Farm-sque commentary on the evils of human nature and politics, highlighting man’s discrimination and hate crimes against the peaceful yetis, but I simply couldn’t capture the spirit. It was an ambitious project to take on and I’m just not skilled enough to do it justice at this point in my life.

However, out of frustration came one small success. I decided to look at an even older manuscript of mine called The Sorrows of Young Sarah. After reading the first chapter, I fell in love with the story all over again, and I knew that this was the story that I was meant to tell. The story is refreshing to work on because it mirrors my own life so perfectly. It’s not that Sarah and I share the same experiences, it just that we think and reflect about the world in the same way. In so many ways, Sarah is me so it’s very easy to develop her character, because to understand her is to understand myself and there is nothing more rewarding than that.

I think that I was trying to do too much with the yeti book, with underground yeti cities and dozens of characters. It was just too much for a novice writer to handle, but the wise simplicity of my novel about Sarah should be a lot easier to nail down. As we all know, I’ve been following the wrong path for a long time now, and I think this shift in gears in my writing is just another step in the right direction.

The Fossil Retires!!!! :o)

2007-03-13T13:32:00.000-05:00

As you already know, I have less than agreeable co-workers. and more often than not I want to rip their throats out. The two main causes of my weekly headaches are a doctor that I endearingly call the Bitch, and a nurse that I despisingly call the Fossil. Lately, the Bitch has surprised me with her happy go luckily attitude. She has not been bitchy in nearly three months now, and I beginning to have hope (knock on wood) that me and her are going to have a good relationship in the future. However, the Fossil has not improved her attitude one iota over the last three months and now her work is getting mighty sloppy. She is never on time for anything, forgets about building meetings, takes one hour to do what takes the average person 30 minutes to do, and has the worst attitude I’ve ever seen. All she has to do is take patients vital signs, and occasionally do a blood draw or an ECG. It’s a very simple job, but she still finds a way to fuck everything up.

She only shows up when she feels like it. For example, she could know about a doctor’s appointment for a month, but she won’t tell be about it until the day before completely messing up the schedule. Plus, she likes to put a power trip on the patients, making them wait at least 10 minutes before she will work with them, even when she is not busy. And somehow she is under the delusion that all of the patients adore her, but the truth is that half of the patients hate her guts. She is the major reason why we have such a high drop out rate on our Depakote research study. That study involves her making medication packets for the patients and sometimes it takes her 45 minutes to an hour to make the medication packet. I know I’m working in a mental health clinic and everything, but who in their right mind wants to wait an additional 45 minutes to an hour just to get research medication? She really doesn’t realize how much of a burden she is, and most of the research staff is glad to see her go.

When she announced her last day, I really had to grip my chair firmly to avoid jumping up and cheering in the middle of staff meeting. April 27th is the last dreadful day that I will have to spend with her and from there after, my soul will be at peace again. The only bad thing about this situation is that instead of hiring a new nurse to fill her position, they are training me to do her job. It means more work for me and less free time, but I tell you what, I rather do a little extra work than have the Fossil around. Plus, I’m excited to get free lessons in phlebotomy, CPR, and ECG administration. Who knows what doors these certifications could open for me?

Even though, this job can be a little bit of a hassle sometimes, I really feel like it has benefited me so much, giving me beau coups of experiences you can’t find in most entry-level positions. My heart keeps on suffering about what my next move is going to be and what I’m going to do with the rest of my life, but sometimes I just need to chill out and realize that I’m doing well for myself. That experience is priceless and no amount of schooling could teach me all that I’ve learned this year.

Detours

2007-02-12T14:59:00.000-06:00

Life is a road trip, and this year has been nothing but one big detour. I’m grateful for the experiences, and all the lessons learned, but I truly regret losing track of my final destination, losing track of my goals for the future.

I’m letting job stability get in the way of creativity, becoming a little too complacent with the status quo. At work all I have to do is show-up, complete a menagerie of simple tasks, and like clock work I get my reward. Instant gratification spoils a girl, and the idea slaving over fruitless words day after day has lost its appeal to me. Don’t get me wrong, I would still like to be a writer, it’s just hard to find the motivation to live alone inside my own head when it’s so much easier to make bread in other ways.

Also, I’ve let boy drama distract me, picking up hopeless hitch-hiker after hitch-hiker. These men were just as clueless as I, yet I naively thought that they would be good company, or that they could somehow help me through my journey. In the end, each hitch-hiker that I met took me in the wrong direction. By now, I must be a thousand miles from my destination, but I’m not lost. I know all the roads that I need to take to get back on track. I just need to stay on the main road, avoid the detours, and avoid letting another hitch-hiker steer me the wrong way.

The End of This Tragic Love Story

2007-02-02T15:44:00.000-06:00

I no longer need my mother’s advice about Rocky because the Saint put it all into perspective for me.

Last night, I told the Saint that I agreed to give Rocky another chance once his dicorce was final. The Saint laughed at first, because I even admitted outright that I was making a mistake. However, later that night the Saint came up to me and gave me a piece of his mind. At first, he appeared completely harmless as he danced up to me with a smile on his face, but within a few seconds that smile faded and the Saint was all about business. He said, “I’m upset with you for going back to him. I was so happy when you left him, because you were finally getting out of the mud. Now, you’re choosing to go back to the mud again!” He shook his head and continued, “Haven’t you learned yet that you can’t change a person? The man is a fuck-up, and always will be. You can do ten times better.”

As the Saint finished his rant, Rocky came up behind him, said hello, and shook his hand. Rocky had no idea that the Saint had just given him such a bad review, and the Saint didn’t let on either. The Saint just smiled shook his hand and went about his business, leaving me hopelessly confused about what to do with Rocky.

The Saint is completely right though, and in two minutes he told me very concisely what I needed to hear. It’s strange, because most everyone that I know (with the exception of 3 people) have been telling me that Rocky is bad for me. They go through dozens of negative traits that Rocky has, but I couldn’t seem to weigh those pros and cons very effectively because Rocky’s love for me would always win. I needed the muddy imagery of the Saint’s words. I needed to hear what Rocky is, and not what he has done, because I can forgive the mistakes that someone makes, but if you are a “fuck-up,” there is nothing I can do to fix that.

So everyone, all I have to do now is find a way to break the news to Rocky again. I’m not looking forward to this conversation, but I do feel a little relief now that I know how this dramatic love story ends. Rocky and I will never end up together, no way, no how!

The Break-Up Continues

2007-01-29T13:29:00.000-06:00

This break-up seems to be a never-ending process, because Rocky is not taking “no” for an answer. I admit that I am partially to blame for not taking a firmer stance in this break-up, but as I’ve said before, I simply can not bring myself to dislike Rocky. I still see too much good in his heart, and I can’t simply throw him aside as if he never meant anything to me.

For a while there, I thought this break-up was really going to work. I told him that I wanted him to stop calling me and to stop bothering me at the club, and he managed to do that for about a week. However, he wasn’t able to resist himself on Friday, because he called me about 8 times and finally just showed up at my front door. Like a fool, I let him in to hear his story, and it was very dramatic one, like it always is.

His wife had already stolen his cell phone and all of his identification. Now, she withdrew all of the money they had in their bank account, leaving him destitute until he gets paid again. He said that he just deposited his most recent paycheck as well. The woman is pure evil. She’s lied to both Rocky and I about being pregnant and she even had to audacity the threaten me. I am seriously doubting all of the information that I’ve received from her. She can not be trusted.

Anyway, once Rocky finished his 10-minute horror story about his wife, he then proceeded to tell me over the next 2 hours, how none of these things really mattered to him. He didn’t come to my home to talk about his wife, he came because he just had to see me, because he needed me, because he wanted me back. He said that of all of the things that that woman destroyed in his life, the only thing that he can't bare to lose is me. He did more than cry about it. He quite literally sobbed over me the way most widows sob over a beloved husbands casket. His love for me is so heartbreakingly tragic that it inspires the romantic side of my heart that wants him back and silences all the logic in my brain that is saying that he is not worth my time.

I still don’t know what is right or wrong anymore, so I think that it’s time to bring in the big guns. I think that I must finally tell my mother the truth about what happened between Rocky and I. She met Rocky before and saw how happy he made me, and I think that she could quite possibly be the best judge of the situation. If she can get past all of Rocky’s errors and accept him as a son-in-law, then perhaps I will give Rocky another chance as soon as his divorce is final. However, if she says no, then I would have to agree with her decision. I’m afraid that I already know what she will say, but I’m still curious to get her answer anyway. As of right now, all she knows is that Rocky and I broke up for an unknown reason, and to tell you the truth she’s on Rocky’s side at the moment, thinking that I’m being a little too hard of him. I wonder how the tables will turn once she knows the whole ugly truth.

Regrets?

2007-01-08T17:02:00.000-06:00

I have mountains of proof and billions of reasons why I should never speak to Rocky again, yet I’m still having a hard time letting Rocky go. I can’t bring myself to hate or even dislike him because I still love him more than I care to admit.

Earlier this week I was trying to be strong and I was doing a fairly good job of putting Rocky behind me. I managed to avoid most of his phone calls and the few calls that I did accept I never wavered. I told him repeatedly that I no longer loved him (which was a lie) and that I didn’t want him anymore (which is kind of true), plus I said a menagerie of really mean things that literally made him cry. Still even with all of this abuse, Rocky never wavered. No matter what I did or said Rocky still loved me and still wanted me back, until last night.

Last night Rocky arrived at the salsa club with roses and a storm of apologies. I managed to stay strong and put a façade of composure on this grossly disheveled body, but in reality I was nauseous with feelings for Rocky and wanted nothing more to comfort him because in comforting him I would be comforting myself. However, I silenced this desire and didn’t even accept Rocky’s roses. Instead of taking Rocky’s flowers with me, I left them with my friends because they convinced me that if I accepted his gift that it would only give him encouragement and that I should set firm boundaries. Well, their suggestion worked big time because a few hours later I got a message from Rocky saying that he was upset that I would let anyone else have the gift that he bought special for me; that he could see now that I really don’t love him anymore and that he would never speak to me again.

I listened to that message a dozen times, almost unable to believe that it was as easy as that. If I left well enough alone this would probably be the end of the story, but the stupid heartbroken girl that I am called Rocky today. I had honorable intentions really. I thought he wouldn’t accept my call; that it would go to voicemail and that I would get to leave a farewell message. Unfortunately, the clever man pick up the phone swearing that he didn’t mean what he said and that he still wanted to get back together. With one phone call, I ruined all of the progress I was making and I don’t know whether to regret it or rejoice in it. Do I really want Rocky out of my life forever? Is doing the logical thing always the right thing?

Even my friends are having a hard time telling me definitely what to do. One of my girlfriends even gave two dozen very true negative traits and then asked me what’s so great about Rocky. When I said that he made me happy and that I loved him, she had no reply. I mean what can you say to a person to console them in this situation? There is no good solution. To matter what I choose I’m losing something. If I go back…Oh God, what am saying? I can’t go back! There is no place for him and me in this world. After all that has happened, I could never be proud of him. I could never bring him home and say Rocky was the most worthy of all the men I know. This is killing me! I don’t even have a choice to make yet I drowning in this rhetorical question.

Temporary Insanity

2007-01-02T08:39:00.000-06:00

As I expected, my happiness with Rocky had to end. Unfortunately, it ended in a very dramatic, Young and the Restless type of way.

New Year’s Eve at Ibiza, Rocky’s ex-wife was there, and I spent the entire night fearing that she might knock me out. Things were fine at first, but after I’d been dancing with Rocky for a while, she came up to him and started a very intense conversation. I just stepped out of the way and keep walking because I feared for my safety and because I wanted to be respectful of their relationship. It was clear that they had unfinished business to work out and I figured that they owed each other whatever closure they hadn’t accomplished already. Silly me, because as it turns out Rocky hasn’t been too separated from his wife during their so call “divorce” because they’ve been together intimately within the last two months and now she claims to be pregnant. It sounds like she wants Rocky back for obvious reasons with a child on the way, and believe me I’m only too happy to step aside and let her have him.

I even got a chance to talk quite extensively with his wife at the club and we exchanged numbers at the end of the night. Rocky warned me that she was violent, but I actually found the opposite to be true. She seemed like a perfectly rational woman, very intelligent, very well spoken and I have nothing but respect for her and how she handled the entire situation.

Rocky, on the other hand, has a lot of skeletons in his closet that he was never going to tell me about. He has a drinking problem, with at least one DUI in the past, he’s had at least one major depressive episode with a suicide attempt, and is a perpetual liar. I truly believe that Rocky’s feelings for me are true and that he can change for the better, but I think that I’ve been hurt enough by his reckless behavior. I’m getting out and I’m currently dealing with the awkward process of cutting him out of my life. Unfortunately, he is a lot more persistent than the Colombian and is not going to go quietly in the night. He called me at least seven times yesterday, shouting a dozen “I love you’s” and getting progressively drunker as the night wore on. For a split second of insanity, I was considering staying friends with Rocky, but it’s clear now that that’s going to be impossible. I have to cut all ties with Rocky, which means no more phone calls, no more pleasantries, and definitely no more dancing.

I’ll, of course, miss him because at least for a short while he made me a very happy woman. I had the time of my life with him, but I’m wise enough to know when I’m defeated, wise enough to know when to let go.

The Best Year Ever

2006-12-22T15:26:00.000-06:00

It’s been a fabulous 2006, truly one of the best years in my life. Of course, there continues to be some bad times and I still have several challenges yet to face, however, when I step back and look at the big picture, I can see how much progress I’ve made this year. My job is going well, cash flow is steady, and this girl has finally managed to fall in love again. Everything in my life has changed for the better and I hardly recognize it anymore.

Although I’m usually long-winded with my writing, today I simply don’t have much to say. Happiness has left me speechless and I want to ride this fleeting feeling for as long as I can. Happy Holidays to the few of you who still check in on me. I’ll see you all again in 2007.

Too Much

2006-12-04T13:11:00.000-06:00

I’ve only known the Rock Star for 9 days and already he’s turned my life upside down. I know that it seems impossible to fall in love in 5 days, but it was happening to me. Rocky was turning out to be the best man I’ve ever known, but it all started to crumble yesterday when he finally confessed that the ex-girlfriend that he told me so much about is actually his ex-wife. As flashbacks of the Columbian started to dance through my head, I started to wonder why Latin men keep lying to me about current and past marriages. Is it just my bad luck or is this a universal character flaw that I should know about?

Anyway, once the initial shock was over, I tried to settle my mind and listen to his story. The strange thing was that I could truly sympathize with him. It really did sound like an awful marriage and I surely can’t condemn someone for wanting to get out of such a destructive relationship. What I can condemn is him willfully leading me astray, repeatedly calling this woman his ex-girlfriend when he knew that was a bold face lie. The good news is that he claims that the divorce is final, and since they didn’t have any children that there were no strings attached, but who knows whether I can trust that or not. You just never know what a liar is capable of.

Although I am upset about this lie, I know this one mistake is not enough to make me think too poorly of him. Lies and all, he is still the best man that I’ve even known, and I can’t forget the 7 days of pure joy that he has given me. I’m desperately torn between working it out and moving on because I really do like this one. Plus, he seemed so honest and open about everything else. I’ve never met anyone so willing to open himself up so completely. I mean I don’t even have to ask him any questions. He just suddenly thinks about something, and I get to hear every beautiful thought that rolls through his head. It can be so fascinating and so heart warming some times that I can only audibly gasp at how wonderful he is.

Plus, he feels everything so intensely both love and heartache. When I saw him yesterday after his confession, he looked terrible. He was on the verge of tears and could hardly do anything over how distraught he was. He couldn’t eat, he could hardly function, and I truly felt bad for him because I couldn’t offer him much comfort. He kept asking me if I still loved him, and I could only say, “I don’t know anymore.” It broke my heart to hear his voice trembling, fearful to lose me, but I could not lie. I haven’t made a decision yet but it seems like that dream of “together forever” has been tarnished and I don’t know if we’ll ever get it back. And though forever may not be in our cards, I held him again last night for old time’s sake, just because I’ve come to need him just as much as he needs me.

Un-Phased

2006-11-27T14:12:00.000-06:00

I was feeling pretty sad Saturday night without really knowing the reason why. I think it had something to do with my confusion about my friend, the Saint. I secretly wanted him to be a little more than a friend, and was a little wounded when it seemed like nothing was ever going to develop. In between his dramas with his ex-girlfriend and random moments of pinned up aggression, he seemed to cast me aside to focus on other things, and to tell you the truth, I kind of did the same thing. I like to give off the impression that everything is always okay that I’m always unphased by what’s going on around me when that’s really so far from the truth. I felt so conflicted and full of chaos on Saturday that I was annoyed by the quiet and peaceful serenity of my apartment. I simply had to get out and go somewhere noisy and busy, so my internal state could match my environment. I, of course, wound up at the only place in Nashville that I ever seem to go these days Ibiza.

It started off being a very dull night, filled with bad dancers and menacing Hondurans who were only good for buying me drinks. I was about the leave early in order to save myself from any further embarrassment when I met someone. He’s just my type with long dark curly hair, and I couldn’t believe how easily the two of us came together. It didn’t take any effort. I didn’t have to stop and contemplate anything. It just felt meant to be. I nearly forgot that the Saint existed when the devil himself finally strolled in the club, complaining that I didn’t call him to let him know that I was coming tonight. He seemed happier then usual to see me, dancing freer than he usually does. When he saw how happy I was with the new guy, he acted unphased and even joked, “Am I invited to the wedding?” I wondered if he ever felt anything for me at all or if my imagination got the best of me once again. Whatever the case the Saint did not show one hint of emotion. He even lovingly named my new beau the Rock Star because of his long unruly hair. It’s such a good nickname that I think I’m going to have to borrow it for this blog. From now one, he’ll be know as the Rock Star (R.S. for short).

Anyway, R.S. promptly called me yesterday afternoon. I was a little disappointed in our conservation. We only talked of simple things like work, apartments, how we met. I wished I knew how to get more substance out of him, but I really don’t think that he’s the intellectual type that ponders to meaning of existence or anything like that. I wonder if we truly have anything in common at all, however I have a feeling that knowing R.S. is going to be an all consuming type of experience. He’s already calling me twice a day and wanting to plan frequent dates throughout the week. It’s nice to get all of this extra attention, but I don’t know if I'm ready for all of this. I always get scared off by men who are so forward and demanding, but I’m thinking that maybe I should give it a shot this time. At least from all the extra time that we’ll be spending together, I’ll be able to tell that much sooner if he’s the right one for me. Plus, I’m sick and tired of pretending to be unphased. I want someone to get to me. I want someone to make me feel something, and I want it to be okay for me to show those emotions. It’s so hard to trust people with how you really feel, and bad relationships with the Neighbor and the Columbian definitely do not make it any easier for me to open up, but the past is a shallow excuse that I use to often. I don’t even think that it’s the past that is truly haunting me. Sometimes I feel like my identity is so wrapped up in wondering what my great life is going to be like, that it frightens me to ever come close to finding an answer. I am a wonderer. Maybe I’m never supposed to figure it out.

The Difference 6 Years Makes

2006-11-06T11:22:00.000-06:00

I’m quickly approaching my 24th birthday, and I find myself in a relationship conundrum because I’m still young enough to want to be as wild and reckless as a teenager, but I’m also just old enough to want to settle down and start a family. My dating pool is quite plentiful, but somehow I’ve wound up caught between two very different men, one who has the fresh face of 18 years old, while the other who has the maturity of 30 on his side. Both relationships are in their beginning stages where nothing is too serious and nothing is expected, but we are soon approaching the time when I must chose between the two, and I’m completely clueless about the decision I will make.

When you date a man 6 years your senior, no one even bats an eyelash, because it’s only “natural” for a woman to choose someone older. However, if I even begin discussing dating a younger man with friends or family, I get nothing but “are you crazy looks.” I know that everyone is just trying to be helpful, providing me with a slew of logical reasons why I shouldn’t waste my time with a younger man. They, of course, mention his natural immaturity, saying that there’s no way that he can give me the support that I need because he has to finish school and establish himself first. What frustrates me is that it’s perfectly acceptable for women to support their older boyfriends as they finish their law degrees or complete their medical residencies, yet if a woman wants to support her younger boyfriend through his undergraduate years, then it’s considered mothering. It infuriates me that anyone would call the support that I would offer him mothering, as if that is a negative thing. All good relationships are based on support, and if we are successful in providing support to one another in a relationship then that can only speak positively of how supportive we would be as a married couple. Why shouldn’t I offer him the kind of support a family member would, especially if I want to make him my family in the future. But alas, I’m getting ahead of myself, I can’t even be sure that my feelings for this younger man are true. Maybe my attraction for him is just as shallow as the freshness of his youth, and maybe knowing that he is straight out of high school, straight from under his mother’s wing is an exhilarating taste of something almost taboo.

I have nothing but respect for my 30 year old beau, but he just doesn’t excite me in the same way my 18 year old does. The 30 year old would be a rational choice because he has so much going for him. He’s attractive, well established, and has lead a good life. His experiences truly fascinate me and when he speaks he exudes confidence and an overpowering intensity that only comes with age. I feel like there is so much that I could learn from this man, but I’m unsure if I could ever learn to love him, which is truly the most important lesson of all. It’s still too early to know that for certain whether or not love is an impossibility with the 30 year old but it’s something that I would have to work harder at with him and that I might not be successful in achieving.

If these two men were both the same age, wouldn’t this choice be a lot easier. It’s clear who I currently favor, but my obsession with this arbitrary numeral is keeping me from going after the one that I truly want? I really don’t understand why I’m trying to conform to what everyone expects of me because there is no benefit in playing it safe, no special reward given to the woman who plays by all the conventional rules of man and society, because in matters of the heart, 6 little years mean nothing at all.

Is There a Bitch in the House?

2006-11-02T12:40:00.000-06:00

I’m not a violent person, but over the last two months I’ve had an overwhelming desire to kick somebody’s ass. It’s not that I have some generalized anger issues to work out. My anger is all directed to one of my co-workers in particular, the Doctor. In fact, this woman is even too bitchy to be called by a title of respect such as doctor. Instead, she will forever be named the Bitch in my mind and in this blog. This woman has the worst attitude that I’ve ever come across, truly believing that she has the right to shit on everyone beneath her without any consequences. She already made me cry once, but I’m not letting her get to me like that again.

Today, I had some small satisfaction of finally getting to her. I wasn’t even trying to be malicious. I simply prepared a data report for the lead study doctor of the research department that analyzed the Bitch’s patient caseload, organizing who is currently in research and who is ineligible for research. It was a very good report that everyone was impressed with, but the bitch thought that it was attacking her recruiting skills. The Bitch got so defensive that she raised her voice in staff meeting and to the lead study doctor. She acted as if she was on trail for a crime without truly knowing what my data report was about.

Whatever yelling that she did not finish in the staff meeting, came out after the meeting. She literally exploded at me and walked away before I had time to give her my response. I tried to explain to her very logically how the data speaks to her abilities in a positive light, showing that she is very successful in recruiting people into research, but she didn’t want to hear it. She continued her same rant about her feelings, as if she were a broken record. She even said herself that she just reacts to her feelings without thinking. Isn’t that the very thing that we advise against in the mental health field? Don’t we recommend impulse control especially in a profession setting? I’m out of patience with her and I’m finished with trying to make her happy. She and her feelings can go to hell for all I care.

My Discombobulated Weekend

2006-10-23T13:13:00.000-05:00

My Friday night started off with me putting a second dent in my beautiful Scion xB. I’ve only had the car for 2 months now, but somehow I’ve managed to accrue one dent per month, officially making me the worst driver in the world. I still can’t figure out how I managed to back into that enormous pole without the slightest idea that it was there, but I was fortunate enough to have a strange man come to my aid and push my a skewed bumper back into alignment. The man looked like a common beggar to me, but he claimed that his car broke down and all he needed was $3.40 so finish paying for a punctured water hose. I’m usually weary of opening my wallet in front of these type of people, but he was did help me with my bumper and he wasn’t asking for much money, so I handed him over $4 without even thinking about it. Although I’m of course unhappy about having any type of dent in my car, at least this dent is not bad enough to cause any tears and at least I was fortunate to have someone come to my aid so quickly. It’s kind of eerie the way that we were able to help one another. Definitely more that luck, but less than fate.

My night got even stranger when I finally arrived to this enormous house in Belle Meade for a private Latin-American themed party. I couldn’t believe the extravagance of our hostess because she truly spared no expense when planning this party. We are talking live bands, free-lance photographers, catering services, and myself as the entertainment. I was the salsa performer/teacher for the evening, and it was simply extraordinary to finally get paid for my favorite hobby, plus I got the extra added bonus of socializing with rich people, eating lobster, and drinking sangria. It was nice to get a taste of what it’s like to be wealthy, but it was also kind of strange to be made so blatantly aware of my own social class. Although the hostess and all of her guests were very nice and made us feel welcomed, I couldn’t help but stealing looks of disbelief from my dance partner and some of the members of the band because for a moment, we were all bonded together under the context of being the hired help.

The band was something else too. They seemed very well seasoned even though this was only their second performance. I know this because I heard them play their first performance at B.B Kings just last month, and they were surprisingly good. The horns were blaring, the drums were on point, and the vocalists were enchanting. I have to admit that I have a bit of a crush on one of their back-up singers, and I think that there might even be a chance that I can have him, if I could stop being so shy and start up a decent conversation with him. I had the perfect chance to do so on Saturday night after his performance at B.B. King’s, but I couldn’t manage to say anything more creative than, “good job.” I need some better ice-breakers.

Anyway, it wasn’t entirely my fault that my tongue was tied on Saturday because the infamous Colombian was there, and he felt the need to stare at me all night long. I tried my best to avoid all eye contact with him, but I accidentally caught his gaze and with just one look all of my insides were on fire. He looked good, even better than I remember, but strangely I wasn’t attracted to him. I think what I was feeling was more embarrassment than anything else. I felt like too many people were watching us, holding their breath to see what will happen between us next, and I hated being part of the soap opera everyone is talking about.

The Colombian’s uncle was there as well, smiling at me trying to push me on, and I can’t help but resent the Colombian’s uncle just a little bit. The uncle knew how close I was to his nephew. I mean we even all went out to eat together. Why couldn’t the uncle just warn me just at little? I admit that my Spanish is not that good, but I can understand, “El tiene una esposa.” Even my dear friend, the Saint, wasn’t making matters any better by going over to the Colombian’s table and getting messages from him to bring over to me and plotting how to get me to dance with the Colombian again. I simply don’t understand why all these men have so much sympathy for the Colombian. Why isn’t anyone on my side? Regardless of the Colombian’s stares I had a great time Saturday night. Even though I originally told the Colombian that I never wanted to see him again, I don’t think that that’s possible or even fair. We both love salsa too much, and my initial anger has finally simmered down to the point that I can at least tolerate being in the same room as him. It’s progress, because I do want to forgive him, simply because I don’t think that it’s healthy for anyone to hold on to past betrayals. letting them eat away at you. You got to let that stuff go, and I think Saturday was a good start in setting boundaries with the Colombian, but still being kind and civil to him.

When I look back over this weekend, it still does not feel real to me. It was as if I was floating in a dream where some very potent things occurred, but for what ever reason I could not entirely grasp the significance of each event. Nothing worked together to create a cohesive story or theme. Things just were what they were. Nothing more, nothing less.

Waiting For Spring

2006-10-10T17:32:00.000-05:00

September was by far the worse month ever, filled with scandalous affairs and heated arguments. I just barely survived it all, but now that the drama is done and the dust is finally settling, I feel the need to do a quick reassessment of my goals for this year. I have finally succeeded at finding a decent job that is challenging, entertaining, and pays a decent wage. I succeeded in buying the car that I always wanted. I’ve even succeed at learning a remarkable amount of Spanish in a very short amount of time, partly due to the infamous Columbian, but mostly due to a lot of hard work on my part. However, I have once again failed in my creative exploits, neglecting my novel and even this blog. I’ve also failed by letting my disappointment about the Columbian get the best of me. I just felt so empty after him, and I kept wondering why all of these unfortunate things continued to happen to me. In many ways, I feel like a failure in my social life. My friendships feel shallow. My love life has come to a standstill, and I’m completely clueless on how to make it better. I was aware that I needed to slow down, but I didn’t know why. Strangely enough, it wasn’t until I got a message from a psychic that it all made sense.

I didn’t go to see this psychic myself. My mother went and of course she had to ask about all her children during her reading. All my mother did was tell the psychic our first names, and the lady was able to speak about us with amazing accuracy. She knew that my brother was a teacher. She knew about the difficulties ahead for my sister and her fiancée. For me, the psychic said that I wanted very badly to be in a committed relationship, but that I’m just not ready for it yet. Therefore, everything that I try to create with the Neighbor, the Columbian, or anyone else for that matter is doomed to fall apart. She says that I have too many other interests left to explore, and now’s not the right time for the type of committed relationship that I’m dreaming of. She says that it will happen, which is comforting, but that I still have quite a bit of time to wait.

So many people would have you believe that everything is up to you, that you can go out and make things happen when ever you want, but I’ve accomplished absolutely nothing by making relationship happen. Surely now it’s time to try something different. It’s time to see if good things really do happen to people who wait. Lord knows that patience is not one of my stronger virtues, but I must improve that because it looks like I’m heading toward another cold, lonely winter and for a change, I’m okay with that.

Idiot Slow Down

2006-09-06T19:04:00.000-05:00

I’m a fool. It’s just as plain and simple as that, and this weekend’s catastrophes are a perfect example of how naïve I really am. My downward spiral begins with the Columbian, who has quickly turned himself from one of my favorite people on the planet to my greatest enemy. I liked him so much until I found out the truth. The bastard is married with a small child at home.

I couldn’t believe how exquisitely, he’s lied to me over the last few months, and how I got involved with him more than I should have because he failed to mention such a colossal part of his life. I never thought in a million years that something like this would happen to me. How did I get involved in someone else’s adultery? How did I unknowingly become that other woman that everyone despises? After his confession, all I kept thinking about was his poor wife and how she will never know the truth because he will never tell her. However, perhaps it’s better not to know, because knowing certainly hasn’t made me feel any better or made me any wiser. I feel like more of a fool than ever, and I just don’t see a way to make all of this right.

As if his confession wasn’t enough, the Columbian had the audacity to ask if we could still be friends and continue to dance with one another. At this point, I was speechless. I simply could not absorb so much bullshit all at the same time. If the basis of friendship is trust, how can I possibly accept him as a friend considering how maliciously he deceived me? So, I told him that I never wanted to see him again, and thankfully he accepted after insisting that I take one of his necklaces with me to remember him by (so corny). So now I have this hideous bamboo necklace of shame sitting in my room that still smells like him. He’s a clever chap because every time I sniff the necklace I miss him, but there is no amount of me missing him that would ever make me want to see him again.

As if I didn’t have enough on my mind the very next day while at salsa practice, my salsa teammates and I were trying out a new type of lift where the girl flips over the guy's shoulders. Well while practicing the move, I accidentally get dropped directly on the crown of my head and scared a whole lot of people including myself senseless. When I got home my mother was so insisted that I go to the hospital that it was frightening. She said that you just never know with head injuries. You could go to sleep and never wake up, and my first thought was, “Wouldn’t that be nice.” Until that moment, I had no idea that I was so upset about the Columbian that death didn’t sound so bad. I’d put on such a good front of apparent happiness for everyone else that I think that I actually convinced myself that his confession didn’t really matter to me, that it didn’t even ruffle my feathers. Hell, I’m so ruffled that I find myself forgetting to eat, and when I do eat, I mistakenly eat 5 day old sandwiches that are bond to give me some time of parasite. I manage to keep a gleaming smile on my face, but the reality is that I’m a mess. I need to slow down. I’ve been running so fast, and this girl is just not meant for such high speeds.

PDA

2006-08-22T18:05:00.000-05:00

I was called "cold" for the first time in my life this weekend, and though the Columbian didn't say it in an offensive way, there are just certain words that are insulting no matter how kindly you say them. On a scale of relativity, the Columbian is right. I'm not even half as affectionate as he is, and what worries me about that is that I don't know if I could ever be as open with my emotions as he is. Something inside me will not allow me to show my passion for someone in the middle of a very public place. It's just not my style, and it frustrates him because every time I pull away, he's thinking that I'm not interested in him when really I'm just trying to get some air and checking to see whether or not all of Nashville is looking at the two of us with raised eyebrows.

There are some things that you just don't realize until you're with someone new who challenges you and makes you reflect about the way you've done things in the past. I'm starting to realize that my aversion for all types of public display of affection has caused me to miss out on some pretty normal relationship milestones. Even holding hands in public is an awkward experience for me, and my tension surrounding such a simple form of affection is really making me doubt my ability to love. Maybe my timid nature is bordering on frigidity or perhaps the problem isn't truly with me alone, but instead a conflict of two different affection ideals. My preference is slow, gentle embraces with a lot of Eskimo type kisses whereas his actions are so much faster, stronger, and direct that sometimes, I just want to push him away and say, "Could you please stop trying to engulf my entire head in one swallow, and hold me the way that you do when we're dancing," but I neither have the courage nor the Spanish language skills to say this or any of the other things that I feel. I can see myself making the same mistake with the Columbian that I've made with all the others, leaping without looking and falling into his arms simply because they are open to me. However, open arms are never enough. Communication is the key and our language barrier is a big problem that only time can remedy. So it appears that I will not be running off into the sunset with the Columbian as soon as I thought. There is still so much left to discuss and so many gaps left to bridge, and I fear that if we don't at least find some middle ground between his hot and my cold then our spark is doomed to fizzle out before it even starts to burn.

Could It Be Fate?

2006-08-16T21:41:00.000-05:00

I’m getting ready to take my salsa dancing to a whole new level. I’ve been asked to be part of a salsa team at my favorite nightclub Ibiza. At first, I was skeptical about it, because I really hate the ballroom dancer style of salsa. It’s so staged and unnatural that it’s actually painful for me to watch it, but I was pleasantly surprised to find out that ballroom salsa is not what this team is about at all. Our team leader and salsa teacher is really encouraging everyone to keep their own unique style and to keep our moves as natural as possible. He’s eventually hoping to schedule us exhibitions at other clubs across the South and doing lessons for the local news stations in Nashville. He even talked about possibly getting paying gigs if our team became popular. At this remark, my mind began to wonder and create a thousand magical scenarios of me becoming a professional salsa dancer and simply living the rest of my life doing my favorite hobby. It was a nice daydream until I realized that I’m not officially a part of the team yet. I still have to try out for it, but I’m not too worried about the whole audition process. I think that I’m one of the best girls there, and they would definitely be a little insane not to include me.

When I reflect about where I’ve been and where I’ve arrived too, I began to see how much symmetry my life has. Some people would say that I’ve reached this serendipitous point due to good planning or because of the choices that I made, but what about fate? I’d like to think that the gods have something to do with everything fitting together like a prefect pre-manufactured puzzle. Just as this wonderful salsa team is starting, I’m quitting my evening job allowing me time to go to more of the practices. And although I was a little sad to let the Neighbor go, now that he’s out of my life, I have one less distraction and one less obligation to attend to. Plus, my new car has been a godsend. I would have never been able to do go to all these salsa practices if it wasn’t for the timely addition of my new Scion. There has to be a greater meaning to why everything is fitting together so nicely. It’s like the universe is getting me ready for something big and I can’t help but to bite my fingernails in anticipation of what fate has in store for me next.

The Enlightenment

2006-08-08T21:53:00.000-05:00

Religion has never been a big part of my life. In fact, I tend to take every reasonable effort possible to avoid structured religious services, but regardless of my aversion of the church scene, I like to believe that have own type of spirituality, based on the quaint parables that have inspired me the most. However, my very vague notion of religion was put on trial this weekend by a surprising new acquaintance of mine. I have never met someone so passionate about believing in nothing. I thought the whole point of being an atheist was not to get riled up about anything religious, but this guy takes proving religion wrong very seriously. After nearly three hours of listening to him rant and rave about the evils of religion, I got a pretty good understanding of where he was coming from and will share a taste of his dissertation here, solely to understand and reflect on why I both agree and disagree with his theories.

He says that religion is merely a complex fiction used to control people and motivate them to do ridiculous things they would not do if they were thinking rationally. Regardless of whether you choose Christianity, Islam, Judaism, or Hinduism, in his eyes, all religions are based on the same ideas of magic and folklore that are just as baseless as Greek gods and goddesses that we now classify in the category of mythology today. At this I could see his point because when I separate myself from everything that I grew up believing, I can see the absurdity of all those Sunday school lessons I was taught to believe as true. However, just because a story is improbable doesn’t mean that it’s impossible, and just because we can’t prove the degree to which the supernatural exists doesn’t mean that the possibility is not there.

He also believes that the source of every conflict and war that we are faced with today is due to the fictions of religion. He has painted himself a beautiful utopia where everyone becomes “enlightened” and sees the evils of their religion and how those holy falsehoods have caused more suffering than good. He suggests that we banished all religious practice and watch as all humanity unites in peace and harmony. I’m all for a peaceful utopia, but I don’t believe that his method could ever work. We will still have cultural and language barriers to separate us, and greed to motivate the powerful to take advantage of the weak. We have a long list of issues to sort through in order to reach a peaceful existence, so why so abruptly try to take away a belief system that is such an integral part of so many people’s lives and has helped so many people better themselves and their communities. I can hardly consider a world without religion an enlightened one. Denying religion feels like denying a major part of what it is to be human. I don’t know why I feel this way, but it seems that there is something in all of us that wants to look toward the sky, that wants there to be something more meaningful out there, that wants to know that magic is possible. Maybe it’s naïve at my age to believe in magical supernatural beings in the sky, but that belief has given me confront for a lot of years, and I don’t see how giving that up now will bring enlightenment any nearer.

Progress

2006-07-27T19:55:00.000-05:00

With all the boy drama in my life, I have conveniently forgotten to tell you about the best news that I've heard all year. I got the promotion at my new job! So no more struggling, no more lowly hourly wages, no more working 2 jobs. I now have the very respectable job title of Research Analyst II. Notice the 2 people! Yes, I've moved up a level, and I'm getting a fairly descent salary and benefits. Only thing I'm worried about is failing miserably at my new job. I'll be the coordinator of 6 research projects, responsible for making sure everything is complete, taking care of everyone's schedule, making sure all the doctor's and staff see the right clients at the right time. It's all so complex, but I'm sure I can handle it. I always go into every job with the same impending sense of doom, yet somehow it always works out, so I know that at least statically speaking that the same will be true of this job.

But I can't just leave you hanging on my boy drama issues especially when such good progress is being made. The Neighbor surprised me last night with a very sudden shower of affection. I guess after he saw that I wasn't going to chase after him the way some girls do that he'd better turn up the heat on his part. It's so refreshing to find a heart underneath all of that apathic machoness. Anyway, things are a lot better. Communication is 100% better. Whereas before I couldn't even get him to open his mouth. Now, he's picking my brain every 10 minutes, "What you thinking about," as if in 10 minutes I've unraveled all the mysteries of the universe for his listening pleasure. However, this is not a complaint. I'm very impressed with his improvement. His renewed interest in me has renewed my interest in him and has abated my fantasies about the Columbian slightly. I'm still working my ass off to learn Spanish just in case. I just don't plan to run off into the sunset with the Columbian as soon as I expected.

The Columbian

2006-07-24T19:33:00.000-05:00

This weekend a little of my heart fell for the Columbian. The major problem with that is that my knowledge of Spanish is close to non-existent, yet I still speak more Spanish than the Columbian speaks English. I shook my head at him Friday night as I spoke to him in broken Spanlish, “How can you live in the States for over two years, and not speak more than two words of English?” He went on to tell me about his Spanish store, and how no Americans ever shop there, so there was never a need to learn English until he met me.

We made a promise to one another that night to learn each other’s language. We even pinky swore to make the pact even more binding, and the Columbian is really taking the process of getting to know one another very seriously, which is so refreshing after the complete lack of communication with the Neighbor. Although the Neighbor is still technically the man in my life, my mind and imagination have already left him after only two short weeks of being together. Now, in my fantasies, it is the Columbian that I see and it’s the Columbian who I imagine spending my future with. Part of me wonders if that qualifies as cheating, because I’m definitely bordering possession of cheating thoughts with the intention to act, which I’m sure add up to about two years of karmic imprisonment. However, the Columbian just may be worth the price.

His dancing is so unlike anyone else’s that it really caught me off guard at first. He doesn’t do many of the traditional turns and whirls, which I used to love so much, but his intricate footwork and sensual way of moving across the floor is enough to hold my attention for hours. I’ve even started to show preferential treatment to my Columbian, much to the chagrin of my former dance partners. For a full two hours, the Columbian was the only one that I wanted. I didn’t even have time to lust after M-BMW who made a surprise visit to Ibiza Friday night. The Columbian was enough for me and just standing next to him was more rewarding than all the empty smiles that M-BMW wasted on me. M-BMW’s fickle ways just can’t compare to the Columbian’s genuine smile. No one else is like him. No one has ever held me so close and made me feel so at peace in their arms. No one else can dance cheek to cheek with me and make me forget the hundreds of people who are staring at us with raised eyebrows. No one else can make me purr at the mere stroke of a shoulder blade. The Columbian is special, and I don’t need to understand his words to know that much to be true.

The Neighbor

2006-07-17T18:55:00.000-05:00

I just started a new relationship last week, my first real one in over a year, and I'm feeling a little overwhelmed by the whole situation because we are not having the smooth beginning that I hoped for. There's nothing but bad timing between us with endless long silences and a complete lack of any type of meaningful conversation. However, he's managed to charm me in record time, with the fewest amount of words ever used to woo me. So now I'm left at the computer again, writing with a heart full of nervous apprehension, wondering whether attraction is enough to bond, whether all our miscommunications will ever be resolved, and whether all our bad timing can suddenly be turned into blissful harmony.

He lives two doors down from me, yet our close proximity doesn't make it any easier to be together. My two jobs are starting to be more of a hindrance than a blessing, and his social life takes him out more than I originally expected. Yet, he reminds me so much of my X that sometimes it stops me from breathing. On a few solemn occasions, the Neighbor actually sounded so much like the X over the telephone that I nearly said X's name instead of Neighbor's. It's almost eerie how similar the X and the Neighbor are. They have the same voice, the same energy, the same touch, and they even share the same astrological sign. It truly makes me wonder why am I winding up with the same type of man, over and over again. Am I the fool who relives her past mistakes insanely believing that this time will be different or is there some logic to my actions. The neighbor is a completely different person after all and is not destined to make the same mistakes as the X. He could actually be the perfect combination of all the things that I loved about the X without any of the things that broke my heart. However, I'm starting to wonder if I truly like the Neighbor for who he is or if I like him because he reminds me of a past that I don't want to let go of.

Although I love quiet contemplation about these issues, continually turning them over in my head seems to be getting me no place fast. There's only so much comfort the written word can supply because in the end it is our actions that determine the ending. My task for this week is to fill those awkward silences with the sentiments that matter to me the most, and somehow motivate the Neighbor to do the same.

My New Car

2006-07-08T17:54:00.000-05:00

After two years of working like a slave, I have finally saved enough pennies to buy the car of my dreams. As I took a walk around the exquisite Scion xB today, I was as excited as a toddler at the circus, nearly jumping up and down and spinning around in circles. In many ways, my love for the Scion xB is truly bizarre, because I've never been a big car person and taking notice of any particular vehicle is just not something that I typically do. However, ever since the Scion xB came out, I've been lusting after it like the darn car was the most beautiful man in the world, literally applauding every time I would see one drive by. Such an attraction can not be denied, and even though many of friends insist that buying used is the way to go, I simply must go against all of their emphatic suggestions and go with my heart. Besides, all the used cars that I looked at today cost just as much if not more than my new Scion, and it makes no kind of sense for me to spend more for a used car when the new one is so much more reasonably priced.

And to test drive the thing was a dream. It sits up so high from the ground that you can get such a nice view of everything around you, yet it handles more like a car than a truck, which I really like. And the gas mileage is really good running around 30/33 mpg. I mean there are no down sides here, plus I get to customize my car with all the little frivolous trinkets I want like blue back lighting and designer pedal covers. Yes, I'm going to be big pimping in my Scion very soon and I deserve it.

I still have to wait one more month though until I get paid again to have enough money for a large down payment, but the date has been set. August 5th is the day that Kendra gets her new car, and she can hardly wait.

Yes, I’m Still Alive (Barely)

2006-06-21T21:19:00.000-05:00

I’m out of breath, have aching muscles, and I’m sure that it won’t be long before the gray hairs start to spout officially making me the oldest young woman alive. Oh, my new job! How I love to hate thee! You give me so much pain and satisfaction at the same time, but I’m starting to realize that maybe the pain overshadows the satisfaction.

Yesterday, especially, I was truly at my breaking point. My car broke down, one of the therapists at the clinic was annoyed with me, the front desk staff was annoyed with me for moving the furniture around in my office to suit my needs, and my supervisor was breathing down my neck for me to recruit 300 people to the project and I just don’t know if I can do it all!

But just as everyone else in the world was discussing how much they hate my guts, I was surprised at how hard the guy who hired me was working to get me hired into a permanent position. He’s really pushing hard to convince his colleagues to hire me for a new Research Associate II position that just became available. This job is a lot better than the one I turned down a few weeks ago, because it doesn’t require any life-threatening trips to patients’ homes and it’s even more prestigious than all of my other positions combined. If I’m lucky enough to get offered the job, there’s no way that I will turn this one down. However, I wonder if I’m really qualified for the position. A big part of this study is drawing blood and administering EKGs, and they are currently interviewing several people who have experience with both. My supervisor brushes such requirements off as no big deal, saying that I can take training courses on how to draw blood and do EKG’s. I just find it curious that I’m suddenly being thrown so haphazardly into doing such technical, medical tasks. I mean can you even imagine me poking people with needles or straping them into some type of electric wave measuring machine? It’s kind of an eerie thought.

Everything about my work days is haphazard. Today for example, my supervisor had the audacity to ask me to interpret Swahili for a client. I may have put Beginning Swahili skills on my resume, but I never thought that anyone would actually take that comment seriously or put my non-existent skills to work. I mean saying “Habari zako,” and helping someone through a major depressive episode are two totally different things. Oh, I just know the gray hairs are coming. I can feel it. I can feel it...

I Need Your Input

2006-06-02T19:25:00.000-05:00

The weekend could not be coming at a better time, because my new job is really making me lose my mind. I can deal with the patients and the basic tasks that are in my job description easy enough, and I actually enjoy my work on most occasions. It's my co-workers and my supervisors that keep making my job so confusing and who keep adding more drama to an already tense situation.

Since they fired two of my co-workers, they have been doing a corporate re-shuffle. Today, they interviewed me for one of their permanent research associate positions, but I felt so underhanded interviewing for the same job that was supposed to go to my fired co-worker. My supervisors all told me not to tell her about it so I didn't, but it just felt wrong doing so. I hate keeping secrets, and it's just making an already tense work environment even tenser.

Anyway, awkward work situation put aside, I don't even know if I want the job. At first, I was overjoyed about the job because it would be a salaried position with benefits. I've been drooling over jobs like that ever since I graduated from college. However, I'm starting to wonder if a salary and benefits is truly worth the stress and the risk to my physical well being.

For this project, I will be going into the homes of mentally ill adults who are also working on their substance and alcohol abuse problems. My job is to enroll them in a trial treatment program and then interview them 6 months later to see if the program is actually helping them. In general the study sounds fascinating. My main concern is going into these strangers' homes. I don't mean to be so discriminating or biased, but these people have been diagnosed with some serious mental illnesses and then add substance and alcohol abuse on top of that. It can't be a good combination. I'm perfectly fine meeting with these people in the clinical environment, but outside the clinic, I'm not so sure. It's not that I truly believe that I would be butchered and torn into little tiny unidentifiable pieces, but I just think that there is a security risk there that I'm not willing to take. Please let me know what you think, cause I need all the input I can get.

The Blood of the Lamb

2006-05-30T20:56:00.000-05:00

The tension at work is so stiff that I can’t even cut it with a knife. The sad part is that I don’t think that there is any solution to this easily avoidable problem. The damage has been done and the things that have been said can never be taken back.

The situation is that two of my co-workers were up for their 90 day evaluations last week, and their bad performance reviews caught us all off guard. My employer told them that their contract would not be extended into the permanent positions that they were promised and that they were fired. To add insult to injury, they are supposed to finish out the last two months of the research project. What kind of company fires someone and then expects them to grin and bare months of working for an employer who doesn’t value their work? I mean these are the sweetest ladies on the planet and they worked their butts off on this project, staying late without overtime pay and working through lunch for weeks at a time. Is termination how you reward such dedication?

I just don’t understand it, and one of the ladies didn’t either because she put in a half of day’s work and left probably never to return again. The other lady, who took so much care in training me, is going to stick it out and work that ridiculous two months of shame. I'm amazed by her strength and composure. There’s no way that I could work through such conditions. My supervisors pretend that all is normal and that it’s okay to let so much tension circulate so freely in the workplace, but I’m so angry with them that I can scream. How dare they fire the hardest working women that they had working for them! How dare they put me in the middle of an impossible situation! How dare they offer me a permanent position?

It’s not official, but they want me come in to interview for a permanent research position. This is not one of those temporary four month studies, but I long term project with a salary and benefits. It’s like a real grown up job and I might have to give it some serious consideration, but I’m so disheartened by this whole experience. I’m caught in the middle of a war that I do not understand, but from my vintage point I can only see innocent blood being spilt.

Crazy Days

2006-05-24T19:02:00.000-05:00

After 30 days of endless rain, sunshine has finally come out to play, and I’m truly grateful for these cherry blue skies because all that rainy weather, among other things, was really starting to wear me down. From my daily follies at work, to my miscommunications with the men in my life, I felt as if a million microscopic disappointments built up enough to form a visible sadness in me. Fortunately, my sadness went away with those rainy days, and my cheerful self is back to reflect about the happenings in my world.

Everyday at my new job is an adventure, and our research participants are constantly keeping me on my toes. I’m getting used to the depressed and bipolar ones, but the ones with schizophrenia really catch me off guard more often than not. I had one yesterday that made me so uncomfortable that I wanted to run for my life. This person had a fascinating story, but it really seemed like they could snap at any minute and I didn’t want to be there when they did. However, I had one participant today that I adored so much that there was even a bit of attraction on my part. He would tell me about his delusions and hallucinations and I would just nod and think in my head, “That’s okay. I still adore you,” and would admire his lips as he talked and noticed how soft his hands looked. Don’t worry! I’m not so desperate that I would take patients home with me, but that one guy was mighty fine.

Today was especially crazy because there was a bomb threat on the clinic, and we had to evacuate while the police combed the building with dogs and bomb detectors. Evidently, this clinic gets bomb threats a couple times a year from random unstable patients who were unable to get their medications. To this I could do nothing but shake my head in disbelief. What have I gotten myself into people?! I’m getting more and more glad that this job is only a temporary position.

I may complain, but deep down I’m really enjoying this job. The project is so exciting because of how significant the research is. If this study goes well, they will be introducing the new computer software that we are testing this fall in mental health clinics all across Tennessee. Patients will be able to do a quick survey on a touch screen computer before they go in to see their therapist, and that survey will give their doctor a heads up to know how they are feeling that day. It’s really exciting stuff and I’m so proud to be a part of it.

Sign Language

2006-05-09T21:14:00.000-05:00

I’ve been so embarrassed lately about my inability to read male mating signals. I’m both inexperienced and naïve and deserve these ruffled feathers that I’ve been wearing for past four days now.

M-BMW broke my heart ever so slightly last weekend as he casually flirted with me for a full half an hour, then later that evening, publicly smooched on another girl in the middle of the dance floor. I’m not entirely surprised, but I definitely didn’t see it coming. I feel so stupid to have gotten all excited about him and now have all that excitement come to nothing. But in case you didn’t know already, my attention span can be kind of short when it comes to men so I’ve already moved my attentions to another.

At the top of my list is another Yahoo personal guy, who has one of the most lovable voices I’ve ever heard. The first time I heard his voice on my answering machine, I literally jumped up and down with excitement and called Barefoot in Blue to scream in her ear about it. She goes to school with the Yahoo personal guy and was able to give him a good letter of recommendation from her brief encounters with him. I can’t wait to meet him because we have so much in common that it's kind of scary.

My Brain is About to Explode!

2006-05-02T21:21:00.000-05:00

It was pouring down rain as I drove to my new job today, and I was certain that this curtain of water could not be a good omen as to how the rest of the day would flow. I tried my best to push these negative thoughts aside, remembering how easy most first days are on a new job. However, I would not be so lucky this time. There would be no gentle training process from me, no friendly shadowing of a fellow co-worker. They simply told what to do and threw me in the water, waiting anxiously to see if I would sink or swim. I am proud to say that I was able to keep my head above water more often then not, however, I did shallow quite a bit of water in the struggle.

I’m still shocked at how much responsibility they put on my shoulders on my first day. At my old research job, I had to go through several weeks of training on confidentiality, recruiting, and interviewing processes before we can even talk to a research participant. At this company, however, I wasn’t in the door but 4 hours when they left me alone to consent people to the study, administer computerized tests, answer the phones, and pay the participants for their time. I could have died of fright and of having to absorb too much information too fast.

Besides, my sheer terror about how much I had to do, I'm pretty pleased with my new position. I sat in on two interviews so far, and it was so eye-opening to talk to some of the participants. They have had such terrible things happen to them, such as deaths in the family, rapes, and physical abuse. I can’t even imagine how I would deal with just one of these situations much less all three of them at the same time. I’m both intrigued and disheartened by their stories, and I’m not sure whether being in such an environment will spark my interests or if it will bring me down in to my own little depression. I’ll guess, we’ll just have to wait and see on that one.

My brain is still vibrating from today’s experiences. I’m actually glad to be at my old part-time job this evening. Everything here is so familiar and I can at last relax knowing that for these brief four hours I have mastery over my domain. I must soak up this feeling as much as possible, because in the morning it will be culture shock in a foreign land all over again.

Down to Earth?

2006-04-30T18:26:00.000-05:00

After two weeks of floating in the clouds, I have finally returned to earth to experience the monotony of mediocrity. I have no amazing adventures to share from this weekend, only casual encounters that I'm sure will be easily forgotten.

I finally met up with one of my Yahoo personals dates. As it turned out, he didn't stand me up last weekend. It was a misunderstanding on my part, and I felt really bad about being the cause of us not meeting up. Anyway, we had a few drinks and played some pool, and things were going remarkably well. I was really liking him until things started moving a little too fast, and his hands were going to places where strangers usually get pepper sprayed for going. Needless to say, I did not appreciate his forwardness and will probably never see him again.

And M-BMW and I couldn't get it together either. We had another frustrating night of dancing around one another instead of dancing with one another. I just don't know what to think about him anymore, and I can hardly expect to see anything special developing from the nothingness that we have now.

Gosh, I'm in a strangely pessimistic mood today, which is so unlike me. I think I just better quiet for now, and return back when my outlook of my world is a little more hopeful and a lot less critical.

M-BMW

2006-04-23T21:37:00.000-05:00

I had another amazing weekend, abundant with Latin dancing and boy drama. I was supposed to have two Yahoo personals dates this weekend, but both my dates stood me up! I still can't believe the bad manners of these men, but I guess that's what happens when you try to make a cyberspace connection. The relationship is so abstract and theoretical that it can never break free of the computer screen and become part of the real world. However, I'm taking these small rejections in good humor, because they allowed me to spend more time in my favorite salsa club, which led me to spending more time with the Most Beautiful Man in the World (M-BMW, kind of like a Male-BMW because in so many ways he is as priceless as a luxury sedan).

Anyway, my Friday night with M-BMW was a little awkward. We didn't even talk to one another, but played the most ridiculous game of who could make the other more jealous by dancing with other people. I think I won that game hands down, yet I could not rejoice in my victory because I felt bad about wasting my Friday salsa night making someone that I like jealous. However, I was lucky enough to be able to redeem myself Saturday after my Yahoo date didn't show up. I went to Ibiza again and this time was able to dance with M-BMW to some of the best bachata music I've ever heard in my life. Ibiza had a special bachata band flown in from the Dominican Republic just for the event, and the band made an already romantic dance even more sensual. The wavy bachata motion literally took me into a trance-like euphoria, and I was so overjoyed with the music and my partner that I had to censor some of my smiles so as not to seem too smitten with M-BMW.

On the inside, I feel so much for M-BMW, but I know externally that there is nothing special about our relationship/friendship/acquaintance. He's just like all of the other regulars that I dance with every week, but instead of analyzing every detail of my time with him, like I normally do, for a change I'd just like to allow myself to feel without rationality or expectation because expectation is what kills the beauty of the experience. With expectation you always wonder why things aren't happening fast enough, instead of seeing the slow progress that is being made. Every relationship worth having is worth waiting for, and for now at least, I have plenty of time and patience to offer.

(Oh, and I learned the most beautiful Spanish toast this weekend. The toast loosely translates to mean "To this beautiful life and to the hope that it never ends." I find this toast so lovely because it is just as impossible as asking for world peace, but acknowledges without conditions how wonderful this life can be, while only quietly alluding possibility of an end. So to all of you reading out there please raise your water goblets and coffee mugs. May all of your lives be beautiful and may they never end.)

I Did Ask For It

2006-04-19T09:22:00.000-05:00

Remember that research job that I was so excited about nearly two months ago? Well, at long last they finally offered me the job and as soon as my background check and application are approved, I could be working there within 2-3 weeks. It feels good to finally be able to exhale and relax for a minute, because I was getting a little overwhelmed with deciding what to do with myself. I mentioned nursing once to my mother and all of a sudden she has me picking up applications at the local universities and talking about how much of my tuition she is willing to pay. It was all a little too much, too fast, and I wasn’t sure if I was going to be able to find myself in the shuffle.

Now, I have a new opportunity to distract me, and I’m nervously awaiting the chance to prove myself as the best research analyst anyone has ever seen. The permanent position that the company thought might be available fell through, so I’m stuck in a temporary one for one of their brief 4 month projects. Once this study is done, they hope to reassign me to another project, but that’s no guarantee. After 4 months they could put me back on the street without anything but a new company to list on my resume. However, I suppose that this uncertainty could be looked at as a gift in disguise. After all, this trail run is a safe way for both the company and myself to test the waters to see whether or not our professional relationship is a good fit, because as I have learned from my blogger friend Dee, getting the job is not always the blessing that you hoped it would be.

However, until both the company and myself are satisfied that we are a good fit for one another, I am forced to keep my current part-time job, which means 13 hour days for a total of 60 billable hours a week. I get exhausted even thinking about the magnitude of what I’m taking on here, especially since I’ve taken it so easy the last year, only working 30 hours week on most occasions, but I’ll just have to grin in bear it. It’s not everyday that you get exactly what you ask for, so there can be no reaction other than one of gratitude.

The Best Night of 2006 (so far, at least)

2006-04-15T15:00:00.000-05:00

I still can not stop smiling about how wonderful last night was. I went salsa dancing like normal, and I was honored to have the company of my good friend Barefoot in Blue. She always makes the night so much better and attracts some of most interesting people both inside and outside the club. When I'm by myself, nothing out of the ordinary ever happens, but when I'm with her, simply sitting in Ihop becomes a circus of laughter. We literally had boys passing us notes through the wait staff that said, "Check yes, no, or maybe if you want to go out with us," and Blue had one of longest conversations ever with a truck driver from Michigan about the motives men have when they approach a woman.

Such amusing events would have been enough for me to remember last night forever, but her good energy brought even better things my way. The man that I've been lusting after for months now finally got up the courage to talk to me through her. Evidently, I'm an intimidating person to talk to, and he felt more comfortable talking to me through with a friend shield than without one. I was so surprised about how timid he was. He told Blue that he's been wanting to dance with me for while, but didn't think that he was a good enough dancer and was afraid to ask. I mean how adorable is that. You can't fake that type of genuine humbleness and sincerity. I could have melted. And he's not a bad dancer at all. He doesn't always do the right steps, but I still love his style and the way he feels when he moves. I was especially intrigued about how rough and well-worked his right hand was and how soft his left was. I wonder what kind of work he most do that leaves one hand so soft and the other so rough.

And the man is gorgeous. I think that I may even have to give him the pseudonym of the Most Beautiful Man in the World, and demote my former most beautiful man in the world to Blue's name for him Designer Jeans. Anyway, the new Most Beautiful Man in the World is surprising tall to be Mexican, and he has the rare gift of being more beautiful up close than far away. He only looks mildly attractive from a distant, but when you get close to him and really look him good in the face you can see so many subtle details that are simply breathtaking to behold. I've never met anyone like that before, and I started to feel a little self-conscious myself because I have the curse of being quite attractive from a distance and a mess up close and personal.

Even more important than how he looks was how I feel around him. Although I was nervous to make a good impression, behind that initial fear was a feeling of comfort and a feeling of safety. It's almost as if I've known him forever without ever having to go through the insignificant details of actually meeting him. I've only felt this way once before and that feeling led to so much love and passion that it frightens me to feel it again so suddenly. However, it's just my luck that I get all excited about this guy, and then he disappears off the face of the Earth, never to be seen again. (I'm not exaggerating either. This has happened before). However, I pray that it doesn't, because I see so much potential here, so many things that intrigue me.

My 24 Hour Crush Revisited

2006-04-11T18:39:00.000-05:00

I saw my 24 hour crush the other day, simply walking down the street, deep in thought, probably outlining the next great American novel or something amazing like that. I wanted to yell out my car window and say something amazingly charming and unforgettable, but of course I shyly slouched in my seat and let him past uninterrupted.

I don't know how, but I nearly forgot about this man that gave me "sudden uncontrollable muscles spasms" back in January, but I was so blown away to see him again. I mean what are the chances of that happening? Clearly better than I thought they would be because he hangs around the library more than I originally expected. I suppose that I could take a more devout interest in my public library, visiting it more regularly and inadvertently stalking my mystery man at the same time. However, am I really so desperate that I'm stalking libraries for people who may or may not show up or who I may or may not have the courage to talk to?

Perhaps, I should just let it be, and smile at the memory of my temporary insanity over this man because I surely didn't feel the same gut wrenching sensations the second time around. Crushes are such short lived animals and perhaps they are better left in fantasy form.

Las Vegas Highlights

2006-04-06T15:55:00.000-05:00

Las Vegas rocked my world last weekend, and I'm still trying to recover from it. I lived so much life in such a short amount of time while I was there that I'm starting to wonder why I should waste my life with trivialities such as sleep. Two to four hours is all you need to stumble around like a happy zombie for the weekend, creating dozens of memorable moments and risque conversations that can only be found in the wee hours of the night. Like any good tourist, I went, I saw, I took pictures, and plan on sharing the highlights with you.

I started this trip with the naive hope of winning at least a thousand dollars and was sure that my next pull would bring me a jacket pot, but soon enough my excitement for gambling wore off as a fed more and more dollars into the penny slot machines.

I did eventually muster up the courage to play blackjack and roulette at the grown folks tables, and I did pretty well at blackjack, winning a whopping $14. However, I give all my winnings back to the house on the roulette table. I know that one day I will be able to use my psychic abilities to conquer that spinning roulette wheel, but currently I suck big time.

However, my trip was not solely about gambling. There were beautiful days, walking down the strip and getting mistaken for a newlywed couple. Apologies to my real Hubby, but for at least one day Ramone and I were the hot item. We also came to love our hotel the Stratosphere, which kept us well fed and entertained the entire weekend. It also has the most frightening rollercoaster in the world called the Big Shot. I've never screamed so loud in my life. That ride truly made me believe that I might die. I wish I could show you the photograph from the ride because it is the most hilarious shot ever.

Then there was a lot of drinking, and a little swing dancing on Fremont Street. I may actually like Fremont Street more than the strip, mostly because everything is closer together and your feet will not explode making a few trips up and down the street.

But there's more to Nevada than flashing lights and casinos, and I was glad that we took some day trips to Hoover Dam and to the Red Rock Conservation Area. It was so relaxing to get out of the city and see some mountains again. I haven't been around mountains like that since I graduated from college, and it was refreshing to be around something natural and non-artificial compared to the faux Paris we explored. We even did a little yoga at Red Rocks, trying to awaken our drunk spirits with an earthy tree pose.

Oh Las Vegas, how I love thee. You are definitely my new favorite American city, and I will even give you the number 4 slot on my favorite places in the world list, right after London, Barcelona, and Zanzibar. Viva Las Vegas baby, I'll definitely be back to see you soon.

Shopper's, Gambler's, and Alcoholic's Anonymous

2006-03-27T17:23:00.000-06:00

I leave for Las Vegas Thursday, and I'm strangely excited and nervous at the same time. I feel excited about the wonderful possibilities that lay before me with all of those flashing lights, roller coasters, and chances to win millions of dollars. However, I know that I must also beware of the dark side of the force, for I don't want to wind up losing everything I own, getting molested, or anything even worst than that!

My excitement about the trip greatly out weighs the silly fears that I have developed, and I've been shopping like crazy to try to spice up my wardrobe for the trip. Now, I'm sure most people think that it is wise to save their money in order to spend it in their vacation destination, but that type of logic is just not for me because I refuse to walk around Vegas looking like my casual understated self. I want to have an air of jazziness about me, a certain je ne sais quoi, that I don't seem to have in my regular jeans and flip flops. So far I bought 3 pairs of shoes, 10 shirts, 1 pair of pants, 1 skirt, 2 belts, 1 stuffed animal, 1 cd, and 4 books. I don't pretend that you really care about the things that I bought, but I just want to illustrate how many dollars I've spent even before I left the city of Nashville. It's pure decadence and I don't intend to stop until I'm back in Nashville on April 3. With any luck I will have the honor of attending the most expensive shows, gambling at the high rollers' table, eating at buffets filled with lobster tails and crab legs, and of course drinking before noon. I will spare no expanse because that's what vacations are all about.

What's In?

2006-03-24T16:45:00.000-06:00

One of my good friends from Jackson is doing big things in Mississippi. She has created a new publication, called In Magazine that will be similar to the give away newspapers that you see in restaurants and coffee shops. It is designed for Intelligent, Inspiring, and Incredile women, and will cover a variety of women's issues. What made her come up with this brilliant idea is still and mystery to me, but I'm simply in awe of her passion for this magazine and how efficiently she's been getting donors to sponsor the publication.

The great part is that she asked me to write an article for the first issue. I couldn't believe my luck. I was just wondering how I was ever going to become published, and out of the blue a friend offers publication to me on a silver platter. She has given me free range to write about any topic that I choose, and I'm thinking of writing about how hard it is to make new girlfriends. I haven't made a new girlfriend since freshman year in college, and though I'm very happy with my current female friends, I never thought that I would suddenly stop making new ones.

I'm not sure if this situation is unique to me or if this is something a lot of other single woman are facing, but I think it's a shame that no one is talking about it. We have thousands of books and magazine articles to read about how to meet the man of your dreams, but nothing on how to met that special woman who seems more like a sister than a friend.

I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to spin my article, but I was thinking of doing it like a personal ad. Perhaps saying, "Single black woman seeking a woman," so I decided to do some research on personal ads and how they are structured. I, of course, got distracted looking at some very attractive local guys on Yahoo personals, and wound up completing a personal ad of my own. I still can't believe that I gave in and became a pawn in the online dating phenomenon, but I figured why not. I got nothing to lose, and it seemed like fun because I could not stop laughing the entire time I was creating my profile.

Oh, it's been a very interesting day, full of many new beginnings. Hopefully, I will find that writing for In Magazine will be a big step forward for my writing career, and even if I don't find love on Yahoo personals, I at least hope to get a couple of laughs out of it.

"You're Beautiful"

2006-03-16T16:13:00.000-06:00

I never thought anything would come from giving him my number. He lived so far away and I was already dating someone else at the time. Now, I'm beginning to wonder about the possibilities of this man who I dismissed before I even gave him a chance to prove me wrong, who has suddenly become someone I kind of admire in a very quiet and subtle way.

We met at a June wedding, and at the time I didn't see anything particularly special about him. He was very handsome, but also a little arrogant and out to impress. I probably only gave into to his request because of the wedding atmosphere bustling around me, because weddings really make you want to see the good in people and for a brief 10 minutes I guess I saw some good in him.

Anyway, we talked and emailed but he never made an attempt to make us more than friends, which was a refreshing change from the norm. He both fascinated and infuriated me with his opinions and would bring me out of my quiet shell, even causing me to raise my voice a few times, something I very rarely do. He was macho and I hated macho. He seemed always angry at everything, and I can't stand to be around perpetually angry people. He was so not for me, and I was glad that there was 350 miles between us.

But for reasons, that I don't understand. He has changed. Maybe it was his internship in Massachusetts, maybe it was my good influence, or maybe it was just time. Whatever it was I'm sure glad that it happen because he has truly changed for the better. He even called me on his lunch break to sing me his new favorite song, "You're Beautiful" by James Blunt. He said that he heard for the first time this morning on his clock radio. He said that he was thinking of me and the song just fit. Of course, he didn't really know the words during his mid-day serenade, but that really didn't matter to me. Even though it's cliche, it really was the thought that counted.

Some things will never change though. He's still a great debater and still has ideas that both fascinate and infuriate me, but I'm pleased to say that he is no longer angry or macho or any of those things that annoy me to the point of aversion. He's seriously making my heart flutter just a little bit and forcing me to reconsider my previous dismissal. Most likely nothing will become of it, but it's so wonderful just to talk, romance, fantasize, and dream about all the possibilities that have popped into existence so suddenly.

To Bide My Time or Make a Change?

2006-03-15T08:58:00.000-06:00

For 3 months now, Cat Stevens's song "Father and Son" has been repeating in my head like a broken record, and though the entire song is fantastic, the main verse that I can't let go of is the father's voice who says that:

It's not time to make a change
Just relax, take easy
You're still young that's your fault
There's so much you have know.

There is so much wisdom in what this father character is saying because maybe it isn't time to make a change. Maybe it is better to bide my time in my current job gaining experience and simply enjoying how easy life is. However, I'm afraid that there's so much of that restless son in me that knows that "I have to go away."

Where this allusive "away" might be is the enigma. I thought that maybe I could find what I needed in Nashville, but now I'm not so sure. Jobs that truly interest me are sparse, and the one research analyst job that I was practically salivating over looks like it's going to fall through the cracks. I don't know if they simply don't want me or forgot that I existed, but it's been nearly a month since my "fantastic" job interview with them and I still haven't gotten a clear cut answer from them. I called them last week to see if I was still in the running, and they got my hopes up saying that they want me in a more permanent research position, as opposed to the temporary one I applied for and that they would call me for a third interview soon. I am truly excited about the possibility of a full-time permanent position with benefits, but I'm not that picky. I would have preferred the temporary job if it would of meant starting work two weeks ago, instead sitting around biding my time, hoping that something good will happen instead of making it happen for myself.

Although I like Nashville a lot, I've been thinking that maybe it's just too limited a space for me to grow. So using my good friend Scary as my inspiration, I started to look for other research jobs on idealist.org. It's a little overwhelming how many research jobs are available around the country, and even though the jobs would force me to relocate to D.C., Boston, New York, or Los Angeles, what do I really have to lose by taking a chance on a place and moving?

I know that it's not fear that keeps me here but a feeling that there's unfinished business left for me to figure out, mostly to do with my novel. I know that if I leave now and take on a full-time job someplace as else, that the creative part of me will fall to the side and be forgotten, and I'm not sure if I'm ready to give up on that dream yet. New York and D.C. will always be there waiting with vacant positions but these dreams and inspirations that come to me so freely now can just as easily become silent in a new environment.

I hate how this youthful restlessness to leave is stirring inside me, but I guess that it's just one product of my age that I will have to ignore for the time being. It takes strength to be still when your heart wants to go and do, and I know that I have power to resist the fleeting passions of my heart who only wants to busy her hands in order to ignore the quiet dreams she let slip through her fingers.

Proverbs

2006-03-08T21:28:00.000-06:00

I really don’t know where the last year went. Time has passed by so quickly that it makes me suspicious that global warming is doing more than raising the average temperature a few degrees. Perhaps it also makes the Earth spin a little bit fast and the weeks zip by as I blink.

I’ve never had this problem before. When I was in college and when I worked my previous job, the weeks seemed never ending and it would take 84 years for Friday to come, but now it’s Wednesday. This week is almost over, and I swear that in my head, it can’t be more than Monday, Tuesday at the latest. How can these days be slipping away from me so easily and why am I not fighting harder? We’re supposed to seize the day, hold it hostage, and keep it as a prisoner of war until the all powerful universe, or the UN in this metaphor, says that we can seize no more.

Perhaps stopping to smell the roses isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be, because when I take the time to relax and ponder the meaning of life, the very life that I try to make meaningful fades away and there’s no way for me to get that time back. However, is seizing really the answer? The more I seized in college, the more I felt like my time was not my own. Sure I accomplished a lot, but I felt like the things that I accomplished were not really for myself, but for the approval of everyone else.

There has to be some happy medium between seizing the day and my current status of frolicking, smelling, and twirling all the live long day. I’m just not sure where that place is yet.

Sympathy Pains

2006-03-06T21:07:00.000-06:00

Somehow, I managed to overcome my excessive laziness to edit 20 pages of my novel, finish reading a fantastic book called Fanny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, and cook a very attractive dinner to boot. I should have been feeling great today, but instead I felt unusually sad, and it wasn’t until I got into the car to come to work that I realized that sympathy pains may be the culprit.

I’ve always been a little skeptical about sympathy pains because it’s never made sense to me how feelings and emotions could transfer between people. However, the more I read, and the more life I experience, the more I’m convinced that there has to be some validity to the whole sympathy pain phenomenon. My mother, especially feels them like no other person in our family. My mother is so sensitive that she can pick up sympathy pains from a thousand miles away. My sensitivity, however, is not that strong and it’s extremely rare for me to sense anything outside my own city. However, it’s almost impossible for me not to pick up the sadness that exists in my only house.

One of my great-aunts died at the ripe old age of 93 so while her death is not a shock, that doesn’t mean that the mourning process is any easier. Although I don’t believe my mother, herself, is upset about her aunt’s death, I think that she is subconsciously picking up some very strong sympathy pains from our family in Detroit. Her mood got so bad today that she even had to leave work early so she would not take her bad temperament out on her employees. When she got home, I naturally let her vent about her mood, and talk about how confused she was about what was causing this. She didn’t even seem to realize that her mood could have been projected upon her all the way from Detroit and I didn’t think about it either until I started to take on her poor mood.

It’s hard to describe what I felt like at that moment, but it was like I was experiencing a depression that was not my own. I even started to crave music only my mother would like. On the drive in to work for example, I wanted to listen to her some of her smooth jazz music, which is so not my style, and because this music selection was so atypical, it made me realize that at the moment, I was not living for myself but was sympathizing with my mother so much that I was hurting where she hurt, and I listened to her favorite songs because I thought it would comfort both our sympathy pains.

I feel much better now that I’m at work and am able to be by myself without my mother’s very intense aura intruding upon me. It’s also comforting to know that this emotional imbalance is not really my own and that all it takes to be myself again is a little time away and a brief look through this written microscope.

Another Lost Soul Finds the Light

2006-02-28T19:30:00.000-06:00

Today, I had the pleasure of having lunch with two of my favorite college friends Scary and Lapin. My friend Scary has just gotten a wonderful job in Virgina working for a division of the Smithsonian Institute, and on his three day drive to the east coast, he and my other friend Lapin decided to give me the honor of a quick visit.

It was so good to see them again. Ms Lapin even went so far down memory lane that we had to do Balki’s infamous dance of joy. However, mostly we spent our time concentrating on the future, thinking about how we would spend the next years of our lives. Ms. Lapin and myself are still hopeless members of the Lost Souls Club, aimlessly wandering the planet hoping to reach that epiphanic moment where everything makes sense. But our beloved Scary wanders no more. He has found his calling, researching a rare breed of Mongolian wild horses, tagging and monitoring this extinct species to see if they can find the most effective way to breed them and reintroduce them into their natural habitant in China. Yes, I’m jealous, but I’m also very happy for him because I don’t think that there is anyone better suited for this type of work.

This type of story always inspires me because it shows just how quickly your life can change. In the matter of two weeks, Scary went from doing landscaping in Montana to rescuing an entire species in China. So just think what the next two weeks could hold for the rest of us if we are brave enough to put our names out there.

Identity Theft

2006-02-23T16:08:00.000-06:00

My eyes popped awake at noon today with the bone chilling realization that my beloved journal is MISSING. Last time I saw it was a week ago after my big job interview. At the time, I was so happy and hopeful that I would receive the position that I treated myself to lunch at one of my favorite restaurants the Mediterranean Café. I was writing in my journal while waiting for my food to arrive, but once that delicious meal was presented in front of me, none of my physical belongings seemed to matter. I was floating so high on good food and the possibility of new employment that I could of quite easily left a bag of cash at the restaurant.

That journal meant so much to me, but I suppose I do take it for grated, completely ignoring it for months at a time, then coming back to it with emotional fury when I feel like my world is about the collapse. I started it in October of 2004, so it has nearly a year and a half of my identity locked up inside of it, along with the details of three of my most “exceptional” relationships. I’m simply not ready to share the true details of who I am with anyone. I mean this blog is great and is probably the closest I’ve ever come to revealing who I really am to the world, but it’s not the same. This blog is a polished and embellished representation of who I think I am with humor and exaggerations weaved in throughout to overshadow the truth. That journal, however, never shined or made jokes in the hopes of amusing anybody. It was like the raw ore that sits deep underground, beautiful, yet never expecting to see the light of the sun.

I was going to save that journal forever and read it when I turned 82 so I could laugh at how ridiculous I was, but now that may not be possible. And even though I'm upset that I may never be able to get it back, the strange thing is that I can’t stop smiling because the once nauseating idea of someone reading my journal seems invigorating now that it may actually be happening. Yet regardless of how invigorating it may be, I still I want it back, so wish me luck as I retrace my footsteps, trying to find the solemn remnants of my identity that fell from my body the moment I dared to be happy.

Olympic Figure Skating

2006-02-16T11:53:00.000-06:00

Watching figure skating in Torino last night was bittersweet for me because it's a sport that I love more than any other, while also being a dream that I allowed to die. I always dreamed that 2006 would be my Olympic year, my last chance to glide across that glistening stage and show the world the beauty of my turns and jumps. However, once I started college, my priorities changed and suddenly 6am skating sessions seemed more like insanity than the hours that could make my dreams reality.

I was planning on boycotting the Olympics all together so I wouldn't be reminded of all the potential I gave up, but my mother taped the men's short program for me, and last night I built up the courage to watch. Those young men were so amazing. My new favorite is Daisuke Takahashi because he has so much spirit and the fastest spins and footwork I've ever seen. His jumps are not quite there yet, but he makes up for that with so much energy and style. He is my new love.

However, my long lasting love goes to Johnny Weir because he is so gorgeous, and he is the most eloquent skater I've ever laid eyes. He's even more graceful than the ladies. Plus, he has so much attitude and can have me rolling on the floor with laughter sometimes. They showed an old interview clipping of him last night where he said that his program was like a shot of vodka or a snort of coke because he didn't do very well. Such a comment definitely does not make him the wholesome, all American athlete we all expect our figure skaters to be and I greatly respect him for that.

And then we have the current leader after the short program Evgeni Plushenko, who is very talented pulling off an unbelievable quad-triple combination. However, I was not moved by his program. He just seems so overgrown and clunky that I almost felt sorry for the ice and thought that it might crack under all of his heavy footsteps. I do sympathize with his situation because he was a very lean teenage skater, but he has finally gotten his grown man's body and looks more like a skating cow than a world class skater. Although he doesn't have the grace of Johnny, he does have the jumps which is very commendable because consistently pulling off a quad-triple combination is no easy trick.

Anyway, I just wanted to make my peace with figure skating and end my boycott because I really do have so much respect for these skaters and all the falls their bones have to endure.

(Insert the Sound of Me Screaming with Excitement)

2006-02-16T11:06:00.000-06:00

I just had the best job interview ever! I’m up for a research analyst position with a company that is doing a temporary study hoping to find a better way to diagnosis mental illnesses. My task will be to recruit participants and administer an experimental assessment test and to occasionally administer the SCID (Structured Clinical Interview, which I do pretend to be knowledgable about). This project will only last for four months, but there is a chance that it could develop into a permanent position working on a methamphetamine study.

I have no idea why these two studies sound so interesting to me because I have no experience working with mental illnesses or meth users. However, I almost exploded out of my skin with joy when my interviewers talked about the studies, and I wanted to hug each of them for even considering me for such a great opportunity. I know it’s a bit ridiculous to be as excited as I am about a position that is not a sure thing, but I can’t help feeling like this job was meant for me and that all of my past experiences have lead me to this wonderful place. Cross your finger, your legs, and your eyes for me because I want this one more than any other I’ve ever tried to get.

Valentine’s Day Reflections

2006-02-15T11:51:00.000-06:00

Valentine’s Day is rarely fun for a single girl such as myself, but I had a surprisingly good Valentine’s yesterday. Some of my smiles stem from the realization that I may at last be over the train wreck relationship that was my first love, and to honor my first and only love on Valentine’s day, I listened to my “Thinking of Him” tape that I made after our breakup. That tape could make me cry rivers, but I didn’t feel any pain or negativity when I listened to it yesterday.

It’s amazing to me how the memories you associate with a song can change back and forth when you’re not looking. One song for example practically described word for word the things that made our relationship fall apart, but that song no longer represents heartache to me. Since I bought the cd in France while I was studying abroad, all I can visualize now is me walking down the narrow streets of Avignon, listening to music and admiring the scenery. I am so grateful that this song is no longer painful to listen and that it has magically spun itself back into a positive memory because it would be such a shame to have to avoid certain songs forever just because they remind me of him.

Although the realization that my wounds have healed is wonderfully exciting, I’d say the majority of my smiles from Valentine’s Day can be attributed to the kindness of three of my male friends who made me feel remarkably special with their attention and trinkets. It doesn’t even take much to make me happy, just a phone call or a visit, but sometimes I find that getting even that from of boyfriend is like pulling teeth. So imagine my surprise when three of my friends with no Valentine’s Day obligation to me, manage to pull off these favors without a second thought. I was moved because I’ve never really had a real Valentine’s Day experience, and when I come to think about it, I’ve missed out on practically every cliché romantic moment. I’ve never had a Valentine. I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss. I have never even kissed under the mistletoe, but I’m sure these moments will sneak up on me when I least expect them because just as I gave up on Valentine’s Day, I wound up having the most memorable one yet.

Thank God For Girl Scouts!

2006-02-13T21:59:00.000-06:00

In my eyes, nothing can compare to the crispy, chocolaty, goodness that is a Samoa Girl Scout cookie. It's a taste that comes only once a year, and in my house is anticipated with the same delight as Christmas.

This year, however, I decided to be brave and venture outside the security of my Samoa and shortbread staples, and try a new cookie called Lemon Coolers. They're supposed to be reduced fat, but I'm sure that title is over-ridden if you eat an entire of box in one sitting. They are not quite as delicious as Samoas, naturally, but they are mighty addictive so approach with caution.

Regardless of their calories, girl scout cookies always make me feel so good about myself because by eating them I am supporting an organization that helps young girls grow strong, while teaching invaluable sales skills that will be priceless in the business realm. Or at least that's my excuse for eating 2 boxes in a row. What's yours?

Didn't You Know That I was an Emperor?

2006-02-07T18:43:00.000-06:00

In so many ways, I am an emperor at heart, sitting upon my cyberspace throne, exuding my great authority over my kind subjects. In reality, I am the lowest notch on the totem pole, and no matter how much a squawk, my supervisors above me do not want to take me seriously.

Yesterday was a prefect example of this. I've told both of my supervisors, three times now that 30% of our research materials are getting lost in the mail, and we either need to relabel the packages or call the post office to see if they keep undelieveable mail and to see if they have a big pile of it with our name on it. But do they listen to me? Of course not! I'm just a lowly research analyst hired to do the same mundane task over and over again. There's no possible way that I could ever be right!

But that's okay. My time will come. My tarot card says that I am strong and powerful and in time I will step up and be the leader I was always destined to be. See for yourself, it says...

You are an authority figure, and other people look to you for what to do.
You are strong and powerful. Crossing you is not a good idea.
You have worked hard to get to your position, and you're not about to give it up to anyone.
Though you have a warrior heart, you are gentle to those who treat you well.

Your fortune:

In the near future, you need to be willing and able to defend those you love.
This may be the time for you to step up and be the authority figure to those around you.
It is time for you to be independent, to become your own person.
You may need to look at your relationship with your father, or your relationships as a father.

What Tarot Card Are You?

Don't Worry the test is completely painless. I promise.

Coupling

2006-02-06T15:55:00.000-06:00

When I was younger, I was sure that the art of coupling could not be as difficult as everyone made it out to be. However, sometimes I find myself in the same shipwrecked boat as some of my favorite soap opera characters, tragically thrown off course from my quest to find the Holy Grail of relationships. Although I’m in no big hurry to see a ring on my finger, I am very impatient to know the conclusion of all of my growing pains because it’s the mystery of the unknown in my finances, career, and love life that keep me up at night.

I always think of myself as a very logical person, thinking things through and deciding what is best for my future, but so far this process hasn’t worked in any of my relationships. Every time I use logic to start a relationship, it always leads to boredom and numbness. I still do not understand the arbitrary force the drives me in relationships, but it clearly has a more effective strategy than my head because when I let that force work unhindered magic always follows.

Sadly, I have little magic to report from this weekend’s adventures, but I will say that the abstract force that controls my heart probably saved me from three different gentleman who I’m sure in the end would have bored me to tears. One of the men was absolutely gorgeous but nothing under the surface to move me. The second was very charming, but unfortunately not very easy on the eyes. And though there was a lot under the surface to perk my interests, it’s all for nothing if there is no real attraction. And lastly a blast from the past decided to resurface, calling me after a year and a half hiatus. He was a prefect mix of attractiveness and substance, so I decided to give the slacker the benefit of the doubt and agreed to met him if for no other reason than to figure out why our spark fizzled out.

We had the best dates ever with candlelit dinners, and Gene Kelly/Fred Astair dancing in the park. There was definitely magic there all those years ago, but I think that’s what scared him away. I think that he, like so many other men his age, does not date in the hopes of finding something real. Having a fling is so easy and uncomplicated that maybe having an emotional connection with someone and actually caring about them is too intimidating. I understand why he disappeared, but I can’t forgive it. Our time has past and at least in my heart the magic is gone.

Yet, knowing all of this, it’s still hard to look at a perfectly amiable man who clearly adores me and know without a doubt that I would never be able to love him. I keep on thinking that I'm missing something, that if I try this or that that it would work, but love can’t be determined by how attractive, how successful, or how much potential you see in the other person. It’s more like a bolt of lightening that is beyond my control, and it rarly strikes with the same person twice.

My 24 Hour Crush

2006-01-31T16:13:00.000-06:00

Last weekend, I was hit hard by the most violent crush I’ve ever experienced in my lifetime. This crush included sudden uncontrollable muscle spasms and a complete lack of productivity at work that caused me to miscode nearly every file I touched. I know that most people consider crushes to be an elementary distraction, but I take my crushes very seriously. I love how they awaken emotions that come so few and far between, and help me forget the nauseating pains of relationships past.

It is truth universally acknowledged that there are three types of crushes. First you have the celebrity crush, which is always a lot of fun to gossip about and to which there are entire magazines devoted. However, to succeed in obtaining a celebrity crush is as probable as winning the lottery, so I think it’s one of the most frustrating types to have. Second, we have the secret crush that you may have on a friend or associate, but you never confess it because you’re too afraid of rejection. These crushes are painful because they could last for years and may never be resolved. My advice on these is just to get it out in the open because all that beating around the bush in maddening. Finally we have my personal favorite, the stranger crush, which I frequently have on complete strangers walking down the street for inexplicable reasons. What’s amazing about stranger crushes is that the attraction is almost instantaneous but very fleeting, so you get all the excitement of an new intrigue without actually dealing with any of the relationship drama.

Normally, my stranger crushes last only a few hours, coming and going just as quickly as the image of the person fades from my mind. However, last week there was one particular gentleman who stayed in my thoughts for a full 24 hours. That has to be some type of record in Kendra crush time. I saw him at a writing seminar last week and was instantly charmed. He had a way of seeing the world and talking about his writing that was so refreshing and so sincere that I couldn’t stop thinking about him the rest of the day, repeating his words over and over again in my head. Even though I’m almost certain that I will never see him again, I will happily store him away in my cluttered crush closet perhaps using him as a muse for a short story or two.

It is always such an expected gift to feel such an inspiring connection to another human being, because so often I find myself so tightly wrapped up in my own thoughts that I fail to see all the lovely possibilities that are right in front of me. So, I just have to thank all of my stranger crushes, from the security guard at the library, to my waiter at Waffle House for the small roles that you’ve played in my life, inspiring emotions and fantasies that would otherwise lay dormant.

The Trivial Details of My Death

2006-01-25T17:11:00.000-06:00

The micro-seconds of my existence slowed down to a standstill earlier today as I almost got into a car accident, and though I'm sure the accident would not have been fatal, thoughts of death consumed me for quite a while afterwards.

Everyone always says that your life flashes in front of your eyes in near death experiences, but that's not what happened to me. The first thing I asked myself was if all of my affairs were in order, and they were so I was able to rest easy on that one. Then, of course, I had to ask myself the infamous do I have on clean underwear question, and once again that was taken care of. However, the third question that I asked myself truly surprised me because it was both trivial and poetic at the same time. I asked myself if I was listening to the best music selection for my death, and the answer to that question was no. I was not willing to die listening to Fiona Apple. I mean I love you Fiona, but the moment of my death is sacred and I'm sure that I could find a better storyteller to play the soundtrack.

I wasn't worried about my music selection solely for myself either. I was also thinking about my family and friends who may find meaning in the details. I remember hearing a poem once by Big Poppa E called, "There's a Hole in My Heart in the Shape of Her Smile that Will Never Be Filled," which is about a friend of his who was instantaneously killed in a very violent car crash. He made a big deal about the CD that was playing in the stereo at the time of the crash, guessing the lyrics she might have been singing along to when she died. To me adding that extra detail to the poem made all the difference in the world. It made her crash less of a statistic and more of the heartbreaking tragedy it truly was. And though once I publish this entry, I will probably never think these morbid thoughts again, I just hope that should I ever die in a car crash that the universe at least let it happen to a good song.

Career Concerns

2006-01-22T19:18:00.000-06:00

Finding an enjoyable career must be one of the greatest trials in life, and it's so rare for anyone to get it right on the first try. I am no different. I am currently in the underachieving liminal state, not knowing which path to take and unsure of how to find the job that suits my tastes and will eventually build to a respectable income. I spend my days and nights tossing and turning over the dilemma and I'm bit overwhelmed with all of my choices. I really am a clean slate. I could do practically anything, so it's beyond me why it's so freaking hard to choose.

Even once I shake the idea of me becoming an Academy Award winning actress out of my head, I'm still left with a very diverse list of options that seems to shift everyday, if not every hour. First of all we have my major, cultural anthropology, which I could develop further by going to grad school. However, I really don't want to be a professor, and I'm getting a little tried of doing research. Second there is becoming a lawyer, but I'm afraid that law would bore me to tears, and I'm not exactly sure if I want to spend my days and nights reading legal briefs. Plus does the world really need another lawyer?

My current hope is becoming some type of freelance writer if not novelists because I love the creativity that it involves and I love that I wouldn't have to leave my house to do it (I'm becoming such a homebody). Only problem with writing is that I'm not quite sure if I'm talented enough and I'm completely lost when it comes to submitting my work. Lastly, we have a new possibility of becoming a nurse. I like this option because it definitely wouldn't be boring and I would not have a problem finding a position somewhere because every hospital website that I look at has at least 20 postings for an RN. My only question is should a hypochrondriac become a nurse? I mean, it's not like I'm severely paranoid about my sudden death from an extremely rare flesh eating disease, but the voices in my head are loud enough that I should consider their delicate feelings and concerns. Plus, being a nurse is very serious business. There are people's lives at stake. Do I really want to take on all of that responsibility?

These questions keep dancing insistently in my head, waving flags of pros and cons but without revealing any clear cut answers. I hate being so indecisive, but I don't think there's any way around it. Finding a career is a rite of passage that takes many people a lifetime to pass, if I can get through it in as little as 5 more years, then I think that I'll be doing big things.

Las Vegas Here I Come

2006-01-12T16:24:00.000-06:00

The hotel has been booked and the plane tickets purchased. It is official. In two short months, I will be frolicking in Sin City and causing all sorts of mischief. On my honor, I promise not to sleep with any prostitutes, but other than that I make no guarantees.

I'm going to Vegas for a mini class reunion with two of my college friends. I'm especially excited to see my hubby again. When we were sophomores, we pretend to get married in front of one of the chapels on the strip and have been play man and wife ever since. Although our return to Vegas is completely coincidental, I'd like to believe that we are returning to celebrate our fourth anniversary and reconfirming our imaginary love to the world, but who am I kidding. I'm probably destined to go temporarily insane while salsa dancing and run off with someone named Pablo so if you don't hear from me for a while just know that I'm in a better place.

I, of course, plan to gamble as well, but I will make no grandiose assumptions about how much money I will win. Considering the fact that I'm still a new born baby when it comes to gambling, I don't even expect to give the house a run for their money. I just want to take some gambling lessons, so I can build up the courage to sit at a table that does not have electric lights and flashing buttons, and play nicely with others. I'm not asking for much, so please universe answer this one request.

All of the other things such as the eating, drinking, dancing, and the having of scandalous liaisons I can pretty much take care of myself. I just hope that my eyes don't get bigger than my wallet.

(If you have any favorite spots in Vegas to eat, gamble, or go dancing, please let me know. I might add them to my list.)

How to Steal the Meaning of Life

2006-01-10T16:28:00.000-06:00

Everyone is a safe to be cracked
Filled with scriptures and treasures too fragile
To bounce gaily in the crowd
Much more accustomed to winding
Whirlpooled circles of quiet deliberate darkness
Locked and padded in depth that
Swings my puzzler open
And throws me a taste of the elementary wisdoms
Thought natural by the gods.

To possess even their childish knowledge
I would play the theft
Drilling, cracking, prying for the truth
Risking Eden and embracing Hades to learn
Why are we here?
What is it all for?
This enigma deposited microscopic inch
By inch in every sapien skull
Can only be extracted by the experienced
Twist of fingers clicking in place
The combination of questions
Unapologetically large
Forever forgetting possibility of talk ever being small.

This poem was inspired from the realization that each one of us has a fascinating story to tell and that each of us holds a little microscopic piece to the solution of the mystery of life. In the past, I'd throw both friendships and relationships away because the person didn't interest me any longer and I resented them for not having one experience that I could learn from. But now, I'm beginning to wonder if the problem exists in me. Maybe the reason why I thought these people so commonplace was because I didn't know how to ask the right questions.

I was watching Taxicab Confessions of HBO the other night, and I was impressed by how much depth existed beneath the surface of every passenger. And I envied the taxi drivers because they truly have an amazing skill of being able to read their passengers and come up with questions that will tap into the most intimate details of their lives. They can take very personal questions, such as "How's the sex?" and make them sound as harmless and as natural as asking, "So what do you do for a living?" It's not that I'm particularly interested in the intimate details of people's sex lives, I just want to get around the meaningless small talk and go straight to the heart of what's important. I want to get the most out of every acquaintance I make and try my best to gain some wisdom from their experiences.

I'm also starting to understand why documentaries like Taxicab Confessions and reality shows like The Real World are getting more and more popular as the years progress. It's as if we've gotten tired of the well polished, well worked pieces of fiction that we watch on sitcoms and soap operas, and the better the writing is, the less we feel like it mirrors our lives. Sometimes, I don't what to see the mystery solved in an hour. Sometimes, I don't want the jokes to link up and work together. Sometimes, it's comforting to watch a show that is raw, and doesn't have the pretension of having a beginning, middle, and end. The characters just are, and that's enough because our day to day lives rarely take the form of a well-revised television series.

Did the Confederacy Ever Fight Against Terrorism?

2006-01-06T21:56:00.000-06:00

I always try my best to understand how other people think, but sometimes I can't help but feel dumbfounded by those hard core Confederates. Living in the South, I hear frequent discussion on the news and in the papers about whether the Confederate flag should be displayed in the Mississippi State flag and what the flag truly symbolizes to different groups of people. To tell you the truth, seeing the flag has never bothered me all that much because it's a part of America's history that should not be forgotten. Today, however, I saw the Confederate flag in a context that I truly did not understand, and I'm still trying to grasp the concept.

While I was sitting in the Arby's drive thru, the truck in front of me had a Tennessee license plate with a Confederate flag on it that said, "Sons of Confederate Veterans," and a bumper sticker that said, "The Confederacy, Fighting Terrorism Since 1861." Now, I've heard a lot of interpretations of the Confederate flag before, but I never heard of it being used in the fight against terrorism. I just can not understand how anyone could ever believe that the Confederacy, an institution that promoted terror in the lives of nearly every minority and minority supporter, fought against terrorism.

Searching for an answer to this mystery, I went home and asked my all knowing, all powerful mother what the bumper sticker meant her. Sometimes it's amazing to get the opinion of the older generation, because to her the bumper made complete sense. She said without even batting an eye that the supporters of the Confederacy believed that the United States government and it's officials were terrorists that unjustly tried to change the Southern way of life and their culture.

I am still so frustrated by this idea, because it makes sense how Confederate lovers mourn the lost of true Southern culture, but can they really expect any sympathy from anyone. When your beloved way of life condones inhumane acts such as slavery and lynching, I don't believe you have the right to tell the enforcer of human rights that they are terrorists.

It's hard to believe that people still have the balls to put their own skewed spin on the civil war. Haven't we all decided that morally speaking that the Union was right and the Confederacy was wrong? Clearly, it's an issue that's still up for debate as evidenced by the tailgate propaganda of my fellow American.

I Have a Dream I'm Just Not Sure What It Means

2006-01-04T08:02:00.000-06:00

I love having dreams. To me they are like watching mini, action-packed movies while you're sleeping and sometimes the drama is so real and vivid, all that's missing is a tub of popcorn. Besides their entertainment value, I'm convinced that dreams do have some meaning. A friend told me once that he thought dreams were merely random flashes of things that are in our subconscious mind, which makes sense but is not a very satisfying answer to me. What about those few times when your dreams are about the future. On a least a dozen occasions, I've had dreams that come true within a year or two. This makes me wonder when a dream does come true if this means that I'm on the right track and that I'm following the right path, or that I'm repeating the same mistakes I did in a previous life and I still haven't learned my lesson.

Regardless of whether this dega vue is a good or a bad occurrence, I definitely don't have to worry about my dream from last night coming true in a few years. It was more symbolic than anything else and trying to figure out it's meaning kept me up for an hour after I had it. In my dream, I was racing a bicycle up a hill with some kids from my elementary school. I'm not an experienced biker so the climb was a bit of a challenge for me and I was busy shifting gears to see if I could find a gear that would make the climb a bit easier on my legs when all of a sudden these long thick earthworms start to appear in the road and I swerve to miss them while all my friends are using their bikes to jump on the earthworms and send worm pieces flying everywhere. There's only one other girl that is trying to avoid touching the earthworms, but she eventually gets hit in the head by one because for some reason after a while the earthworms start flying at anything that moves. I'm the only one who makes it out the the earthworm battlefield without getting hit, and as I'm sitting on the side of the rode trying to catch my breathe I wake up.

I thought this dream was so interesting because I've never had a dream about worms before. I mostly have dreams involving huge black anacondas, and angry green serpents flashing there fangs, but never relatively small red and white earth worms. So today I searched to find an interpretation of what my dream could mean and I found one that made a lot of sense on dreammoods.com. They said that "To dream that you are riding a bicycle, signifies your desires to attain a balance in your life. You need to balance work and pleasure in order to succeed in your current undertakings. If you have difficulties riding the bicycle, then it suggests that you are experiencing anxieties about making it on your own." I was blown away by this interpretation of my dream because it's so right on that it's frightening. My struggle on the bike represents my struggle to make it independently and the worms flying at my head represents weakness and negativity of other people around me but I never allow them to touch me. It's so refreshing to figure out what my subconscious mind is trying to tell me. It's like having all aspects of who you are finally working together and communicating properly. I must continue to try to remember my dreams and search for their interpretation. Who knows, maybe the answer to world peace and cancer exists in my dreams.

The New and Improved Thumb War

2005-12-28T08:48:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I don't think my brother and I will ever grow up. Even though, he's a thirty-year old school teacher and I'm a twentysomething professional, over this Christmas holiday, we refused to act any differently than we did when we were at the ripe ages of 15 and 8. Yesterday, we spent the entire night watching cartoons i.e. the Family Guy and playing the new and improved version of thumb war that he came up with because I was beating him so easily at the old fashioned game of thumb war. For the new and improved version, we play thumb war with our left hands instead of our right, and we hold each other's arms in place with our free hands so we can't squirm out of the thumb death hold. I must admit that I kind of suck and the new and improved thumb war, but I'm sure that I'll only get better with time. I refuse to be defeated by him and I'm doing thumb exercises at work right now so that it will be strong for battle tonight.

And though I couldn't find any pictures of active thumb war battles online today, the people of Paris finally got something right as they've created this massive bronze statue in honor of the thumb. I don't know if they created it solely in honor of thumb war but I'd like to think that my favorite childhood game had something to do with it.

Will Everyone Please Stop Feeding Me!

2005-12-22T17:14:00.000-06:00

I've forgotten what hunger feels like and I kind of miss that gentle ache that lets me know when nourishment is needed. Now, all I have is a perpetually full belly that is just begging for a break from the heavy loads I force upon it and that is starting to insist on a larger waistband.

I was so not planning on this. I thought the holiday feasts would just casually come on Christmas day and that would be enough gluttony to last the rest of the year, but from the Christmas parties and luncheons at work, to the steady preparations of food at home, it starting to seem like there is some mysterious Christmas fairy throwing candy canes at my feet as though they were roses. Every room I enter seems to be filled with chocolate covered pretzels, baked ziti, fried chicken, and cookies. I mean I know it's the holidays, but there needs to be a limit on all of this feasting. At least the Berenstain Bears had an excuse for eating too much junk food. They could eat a week's worth of food and then hiberate for a month. I, unfortunately, just eat a week's worth of food to wake up tomorrow to repeat the hole vicious cycle again.

Gothic Night Revelations

2005-12-19T16:11:00.000-06:00

Last weekend was my friend's, Barefoot in Blue, birthday extravaganza. The actually day of her birth is today, but since you can't really party on a Monday, we decided to spread the celebration over three nights of dancing and frolicking. We did the typical hip-hop and Caribbean music on Friday and Saturday night, but on Sunday night seeing as to how most everything else is closed, we wound up partying in a club on their gothic night. It was one of the most awkwardly amusing nights ever. The anthropologist in me was appreciating the gothic culture, but the still conservative, close-minded part of me was simply repeating "what the hell" all night long.

I was pretty uncomfortable right from the get go, so I was forced to get a drink, like a coward, so I wouldn't have to be so self-conscious. I used to hate those people who simply must have a drink before they could dance and let loose, but I'm starting sympathize with that sentiment because sometimes it helps if you're not all there.

Anyway, everyone in the club was rocking their look, with the dyed black hair, the very pale white skin, and the very black eye makeup. Black trench coats were swaying to Rob Zombie and the occasional glimpse of vampire fangs almost made me piss my pants, but I refused to be intimidated by the pure spookiness of their rattling chains. I was determined to have a good time, and I truly did.

What I found the most interesting about the gothic look was how it makes everyone look genderless. All that long black hair and face painting really made the men look feminine and since the men looked so feminine made some of the girls look a little masculine. I would say that at first glance at least fifty percent of the kids in that club had ambiguous gender markers, which kind of made me lose track of my own femininity and just be a genderless creature the entire night. Plus, I don't fit into the gothic aesthetic of beauty so I didn't have to worry about being hit on or coming up with lame excuses why I couldn't give anyone my number. It's so freeing to be unconscious of your sex even if only for a few hours. Our gender is something that we are forced to conform to more often than not, so I enjoy the few occasions when it gets lost in the shuffle.

Gender ambiguity aside, I had a ball. I absolutely adore rock music so I was feeling the heavy sound. Most of the songs I did not recognize, but they did play some good Nine Inch Nails and Marilyn Manson, which I was really dancing hard to. I was so excited by the change of music because my dancing world is all about salsa, reggae, and hip-hop. Anything outside of that is like a foreign movement language to me. Plus, I've never thought about going out and dancing to alternative rock before. I thought that sort of music was only for screaming to in your car or while cleaning the kitchen, but I was pleasantly surprised to find it so fun to dance to as well.

In the end, I can truly say that I can understand the whole gothic trend a little better now. It's not at all as scary as I thought. I even began to like those vampire fangs ever so slightly. I'm far from buying a trench coat or piercing my entire body, but at least the gothic sub-culture is not so foreign to me anymore and not so frightening.

Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition

2005-12-17T16:42:00.000-06:00

I've been wanting to redecorate my blog ever since I started the site back in July. I've gone through three different templates, but was never able to customize the webpage to my liking. Well, after 4 dozen mistakes and at least two migraines, I can smile at the awkward beauty of my new web design. I know it's far from prefect but so am I, and all the interesting flaws of my webpage mirror all of the interesting flaws about me. Besides, considering that I'm not at all HTML literate, I think my work here is close to miraculous.

I really do feel like one of those brave home owners who just aided some strange, overzealous designer in tearing down all the familiar walls of home to create something foreign and unknown. When the remodel is all over the homeowners are excited by the change, yet miss the familiar, but have to pretend to be overly excited for the cameras. That's exactly how I feel now, a bit excited, a bit sad, and a bit confused about which face to show to the world.

"The River Has No Hair To Hold Onto"

2005-12-14T08:32:00.000-06:00

No matter what I do, I can never understand poetry the first time I read it. I try reading every word slowly and out-loud in my head, but even then the words don't seem to add up to much. It's not until I read the poem a second time that am I able to get the message, which is a little frustrating because at the age of 23 I should be a better, more efficent reader. Yet I like the fact that poetry is not straight forward. That it takes a prefectly quotidian subject and tears it apart, looks at it from the top and the bottom, then forgets about and goes back to it, making me see this prefectly mundane idea in a different way. How do poets do that anyway? It's so clever and so quiet. I could never be so subtle.

Anyway, I was reading this poem "The River Has No Hair to Hold Onto" by Ralph Angel last night and was so intrigued by it. First of all, it has a great title. I mean who wouldn't want to read a poem about hairy rivers? I know I would, but no this poem was not literally about hairy rivers, and though I still don't understand the author's intention entirely (I never do to tell you the truth) for me the poem meant that somehow we all get swept away in the flow of life, forgeting the source of what makes us unique and special. We trade our real unassuming dreams, for the generic dreams that everyone else holds, wanting money, houses, cars, and things, and the current of everybody else's dreams in your head is what takes you so far away from your quiet source. There's nothing to pull on to get you back to that source, no reeds, no posts, no hair.

I thought that was such a lovely way to look at an experience that everyone knows and can personally relate to. I'm still young so I'd don't think I've been swept too far from my original dream yet. However, I feel that so many times that I was going to take the wrong path just so I wouldn't have to break the flow, so I could be and think like everyone else. It's kind of comforting, you know, to be like everybody else, just not very practical or interesting.

Ebay Broke My Heart Tonight!

2005-12-09T21:10:00.000-06:00

I am overwhelmed with Christmas shopping despair, and everything was going so well yesterday. The book that would have been the prefect Christmas present for my mother was stolen from me. It was a beautiful 1st edition, 1915 book about The Myths of Ancient Egypt. It had hand-drawn color prints people. It was beautiful and would of made my mother cry, and someone had audacity to out bid me.

I was head to head with them for a while, but tonight two hours before closing, someone reached a price range, that I just could not go, and now I have no idea what to get my mother for Christmas. She loves old books and Egyptology so if you have any creative ideas, please let me know.

It's such a pity to know your limitations, and ebay puts it's all right there in first you without any modesty. They don't care how badly you want something or if you saw it first. It's all the highest bidder, and I don't know if I'll ever be extravagant enough to go all out and leave everyone else behind counting their pennies.

But it's really not about the money. I'm just sad because I could just visualize my mother opening my gift on Christmas morning and gasping at how wonderful this book was. I know she would smile while reading it, carefully turning each delicate page, washing her hands before even beginning to handle such lovely antique. How am I going to come up another gift that would realize all of these classic images. It's hopeless.

I've Won a...I Guess Just a Little Self-Respect

2005-11-30T16:31:00.000-06:00

After a full month of suffering, of creative bliss, of carpal tunnel, of overheating laptops, of lack of sleep, and of finding my voice through written expression, I have finally finished my NaNoWriMo novel with 7 hours and 25 minutes to spare. Even though all of you in cyberspace may not be able to see it, I am doing the legendary dance of joy that Balki on Perfect Strangers brought all the way to America from Mepos.

I can't express to you how proud of myself I am. I haven't done anything this constructive since I graduated college. Although my novel is by no means perfect, it is a very solid first draft that if I'm patient I can mold and weave into a little gem. I can't believe how much the story has developed and changed over the last month. It started off being this silly farce about space-traveling yetis, but it has developed into so much more than that. It has changed into a study of human nature and gives a realistic vignette into how the human race might react if it suddenly had to share the world with a species very different from their own.

It's definitely a story that I must work with and polish, but for right now I think I've worked hard enough and it's time to go back to my life of play.

Christmas, Christmas Time is Near!

2005-11-23T17:51:00.000-06:00

I am so over-joyed with Christmas spirit, and Thanksgiving hasn't even passed yet. Every year this feeling of unreasonable gaiety worsens, and I can not seem to figure out why. It's not like I do anything spectacular for the holidays, but as soon as those decorations go up and those sledge bells start to jiggle, I start to feel like a kid again and my wallet opens up wider than it would under any normal circumstance. However, it is refreshing to be generous for a change instead of hoarding every penny, but sometimes I really don't know if I'm really being generous at all. Maybe, I'm just giving myself an excuse to go shopping, get distracted, and buy gifts for myself.

The Xmas spirit hit me hard a week ago when I was picking up random groceries at Walmart. There to distract me with all of their exuberant glory, was the cutest Christmas card set that I've ever seen so of course I had to get them. Then, I made the mistake of going into the Christmas section and fell in love with a wrapping paper set. How anyone falls in love with wrapping paper is beyond me, but somehow my heart managed to figure it out. So here I was, a week before Thanksgiving with Christmas cards and wrapping paper but no gifts. Well that all changed today. I decided to browse online for some items and like magic I found a plethora of gifts that would be perfect for my friends and family. It's a shame but on one of the sites, I bought two presents for other people and three presents for myself. It's terrible I know, but at least these people can be assured that the things I bought them were nice enough that I had to have one for myself. Then I found the perfect gift for my brother on eBay. I put in my bid in today and I pray that no one else makes a bid because his gift is coming all the way from Australia and the shipping costs more than the actual item, but I think it's worth it. It's a unique item, and I don't think he would be able to get it in the States. The only person that I still have to buy for now is my mother, and I have only a vague idea of what to get her. I'm thinking a book or something to do with Egyptology because she loves that stuff, but I'm still undecided. Hopefully, I can get my mother a great present and decorate my home to the extreme without credit card statement screaming bloody murder at me in January.

Chapter Two

2005-11-10T16:10:00.000-06:00

Well the plot is thickening in my novel writing world. I'm still very far behind on my word count goals, but I'm starting to get better at writing quickly and not worrying about editing. I have a promising 11,000 words now and a glorious 39,000 words to go, and I think there is a chance that I may actually pull it off if I stop analyzing every scenario that I create and just let them run free on the page. Though this may sound like a easy thing to do, I find it next to impossible, because I like every detail to shine like a new penny.

I finished shining Chapter Two--True Colors a few days ago. It's posted on my author's profile if you want to check it out. In this chapter, I introduce my space traveling yetis and the two humans that they've taken as prisoners. I don't like to pick favorites, but I think Ambassador Octapon is going to be my favorite character. He is my top-ranked, charming yeti/cyrun who seems to get into trouble where ever he goes. Running a close second is the captured archaeologist Fieldy who is being carried against his will back to the yeti's underground city. These characters still surprise me everyday with the things that they do and their mannerisms. Sometimes, I even think these characters have more control over me than I do over them, and we'll see where they take me soon enough. Anyway, it's back to my story for the time being, because I refuse to be defeated by this task that I've set in front of me.

Chapter One

2005-11-04T16:36:00.000-06:00

It's day four of National Novel Writing Month and my progress is slow but steady. The first few days were really tough for me because I couldn't focus, and I kept on thinking that my story wasn't good enough. I've conquered those demons today as I was putting the final touches on my first chapter. So far there is no breath taking imagery or subtle nuanced symbolism, but I think it's amusing and not a bad attempt for my first fantasy/humor/sci-fi romance novel. If you would like to explore my first chapter please click here. Also please feel free to tell me want you really think. I'm a tough girl. I can take it.

Anyway, I've wasted enough time as it is. I still have 46,000 words left to write. Wish me luck!

The Future Looks Bright

2005-10-30T21:45:00.000-06:00

This weekend I went to a Quantum Touch workshop to learn how life force energy can help someone heal. At first I was a little disappointed that the workshop was not very different from the material that was covered in the Quantum Touch instruction manual by Richard Gordon. However, by the end of the second day, I realize that the real gift of the workshop was being around so many interesting and delightful people who are all in search of truth and understanding of how the world works.

We were all a little skeptical at first because we were doing some dopey things such as placing our hands on one another's bodies and doing exaggerated breathing to try to move energy though our bodies and into the other person. I'm positive that if an outsider would have walked in on our energy sessions that they would of thought we were all loons, but regardless of the dopiness factor I can not deny that Quantum Touch really works. Bones do moves. Pain does disappear. Emotional traumas can be resolved and running the energy creates such amazing tingling sensations throughout your body. It almost makes you light headed but in a good way.

What surprised me the most at the workshop was when one of my fellow classmates pulled me aside after the class. She was a Reiki practicioner already and was looking for another way to use life force energy, and she was impressed by Quantum Touch just as much as I was. Anyway, because of her experience with Reiki she was very intuitive and told me that when she was running energy on my stomach that she could she my future son and that he says hello. I was floored by this because I'm not pregnant and do not hope to be for another 5 years or so, but reproductive issues have been a worry of mine. I've had my reproductive organ scares in the past where my ovaries and uterus were not behaving the way that I would of liked, and I was very frighten that I would not be able to have children. Somehow this strange woman sensed that fear in me and was kind of enough to let me know that that fear is unnecessary.

It's so strange to me that I actually believe this woman because Kendra from two years ago would have smiled in this woman's face and then called her crazy behind her back. However, the Kendra of today is so very grateful to her for easing my mind just a little bit and making my future look so bright. I could have a son people. A son that likes me enough to say, "hi" from the future. That's some deep love there. Though, I'm in no hurry to meet him anytime soon, I will be very excited to get to know him once he's arrived.

Black and White

2005-10-25T16:23:00.000-05:00

Life is full of "what if" experiences that allow you to see how your life could have been if you took a different path. Last weekend was a big "what if" experience for me, and it allowed me to see how different my life would have been if I went to an HBCU (historically black college and university) as opposed to the predominately white college I attended in Colorado.

I was in Atlanta for Morehouse and Spelman's homecoming. I went to the Greek Step Show and a few of the nightclubs, and I was almost overwhelmed by how different the Morehouse/Spelman atmosphere and social life was to my college experience. I'm not suggesting in anyway that one experience is better than the other, but I feel like this black girl would never fit into the HBCU setting. I don't have the right attitude for it, and I would be afraid that people would walk all over me.

I am, as a general rule, a very quiet person. Everything about me is small from the way that I talk, to my style, and my attitude. I find that in HBCUs and in predominately black cities such as Atlanta everything is so big and over the top that there is no place for me to express my unique, more understated style. Being the anthropologist that I am, at the Step Show I was doing a mental ethnography on black culture and trying very hard to figure out why I am an outsider in my own ethnic diaspora.

While at the Step Show, I was reminded about the research that I did in Tanzania with the Maasai. During my stay with the Maasai, they had a major ceremony where one of the age-sets was moving up to a higher level to elder status allowing a new group of kids to take their place in caste system. The ritual was so beautiful, fascinating, and foreign to me, and sadly this is the exact same feeling I had when I watched the Step Show.

The experience was not foreign to me simply because I never pledged to a sorority or attended a HBCU. It was foreign to me because I can not understand the mentality of a person who wants to be a part of such a specialized organization or group. What makes a person want to turn away from diversity to commune with sameness, and what really gets me is that this sameness is not authentic. It's an invented culture that we wear as a mask to cover up any individuality that may exist. It doesn't even reflect any shared beliefs or spirituality. I guess that is what happens when your original culture was taken from you, but I can't help but to wonder if we couldn't do any better. Is the best we can do a trumped up peacock attitude that says if anyone steps on my foot I'll cut you? Is the best we can do elaborate street gear and a static form of music that has not progressed in over a decade? I surely hope not.

I do enjoy certain parts of these trivialities. I would say the theme song of our entire trip was "Laffy Taffy" by D4L. I never heard the song until we started down the highway to Atlanta, but I think I heard it enough times to last a lifetime over the weekend. Although this song is not really my style, I can't help but to smile every time I hear it because of all the laughter and dancing the song brought our group. The day would not be complete without someone breaking out a "Dun, dun, dunt, Oh, Cuz you so thick." With a small chuckle I accept these few ounces of kinship that I have to my ethnic roots, but I'm glad that this one "what if" scenario never happened. I'm glad that I got out of Mississippi when I did and regardless of whether you think my disassociation with African-American culture is tragic or a joke, I am glad that I've made my life about exploring other cultures more than my own.

My NaNoWriMo Idea

2005-10-10T16:22:00.000-05:00

Yesterday, I signed up to do NaNoWriMo also known as National Novel Writing Month. This is where thousands of people attempt to write a complete novel of at least 50,000 words within 30 days. It starts November 1st and I can hardly wait to begin. It should be fun. It’s unfortunate that I will have to put my current novel aside for the entire month of November to work on a new project, but I think that it will be a great writing exercise to have my sole goal to be quantity instead of quality. I know that sounds like nonsense, but sometimes when I am working on my current book I get so wrapped up in making each sentence beautiful and lyrical that I forget to focus on moving the story forward quickly and the beauty of simplicity. I know that an entire month of hammering away at the keyboard is exactly what I need to inspire productivity in my current project, because rereading and rewriting every sentence is not leading me to a conclusion any faster.

Since I am determined to do this new distraction, I need a great genre/subject to start creating my plot. I’m could do action, adventure, horror, mystery, humor, romance, or science fiction, but I’m not sure if I really fit into any particular genre. I want this book to be half way descent, but I keep coming up with the most ridiculous ideas. Right now, I was thinking about doing a novel about yetis. The anthropologist in me wants to create a false ethnography about yeti culture and how they are so much more technologically advanced than humans are. Maybe, yetis evolved from humans and they are a new breed called homo sapiens sapiens sapiens, and the yetis view us regular homo sapiens sapiens as an abundant species of gorilla.

I think these yetis shall live underground in the Himalayan mountains in a giant city that extends a thousands miles into the earth’s core. However, the yetis’ underground safe haven is starting to get overpopulated, so they are forced to look for ways to expand or to come to the surface. A very important election will decide if the yetis will expand deeper into the Earth’s core, if they will find another mountain range such as the Alps to occupy or if they come to the surface to conquer/live with humans.

I’m trying to decide how I want this all to be introduced to the reader. Do I want one of the yeti’s to be forced to capture a human, and let that human become the narrator of the story, or do I want there to be one kind-hearted yeti who disagrees with the yeti government and sends a message to the humans that they need to prepare for a yeti attack? It’s a tough decision, but I think it would be better told from a human perspective. Okay, I got! Since my yetis are going to be very big into space travel, I’m going to have one of my yeti’s returning from space travel, walking up the Himalayan mountain with his abominable snowman space suit on. He wears this suit because space is cold and inhospitable and he needs the extra warmth. Plus, it scares the shit out of any human he may see and makes it easier for him to overpower them because of their fear. My yeti space traveler will be spotted by a journalist from Weekly World News trying to get footage on the abominable snowman legend. Since the yeti code says that if a human sees a yeti that the human must be captured and taken back to the underground city, my space traveler will be forced to take the reporter lady back with him. The reporter is horrified because she thinks this big abominable snowman looking thing is taking her back to his cave to eat her, but she will be surprised when she sees the truth. Once the yeti gets to the entrance of the underground city, he will remove his space suit to reveal his true form.

So, how does that sound? It’s a weird combination of adventure, action, horror, mystery, science fiction, and hopefully a little romance if I can fit it in there. I know it’s ridiculous, but do you think you would enjoy reading a story about yeti culture and yeti’s taking over the world. Let me know, because if no one cares then I surely shouldn’t bother spending a month developing it. Also let me know if there is something that you want to read. If you always wanted to read about the secret life of silk worms, let me know. I might be able to weave that into some type of adventure.

One Hell of a Week

2005-10-10T16:10:00.000-05:00

I have had a hell of a week. I don’t even no where I should start or how much I want to reveal about what I’ve learned. I’ll just say that on Wednesday, I was the lowest that I have ever been in so many ways. However, over the weekend, I’ve done a full 180 and I’m working on reaching highest point that I’ve ever been in my life.

This weekend I went to the New Age and Wholistic Fair with my mother. It comes to Nashville ever so often and it’s our favorite outing. It’s a cool set-up with lots of booths selling different goods and new age services, and a lot of free seminars teaching everything from self-hypnosis, astrology, dream interpretation, and Feng Shui. It’s always amusing to listen to several different ideas and recommendations on how life should be lived and how to heal yourself.

The one booth that impressed me the most was the Quantum-Touch healing booth. These people believe that everyone has the power to heal themselves with the life-force energy that exists inside your own body. This energy renews and rebuilds new tissues accelerating the healing for any illness or disease. They suggest that when a person is sick or injured, their life force energy is low but being in between high life force energy can bring that sick person’s energy up so their immune system can heal itself. They claim to eliminate pain, both emotional and physical, reverse deformities like scoliosis, and bowed legs, and facilitate a virtually pain-free childbirth. These are no small claims to make, so I went to their seminar and I was still very impressed with how they work and how they are able to provide relief for the people that are in the audience.

I decided that I had to try this for myself. They offer 5 minute healings for $5, so I figure why not. I’ve wasted $5 on less. So I told the man that my old dancer teacher said that I had scoliosis in my back. I have not been able to see it and it’s never been confirmed by a doctor so I asked him to check it out. He did confirm that scoliosis diagnosis but that it was so slight that it wasn’t a priority. He focused solely on my hips, which he said were 2 inches out of alignment. He even showed the difference to my mother and she had to agree that my hips were dramatically off.

Now, I’ve always known that my hips were crooked. It’s very noticeable when I look at myself in the mirror naked. I always say that when I get a lot of extra money that I would waste it on a chiropractor to fix my spine and hips. Had I’d known that my hips were a full two inches off, then I might of considered going a bit sooner. Anyway, he did the quantum-touch healing on my hips and it was the strangest, most subtle feeling ever. I could feel little vibrations of energy pulsating on my stomach and I felt my hip moving and pulling but he was not touching hard enough to cause such a movement. When he was done I didn’t really notice a difference, but when I got home and looked at myself again, I was amazed at how even my hips were. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my hips be so symmetrical. My mother tried their services the next day and she also said that the pain that she had from standing and walking all day was gone. I am usually a very skeptical person, but I can’t find a bad thing to say about these people. I know what my hips looked like before the man did the healing, but my hips don’t look like that any more.

They are offering a workshop to teach others how to do this type of healing, and I’m seriously considering taking the class. It fits in so perfectly with the quantum physics theories that are in What the Bleep Do We Know that it’s a little eerie. I love it when new ideas come into your life and build off of something else you’ve already learned or experienced. It’s the universe’s way of letting you know that you’re on the right track I guess.

Anyway, I still haven’t decided whether I will take the workshop or not. I have some more research to do on these people before I give them anymore of my money. I’ll make sure to keep you posted if I do decide to go and I become a world class healer. Then, all of you will have to call me Guru Kendra, and I kind of like the sound of that.

Will Someone Take My Credit Card Away Please

2005-10-05T13:56:00.000-05:00

I know I said that I would stop being wasteful and that I bought the last of the presents to myself on Saturday, but I've splurged again both today and yesterday. Please don't be mad at me.

Tuesday, I had to go back to the mall to pick up my order from Saturday, and what do you know I was left with over two hours to kill. Kohl's had a sale and I needed some cute club clothes and the rest was history, so was that money. Today, I remembered that Fionna Apple's new cd just came out, and I had to have it. I normally don't buy cd's at regular retail price, but I simply couldn't wait the 6 months it would take my music club to get it in stock and then another two weeks to deliver. I've been waiting for it seems 28 years for Ms. Apple to grace us with her music. So far the cd looks pretty cool. It's one of those Dualdisc cds that have one side that is a dvd and one side that is her actual cd. It's an interesting idea, and I figured since it only cost a dollar extra why not get the extra features. I've only listened to one track as of now, so I don't have a review for you yet. I will just say that the first track "Extraordinary Machine" was fun, playful, yet a little weird. We'll just have to wait and see if I grow to love it or grow to hate because it's extremely rare for me to like any song the first time I hear it.

I guess I really can't consider a music purchase as an unnecessary buy. I almost need to get a new cd every month just to maintain mental sanity. They always help me see the world in new ways, and the fascination that the music and the lyrics bring me will stay with me for years. I guess anything that inspires your fascination in the world can never be considered as a waste. As for my club clothes, I'll suppose that I'll just have to wait and see how many heads I turn to know whether they were worth the cost or not.

The Flying Enigma

2005-10-05T11:53:00.000-05:00

Last night my mother was so quiet on the way home from work that it startled me. She is normally a raging chatterbox, truly believing that I need to know every ounce of the day’s ridiculous events. I listen because it gives her pleasure to keep me informed, but I really could care less about what the president is doing or how FEMA missed up for the umpteenth time. I let last night’s silence pass as if nothing was unusual, because I figure we all need our quiet days, but I was soon to find out why my mother was so quiet and it was not a pretty picture.

As it turns out, she was upset about a conservation she had with her brother that same night. He told her that he had a conversation with their mother, my grandmother, that day about death if they were ready to die. At the nursing home where my grandmother lives, all of her friends have died and she’s afraid that she might die too. She’s the last of nine brothers and sisters, and she’s the last of her old lady pack at the nursing home. She told my uncle that she wasn’t ready to die, yet because my aunt and uncle still needed her. When my uncle asked about my mother and whether my mother still needed her, my grandmother said that my mother has always been strong and has always been able to take care of herself. To my ears this sounds like a compliment, but this comment truly hurt my mother. For me, if my mother ever told me that I had everything under control and that I could take care I myself when my other siblings couldn’t, I would be proud, but somehow my mother feels misunderstood.

Of course, my uncle has his own special way of making a compliment sound like an insult, so I’m sure there is more to this story that my mother is not telling me. She did privy me to one of his remarks though. He said that my mother doesn't need anybody, and this comment really put her over the edge. She was so wounded by this comment that it showed all over her face. It was so strange for me to see my mother upset. She has always been the rock I could depend on to always be whole, but last night I saw that she can crack just as easily as anyone else.

She is right about one thing though. It is hurtful when the people you love don’t believe that you need them just because you can be strong and stand on your own two feet without them. Such a facade of strength is deceiving because it may look like her life is unaffected by the people around her, but the reality of the situation is that everything she does is for those cherished people. When the reason you live is for these beloved people and not even for yourself, to have one of the people you cherish tell you that you don’t need anyone would break your heart a little if not entirely. I know that if the person I adore doesn’t even understand how much I need them, or how much of my life I live solely for them, that I would feel like a complete failure, like all these years I spent loving them were wasted because I’m still misunderstood, still misjudged. Oh wow, when you look at it that way what my uncle said last night is almost unforgivable, but knowing my mother as the strong woman she is she will shake these beads of misconception off her feathered back and soar above us all again. She may still be a flying enigma to the people she loves but that will not stop her from loving us that much harder.

October's Resolution

2005-10-03T16:30:00.000-05:00

Well, at long last I have crawled out of my laziness hole and have started to be both productive and wasteful at the same time. Productive in that after two weeks of completely neglecting my writing, I gone back to it in a significant way. I've also gone back to working on my clairvoyant abilities and meditation, which makes a happier more smiley Kendra. Last but not least I'm learning how to knit. As of now I have only created what looks like a mass of knotted cat fur, but I can tell that very soon I will be able to torture everyone I know with scarves, hats, mittens, and other completely hideous trinkets. I know all of these activities are kind of random and none of them really go together, but I like the way each activity works a different part of my brain, which I really need because I've gotten so dumb over the last year. I can't even subtract anymore, which might be part of the reason why I was so wasteful this weekend. I am ashamed of how wasteful I was with my money. I went on a shopping spree like no other on Saturday, and while it was very fun and I'm happy with my purchases, did I really need to spend $200 in one day? I think not. (Wow, I didn't do the math on how much I actually spent until just now, and I'm quite disgusted with myself. Shopper's remorse I guess.) One thing is for sure though, I won't be going on anymore shopping sprees for many, many moons. Since I got all of that wastefulness is out of my system, I can make productivity my official October resolution. No point in putting off til January what one can do in October.

Green Day Says It Best

2005-09-29T16:25:00.000-05:00

Since September is about to end, I guess it’s time for me to wake up and get back to work. It’s really quite pitiful to see the lazy fur ball I’ve become, especially when there are so many productive things I could be doing. I should be working on my book, finding a better job, or trying to better myself in some shape or fashion. So today I make a resolution (which I will probably break tomorrow) to work harder and to no longer waste the minutes and hours of my day, but to paste them together constructively to form a beautiful papier-mâché piñata, which will eventually rain a storm of prizes on top me.

Gosh, all of this resolution making is making me tried. I guess September is not really over til Saturday. Maybe I’ll just take a little nap for old times sake until then.

Me & Mory

2005-09-22T16:31:00.000-05:00

After weeks of playing phone tag, I finally got to meet up with my stalker from high school who amazingly enough lives in my apartment complex. I went to visit him last night, and though we were never really friends in high school, it was eerie how familiar he felt and how natural everything about our encounter was. To me he is not even a real man. He is more of a walking memory from a life long forgotten. The word “memory” truly sums up every nuisance about last night. I’ve even decided to name him Mory because he is such a strong source of nostalgia for me.

We talked of the people and teachers we remembered and all the things we used to do in high school. I told him that the only thing I could remember about him was that he was the class clown. He always had jokes and the only picture I remember taking of him was at Mock Homecoming where all of the boys on the homecoming court would dress up as women and have a hilarious beauty competition to see who would become “homecoming queen.” In my memories of Mory, he was not someone to be taken seriously, but I was very wrong about him. He’s surprisingly smart and quick with a response. I’m afraid that he could even out debate me in any argument, which I both admire and hate at the same time. My good friend Barefoot in Blue went to high school with Mory and I as well, but she knows Mory a lot better than I do. She said one night that Mory's intelligence is so bright that he feels he has to turn it down and play the clown so as not to blind everyone else with his light. At the time it sounded like such a beautiful thing to say, but I don't know if I really believed it until last night. He really does shine when he doesn't fell obligated to be the buffoon.

Mory said that the only thing he could remember about me was that I was on the dance team, and it was his job as the school mascot to remember all of the cheerleaders and dance team members. It was amazing to me how many of the dance team members he could remember. There were about 20 of us and he could name a good ten, whereas I who was actually on the team and spent a lot of time with the girls could barely remember the name of two of them. It’s so strange to me how unimportant some things become. You spend so much of your time on an activity, but when it’s over, you see that it really wasn’t that important to you to begin with. I even forgot that one of my really good friends was on the team. I mean, I was at this girl’s house everyday. I rode to school with her and her sister every morning, yet I forgot that she was on my dance team! Tell you the truth, I almost forgot her name.

Because of these unforgivable oversights, I was forced to get out my yearbooks and review these forgotten years. Mory was, of course, on every other page being voted the class favorite, the most school spirited, and the friendliest person in the school. You won’t see my name associated with any such titles. I’m hiding in the back of every yearbook picture. You would need a magnified glass to find me. So many parts of me were shy and hiding from the world, but yet I was out and about in the middle of everything just because I happened to make the dance team.

Anyway, after the reminiscing was over we did some catching up, discussing what we are doing with ourselves now, and how we both moved to Nashville from Mississippi. We’ve both changed a lot and have had so many different experiences, but I feel there is a inexplicable understanding between us, like since we know each other’s roots that anything that builds off of that base is already known and almost expected. It’s kind of like talking to a relative you haven’t seen in years. They may not know what you’ve been up to but they still know you and the core of who you are somehow. It’s so strange to get all of that familiar energy off of a semi-stranger, but I guess that's just the type of relationship me & Mory have.

Pieces of Me

2005-09-15T16:15:00.000-05:00

I love…
Autumn
Jumping in crisp dry leaves
Dancing
A good meal
You (I mean that sincerely).

I don’t care for…
Driving
Talking on the phone
Cell phones
Going to the hairdresser.

I am afraid of…
Boats/sea sickness/drowning
Fish
Being a failure
Dying young.

I can…
Do a double salchow
Speak a little French and Swahili.

I can not…
Swim very well
Do the moguls while skiing
Drive in the snow.

I wish that…
I could be a stand-up comedian
I was a little bit taller
I would never have to worry about money again
There was a way to end suffering.

I cherish…
My cd collection
My tarot cards
My teddy bear
My journals and drawings

I miss…
Being in school
Strong hugs
Stirring conversations
The one I love.

Get You Dancing Shoes, It's Time to Salsa

2005-09-12T16:10:00.000-05:00

Saturday night I went salsa dancing at the new place on the East side of town called Ibiza. It's a nice club, but I definitely don't like it as much as Caliente. Unfortunately, my favorite salsa spot Caliente is losing business and will probably be closing soon. I'd say only 15-30 people may show up the entire night, which we all know is not very good business. What kills me is how popular Caliente was just one year ago when they would pack at least 400 people in there a night. I miss the good old days of salsa dancing downtown. Now, I have to drive an extra 10 million miles to the East side of town for my salsa fix, and we all know with gas prices as high as they are, an extra 10 million miles is not appreciated.

Despite the cost, I had a ball. There is something so classy and pure about salsa dancing because it's so traditional. The man asks you to dance, he leads you, and when your finished he says, "Thank-you for dancing with me," and leads you off the dance floor. It's a sophisticated atmosphere that can not be replicated in any other booty shaking joint, yet it's not as up-tight or snobby as ballroom dancing. It's a place where women are sexy, men are charming, and everything is as it should be. Now, I admit that woman try to be sexy everywhere, but I have yet to meet a charming man outside of the salsa dancing atmosphere. It's like men have forgotten how to be charming over the years. Instead of unique personal style and sincere smiles, I get terrible pick up lines such as, "Is that the key to your car or the key to your heart." I don't want to hear that. What I want is someone to twirl me around the floor, smile sweetly in my face, and dance cheek to cheek with me. That's what heaven is.

What was so great about everyone I danced with Saturday night was that everyone's style was so different. Everyone prided themselves on their unique moves and their unique flavor and they showed no shame. I saw them break it down to do the snake, the robot, wobble knees, vogue, and much more. These people don't mind being silly and doing what feels good to them. If I went to any hip-hop club, it would be the exact opposite. Every man would take pride in the fact that he can do the exact same 4 moves as everyone else, and would try desperately to hide any distinguishing characteristics about himself. Don't do that. Be yourself, be unique, entertain me with your ridiculous moves. I might actually find it endearing.

To my surprise, many of the regular faces from my beloved Caliente have also switched over to the new club. First, we have my favorite dance partner who I will call Teach because he has taught me practically everything I know about salsa dance. He's a very energetic older man in his 50's who is still able to get down and party like he's 18 years old. I've been dancing with him for 3-4 years now and still don't know a single thing about him. He doesn't speak English. I don't speak Spanish, and I think we will never learn each other's language. Then again what is there really to talk about. I think there's a good possibility that I may like salsa places so much simply because no one can say a stupid line to me or if they do I can just say that they don't speak English very well anyway.

Then there was the Most Beautiful Man in the World. Why this man lives in Nashville is beyond me. He should seriously be living in New York or L.A. doing some type of photo shoot, not walking the same Earth as us normal people in Nashville. I have seen the Most Beautiful Man in the World at Caliente for the past 2 years and he still won't pay me any attention. I mean I know I'm not a latina but can I get a little attention please. Then there was Curly Haired Man who has a different girlfriend every two months.

Finally, I saw Guy who looks just like the guy I used to date or could even be the guy I used to date but I can't remember exactly. I know that sounds horrible, but these two men look so similar I really can't tell the difference anymore. My Guy and I had a glorious month together before he disappeared. I don't know if he died or if he went back to what ever country he came from, but I surely never saw him again. However, right after Guy disappeared another man who looked just like him started going to Caliente, which annoyed me because every time I would see him, my heart would start beating faster, but was disappointed when I realized it wasn't my Guy. Anyway, last night I really couldn't tell if it was my Guy or Guy Who Looks Like My Guy. He had the same smile and he danced cheek to cheek like my guy did, but this one was a bit thinner than my guy and I think a little darker too. He did have a momentary glimmer of recognition in his eyes, and there really was no reason for him to walk all the way across the room to ask me to dance if he didn't know me. I wanted so badly to ask, "Was I kissy face with you a year ago," but somehow that just didn't seem very appropriate. Anyway, even if he was my Guy what would we really have to say to one another now.

Sometimes, I think I truly have problems letting the past die. I can't seem to left go of my old club Caliente for the new one and I can't seem to left go of these old faces for the new. Though there is so much comfort in the past, it will not yield any growth or any new wisdom. I must not dwell on the familiarity of the past, but explore the freshness of the new.

The Farce of Flirting

2005-09-10T18:01:00.000-05:00

It was your typical Friday night excursion, four girls in a car going to the Caribbean club for some good reggae music. In so many ways, last night was so ordinary, but then on another level, it was so funny that it was like watching Def Comedy Jam. It could have been that I drunk just enough liquor to put me in that place where everything was more amusing and where I was no longer self-conscious about the mininess of my mini-skirt. However, I believe the main reason why last night was great was because the two men I met were so hilarious.

Usually when writing about new acquaintances in my blog, I give them some type of pseudonym to protect their identity, but these guys real names were so ridiculous that they must be shared. Their names are Smart and Sunshine. Though you may think I’m making this up, I am simply not creative enough to come up with such absurd names. First of all, who would name their child Smart? I mean we all hope for intelligent children, but to go ahead and name your child after such a common adjective is puzzling to me. I don’t even understand people who name their children adjectives like Precious or Darling, and for me to try to understand the name Smart is too much.

The person behind the name was a pretty nice guy though. He was from Nigeria, which annoyed me a little because it seems like every other man I meet is Nigerian. It’s like they all have some type of ultrasensitive radar to find me. Although he was nice enough, he delivered me the chessiest line I’ve ever heard. You see I always attach my car key on the side of my skirt or pants so I won’t have to carry a bag with me all night. Smart notices the key hanging off of my skirt and says, “Is that the key to your car or the key to your heart.” To this commit I turned around and backed that thang up so I could laugh hysterically at such a stupid line. Of course he thought I was moved by this line and asks for my number, but I’ve come up with a new dating rule for myself. I refuse to give out my number in any club-like environment. Any club bun I meet must first submit a writing sample to my email address before I would even consider speaking to them again. So far it’s working like a charm and I’ll soon get to see how smart Smart is in writing.

And then there was Sunshine. Why you would name a boy Sunshine is beyond me. It’s such a feminine name that I couldn’t even manage to turn around to laugh, and I wound up laughing directly in his face. I did not feel bad about this at all because Sunshine definitely was not as polite as Smart. He had wandering hands and some jealous girlfriend-like character that would come over and push me out of the way for dancing with a man. I thought this was so amusing because it’s such a stereotypical occurrence you see on every black movie that for me to actually experience it in my life was comical. I could almost imagine the girl in the corner talking to her friends, “I don’t who that bitch think she is, dancing with my Sunshine like that. I’m going have to roll up in there and sho’ that bitch her place.” Or at least that’s how I would imagine she would sound. I’m not at all hip to the hip talk so I don’t pretend to know.

Even as a re-read this entry, I can’t help but laughing at how funny the farce of flirting is. I had a great time but definitely not a great enough time to ever talk to any of my new acquaintances again. I’m still determined to be lonely for a while longer until I can get my mind straight so that I can create a good relationship for myself, and it seems that everything in pop culture in helping me to do just that. From the movies to music videos, everything around me seems to add another good idea to my personal philosophy. For example, in the movie “What the Bleep Do We Know,” they suggest that we create our own reality and that our minds control everything around us. I could understand how my mind could affect myself and my attitude toward life, but I didn’t understand how my mind could affect someone else or the relationships I was in. Well, Friday afternoon I was watching nine inch nail’s new video “Only” and this idea that I create my reality and the people around me started to make so much more sense to me. Trent Reznor sings “I just made you up to hurt myself, and it worked.” These lyrics were so profound to me. Even after the video was over, I just sat there for a good half-hour pondering about all the situations and relationships that I created within my mind just to hurt myself.

Of course, I’m not intentionally trying to hurt myself. It’s like a little kid who wants so badly to jump off a swing in mid air because it would be fun to fly. The child doesn’t want to be hurt. He doesn’t want to break an ankle, but he’s willing to risk it for the thrill of soaring. This is exactly what I do in relationships. I jump off the swing with someone completely wrong for me, and then I act surprised when I have to wear an emotional cast over my broken anatomy for the next six months.

In retrospect, I can see all of the mistakes of my past and wonder how could I be so short-sighted, yet I don't think I would change a single thing even if I was given the chance. I've learned so much the hard way, and I'm very thankful for that. Now, I think it's time to learn things in a more easy, thoughtful way.

I Know It's Silly, But You'll Just Have to Forgive Me

2005-09-07T13:31:00.000-05:00

I was eating lunch yesterday and watching some TV to amuse myself. As usual nothing was on, so I went to my handy dandy On Demand feature on the digital cable and started searching for new music videos. To my surprise the new My Chemical Romance video "The Ghost of You"was on there, and I jumped so high in air with happiness you would have thought I won Powerball. It took me several seconds to calm down and hit the watch button, but my excitement was well justified because it was a fantastic video. My new inexplicable celebrity crush, Gerard Way, looked fabulous, and in general all of the band members were just adorable. They were back in World War II times, and they were singing at their last concert before they had to go off to war “never coming home.” Once again it was very dramatic like the Helena video and I was moved for the second time. The video also alluded to a scene in Legends of the Fall, one of my favorite movies, about how these two brothers get separated and one brother has to watch other die. It was too much. It was too beautiful. I had to watch it three times in a row.

And my beloved Gerard Way looked so handsome and clean cut. He looked like the young Elvis Presley you see to the left. I mean the resemblance was truly uncanny. I swear this boy is a chameleon because when I first saw him in their, “I’m Not Okay” video, I thought he looked like Billy Corgan, of the Smashing Pumpkins, with hair. Now, he transforms into this new sexy Elvis. Do your thing Gerard Way, do your thing! Although my fascination with Mr. Gerard Way is a little silly, I willing to allow a few adolescent behaviors through my very serious adult facade just to stay young at heart a little longer.

Oh, Brother

2005-09-07T13:12:00.000-05:00

This holiday weekend my mom and I drove to North Carolina to visit my older brother. He moved there just one year ago to start a new career as a music teacher at a middle school that is literally in the middle of nowhere (a.k.a. the middle of a cotton field). What surprised me about this whole adventure was the amount of respect my brother held in this small community. He was clearly good at his job and the parents greatly appreciated the work he was doing with their children. In my mind, my brother is still the evil demon that tortured me for my entire adolescent life, so it’s next to impossible for me to imagine my brother in any respectable position such as a teacher of young minds. I guess some things you just have to see to believe and this trip made a believer out of me. People can change. People can mature. People can find a niche in life where their annoying idiocies are an asset instead of barrier.

Since my brother is also the assistant director of the marching band at the high school, we got to see him in action at the Friday night football game. He stood on his ladder, conducting 90-100 fresh-faced teenagers getting ready to play the Star-Spangled Banner. He kept on mouthing to the kids, “All eyes on me. Eyes on me.” Once he got control of everyone, he started the song, and it was so fascinating to see he’s arms move up and down with every crescendo or how he could force one particular section to play louder. I was very impressed and I am not easily impressed. I was glad to see him up on this self-made podium. In retrospect, I could see that his entire life was building up to this moment. His heinous desire to oppress and control me as a child developed into a very constructive and respectable desire to control and teach these school-aged children. I was proud of the life he’d chosen. It’s not the big life we all dream of as children, but it’s a life to be respected.

Although I know the respectable life is more rewarding in the long run, part of me still wants the big life, still wants that allusive part-time job that pays 100K a year. Some how I don’t think this dream will be coming true any time soon, so in the meantime I must ponder on how I will find a respectable life. In the past year, I’ve played with so many ideas of how to start my respectable life, but none of them seem to work out. At first I wanted to continue my education and go to grad school in Anthropology and/or law school, but I wasn’t sure if it was something I really wanted or if it was the easy way out. Next, I thought maybe I could get some work experience. I applied and interviewed for a kaleidoscope of unrewarding jobs and was always so hurt when didn’t get them. As I look back on my luck, I see that I would not been any better off if I received any of these jobs. Of course, these jobs would have made my checking account look that much more impressive, but I don’t think they would make me any happier.

So many of my peers have already started their respectable life, and it really makes me wonder what have I been doing wrong. Practically all of them, like my brother, have become teachers or some kind of education administrator. I feel it would be so easy to join them, and jump on the school daze bandwagon, but it’s simply not where I belong. I know what I’m waiting on, but it’s an idea so fragile that it’s impossible to explain right now. I’m sure that when this idea solidifies it will lead me to a life that is so much more rewarding because it is something that I’ve created from the ground up.

Can You Imagine Disaster?

2005-08-31T17:13:00.000-05:00

Can you imagine a disaster so bad that you no longer have a home, a job, or a city to return to? The total picture is almost unfathomable to me. I mean I can imagine losing a home because that happens to people around the country everyday, but having your working environment washed away at the same time as your home is a jawing dropping mind blower to me. It’s such a tragedy that this is the reality of the thousands of people hit by Katrina. And it seems inhumane to be forced to tell these hard-working people that the home you created for yourself is inhabitable, and since the office building where you work is damaged as well, you no longer have a job or a way to earn back everything you lost. I don’t think there is any amount of insurance or aid that will give these people back what they have lost. They’ll have to start all over again kind of like a kid just getting out of school only with less support. My heart goes out to them because I can’t even imagine what I would do in their situation.

My Inexplicable Celebrity Crush

2005-08-28T21:17:00.000-05:00

I know it’s normal to have a celebrity crush, and that many people even keep a current top 5 list of celebrities they are attracted to locked in their memory banks. However, I have never been too serious about the matter. I’ve had the same three celebrity crushes since the age of fifteen. First there was Lenny Kravitz because he had the most beautiful dreadlocks, and his music opened my ears to rock. Second, there was Tiger Woods, because I was positive that I was going to meet and marry him, but some Swedish girl beat me to it. Finally, there was Antonio Banderas because accents are sexy. For seven years, the list has stayed the same, but on this memorable day I officially add a new celebrity to my list.

You would think that today would be a day of joy for me, adding fresh blood to an aging list, but I am torn. Usually, my celebrity crushes make sense to me, but this one doesn’t. You see I understood why I liked Lenny, Tiger, and Antonio, so I could be at peace about being irrational when they were interviewed on TV or when their picture was in a magazine. My new celebrity crush, however, makes no sense what so ever. Even my good friend Barefoot in Blue will not accept this man as legitimate crush. I’m almost to the point of feeling ashamed about my new crush, but I must confess it. I am totally digging on Gerard Way, the lead singer of My Chemical Romance. Now, I’m not looking for full girlfriend status. I just want to hold his absolutely adorable face in my hands and smooch on him for about 30 minutes and then send him back on the road to play his music. Isn’t that the most random crush, you ever heard? It’s beyond me why I like him so much. He’s not particularly handsome. He’s not opening my ears to a new style of music. He doesn’t even have an amazing rock and roll voice or accent. I don’t find anything particularly special about this kid, yet every time I see his video or listen to the band’s CD I can’t help but smiling. I think it was the “Helena” video that did it for me. He was just so dramatic carrying the coffin out of the church and everything. I was moved. He has that certain je ne sais quoi, and there is something about the contrast between his pale skin and the dyed black hair that does it for me. Mr. Way just seems very real to me, and it makes me happy just knowing that he exists.

We would make a cute couple for at least thirty minutes, don’t you think? Anyway, this new addition to my crush list is really making me wonder what makes us attracted to a person. I was so certain a year ago what type of person I would be attracted to, but all my old standards have clearly been thrown out the window and what I like is not very consistent anymore. But surely there must be someone else out there with an inexplicable celebrity crush. Share them if you wish so I won’t feel so alone.

Yeah for Learning and Confusion!

2005-08-25T16:11:00.000-05:00

I saw the movie What the Bleep Do We Know last night, and though I didn't particularly like the film itself, I loved the ideas that were presented in it. The movie consists of about two dozen academic scholars using quantum physics theories to explain such unanswerable philosophical questions as "why are we here," and "what is reality?" It was quite possibly the most thought provoking movie I've ever seen. I just wish I could of truly understood what these people were talking about. I think they may have stirred more questions into my soul than answer them.

The movie starts with an indecipherable cluster of ideas, questioning our relationship with reality. They say that people feel powerless in our materialistic society because we believe that reality is external and separate from ourselves. These scholars believe that we create our own reality, seeing the things we choose. Quantum physics says that matter is not as solid as we thought it was. Matter is made out of atoms that have electrons that are popping in and out of existence. Because matter is always dynamic and is always moving, an object can exist in many different places at the same time. We choose with our minds where the matter appears.

Not only do we have the power to place an object where ever we like, we also have the ability to change the structure of matter with our thoughts . They talked about how a Japanese scientist Masaru Emoto did a study with water that proved that it's structure is affected my our thoughts, words, and feelings. He labeled each bottle with a different thought or feeling. One bottle was blessed by a monk, one was label with love, and one labeled thank you, and each different thought changed the molecular shape of the water on a microscopic level. Since our bodies are 75-90% water just think of how our thoughts must change our molecular structure.

I truly find this to be such a fascinating idea, and I agree completely that my thoughts can change my molecular make up. This movie however suggests that your thoughts could also bring you a better job or a better relationship, but I just can't seem to figure out how that can work. How can my thoughts change the people around me? What do I need to think to have another person say, 'Let me hire her. Let me love her.'" I still can't seem to wrap my head around all of these ideas. They are so different from everything I know, yet they could not have come into my life at a more appropriate time.

Just a few weeks ago, I was pondering the possibilities of our brain and our consciousness. Although we tend to think of our brain and our consciousness as one in the same, I was exploring the possibility that they can be different. I remember, for example, the first time that I realized I was alive and that I was an individual. I was probably between the ages of 4 and 7, and I was standing in my bedroom watching my mother walk down the hall. Suddenly, the realization came to me that my mother would die, that I would die, and that there was an individual voice inside my body named Kendra who was creating all of these thoughts. We are taught that this inner voice is coming from our brain, but I still find it hard to believe that the crude matter that exists inside of my skull can create complex theories, art, or poetry. Maybe, there is a more intangible inner self or spirit that is the source of every creative thought we have.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not downplaying the significance of the human brain, and I'm not saying that the brain is incapable of any thought what so ever. I just think that thought within the brain itself may be a little limited, whereas thought within your inner self or your spiritual consciousness is limitless. Our brain can only think creatively about its own survival. My brain, for example, could come up with a new idea of how to hunt for food or shelter, but it couldn't come up with a symphony because a symphony has no role in keeping the body alive. I know my theory is not very scientific, and there is no experiment I could to do to prove it. I just find it amazing that we know what part of the brain controls memory, emotions, motor functions, and language, but we still haven't found a part of the brain that creates the new ideas.

I'm really more confused now than ever because I like both of these theories. They just don't seem to work very well together. With quantum physics our brains control everything, but in my theory the brain is insignificant. The intangible self is what creates everything, and when you talk about mystical inner spirits, you kind of have to have an all powerful deity with a master plan as well. I never knew it, but I think it gives me more comfort to think that there is some all powerful deity with a master plan for me. With the quantum physics, I am the creator of my reality. I make the plan and I follow through with it and that much responsibility is frightening. I don't know where to put all of this new information, but I'm sure that with time I will find a way to incorporate it all into a new spiritual dogma.

Love, Learning, and Peace

2005-08-22T21:26:00.000-05:00

I had a really good conversation last night about love. It's the big word of our times, and it is always on our minds. And somehow the subject came up as I was talking with the most unlikely person. He is an acquaintance that I met at a wedding a few months ago, and ever since he writes me and calls ever so often. He's not quite my type. Way too macho and I'd hate to say it, but just I little bit angry at the world. It frustrates me so to see so much anger in a person, but he has his moments when he can be fascinating and sensitive, and last night was one of them.

Anyway, he asks about my "boyfriend," which is not an uncommon subject. I told him that I officially broke of with him a few weeks ago. Being as this is the first time I completely admitted that I actually had a "boyfriend," he was very inquisitive, wanting to know exactly why I ended it. I said it was because we didn't fit well together, and I was never going to fall in love with him. Since this is a very bold assumption to make, he questioned how I could know so soon that love was not even a possibility. To tell you the truth there's no simple answer to that question. Everything about this man, who I shall name Significant Other 1 a.k.a. SO1, was prefect on paper but not at all inspiring to be around. He was successful, responsible, always kind and thoughtful, but I was not moved by him. He had everything that I wanted for myself, but yet I did not find him wise enough to teach me anything of great value. He did amuse me though. We could go out together dancing or play some pool and we'd have the best time of our lives, but when we were alone and all was quiet we had nothing to say to one another. There was no peace in our conversations, because the few things he did have to say would annoy me to point of me wanting to hit him. It's such a shame because my girlfriends adored him, my mother though never having met him respected him. I mean we were prefect in public, but a mess in private. So happy out on the town, but in total chaos at home lounging. I was never going to be able to love him, and there was simply nothing more I could learn from him so I had no other options but to leave.

I know this may sound strange, but I really do think that there are still many good reasons to say in a relationship even when love is absent. For me, the main reason why I stay is to learn. Relationships are like mini-crash courses in life, how other's live life, and how to incorporate others in your life. They teach me what I'm looking for and what I'm not. Before SO1, I guess I was only looking for companionship and some fun, but now I want a little more than that. I want the whole 9 yards, love and all. I want to be dizzy with it, to the point of nausea and nothing less.

In retrospect, I see that I got involves with SO1 for the wrong reasons. I was only with him because he filled a void of loneliness, a loneliness that feared to let survive, but I no longer fear loneliness. What I fear is a life without love, learning, and peace. Knowing myself, I will never stop learning because learning gives me peace. The only thing that I need to work on is love. It's weird because I'm having all of these questions about coincidence and fate and what things will work out and what won't, and I really feel like God is setting me up for something. I can feel the universe moving all of the pieces in place around me, and I just have to wait for them to take their final positions. Yes, I'm ready to be lonely. I'm ready to be quiet and at ease because love is working on finding me.

Coincidence or Fate?

2005-08-15T15:03:00.000-05:00

Today as I was driving out of my apartment complex, I saw an old high school acquaintance pulling into the driveway. At first I didn't know who he was, but he was starring so hard into my face that I thought he was about to crawl into the car with me. As I took a closer look at him, I realized that I know this man. I wondered if this was mere coincidence or if our paths were destined to intersect. There is a point when coincidence stops and fate starts. I feel that this relationship is heading for the latter of the two.

In high school, the two of us never talked. We knew of each other, but never actually had a conversation. About a month ago, I saw him in a nightclub in Nashville, and I was so shocked. I went to high school in Mississippi and I never expected to see anyone from my school living and working in Nashville. Anyway, we exchanged a few words, nothing major. In honesty, we didn't have much to say to one another. Now, I find out that he lives in the same apartment complex as me. Okay, that's too strange to be coincidence don't you think?

Meteor Shower

2005-08-12T16:18:00.000-05:00

Last night me and my mom decided to head out for a late night snack. We wanted ice cream and determined that since there was going to be a meteor shower that we would sit out under the stars, eating ice cream, waiting the sky fall in on us. So we went to Sonic for one of their delicious Oreo blasts and drove around town looking for a dark place to watch. Unfortunately, we did not feel safe in any of the dark places that we know around Nashville so we wound up in the brightness of Walmart's parking lot. The moon had already set and there was only one visible star in the sky, and though I did not get to see one meteor fall that night, I got to see so much more. We started to talk about the songs she used to sing to us as babies. She said she would always sing "Somewhere over the Rainbow" and "Moon River." I asked her to sing it to me again for old times sake and through she was a bit embarrassed and didn't quite remember the words, she dug down deep and sung "Moon River" for me. It was actually kind of sweet, and though I can not possibly remember being a baby in my mother's arms, hearing that song whispered out of her lips made me remember a feeling of comfort and safety that I've forgotten. No, I didn't see one shooting star that night, but my mother was glowing enough to light up the sky.