Going to Hell in a Handbasket

Make Up/Makeup/Can't Make It Up

2012-01-03T18:48:00.000-05:00

Make Up

When a man with whom you are in love comes to you, at long last, with an open heart and asks you take a leap of faith, what do you do? Do you hesitate, doubting, questioning, fearful of being hurt again? Do you take the leap and never think twice? Or something in between? If you're me you close your eyes, cross your fingers, kiss him, and jump. You make up, and make love, and hope for the best. After proceeding with cautious optimism for a probably-not-long-enough amount of time, you may find yourself driving one day, as I did yesterday, smiling harder than you have in recent memory. You just may catch yourself thinking, "This might be really real this time. This time, it really might be."

Makeup

What is it about a man looking at you with desire and saying, "You don't need any makeup," that makes it the greatest compliment on the face of the planet? Sitting in the passenger seat of his car, bare cheeks illuminated by the lit up dashboard instruments, he kisses you goodnight and you feel beautiful - without having taken any steps to look especially beautiful. The ability to be comfortable in your own skin, imperfect as it invariably is, is a rare commodity in a romantic relationship. It was the nicest thing a man has said to me in a very long time. Because it was genuine.

Can't Make It Up

The journey that has brought me to this point has been difficult. Back and forth and up and down and full of laughter and tears. I know that any number of things could go wrong -- including things I have had some indication of already, and those things which will inevitably come as a surprise. But I'll never know how the story ends until I actually let it begin. I can't make it up, I just have to live it.

As It Turns Out, I’m An Asshole

2011-11-02T23:28:00.001-04:00

Today I realized that I’m a world class asshole.

Exhibit A: I am still completely undone with love for a manwho absolutely does not love me back, and was, by any reasonable person’sstandards, kind of a dick to me while we were together. If he showed up on my doorstep tomorrow and sincerely apologized I'd forgive him instantly, like an idiot. After things ended in a remarkably predictablefashion – e.g. me with a broken heart, just pining away – I now have the nerve tobe sad about it! And wallow! And fret! And complainand whine incessantly to my belovedfriends who are without a doubt sick-to-death of hearing about it at this point. And keep myself up nights listening to every song ever made that makes me think of him! And make a batch of Rice Krispie Treats and eat nearly all of them in a day! And get drunk and fall down stairs! And screw anyone I want and everyone I shouldn't! Andall of this for an unjustifiably long period of time, relative to the length ofthe actual relationship!

See? Asshole.

Exhibit B: I am utterly incapable of being attracted to anyman who might actually be (gasp!) appropriate for me. Emotionally available?Bor-ing! Got a good job? Not interested! Well educated and intelligent? Nothank you! Financially responsible? Move along! Funny, tall, charming, and clearlyinto me? Who wants to be bothered with THAT!? Not me! No, instead of givingweight to important things that actually matter, I prefer to be a snarky,judgmental bitch that gets annoyed because you left my half and half out,causing it to spoil and me to spend an unnecessary $1.59 to replace it. Orirritated because you’d rather not getyour shoes dirty, like a pussy. Or because that one time you looked at me whenyou didn’t have your glasses on your eyes kind of crossed and that wassuuuuper weird. Or because you, like 80% of all people on the planet, are physically incapable of loading the dishwasher in a not-retarded way. Imean, WTF? It is not rocket science. No, I will invariably choose to ignore anylarge, waving red flags that warn of potentially major pitfalls in the courseahead (Unemployed? Never finished college? Habitual adulterer? Near-hoarder? All-out liar? No biggie!); but a little pebble in the road and HOLD THE PHONE! I’m outta here!

See! Ass. Hole!

Exhibit C: If you’re in love right now, I fucking hate you.Even if I absolutely love you, I still fucking hate you. I hate that you andyour partner get to go grocery shopping together. And make dinner together. Andhave fights about how much you’re spending on groceries. And do laundry foreach other. And help pick out the best jeans for your butt. And see each other’semergency underwear on those days when it’s been too long since you last didlaundry together. And go on vacation together. And sit at home and read thepaper together. And sleep on each other’s shoulders. And oh just fuck you.

See?! I can say that because I am an ASSHOLE!

Exhibit D: I’ve used like twenty exclamation points in thisblog post so far. And you know who abuses their punctuation rights like that?

Yep! Assholes!

If the first step to recovery is admitting the problem, thenI guess I’ve taken an important step by admitting my assholeishness to theworld. Funny how that doesn’t really make me feel any better. Maybe it needs to be more formal.

"Hi. My name is Maria and I am an asshole."

Nope, still don't feel any better.

Someone give me a fucking Rice Krispie treat.

See Hear Taste Smell Touch Memory

2011-10-24T23:33:00.000-04:00

Tonight I cut up the last tomato from my garden into fat slices, sprinkled them with seasoned salt, and ate them while leaning against the kitchen counter. I ate slowly, thinking of the time it took for the fruit to perfectly ripen on the vine outside my bedroom window, watching water drip from the glasses in my dish rack, and thinking of my father.

My father was the first person to introduce me to this method of eating a tomato. I think I may have been ten years old, or perhaps twelve. Dad had taken little brother and I to Kensington Metro Park for the day to fish and have fun. There must have been other food -- burgers grilled to Dad's degree of extreme well-doneness in all likelihood -- but whatever else we ate that day is fully eclipsed by the memory of those tomatoes.

He cut them up with his sharp, clean fillet knife and pulled out the Lawry's salt. Although I can't remember what his exact words were, I can hear his voice clearly, saying something like, "Now, have you ever tried tomatoes this way?" Little brother and I shook our heads, No, reveling in this rare summer quality time with Dad, watching as he deliberately and demonstratively sprinkled exactly the right amount of red and orange salt onto the open flesh of the tomatoes. He knew we'd want to remember the steps in order to recreate them some day. Little brother and I ate the sweet and salty fruit, licking the salt and pink juice from our lips, laughing with our father in the Michigan summer sunlight.

Almost every time I eat a tomato with seasoned salt I remember that moment. Everything about the salty slices, from their appearance to the way they feel on my tongue, conjures up that first experience. I have an arsenal of memories like this. Memories that come to me forcefully when I see, hear, taste, smell or touch something. Tonight's tomato reverie was a most welcome surprise.

Lately most of the deep memories are of a man who could not love me, no matter how hard he tried. Some memories are distant, from fourteen years ago; some are closer, from four months ago. There are those that creep up on me, and there are those that arrive suddenly, disruptive and uninvited. It is always a strange, haunted ache that I am left with. I look forward to the day when the ache is surpassed by peaceful acceptance; but in the meantime, while I'm waiting for time to do what only it can, I'll take comfort in the memory of tomatoes.

I Better Be Quiet Now

2011-10-10T13:29:00.002-04:00

Wish you gave me your number,
Wish I could call you today,
Just to hear a voice.
I got a long way to go,
I'm getting further away.

If I didn't know the difference
Living alone would probably be ok.
It wouldn't be lonely.
I got a long way to go,
I'm getting further away.

A lot of hours to occupy,
It was easy when I didn't know you yet.
Things I have to forget.
But I better be quiet now,
I'm tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on and getting upset.

Maybe I have a problem,
But that's not what I wanted to say.
I'd prefer to say nothing.
I got a long way to go,
I'm getting further away.

Had a dream as an army man with an order just to march in my place,
While a dead enemy screams in my face.
But I better be quiet now,
I'm tired of wasting my breath
Carrying on, not over it yet.

Wish I knew what you're doing,
And why you want to do it this way, so I can't go the distance.
I got a long way to go,
I'm getting further away.
I got a long way to go,
I'm getting further away.

Falling Down

2011-08-01T00:49:00.003-04:00

Last night I got drunk with my roommate. This morning I woke up with bruises and an OK Cupid profile that had type-o’s in it. The bruises are from falling on some stairs at a bar (no one saw me fall though – which raises the question, if a drunk girl falls down a flight of stairs and no one sees it, did it actually happen?); the online dating profile rife with misspellings is from the broken heart. Between the drunkenness, the fall, the participation in e-dating (that I think is stupid!), and the type-o’s, I am most embarrassed by the type-o’s. I mean, Jesus Christ!

On Friday I lied out loud to my roommate by saying, “You know, I think I’m almost done being sad about loving a man who didn’t even deserve the affection in the first place.” I believe that is what we call ‘wishful thinking.’ Who do I think I’m kidding? I’m still sad. I’m still really, fucking sad.

This is the part where I get angry.

I am mad at him for not knowing himself well enough to know that he is in love with another woman. A fact which has been so abundantly obvious to me that it still blisters my eyes to think about it. My gut instinct whispered to me at every turn, He is still in love with her. And yet he couldn’t just say it. He couldn’t just say to me, “Maria, I am sorry but I am in love with her.” This makes me the stupid, stubborn, brokenhearted fool.

I am mad at him for calling me after a month of us not speaking to tell me that he missed me and wanted us to try to be together. I am mad at him for telling me that he was absofuckinglutely sure when I asked him if I was what he really wanted. I am mad at him for opening the door and then not actually having any room for me in his life, emotionally or physically. Most of the time there wasn’t even a place for me to sit down at his house. Except his bed. Of course.

My brother was right when he said, “Maria, he used you for sex.” Ouch. But true.

Paul was right when he hugged me as I cried and trembled and tried to dish up a dinner plate, he said, “Maria, you deserve so much better.” Ouch. But true.

Adam was right when he said, “Maria, if he doesn’t know his own heart well enough to take care of it, how could he ever take care of yours?” Ouch. But true.

James was right (three months ago!) when he said, “Maria, you are reaching for him and he’d be settling for you if he really feels that way.” Ouch. But true.

Maybe Hassan was right when he said, “Fucking asshole.” Ouch. But true? I hope not.

This is the part where I get sad.

Everything reminds me of him. Bicycles. Firemen. Fire engines. Zombies. Michael Jackson. German shepherds. Cats. The exit for Linwood on the Lodge. Vegetarian cooking. Hyperballad. Soccer. Elbow. Fish tacos. The word, “integrity.” Jack Burton. The Hobbit. Tall men. His name. Everything. Annoying.

The break-up conversation started with a funny story about his short-lived career as a Boy Scout. We were laughing, genuinely laughing together, just fifteen minutes before he was apologizing and I was crying. Boy Scouts will remind me of him for a long time to come.

The last time we ate dinner together we had tuna melts. He jokingly sang Simply Red to me across the dinner table because somehow he knows all of the words to every song ever written, even the ones he doesn’t like. I was laughing. His eyes were mischievous. Simply Red will remind me of him for a long time to come.

In fact, the list of music that will remind me of him is terrifyingly long. I might have to stick to classical and jazz for awhile. Except for John Coltrane. John Coltrane will just remind me of the night we sat on my couch after eating dinner and watching a movie, when we were trying to just be friends. And so we sat, I with my head on his shoulder, he with his arm around me, and did not speak for thirty minutes. He finally stirred to get up and “Blue Train” came on. Instead of saying goodbye he said softly to the top of my head, “Well one of my favorite songs is on now. I guess I’ll have to stay a few more minutes.” And we just listened. At the end of the song he went home.

This is the part where I get to feeling sorry for myself, but just for a moment.

The fact that I have, yet AGAIN, offered up on a platter my trust, my time, my affection, my body, and my love to a man who sampled it, almost consumed it entirely, only to say, “You know what, this is not what I wanted after all,” makes me feel foolish and small and quiet and skeptical and unsure and unattractive and undesirable and hopeless. But just for a moment.

Breaking up with a man I love is difficult. The fact that he never, in all the time we spent together, actually loved me back makes things harder still. Sara urges me to learn from this. I believe the lesson is to choose more carefully. Heart, did you hear that? Choose more carefully. Or else there may be nothing left by the time the right person shows up.

What Wasted Unconditional Love...

2011-07-17T22:32:00.002-04:00

What you did to me made me
See myself something different.
Though I try to talk sense to myself
But I just won't listen.

Won't you go away,
Turn yourself in
You're no good at confession.
Before the image that you burned me in
Tries to teach you a lesson.

What you did to me made me see myself somethin' awful.
A voice once stentorian is now again meek and muffled.
It took me such a long time to get back up the first time you did it.
I spent all I had to get it back, and now it seems I've been outbidded.

My peace and quiet was stolen from me.
When I was looking with calm affection,
You were searching out my imperfections.

What wasted unconditional love!
On somebody...
Who doesn't believe in the stuff.

You came upon me like a hypnic jerk
When I was just about settled.
And when it counts you recoil
With a cryptic word and leave a love belittled.

Oh what a cold and common old way to go.
I was feeding on the need for you to know me
Devastated at the rate you fell below me.

What wasted unconditional love!
On somebody...
Who doesn't believe in the stuff.

Oh, well.

Prince.

2011-07-09T00:19:00.001-04:00

I honestly don't know why I ever bothered dating men who don't like Prince. Having learned the error of my ways, I will be sure to *never* repeat my past mistakes. Seriously. So amazing.

Baby You Can Drive My Car

2011-06-12T22:41:00.002-04:00

I’ve decided to perform an experiment for the month of June. No, it does not involve beakers or Bunsen burners, but rather bicycles and buses. Oh. And my weird feet, of course. From June 1-30, 2011, I will park my car and use alternate forms of transportation in order to get where I need to go. Instead of driving, I will take the bus, walk, or ride my bicycle.

I am allowed to beg for a ride somewhere twice, once from my mom, and once from a friend. I’m only allowed to catch a ride with someone if they are going to the same place that I am, and if they don’t have to go more than one mile out of their way to pick me up.

I’ve given myself three outs for using my car, which is currently parked on the street in front of my house:

In the event of an absolute *emergency* – someone’s in the hospital or stranded on the freeway
If it is going to be inordinately dangerous; for example, if I have to go somewhere alone and will be coming back too late at night or have to transfer buses in an unsafe neighborhood
If it is going to jeopardize my job in any way because I’m unable to get where I need to be when I need to be there

I think these are reasonable exceptions and I’m interested to see how often I’ll need to use them. I’m also interested to see how many times I flake out and use my car just because it’s too much of a pain in the ass not to.

I started thinking about this when I moved at the end of March. I lived in my little apartment for a year, just one year, and managed to acquire a shocking amount of stuff. I’d go to Bed, Bath and Beyond for a shower gift and come home with a cake stand (only $10!), and an extra laundry basket ($2!!), and who knows what else. I’d go to the grocery store and buy every beautiful vegetable in sight and end up throwing far too many of them in the trash because I couldn’t eat them all before they spoiled. It was easy to acquire stuff because I didn't have to think about how to transport it, I could just toss it in the back of my car and presto! I started to wonder, what if I actually had to carry all that crap I consumed, in my arms, all the way home from the store?

I'd have a lot less shit in my basement.

One day my friend Sara and I began discussing what it would take to go completely without a car in metro Detroit.

Me: “It’d be hard. Especially in February.”

Her: “If you’re seriously considering it you need to try it for a month in the summer and a month in the winter, to see if it’s even possible.”

This was, of course, a brilliant idea. (I really love having brilliant friends, but that's beside the point, back to my experiment.) I knew she was right. If I was serious I was going to have to commit to a serious test.

So this is my summer test drive. Or rather, my summer test walk. Twelve days in to my little transportation experiment I’ll say that it’s been… interesting. Easy at times, difficult at others. Sometimes relaxing, sometimes stressful. I’m tracking all of my miles and the method of travel. I’m taking notes and making observations. I keep reminding myself that if I could manage to go without my car it would save me $350/month.

We’ll see where I land in another 18 days. Wish me luck.

Smithereens

2011-04-01T11:37:00.002-04:00

Fall in love with a dear friend who is in love with someone else. This is an excellent test of your mettle; that is, if you can avoid getting your heart smashed to smithereens.

Seeing Red

2011-03-01T23:12:00.001-05:00

I bought new reading glasses. They are red. I love them a lot.

A lot.

Things At Which I Am Just No Good

2011-03-01T12:22:00.005-05:00

Exercising self-restraint
Masking my feelings
Exercising on a regular basis
Giving up caffeine
Taking my thyroid medication
Folding my clean laundry in a timely fashion
Putting my foot down
Making pie crusts
Meeting deadlines
Holding back tears
Being quiet
Taking quick showers
Finishing my book club books
Listening to music at low volumes
Biting my tongue
Keeping secrets

Don't Look Now

2011-02-25T00:37:00.006-05:00

It has been a very long time since a man touched me with love on his fingertips. I’m not sure I remember the feeling.

Confession: I spent most of 2010 making love to a man who was not making love to me in return. Oh the physical act was there, and at times I could swear I’d see a flicker of love in his eyes, but that was just my confusion of sexual tenderness for love. I am easily confused.

Somehow when a lover hurts my feelings it’s like I can feel every past hurt from every past lover rush back to me all at once. And the twinge in my heart is so great that tears bloom in my eyes.

Suddenly I am sitting in my bedroom, talking on the telephone. My grandmother has just died and I’m saying, “I just need you to come over and hold me.” Mark refuses to come. And he does not understand. I am crying.

Suddenly I am driving my car in Ann Arbor with a dark haired man in the passenger seat. The windows are down and we are listening to Pearl Jam. I am laughing when I turn toward him and finally notice the marks on his neck that were not made by me. I’m hitting the brakes while trying not to hit him in the face. I’m kicking Chris out of my car miles from his house. I am crying.

Suddenly I am looking at my checking account balance wondering why his check for half the rent bounced. I am sitting in an airport listening to him explain that he doesn’t have the money he promised he’d save for our vacation mere hours before we are supposed to leave. I’m talking to his sister realizing the computer he “sold for $40” was actually sold for four hundred dollars. Another lie. About money. Again. And I am crying. I am crying. I am crying myself to sleep on the couch while Shaun sleeps peacefully in our bed.

Suddenly I am waking up in bed next to him, his long arms and legs wrapped around me, keeping me warm. I am coasting down a hill behind him on my bicycle, wind and happiness on my cheeks on a hot summer day. I am closing my eyes as he kisses me, knowing that he is a man who will never lie to me. I am sitting in a dark movie theater listening to the sound of our laughter rise up toward the ceiling. I am watching him fidget with his keys while he talks about movies with the video store clerk, knowing we won't actually watch the one we are renting. I am chopping peppers, listening to music he gave to me, music that I love, music that he knew I’d love. I'm on a rooftop in Nashville, at a wedding on my birthday, hoping that he will call me to wish me a happy one. I am standing at the foot of his bed as Mike says to me, “Don’t fall in love with me.”

I am lying when I respond, “I won’t.”

I am lying.

Winter in Chicago

2011-02-02T00:55:00.000-05:00

Dating 2.0

2010-11-09T10:26:00.002-05:00

Everyone seems to be online dating. I’m not sure I understand this. This means that on any given day, at any given time, with any given person you meet, there could be multiple online versions of their personality floating around in cyberspace. Their Facebook self, their Match.com self, their OKCupid self. All these virtual renderings consist of carefully edited lists of the books and movies and music that they like, what their ideal first date would be, how much money they make, how they feel about God, their level of education, if they’re ‘fit’ or if they have ‘a little extra’, and blah blah blah.

Then there are the even more carefully selected photos. The perfect angle, the perfect lighting, the perfect composition that says, “Hey, I’m attractive, I could be your soul mate, I’m probably fantastic in bed, I don’t take myself too seriously, and I happen to like all the same crap that you do! Message me!” Is this really how people meet nowadays?

There are so many sites to choose from that even the platform you select seems to say something about you. Do you use a free site or do you actually pay for this garbage? (No judgment.) Do you use a site that only makes heterosexual matches, or do you intentionally use Chemistry.com because they accept everyone, and you’re an open-minded person?

And let’s not forget the corresponding smart phone apps for each site so that you can always be connected. Check your matches while waiting in line at the bank! While riding in the elevator! While waiting for your food at a restaurant! What happened to looking around while waiting in line at the bank, on the elevator, or at the restaurant because there might be a hot girl or guy right behind you – you know, in the flesh! Gasp! I’ve witnessed people checking their matches while out at the bar, or at a party, or in line at the bank. What if you miss your next great date (or relationship) because while you were busy fiddling with your phone, your life was busy passing you by?

Online dating is a steaming pile of dogshit. Of all the wonderful couples that I am blessed to know and love, and there are a lot, there is only one – ONE! – who met online. They are the exception-turned-urban legend whose story people tell to their lonely friends and relatives to convince them to try online dating. To be fair, their story is beautiful, as are all stories of true love. They fell in love, moved across states to be closer to one another, and eventually got married. I believe they’ll have a strong, lasting marriage. Not that marriage is everyone’s goal, I certainly don’t need a relationship to lead to marriage to consider it successful….

But where was I? Oh yeah, at the giant steaming pile of dogshit. Here’s why: at the end of the day, after all your lists of music and books and movies have been compared and evaluated, and you’ve ascertained the person’s views on God and education and the death penalty, it doesn’t really matter. None of it really matters because it is totally impossible to account for the miracle of human chemistry in an online setting. Without chemistry on every level – intellectual, emotional, physical – you cannot have a relationship. Without at least a little chemistry on every one of those levels I can’t even have good sex. Chemistry doesn’t mean that two people like all of the same things. In fact, that’s boring. Chemistry is the spark, the intrigue, the passion. It’s what pulls two people together, even in the most unlikely settings and circumstances. And although I can’t define it concretely or draw you a diagram, I know it when I feel it. Like every person on the planet.

Today, right now, in the year of our Lord two thousand and ten, there are no more people going on first dates, getting into relationships, or getting married than there were in 1985, before online dating existed. Online dating doesn’t increase your chance of meeting someone with whom you’ll spark, so here’s the question: why do it? Why do it?? Has the Internet revolution so stunted our social skills that we don’t know how to meet people in person anymore? Ladies, are we too lazy to do our makeup and go to the bar (or grocery store, or bank, or elevator) and make eye contact and flirt? Guys, is shaving and throwing on a clean shirt really so difficult that you’d prefer to sit in your room, glued to your computer monitor, scouring the Interwebs for the next love of your life? I realize that prior to this past year, I was single for a period of only two months in between a two year and a five year relationship, so I don’t have a lot of experience dating in any format in the past decade, but has the game changed so much? Is this Dating 2.0?

If it is then I’m screwed. My palms start to sweat just thinking about this possibility. I signed up for a free online dating site for a period of about three weeks several months ago. It was, as expected, just enough time to get creepy messages from all manner of creepy, socially awkward weirdos (including a man with creepy horns implanted on his head, creepy caps on his teeth that looked like fangs, and a giant tattoo of a creepy lizard/dragon across his creepy chest), and go on two blah dates. Single guys, I beg you, put down your smart phones! Log off of your Match.com profile! Come to the bar! Go to the bank tomorrow! Open your eyes! There are wonderful single women all around you. Including me. I’d love to go on a second date. (You know, a second date? That’s the one that comes after a good first date? It’s OK, I understand, you haven’t been on one of those in a while.)

The truth is that I’m a snob. I don’t want to meet someone online. Does this make me a non-line dater? Some friends tell me that the medium shouldn’t matter, if I want to meet someone I shouldn’t discriminate, I shouldn’t judge. But I don’t want to meet someone, I want to meet one very special person. And I don’t want to meet him online. I’d rather meet him in a bookstore, or at a stoplight, or in an elevator, or at the bar, and I’m perfectly happy waiting for him for as long as it takes. Whatever he’s doing is just exactly what he has to be doing in order to meet me at just exactly the right time. And honestly, if he misses the bus and never shows up and I’m on my own for the rest of my life? Why exactly would that be a terrible tragedy? I will certainly be in no short supply of love and companionship because I have incredible friends and an amazing family. And, having narrowly escaped what certainly would have ended up as a failed marriage between two people utterly wrong for each other, being happy and alone is greatly preferable to being miserable with someone else.

In summation, to the pro-online daters out there who label me a cynic and a snob, I say (with the deepest love and affection), “Screw you.”

Now who’s coming to the bar with me?

Both Sides Now

2010-08-03T19:31:00.001-04:00

by Joni Mitchell

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere
I've looked at clouds that way

But now they only block the sun
They rain and snow on everyone
So many things I would have done
But clouds got in my way

I've looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's cloud illusions I recall
I really don't know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels
The dizzy dancing way you feel
As ev'ry fairy tale comes real
I've looked at love that way

But now it's just another show
You leave 'em laughing when you go
And if you care, don't let them know
Don't give yourself away

I've looked at love from both sides now
From give and take, and still somehow
It's love's illusions I recall
I really don't know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud
To say "I love you" right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds
I've looked at life that way

But now old friends are acting strange
They shake their heads, they say I've changed
Well something's lost, but something's gained
In living every day

I've looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all
I've looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It's life's illusions I recall
I really don't know life at all

Love vs. Marriage

2010-07-26T23:29:00.001-04:00

I’ve been to a few weddings now since The Great Breakup of 2009. At first I was afraid I’d never be able to go to a wedding again in my life, but somehow I am finding more and more comfort in each one I attend. There is something about watching two people who love and respect each other exchange vows of marriage that they actually mean that resonates in my lover’s heart, bruised as it still may be.

On Saturday one of my younger cousins got married. During the ceremony the pastor said something like, “Marriage is not only choosing the right partner, but also being the right partner.” Shaun and I never could have been the right partners for each other. I tried for so long to turn him into so many things that he is not. Shame on me for doing that to someone I loved. Shame on me for doing that to myself.

In the past six months I’ve started to realize that a wedding is not important to me. A marriage – in the traditional sense of the word – is also not important to me. I just want love. Love wins. I want a real man who will really love me who I can really love back. I expect finding such a relationship to be one of the greatest challenges of my life. I plan to be exceptionally picky this time around. No settling. I want what I deserve.

Collections

2010-07-14T00:53:00.006-04:00

When I think about my childhood my memories get lost in songs. Sometimes it’s an entire album of songs – like Paul Simon’s Graceland, which reminds me of driving to Wisconsin every summer with my mom and little brother. I can still see the inside of mom’s old Buick. I remember arriving at Aunt Mary’s house in Green Bay amidst the overwhelming birth of the Bay flies. Mom had to turn the windshield wipers on to clear their buggy guts from the glass.

Other times it’s just one song, like Leon Russell’s A Song For You. My parents were going out somewhere some night, to a party that required dressing up and the proper application of cologne and perfume. Dad was ready to go, mom was not. I sat curled up in one of the chairs in front of the speakers in our back room and watched my dad smoke a cigarette while the song played. I remember how long and wavy his hair was, and how he smelled of Old Spice, and the falling notes of Leon Russell’s opening piano.

I remember how, at age four, I danced around that same back room to Pat Benatar’s All Fired Up while wearing my tulip embroidered tutu. I couldn’t dance too wildly, otherwise mom’s record would skip.

I remember getting scared watching Thriller with my dad and running to hide under my bed. I was only three then. I eventually came out of my room in time to see Michael’s scary yellow eyes at the end. My dad still loves that song.

I remember the day mom and dad got their new mattress delivered. The box spring and mattress were on the floor in the family room while mom swept and mopped their bedroom floor. I laid down on the new mattress, still enclosed in its protective plastic, and she played Phoebe Snow’s Poetry Man over and over and over again.

I remember cranking Lenny Kravitz’s Fly Away while driving down some Florida highway in mom’s Chevy Astro, with my brother in the passenger seat. We needed some time away from the parents that vacation. I wonder if he remembers that?

Recently I went through my parents’ vinyl collection. They have not owned a functioning record player in almost two decades, but they still have their albums. Looking at their library I could see a bit of what each of my parents must have been like before they met, before they got married, before they had babies. I could see a bit of what they were like when they were each my age. I could see how they’ve each had their influence on me. Mom wasn’t allowed to listen to The Beatles as a kid, so she had things like The Boston Pops Play The Beatles! The 60s version of Kidz Bop, I imagine. She also had Gordon Lightfoot and Carole King and Stevie Wonder and Aretha Franklin and actual Beatles albums, acquired after age eighteen I’m sure. Dad had Jimi Hendrix and lots of Santana and Robin Trower and Chaka Kahn and The Who.

I wonder who will look at my collections someday, attempting to learn a thing or two about me from what I have gathered over the years. Maybe it will be my music, maybe it will be my books, maybe it will be my friends. I’d be fine being judged by any of these things. Now ex-boyfriends on the other hand, is a totally different story. Let’s hope no one ever judges me based on that collection. Let's just stick to the music.

Proper Goodbyes

2010-06-13T12:19:00.003-04:00

Lately I’ve started to write a lot of things that never seem to get finished. Even my journal entries are becoming difficult to complete. Two nights ago I fell asleep while writing and woke up to find a semi-coherent sentence that slowly devolves into oblivion, sliding off the page with one giant gash of black ink. The next morning the pen was still in my fingers. Re-reading it I was tempted to put a giant red X through the entire entry. Or just torch the journal and start over. I’ve been filling up journals with nonsense for years, and for what? So someone can read them some day long after I’ve taken my last breath and realize what an idiot I was – especially about men? Useless.

I suppose it’s not just journal entries that I can’t finish, I don’t seem to be able to go the distance with a relationship either. I don’t know how people manage to stay married for thirty years without getting sick of one another. Maybe I’m like a relationship sprinter. Or maybe I’m in the wrong race. Or maybe it’s not a race and I just don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.

Thinking back on all the goodbyes I’ve exchanged with men in my life, it’s painfully obvious that in every case I knew what would bring about the end of things long before things ever ended. Sometimes it was on a first date, sometimes it was after a few weeks, sometimes it took two years. In every single case I can remember a moment where I thought, I should not be with this person, but of course I almost never said or did anything about it. I wonder how much heartache I could have saved myself by speaking up?

Maybe it was something superficial – like a ridiculous outfit or an off-color joke; or maybe it was serious – like showing up for a lunch date with a hickey or writing me a rubber check for half the rent. Regardless of what the indicator was, the point is that such indicators actually existed. And I ignored them. That I can remember so many of them with such clarity tells me I ought to trust my instincts a little more in the future. Had I paid better attention they would have served me well.

What my instincts tell me now is that some day, possibly soon, I will be told that my company is no longer wanted. That my kiss is no longer exciting. That it was fun while it lasted, but it’s no longer comfortable to fall asleep next to me. I know this will hurt a little bit, but I will appreciate the honesty. Honesty is important. From now I on I will be honest with myself. Especially about proper goodbyes.

Look at that. I finished something.

Please Me Like You Want To

2010-04-30T13:20:00.003-04:00

Leaving me is the least that you could do....

The Guys They Are A-Changin’

2010-04-09T15:07:00.008-04:00

It’s hard to find a good man these days. I blame Jack Nicholson for this. I’d like to introduce my first piece of evidence. (Well OK, it’s really my only piece of evidence. Quit being so damn picky.) Watch this:

What the characters in this scene fail to realize is that generally it is not, in fact, a compliment when a man tells a woman that she makes him want to be a better person. Or that he will change X about himself in order to date her/sleep with her/get her back/marry her. They are not alone in this misunderstanding; it’s rather popular these days. Just ask John Legend. Or any one of my ex-boyfriends. I guess it’s easy to see why so many people, both men and women, might see this expression as a form of flattery. “You mean you’d give X up for me? How amazing!” But it’s really not amazing. At all. Allow me to explain.

Plenty of couples fall in love every day. Sometimes (frequently if you happen to be me) one half of the couple does not have their shit together. There are varying levels of Shit-Togetherness, ranging from the truly horrifying Can-You-Blow-In-This-Straw-To-Start-My-Car-So-We-Aren’t-Late-For-The-Movie? to the not so terrible I-Should-Probably-Get-Around-To-Opening-That-IRA-I-Keep-Talking-About. Depending on where a man falls on this scale, certain eff-ups – even biggish ones – may be overlooked. Sometimes they can be overlooked for quite awhile under extenuating circumstances. And often blame lies with the woman for not knowing what she wants and needs in a partner. But eventually all that outstanding shit is going to hit the fan, hard, and if the woman in this scenario is a woman worth having she will probably leave. Suddenly the man will realize that he has lost something amazing and, correctly recognizing this (maybe for the first time), he will offer to change in order to get her back. When this promise to change occurs before the first date – in order to secure a first date even – it often starts small before snowballing into a monster. Case in point:

Dude: [lights up a cigarette, the same kind he’s been smoking every day for a decade]

Girl: Oh, you smoke? I don’t date smokers. I’ll just be going now.

Dude: Wait! [violently squishes cigarette in a nearby ashtray] I’ve been meaning to quit for years now anyway. I can quit for you. [starts twitching, tries not to pull out another cigarette, hands book of matches to Girl]

*Sigh*

It’s really all downhill from there. He might try to quit smoking, sort of, but sooner or later, when he’s had a particularly craptastic day and she’s not around, he’ll go to the store and buy a pack and chain smoke the whole thing. He’ll brush his teeth three times and drink half a bottle of Scope, wash all the laundry in his house attempting to eradicate the smoky evidence, and the second she walks in the door she’ll say, “Has someone been smoking in here??” He’ll start to resent her for having to sneak around just to do something he’s always done, something he enjoys and that makes him feel good. She’ll be disappointed that he’s not keeping his word. Things will end badly. It’s a slippery slope.

So Maria, you ask, if you don’t seem to be complimented by a man’s offer to change for the better, what IS complimentary? So glad you asked, dear reader, I’ll tell you. It’s complimentary when a man takes care of himself so that he can take proper care of the people he loves – including his woman. It’s complimentary when a man takes the time to get to know himself, to understand what he wants out of his life, is deliberate in his actions in order to get what he wants, and then chooses you to be the woman with whom he spends his time. It’s complimentary when a hardworking man endeavors to continue to deserve the woman he loves every single day by choosing to honor her with all his actions. It’s complimentary when a man makes a mistake and actually learns from it. It’s complimentary when a man loves a woman so much that she inspires him to be the best version of himself that he can be.

Of course this all works the same in reverse, good men deserve these same things from their partners. And of course I understand that at the end of the day there is no one on the planet that has all their shit together all the time. No one is perfect, mistakes will be made, and that is OK. I’m not perfect and don’t expect other people to be. We all need companionship, love, and support for the hard times. But at this point in my life I’ve decided that I’m going to look for a man who is on the right end of that spectrum, who is ready for what I’ve got to give, and doesn’t need (or want!) to change his lifestyle in order to be what I need. I’m pretty sure I deserve that. I think this is a good goal for 2010.

Maybe 2011. I’m still having fun being single.

Happy and Sad, Sad and Happy

2010-01-27T17:51:00.003-05:00

I can't tell if I'm happy or sad.

Lately I've felt happy. I'm laughing with good friends, laughing with loving family, laughing with handsome men. I've been going out and having a good time. I've been staying in and taking bubble baths. I've been learning how to smile again. But no matter how much I laugh or smile or flirt there comes the moment -- and it inevitably will arrive -- where the twinge of guilt creeps in.

I start to think about the man I almost married and I know that wherever he is, he is most likely not happy. And then I feel sad. Some days I feel happy all day long, laughing, smiling; and when my head hits that pillow I think, "Wow, I didn't miss him today." And then I feel sad. And guilty. Sometimes I catch myself daydreaming about what my life is going to be like from now on and I get excited at the ocean of possibilities that I have in front of me. Then I remember that he's counting down the weeks until he gets sent to Afghanistan. And I feel sad. I still love him and I want more than anything for him to find happiness and peace. To find love again. I worry about him going overseas and pray that he'll come home safely to his friends and his family.

Sometimes I want to call him and tell him that this was not all his fault. I should have realized a long, long time ago that we were not right for each other. But I didn't. I should have been honest with myself about who he was and what we both wanted. But I wasn't. I could have chosen not to hold him responsible for my unhappiness, and placed that burden where it always belonged, with myself. But I couldn't. And I can't call him. I don't want him to see my name on his caller ID and get excited, only to talk to me and get upset. I don't want to hurt him any more.

I just don't want to hurt him any more.

Which is why I don't know if I'm happy or sad. I feel happy, but I feel like being happy is somehow being mean to him. That might be absurd, but it is what it is, and I can't help it. So for now I'll go on feeling happy and sad. And maybe some day soon I'll just get to be happy. I think I deserve it, after having been sad for such a long time.

Murphy’s Law, or A Story in Which Everything That Can Go Wrong, Will.

2009-11-30T22:28:00.002-05:00

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.

Shaun and I are not getting married. I moved back to stay with my mum and dad for a bit while I finish graduate school. Their house was broken into and just enough things were stolen to ruin my life for the next several weeks, including my computer and the engagement ring which was legally Shaun’s. Am now trying to finish my semester without losing my mind, and simultaneously hoping that Shaun opts not to take me to small claims court for the ring, since it was uninsured.

So. At the end of this, the longest and most ridiculous relationship of my life, I’m left with a lot of questions I don’t know the answers to. Most of them begin with the word, “Why.” For example, Why did I let this go on for so long, knowing that I was not ever going to be really happy? Oh, and, Why did he even ask me to marry him in the first place? I’m resigned to the fact that I may not ever know the answers to these questions. I’m also determined not to *ever* let this shit happen again.

Maybe I’ll join the Peace Corps. Maybe I’ll get a job in Chicago or Texas and move away. Maybe I’ll move downtown like I’ve been wanting to for ages. Maybe I’ll hit the lottery and go live out the rest of my days in Spain. Maybe I’ll go out and get absolutely shitfaced with my friends every weekend between December 12th and whenever the hell winter semester starts.

Or maybe I’ll do all of these things. And anything else I want to do.

Anything I want to do. I barely know what that means anymore, and that’s pathetic.

So I’ll conclude this web log entry with another question, only this one is of the What variety.

Maria, What do you really want to do? I'm open to suggestions.

Stay tuned, dear reader, stay tuned. Oh, and if you’re in Detroit any time soon and feel like having a beer with someone, do call me, will you?

A Resurrection Of Sorts

2009-11-29T23:07:00.001-05:00

So I've decided to bring my blog back to life. Holler if you're still out there. Keep an eye out....

For the Star Wars Geeks

2009-01-02T12:45:00.001-05:00

This video is up for a People's Choice Award this year (you can vote for it once a day up til January 7th at www.pca.com). He took John Williams' most famous movie themes and made a song about Star Wars. If I wasn't already engaged to Shaun, I might try to marry this young man. Enjoy.

Against My Better Judgment…

2008-12-22T09:48:00.000-05:00

I am in love with the Twilight books. Yep, I said it. My name is Maria and I’m addicted to a saga about teenage vampire love.

I’m halfway through the third book in the series of four and I realize that it does not make sense for me to be enjoying this story as much as I am. I generally have much better taste in literature than this, for heaven’s sake! I mean, can we talk about character names for a moment? Our lovely, perpetually blushing, innocent-yet-wise-beyond-her-years protagonist is named Bella Swan. Really? Her name is Bella and she’s beautiful, how shockingly original. And Swan – once an ugly duckling, now grown up into a beautiful swan. Sigh. Talk about an extreme lack of subtlety.

So the main story line is that Bella falls in love with a “17” year old vampire named Edward Cullen(who is actually 107). The author, Stephenie Meyer, spends an unbelievable amount of time talking about how Edward is basically sex on a stick. His face, his body, his voice, everything about him draws Bella in – and her readers too. As my friend Sara says, “You want to know the lust that is Edward Cullen.” So true, dear reader, so true. He tries to warn Bella that he might be the bad guy and that it’s dangerous for her to be around him, but of course she ignores his warnings. This proves two things: first, that even when men are 107 all they really want is a 17 year old girl, and second, girls will fall for the bad boy even when it means risking a broken heart – or death, in this case.

**WARNING: SPOILERS!!

So at the beginning of the second book Edward and his vampire family are throwing Bella a party for her 18th birthday party (which, of course, she is upset about since now that means she is “older” than Edward), when she accidentally gives herself a paper cut and one of Edward’s brothers almost kills her. A tense moment in the plot to be sure, and something I was not expecting, but an action that caused me to wonder, “Well, what the hell happens when she has her period??” I asked Sara about this, as she’s already read all four books, and has been dealing with a similar obsession a bit longer than I have. Her response: “It’s never addressed.”

Does this not seem like an obvious flaw to anyone except me? They constantly talk about the how the Cullens resemble animals – bears and mountain lions. They have heightened senses of smell. In my opinion, Bella’s in some trouble every time Aunt Flo comes to town. But apparently that’s just me.

What’s really the most upsetting to me about this story though, is the fact that Edward and Bella are in love, supposedly soul mates, dedicated to each other forever, insanely attracted to one another, but they don’t have sex. (At least not so far.) Edward is afraid that it will be too much for him and he will hurt her. And because he tells her this all the time, how he could hurt her, ne kill her, at any moment, the readers fear it too. But Bella seems to think that, “Edward and his rules,” are a bit silly and old-fashioned. This teaches the young people who read these books that sex is bad! It makes men do bad things and it could get women hurt!
In spite of all this, I just can’t help myself. And against my better judgment I freaking LOVE these books. They’re what you get when you cross Danielle Steel with Anne Rice (before she was born again and swore off the undead forever). So I will finish Eclipse and rush out to get Breaking Dawn. And when it’s all said and done I will probably read them all over again a few months down the line.

The Christmas Spirit

2008-12-22T09:46:00.001-05:00

Breathe and Reboot.

2008-12-21T23:48:00.003-05:00

So I just deleted the entire contents of my hotmail account. The oldest email dates back to the summer after I graduated from Michigan. I had more than 700 unread emails, a total of 3200+ in my inbox. Just too overwhelming. Delete, start fresh. Maybe I'll be able to maintain a better handle on the incessant stream of junkmail I get now.

It seemed like a good idea to keep up the trend and resurrect my lifeless blog. I know, I know, it's about time.

Tonight I made Shaun bring me to see "Twilight" -- I feel sure I will pay for this for a long, long time. Bless his heart, he was the only male in the theater. It's really Sara's fault, she recommended the first book to me. (Well actually, she mentioned how the descriptions of Edward make her drool.) A quick 500 pages and 7.5 hours later and I'd finished Twilight, then I had to get my hands on the second one. I drove to Borders in a snow storm to buy it (not kidding). Finished that one in two days. So Shaun gave me #3 as an early Christmas present. They're easy (brainless) reads, and it feels nice to not be reading for school. I plan to use my semester break to its fullest.

Which brings me to school. Ah, school. Still love it, but this past semester became - rather suddenly - exceedingly, ridiculously difficult. It quickly became what everyone told me grad school would be like from the beginning. So at least now I know what to expect from here on out! I certainly don't expect things to get any easier. But I'm officially half way through and I still have my 4.0 intact. Go me!

I promise it won't be almost three months before the next post. Honest.

Wassup With That?

2008-10-02T16:59:00.002-04:00

Dear Progressive:

I honestly don't understand the point of this picture:

HBO is Back, or, I Like TV

2008-09-30T00:29:00.009-04:00

Many of you may already know that I used to work for a cable company. A big one. I've also been a loyal fan of HBO since before the days of Sex & the City and The Sopranos and Curb Your Enthusiasm and Real Time with Bill Maher. For a while there HBO could do no wrong. On top of Sopranos and Sex they built a solid lineup of shows -- Alan Ball's Six Feet Under, the incredible (and underrated) Deadwood. They were pretty much the Cadillac of premium cable channels. And then it all seemed to start to fall apart.

I had to work the Monday after the series finale of The Sopranos aired. People were pissed. Inordinately pissed if you ask me. I was one of a very few who actually liked the finale, and it's big, Screw you! to everyone else's expectations. Plus I like Journey. But I digress. Everyone in Metro Detroit canceled HBO. We couldn't even talk them into keeping it for $5 a month. I knew HBO was worried. Sex, Deadwood, and Six Feet Under were all long finished. Losing The Sopranos was like losing your last remaining limb after many years and painful surgeries -- and the HBO sales reps knew it.

Calling Lisa Kudrow's weird and horribly un-funny The Comeback, "the replacement for Sex & the City!" in a sales presentation to our group, the HBO rep looked close to tears. Things got worse with John From Cincinatti. In Treatment features a great cast, but somehow I've never found it compelling. I did rather enjoy the first season of Tell Me You Love Me, but that may have been because my man was being held hostage by the U.S. Navy and there were some pretty, um, shall we say... steamy scenes in that show. Entourage still had to prove itself, and while Bill Maher and Larry David are both hilarious and brilliant, they may be a little bit neurotic for some. HBO needed it's one-two punch back.
They've got it.

I think, more than any other show, Entourage is the new Sex & the City. It's funny, candid, extravagent, and (more than anything else) about four friends who'll do anything for each other. It's proven itself to me and I'm just waiting for it to start winning some awards. But the real point of even wasting the 20 minutes it's taken to write this so far, is to tell you about True Blood.

Created by Alan Ball (whose credits include American Beauty and Six Feet Under) and based on the novels of Charlaine Harris, it's the story of a modern day romance between a 25 year old telepathic waitress (Anna Paquin) and a 173 year old vampire named Bill (Stephen Moyer), who is, to put it simply, really freaking hot -- in spite of being dead. (It's a technicality!) It takes places in rural northern Louisiana. There is sex, comedy, and blood. It is the greatest thing I have seen on TV in a long, long time. HBO is back.

Where A Kid Can Be A Kid

2008-09-29T18:40:00.003-04:00

Tina for Prez

2008-09-18T15:45:00.002-04:00

I Belong to the NRA - National Reading Association

2008-09-16T22:02:00.002-04:00

And this is our new bumper sticker:

Obama '08

2008-09-01T17:06:00.004-04:00

Mom and I went downtown this morning to try to hear Barack Obama speak at the Labor Day Parade. We were not the only ones! Check out the video I took. OBAMA '08!!!

I Can't Believe Joey Is Six Years Old.

2008-08-10T21:02:00.002-04:00

And yes, that is a Dyson vacuum cleaner on his cake. Just in case you were wondering.

Re-re-re-reading

2008-08-08T21:54:00.003-04:00

So I'm reading the Harry Potter books. Again. This will be the first re-read all the way through every book since the seventh came out. They still rock.

Politik

2008-08-05T20:48:00.003-04:00

So I voted today. First time since moving to the new house. As expected my polling place is a local elementary school. All the volunteers at the polls were little old ladies. One had an actual oxygen tank.

Since it's just a primary you can't split your ticket, you have to vote all Democrat or all Republican. So, to make it 'easier' for voters, the ballot is basically divided into two columns. The Republican candidates are all on the left hand side; the Democratic candidates are on the right. At the top of each column there are corresponding labels. And pictures. Of these men:

The top two men in this picture appeared next to the word, "Republican." The bottom two men were next to the word, "Democrat."

For those of you that slept through American history in high school (because it is unforgivably boring and biased), these four men are (clockwise from top left) Abraham Lincoln, Ronald Reagan, John F. Kennedy, and Franklin Delano Roosevelt. Arguably the most famous and beloved U.S. Presidents from each of their respective parties.

After exiting the voting booth I took my completed ballot to the little old lady with the oxygen tank and asked her who was responsible for designing the ballot, and specifically, for placing those pictures on it. She looked at my ballot and said, "Wow. I've never noticed those before. Is that... Abraham Lincoln?? Ha ha ha, I've really never noticed those before. I don't know who designs the ballots. Try calling City Hall, I guess." Then she stood up and went over to the other blue haired ladies and said, "Hey Eleanor, look at these pictures on the ballots!" I deposited my ballot in the electronic ballot thingamajig and left.

But something about those pictures is bothering me. Of course Republicans want to be represented by Lincoln and Reagan; Lincoln freed the slaves and Reagan is like the Paul McCartney of Republicans -- everyone loves him. And of course Democrats want to be represented by FDR and JFK, FDR got us out of the Great Depression and JFK was the politician's equivalent to Brad Pitt.

But are they relevant examples? Is it fair to say that the Republican party of Abraham Lincoln's time is in any real way similar to today's Republican party? Is FDR still an icon for Democrats? And what about young, first time voters? To voters ages 18-25 these examples are not likely to resonate the way a picture of George W. Bush and Bill Clinton would.

I still can't really put my finger on why this bugs me so much, but it just doesn't sit right with me somehow. It seems you shouldn't be able to put pictures like that on a ballot.

At any rate, I just hope the Zoo proposal passes.

Congratulations Steph and Brian!

2008-08-03T11:37:00.002-04:00

It's Coming....

2008-07-31T09:08:00.000-04:00

Umbrella

2008-07-24T16:34:00.006-04:00

A few Wednesdays ago I got caught in the rain without an umbrella. I'd gone straight from work to class, and at some point during my three hour lecture the sun was overtaken by some violent storm clouds. Class ended and it was pouring. My car was parked five blocks away.

I went to the Circulation Desk at the library at WSU and asked if there were any umbrellas in the lost & found. Naturally there weren't. So I headed back outside, zipped up all my zippers, buttoned up all my buttons, and headed out. By the time I got to my car I was drenched. My umbrella was warm and dry though, as it had been resting comfortably on my passenger seat.

Before I made it to the highway I got stopped at a light on a corner that is always occupied by a homeless person. It's not always the same person, but there is always one there. Tonight it was a middle-aged man, huddling underneath his rag of a coat, trying to use his sign for shelter without obstructing its message asking for help. He looked miserable.

I rolled down my window and his head perked up. I yelled to him, "Hey, want an umbrella?" He cracked a big smile and said, "Yeah! It's been raining for three days!" I handed my umbrella to him through the open car window. He opened it up and starting jumping around, almost dancing, saying, "Yeah! YEAH!" Then my light turned green, I smiled and waved, and hit the highway. I was mostly dry by the time I got home.

A few days later I went to the thrift store to buy a replacement umbrella. It cost $2.11. The following Wednesday on my way home from class I saw the same guy sitting at that same intersection, only it wasn't raining. He recognized me while I was stopped at the red light, pointed down to the umbrella sticking out of his bag, and smiled at me. I waved back. I smiled almost the whole way home.

Who knew an old umbrella could mean so much? Little things mean a lot more when you can fit everything you own into an old gym bag. Maybe someday he'll be in a position to give that umbrella to someone else who needs it more than he does. That's what I hope at least.

Oy. It's Been Too Long to Think of a Clever Title.

2008-06-28T09:08:00.003-04:00

So I got my engagement ring and I can I just say that it is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Shaun did a fantastic job (no surprise I'm sure seeing as how he did, after all, pick ME to marry!). Wedding planning has finally started coming along. We spoke with the priest at his church and we are 99.9% sure that we found the place where we are going to have the reception. Now we just have to save the $$.

School is good, work is good - although the drive to and from downtown is absolutely killing me, especially this week. For some reason it's been particularly awful this week. Out house is coming together nicely, we finally got all my books/cds out of boxes and I hung all my pictures. It looks like an actual home now!

Since it's been so long I'm just going to stretch my blog muscles with this little update for now. But (hopefully) there will be more SOON!

This Is Me Feeling Sorry For Myself

2008-05-15T17:38:00.000-04:00

Whenever I tell my mom, “I hate money,” she always responds with, “No, you don’t. You love money. You hate not having any.”

Touché, mom.

I’ve conducted an informal survey about money and romantic relationships and the verdict is in: Money is often the most difficult part of being in love. If I had a nickel for every time I heard, That’s why my parents got divorced, I’d have at least three dollars by now. (And the way things are going, I could really use three dollars.)

As the child of people who, God bless them forever, are not great with money, those responses scare me. As a woman who does not communicate about money very well with the man she is going to marry, those responses scare me. As someone whose car is bleeding oil and anti-freeze and doesn’t have the money for a down payment on a new car, nor the ‘A’ credit rating for financing at a decent interest rate, those responses scare me even more. Especially since I had more than $6,000 saved before Shaun came home in March, all of which has mysteriously vanished. (Well, ‘mysteriously’ is probably not an accurate word. It all went towards bills, a car for Shaun, furniture, utilities, gas, etc. – but the point is: It’s gone.)

It’s hard to have that conversation with the guy at the Chrysler dealership who tells me, “Yeah, unless you have a co-signer with perfect credit, you won’t be approved.” To which I reply, “Well thanks for your time,” knowing that there is not a single person in my life (whom I’d be comfortable asking to co-sign a car loan for me) that has the credit rating to help me. Goodbye dependable car! Goodbye decent gas mileage! Hello one hour drive to work in the morning with no cruise control and blown speakers.

I’m so glad I spent $60k to go to college.

I need a beer.

Your Long Journey

2008-04-12T23:40:00.003-04:00

So my mom and I went to lunch today. Nothing fancy, just coney island. In her car we listened to the album Raising Sand, by Robert Plant and Alison Krauss. A truly beautiful album. On the way back to my house she skipped to the last song and said, "This is the song I want you to play at my funeral." And "Your Long Journey" started.

As the song played I had to turn and look out the passenger window. I didn't want her to see the tears in my eyes. Silly really, since I know she'll read this and then she'll know, but at that moment I didn't want her to see. It was hard to swallow those tears.

The thing of it is, I am incredibly afraid to face the day when my mom will die. And she just said it so matter of factly. Although one is always distantly aware of the mortality of their loved ones, I think most people push it out of their minds until some tragedy or illness brings it into sharp focus. This afternoon, driving down Rochester Road in the afternoon rain, my mom was happy, healthy, and seemingly content that someday she will die. So content she gave me instructions to carry out. I wonder if she ever says things like to my brother? I imagine not. He'd never remember the name of the song. I've listened to it thirteen times today.

My mom lost her mother when she was only 20 years old. When I think about that I know I'm lucky to have had her in my life up til now. And not just had her as a mom, as a friend too. She is the sole person who will be on my side, without fail, no matter what. I feel like she's spoiled me, because I don't think there is another person on Earth who will ever love me as unselfishly as my mom does. Maybe Shaun, someday.

I worry that I will never be able to love my children as unselfishly as my mom has loved us. In fact, it's the primary reason why I'm terrified to have kids. That's why I'm glad that she's healthy and strong. And that she has faith and she prays. My kids will need their Grammy Ellen when their mom is learning how to be a parent the hard way.

And I know I'll need her too.

I Promise

2008-04-01T09:23:00.001-04:00

This is the LAST YouTube video that I will post for a long, long time. But honestly, I've watched this one about 75 times and I almost pee my pants every single time. I want to adopt this kid.

Hey Jude = Hi-Larious!

2008-03-21T14:19:00.001-04:00

Do you think I could adopt this young man? He makes the world a better place, much like The Beatles did with their (original) music.

Just watch it. I promise you won't be sorry.

Alternative Spring Break 2008

2008-03-03T19:00:00.002-05:00

How cool is THIS? Alternative Spring Breakers descended on Detroit last week for a marathon of service projects in and around Detroit.

Learn more about Franklin-Wright Settlements.

Learn more about United Way for Southeastern Michigan.

Is It Just Me?

2008-02-24T15:03:00.003-05:00

Or does this seem incredibly wrong:

This would be former Army Ranger Ivan Castro, who lost his sight while fighting in Iraq. I mean, don't get me wrong, I think that it's great that there are programs that exist to help our wounded Iraq and Afghanistan veterans once they've returned home. But do we have to slap a giant, orange sign across their chest that says, "VISUALLY IMPAIRED" and push them down a giant snow covered hill? Couldn't we give them a sign that says, "WAR HERO," instead? Or at least, "I GAVE UP MY VISION FOR FREEDOM, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE LATELY?" OK, maybe that last one is pushing it, but you get my point. Let's not make them look pitiful, if we can at all possibly help it.

Best Valentine's Day Card. Ever.

2008-02-15T20:23:00.003-05:00

She's got love on her mind. He just wants to get some ass. Classic.

Which Book Are You?

2008-02-14T19:48:00.003-05:00

I'm One Hundred Years of Solitude.

Find out which book you are.

The Merging of Lives

2008-01-27T10:30:00.000-05:00

If I do say so myself, I have to give Shaun and I some major credit. It's hard to begin merging your lives when one of those lives is mostly in Texas. He comes home to Michigan on March 15th (probably) by the way. In time for St. Patrick's Day, which he is particularly excited about.

The day to day business of sharing your life with someone is a lot easier when you can just turn to them while you're both sitting on the couch watching tomorrow's weather and say, "Did you remember to pay your cell phone bill this month?" When you never share a couch you tend to forget to ask, over and over again. Then one day you write it down on a post-it while at work, by some miracle of nature you remember to bring the post-it home, and then you go to call them to ask, "Hey, did you remember to pay your cell phone bill?" -- only when you call you get a message that says their phone has been temporarily disconnected. Ostensibly due to non-payment of the aforementioned bill. Thereby rendering the reminder post-it useless. And wasting paper, apologies Mr. Gore.

This situation is hypothetical, of course, as I pay our cell phone bill every month -- mostly on time, when AT&T isn't pissing me off. (They recently overbilled me by $400, took SEVEN phone calls to get it fixed. Oh for the love. Never ever change your plan if you can at all help it.) It's meant to exemplify how difficult it is to communicate about every day matters when you don't see each other every day. But money in particular is an area where Shaun and my communication skills have always seemed to fly out the window at the last second, and leave us screaming at each other, and I find it to be an even more daunting task over such a distance. We resolved to not let this happen anymore (the screaming part), but we definitely still think very differently about that stuff that can't buy love, as Sir Paul once sang.

It boggles my mind a bit how much a calm, honest conversation can accomplish. Shaun and I have had many of those in the past week - we also had some blow up arguments, some of which were through text messaging, which I've determined is the *worst* possible form of communication in existence today. Smoke signals are probably more effective. But I feel like progress is being made. One of us gets upset and we are almost forced to talk about it because we can't do anything else except talk! In that way it's good that we have to speak on the phone so much, but I think we will both appreciate the face to face discussion a lot more than we used to once he is back in Michigan.

Faith

2008-01-12T15:12:00.000-05:00

Faith is a best-selling album by George Michael.

It is also these things:

1. confidence or trust in a person or thing: faith in another's ability.
2. belief that is not based on proof: He had faith that the hypothesis would be substantiated by fact.
3. belief in God or in the doctrines or teachings of religion: the firm faith of the Pilgrims.
4. belief in anything, as a code of ethics, standards of merit, etc.: to be of the same faith with someone concerning honesty.
5. a system of religious belief: the Christian faith; the Jewish faith.
6. the obligation of loyalty or fidelity to a person, promise, engagement, etc.: Failure to appear would be breaking faith.
7. the observance of this obligation; fidelity to one's promise, oath, allegiance, etc.: He was the only one who proved his faith during our recent troubles.
8. Christian Theology. the trust in God and in His promises as made through Christ and the Scriptures by which humans are justified or saved. —Idiom
9. in faith, in truth; indeed: In faith, he is a fine lad.

[Origin: 1200–50; ME feith, see also: confide]

For me, faith is complicated. I've watched my mom struggle with her faith my whole life. We used to attend mass and she would remain seated when almost everyone else stood up to take communion. When I asked her why she stayed in her seat, she said, "Well, because I'm divorced, and they don't like that." My child's brain thought, But wasn't your ex-husband mean to you? Isn't that why you got divorced? I couldn't understand why God would be mad at her for leaving someone who treated her poorly. At that point it was God vs. Mom, and I was firmly on Mom's side. Any church that didn't like my mom was no church of mine. Then I found out that when I was born she'd met with a priest to see about having me baptized. The priest told her that she wasn't a good Catholic, and couldn't be a good Catholic example to her children, and should consider baptizing them elsewhere. When I found that out, it was pretty much a done deal. Not only had they rejected Mom, they'd rejected me before I could even speak!

In college years later, only a few months after my grandmother died, I found myself starting to wonder about that God who had rejected my mother and I all those years ago. Somehow my mom was still able to lean on her faith to help her through difficult times, and I felt like something was missing from my life, maybe it was faith? With the passing of time I'd learned that not all religions felt the same way about divorce, and I'd started to separate the idea of God from the idea of the different religions and all their rules. (I wonder still what God's opinion of religion is, since it is so often used to divide people.) But seeing as how the overwhelming majority of faithful people the world over feel that God is most easily accessed through religion, I decided to take a religion class. It was about the Old Testament of the Bible, but from an historical perspective. I felt I'd be more comfortable in a classroom environment than in a chruch, but the class was a three hour lecture in a room with no windows in the middle of the summer, about all I learned was that my professor was incredibly sexy. We're talking a modern day Indiana Jones here folks. I enjoyed the lectures, but it was still not the faith I was seeking.

And so that brings me to where I am today. Engaged to a man who is Catholic and who will undoubtedly want our children to be raised Catholic. While there are certainly elements of Catholicism that this pro-choice gal totally disagrees with, I can't deny that my mother's faith has been an immensely important part of her life, and it's helped her to cope with some of the most difficult things humans go through during our short time here. I envy that. If I am going to raise kids a certain way I know I need to learn more about it, so I'm planning to start attending mass as often as I can. I'll keep you posted on how it goes. Maybe all I really need to remember is that of all the people I've ever met in my life, I have the most faith in Shaun. I trust him completely.

Perhaps that's the faith I've been missing.

We're Engaged!

2008-01-06T14:05:00.000-05:00

So over the holidays Shaun popped The Question and I said, "Yes!" He's back in Texas now finishing up school and will be home in the Spring. We are hoping that he will be home in mid-March, but it could be April before he's back in Michigan. I'm pulling for March, and I know he is too - he'd hate missing St. Patrick's Day!

Here are some fun pictures for your enjoyment. The wedding will probably be in May 2009, but we're not sure of the day yet.

One Down, Five to Go

2007-12-17T18:59:00.000-05:00

Congratulations are in order my friends, if I do say so myself. I have just (and when I say 'just' I literally mean just this very minute) completed my first semester of graduate school. Only five more to go before I'm a librarian. YAY! This means that for an ever-so-brief period of time (namely, between right now and January 11th at 1:30 PM) I will actually have - miracle of miracles! - *free* time! Holy crap! What the heck is that?! And to think, I've begun considering continuing on to get my PhD, I must be INSANE.

Some things I am looking forward to doing in the coming days and weeks include, but are not limited to:

seeing Steph and Brian's new house
calling Linda back (sorry dude, it's been ridiculous)
watching TV without feeling guilty about the time spent doing some activity other than studying, and catching up on all the episodes of Nip/Tuck that have been collecting in my DVR
reading something that is NOT from a library science journal (Vogue, here I come!)
drinking adult beverages
spending time with old friends while they are in town
cooking fun Christmas goodies
finishing my Christmas shopping
having fun
giving my brain a much deserved break

And, saving the best for last:

I get to see Shaun when he comes home from Texas!!!! YAY!

Think I'm excited about that last one?

Get Smart, Give Back

2007-12-03T16:28:00.000-05:00

Hello lovelies.

Want to play a fun vocabulary game (ahem, Scrabble fans, this means YOU) and also feed the needy at the same time?

Visit FreeRice.com and earn 20 grains of donated rice for every word you correctly identify the definition for. The game is smart, it automatically adjusts to your vocabulary level based on your answers, so it's sure to challenge even those of you who love to tap into your $5 word collection!

Yesterday, December 2, they donated 231,789,260 grains of rice through the United Nations World Food Programme (WFP). Put it in your Web browser's list of favorites and waste some time at work or school while feeding hungry people all at the same time! That way when your boss says, "Hey, what are you doing goofing around on the Internet all day for?" You can say, "I'm ending world hunger, what are you doing?"

I donated 300 grains of rice of today, how much did you give?

Technology Hates Me, Part 2

2007-11-28T19:59:00.000-05:00

So today the transmission on my car blew up. I swear to holy heaven. I don't know what the freaking deal is, but this is becoming totally ridiculous. I am scheduled to make my LAST car payment on this thing in T-minus 3 months and counting, and *of course* the effing transmission has to go and blow up on me! To make things worse, the tranny was rebuilt, brand new, for me when I bought it in August 2005. Sure, it's been two years and 35,000 miles, but a transmission ought to last a far piece longer than THAT!

On the flip side, my new hard drive arrived in the mail, fresh from Gateway. Shimron (Shaun's best friend), bless his heart, has ever-so-kindly agreed to examine the busted hard drive and see if any of my data can be recovered, as well as install the new one for me. He told me tonight he can even have it back to me tomorrow, which is a blessing because my homework is piling up and I NEED my computer!!

So, lovely readers, please keep your fingers crossed for me that, by some miracle of nature, a magical money elf appears and offers to pay for my transmission rebuild so that I can still buy my family and friends Christmas presents this year, because it'll probably cost me at least $1000, which is my Christmas budget.

Fingers crossed people!!

Technology Hates Me

2007-11-23T21:53:00.000-05:00

So tonight, for no apparent reason other than the fact that technology hates me, my hard drive on my *brand spanking new* -- and expensive as all get out -- Gateway notebook failed. After 45 minutes on the phone with Mark from Gateway support I was faced with two horrible options:

They can ship me a new hard drive in 3-5 business days, which I then have to install, and then I have to ship the defective hard drive back to them within 30 days, otherwise they charge my credit card the cost of the new hard drive, OR
I get to PAY to ship my whole computer back to them, they fix it and ship it back to me -- in 3-4 WEEKS!

I think I did pretty good while on the phone with young Mark, I didn't yell, I didn't cry, I only used the F bomb once, and not at him, more as a groan of complete and total frustration. But as soon as I hung up I burst into tears. I have most of my important documents for school backed up on a flash drive, and what's not there I can download again. But my photos, all the music in my iTunes, just gone.

I did a lot of research before I bought my computer, more research than I've ever done before purchasing anything, except maybe my education. I ended up spending a LOT of money on my Gateway because I had never heard of anything like this happening to a Gateway owner and I figured that if you're going to buy a good computer, you might as well buy a good computer. Dell owners have horror stories, HP's are not much better, I *almost* bought a Mac, but thought that the learning curve of getting used to a Mac while also starting grad school and a new job might be a bit much. If only I had listened to my inner Shaun and just bought a Mac, I could actually take my computer into a store and talk to someone, IN PERSON! What a concept!!

Now you may be thinking, Maria, we know this is bad, but come on? You think technology hates you just because of this one incident? To that, dear readers, I say no. My brand new Dell at work, that was replaced three weeks ago because the only slightly less new Dell that I was using crapped out on me, has been acting possessed as well! I have constant trouble with the image on both monitors, and lately it's taken to flipping to a blue screen after encountering some horriffic error, and then forcing me to reboot. I save my data every 4 seconds, just in case.

In addition to that, I've been having an EXCESSIVE amount of trouble with my cell phone. I upgraded to a Samsung Blackjack in October, which quit working 27 days later. So I exchanged it for a Palm Treo, which then quit working SIX days later. So I had to have that one replaced too!! I'm afraid to even turn on my television or start my car, and I hope my bad luck manages to hold off til I'm done with this post, otherwise I'll obliterate Little Brother's computer too.

Honestly, is my blood magnetized in some mutant way that causes electronic devices to go haywire on me? Do the Powers That Be not understand that I depend on my computer for school?? Where is Yoda when I need him???

I think it's time to breathe and reboot, and hope that when I get my new hard drive in the mail I'll be able to install it.

Sympathy, words of wisdom, and advice are all particularly welcome at this time.

Goofin' Around On Turkey Day

2007-11-22T22:45:00.000-05:00

Me, Cameron & Natalie taking a time out from a tickle war to pose for the camera.

The Grand Eye-Opening at the DIA

2007-11-22T22:39:00.000-05:00

So the DIA (Detroit Institute of Arts) has been closed since last May and is re-opening to the public this weekend. I decided to buy a membership ($80 gets two adults in for free any time we want for one year, + 10% off at the DIA shop) and so I took my mom last weekend, during the member preview.

Normally I don't like to take a lot of pictures inside museums because I think it's hard to photograph that type of experience, but I just had to include these of the Diego Rivera murals that completely fill all the wallspace in the part of the museum that is now called Rivera Court. Mom went to go find a bathroom and so I got to sit and just start at these for a while. They're pretty amazing. I've been meaning to look up how long it took him to complete them, but I keep forgetting.

Apparently the renovation that the DIA undewent is a bit controversial in the art world. In my humble, non art-expert opinion, they did a fantastic job. The DIA looks beautiful. Plus they incorporated a variety of interative and informational elements to the exhibits, to make it more accessible to the non-expert crowd (such as myself!), and I think that is such a smart idea! The DIA has an incredible collection (including works by Monet, Degas, Cezanne, Cassat, Van Gogh, and many others) and almost no one was visiting the permanent collection. When traffic moved through the DIA it was for special exhibits. Somehow I don't think they'll have that problem anymore.

Check out more about the DIA, and go downtown to see it in person!

Congratulations Matt & Jody!

2007-11-03T23:46:00.000-04:00

For Better or Worse

2007-10-28T12:34:00.000-04:00

Lately I've been thinking a lot about wedding vows. My uncle skipped out on my aunt and their two kids back in January and has basically been acting like a King sized A-hole ever since. Now he's actually filed for divorce and she needs to get a lawyer. She's been a stay at home mom for the last 18 years, we're all a bit worried about what's going to happen to her and the children. None of us understands how he could do something like this, he's never come off like a King sized A-hole in the last 25 years. I guess people are just full of surprises.

A friend of my mom's has also told us that she caught her husband of 35 years in bed with another woman. He moved out and in with his woman and her three kids, wants a divorce. When she asked him what it was that she had done that was so terrible it warranted him giving up their marriage of 35 years he listed the following things as some of the reasons:

she's overweight
she doesn't like to do the same things he likes to do, namely hunt & fish
she doesn't like to watch the same TV shows

She's told both of their sons, who are now both incredibly pissed at their dad. The oldest of their sons has been a Marine for the last decade and said he will never talk to his father again because of this; he ended up getting divorced a few years ago because his then wife was cheating on him - after only a few years of marriage, and (I'm pretty sure) while he was off fighting for our country somewhere.

Shaun and I have been talking about how we are at a point in our relationship again where we both feel like we could get married someday. We've managed to work our way through a really hard conflict and still come out loving each other like crazy on the other end, I think that's a good sign. After everything that we've gone through, and the thinking I've been doing about my aunt and our family friend, I've been wondering how they were smart enough to include the, "for better or worse," part in the traditional marriage vows? Years of experience in observing marriages I guess. I think that there are way too many young people these days that get married and do not understand the type of commitment that marriage is supposed to be. I never want to give up on the person that I make those promises to, that's why you have to be careful who you choose to dedicate your life to. For better or worse is no small promise.

How Cute Are We?

2007-10-24T22:01:00.000-04:00

Kodak Moment!

2007-10-20T23:59:00.000-04:00

So this weekend I am in Chicago for Shaun's graduation from Navy boot camp. The collage above shows some pictures from today, including the incredible "Ass Cake" that Kathy T made for him. Complete with daisy insignias on the back pockets, it's HILARIOUS and Shaun loved it. We plan to eat it tomorrow.

We still have one more day to spend with him and it's been an emotional experience, to say the least. He's lost a LOT of weight (as all of you can see from the pictures), and I know he's tired, but he looks fantastic.

Even though I saw him today and get to see him again tomorrow, I miss him SO much! And he can't come home until February because he still has to go to Dallas for his A school. At least he will be able to use the phone and stuff once he gets to Dallas, but it's still hard not to be able to spend time with him and just hang out!

I'll write more later, for now I am tired. MW signing off.

I Love My Sailor

2007-10-19T21:35:00.000-04:00

High Infidelity

2007-10-01T21:23:00.000-04:00

Adrian Lyne is quickly becoming one of my favorite directors. I've been slowly (very slowly, grad school is crazy) renting his films from Netflix and it's interesting to watch them all so close together. He seems to be drawn to the complex emotions that exist between men and women when sex and love get all mixed up with each other. (It helps that his movies are particularly well cast.) He's directed a lot of popular films (including Flashdance) and I've always loved Indecent Proposal. Two weekends ago I watched 9 1/2 Weeks and tonight I watched Unfaithful.

I'd already seen Unfaithful. I rented it shortly after it came out on video -- I wanted to see if Diane Lane deserved her Oscar nom. Her performance is wonderful, but overall I remember being unimpressed. In fact, I thought it was downright stupid. (I should warn you now, this will contain spoilers. If you haven't seen Unfaithful and want to, stop reading immediately or it will be utterly ruined. Consider yourself warned.) After a second viewing several years later, I find myself of a much different mind.

If you've seen the movie, I suggest skipping to the next paragraph. If you haven't, and you aren't bored with this post already, then read on. The basic premise is that a beautiful, intelligent, bored suburban wife and mother (Lane) initiates a torrid affair with a young, gorgeous, French book dealer living in SoHo (Olivier Martinez - yum!). The husband is played brilliantly by Richard Gere. As her affair spirals further and further out of control, the husband's growing suspicions find him hiring a private detective to follow his wife. Once he has undeniable photographic proof he heads to the lover's apartment and accidentally ends up killing him when he discovers that his wife has given her young lover a gift that he had given to her years before -- a snow globe. He dumps the body in a massive garbage dump. Days pass, he says nothing. She eventually finds the photos from the private detective in his coat pocket a week later, after the police have come to see if she knows where her young lover is, and when she finds the snow globe back in its place on the window sill, she not only knows that her husband knows about the affair, but also that her husband has murdered her lover. The movie ends with husband and wife sitting in their car in front of a police station, contemplating whether to run away to Mexico with their nine year old son or turn themselves in. The viewer is left to guess. I personally think they turn themselves in.

The first time around I disliked the movie because I hated Diane Lane's character. I thought her selfish and foolish and could not for the life of me figure out why she would risk destroying what is depicted as a wonderful marriage -- to a handsome man like Richard Gere at that! I felt like it was her fault that her husband ended up cracking open the young lover's skull with the snow globe, and I wanted her to go to jail. I was mad at the way the movie ended, I thought it let her get away with murder. Upon a second viewing, I still think that she is selfish and foolish, but I feel sorry for her. I still don't know why she does what she does, and maybe I never will (hopefully not!), but she just seems so desperate to feel excited. Excited in a way her husband can't make her feel. I wonder if that is why a lot of married people cheat? Does the sex and the intimacy lose its excitement so much that they look for it elsewhere? No doubt that is the reason for some people. Who knows about the others. Fortunately most of them just end up getting divorced, not committing murder. This is the kind of movie that makes me afraid of marriage. Either way, it's a movie worth renting. I'll be watching it again before I send it back to Netflix!

The New 'Do

2007-09-30T19:50:00.000-04:00

So I got my hair cut a few weeks ago. I have bangs now. And it's darker. (It seems to get darker with each successive dye job.) Personally, I *love* it. I've gotten lots and lots of compliments (Jesse calls me Cleopatra), but I'm a little nervous that Shaun won't like it when I see him in a few weeks at his boot camp graduation. He was always like, "Don't ever get bangs!!" But I think he'll like these. My brother in law, Daniel, told me that he thinks it's beautiful, so I just hope Shaun feels the same way! What do you guys think?

Maize & Boo...

2007-09-09T11:07:00.000-04:00

So by now everyone on the planet knows that my Wolverines are not having the greatest start to their season. After being upset by a school noone's ever heard of last weekend (Appalachian State...??), they literally had their asses handed to them by Oregon yesterday. For those of you that have been living on another planet the last two weeks, the boys in maize and blue were embarassed at the Big House yesterday, losing 32-7 to the Ducks. The Ducks. Sheesh....

I can hear Nikki and her parents laughing from hundreds of miles away. They certainly aren't the only MSU fans relishing yesterday's shellacking. I'm sure there are a fair amount of Ohio State, Iowa, and Notre Dame fans who are pumped up about it too. All of that is fine, that I can handle, but what I can't handle is all the Michigan fans who are jumping ship! One 'fan' was quoted in this morning's Free Press as saying, "We want Lloyd Carr's head on a platter with an apple in it!" How easily they forget. Michigan has one of the greatest football programs in college sports. They are always a contender for the national title, and when that falls through there's always the Big Ten title (which, by the way, they could still clinch, since neither of these terrible losses came from Big 10 teams). You don't give up on them because of a rocky (OK, very rocky) start! Have a little faith my fellow Wolverines, have a little faith.

Mitch Albom said in this morning's Freep (that's Detroit Free Press for short, to all of you non-Detroiters out there) article that the Wolverines looked worse on the field yesterday than some of the most pathetic Lions games. Now that's pretty bad! But he does not blame it all on Carr, saying that Carr does not deserve the proverbial ax. Instead he focuses on Coach Carr's words after the pathetic excuse for a Michigan football game was over yesterday. I will leave you with the words of two wise men, Lloyd Carr and Mitch Albom. An excerpt from Albom's article:

" '...I've got great kids here. And you don't know me, but those who do... would agree that I'm a tough-minded, competitive guy. ...And there is nothing that can keep me down. Not a loss to Appalachian State. Not a loss to Oregon. Not a hundred losses. And not the loss of my job. ...

'You're probably going to lose a lot of games the next few years. ...When you lose, don't make excuses. ...Just play as hard as you can. And regardless of what the outcome of what of those games are, you keep your head high.'

I think that speaks for itself.

And it is reason enough for people who think he should be fired to be ashamed of themselves. This is college. That speech can teach more than a dozen trophies."

Labor Day BBQ

2007-09-02T22:49:00.000-04:00

So tonight Shannon and Daniel and the kids came over for a BBQ. We ate so much food it is ridiculous. Jesse and his girlfriend, Tiffany, and her daughter, Savannah, also came over for a little while. We all had fun running around in the backyard. I think that when I was a kid I took for granted that we have an absolutely HUGE backyard. Not all kids have that. It was fun to chase Joey around, pretending to be too slow to catch him with his short little 5 year old legs. Speaking of Joey, he helped me take the picture below, which I love! Hope everyone has a nice, long weekend. Tomorrow I'm going shopping with Kira. Look out Somerset, here we come!

The Newness

2007-09-01T10:58:00.000-04:00

My whole life people have been telling me how smart I am. My parents, teachers, friends, you name it. I was always in the accelerated classes, I always had smart friends, I loved to read and always did my homework. My arch nemeses in elementary school made fun of me for using the word, “flabbergasted.” I cried and my fifth grade teacher told me, “They’re just upset that you know a big word that they don’t know.” That provided a small amount of comfort. More comforting was the fact that I knew that someday I would go to college. Then I would get a great job, for which I would get paid a lot of money, and through which I would help make the world a better place. Ahh, to be young.

When I did finally get to college, I felt like I was supposed to be there, but I didn’t have any idea how to pursue a course of study that would be of concrete value once I graduated. (Read: make me money so that I could eventually pay off the colossal student loans I was racking up.) So I studied English, because I love it, and because I thought it would be enough. My dad was telling me, “You should be an engineer.” My mom was telling me, “You should be a nurse!” But, being allergic to math and squeamish at the sight of other people’s bodily fluids, I never seriously considered either suggestion as a possibility. Funny how if I had done either of those things, which I certainly could have, I would be in a much different place right now.

But those subtle suggestions did make me think more seriously about whatever my future career would eventually be, and so I asked my advisor, “I am a little worried about getting a job once I graduate. I know don’t want to be a teacher. What kind of jobs can I get with this degree?” Then he, like a dutiful advisor to a second semester junior in college, did what he was supposed to do. He told me what I needed to hear to stay on course and graduate on time, “Your degree will be incredibly versatile! You’ll have outstanding communication and writing skills, and that is invaluable in any number of professions.” I, being naïve, thought to myself, OK! My advisor said it’s alright, so that must mean it’s alright. Sigh. And everyone, myself included, thought I was so smart.

Chris once told me how, after he and my parents dropped me off at the airport when I left for Ecuador, that my mom said, “That girl amazes me. She did this all by herself.” When he told me that I was like, “Of course I did! Duh!” My philosophy has always been: If there is something that you want to do with your life, you do it. Go for it now, when you can, otherwise it might end up being something that you’ll regret not having tried for the rest of your life. If it turns out well, then great! If it ends disasterously, like almost all of my romantic endeavors up til this point have, then you will have experiences from which to grow. Either way, win or lose, you don’t ever really lose.

Somehow, after over two years of working an absolutely thankless and intensely stressful job – in which I was using only the most limited parts of my brain – I seemed to forget all about my grand philosophy. Shaun always encouraged me, “Babe, just start looking for a new job! There are jobs to be had in Detroit, no matter what the newspapers say! You’re so smart, you can do it!” But I never did. I was so miserable, and I knew in my heart that he was right, but I just never applied for anything. I made halfass attempts at looking, but of course I never found anything that was, “good enough.” I started thinking about graduate school – which turned out to be a good thing, since I found something I am incredibly excited about – but at first that was just another way to avoid thinking about getting a new job.

And then the shit, as they say, hit the fan. For those of you that don’t know, which is probably most of you, I had a minor meltdown earlier this summer. I found myself having panic attacks – at work in the bathroom, in my car. Never when anyone else was around. At first I didn’t even know what they were. Shaun and I had broken up, I was living back with my parents, my job sucked ass, most of my friends were living elsewhere, everything was basically shit. I quit answering my phone. I started lying to people. I watched an obscene amount of television. Then I got strep throat, and when I went to the doctor I had a total emotional breakdown in her office. She handed me a box of Kleenex, gave me antibiotics for the strep, and antidepressants for the rest of it. I went home and checked myself into therapy.

Then I did the one thing I’d really needed to do from the beginning. I sat down at my computer, dusted off my resume, and sat down to find a new job. Funny how life happens sometimes. The very first job I applied for I ended up getting. And it is A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. For privacy reasons you will see that I will be much more discrete about this job that my previous one, but I now work for the United Way for Southeastern Michigan. My office is right downtown, which is fun (and convenient for school), I work with Kira, and most importantly, I get to use my brain! I leave work every day feeling like I am making Detroit a better community to live in. The job didn’t fall out of the sky into my lap as I imagined it would when I graduated from high school, but it’s mine now and that is the important thing.

So, the newness that is happening in my life right is all good. I have learned a lot about myself and how I handle (and don’t handle) stress in my life. I’ve also realized that, even though I absolutely hated it while I was there, I learned a lot about working in a professional environment while I was at Comcast. I also learned that there is a lot more to life than just making as much money as you can by screwing little old ladies into buying digital cable that they don’t know how to use, and then charging them another $20 that they don’t have to come out and put their TVs back on channel 3.

The Long Goodbye

2007-08-27T19:25:00.000-04:00

So Shaun arrived in Chicago tonight to begin his 8 week long stay at boot camp. He was supposed to leave last Thursday, August 23rd, but storms in Chicago prevented that. His departure was then rescheduled to Friday evening, and that flight was canceled because of storms here in Detroit. So then he stayed the weekend (which was fun because he and his fam came to my birthday dinner on Sunday night), and finally left today on a 4 o'clock flight. The whole ordeal was exhausting for me and his family -- we said goodbye on Wednesday night, then again on Thursday night, and then the last goodbye last night, but it was longer for Shaun, who probably spent over 20 hours sitting at Metro Airport over the weekend.

It's odd how they say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I feel like the mere anticipation of his absence made my heart grow fonder. It made me realize some things about what has been happening between us lately, the most important one being that I am still crazy in love with him. Another being that I am really, incredibly proud of him for joining the Navy Reserve. Yet another being that he is still the only man that I have ever met that honestly understands me, encourages me, supports me, calls me on my bullshit, makes me laugh, laughs at my dumbass jokes, can talk with me for hours, can shut the hell up with me for hours, loves my family to death, and holds my hand through absolutely everything. And also that while he made some mistakes (as did I), he is learning from those mistakes and genuinely trying to do better, and that is something that not many people can do.

I am going to miss him more than I can say while he is away the next few weeks. I have so much new stuff going on -- new job at United Way for Southeastern Michigan (which is AWESOME!), starting school at Wayne State on September 6th. New people, new places... a lot of things I know I'd love to talk to him about and he'd love to hear about. But then again, this does give me an excuse to write letters. And you guys know how much I love that!

So for now I will just keep my head down, go to work, get ready for school, save my money, and break out the pen and paper to write to my boy while he is busting his ass in boot camp.

Happy 26th to Me

2007-08-27T19:24:00.000-04:00

Katie Got Hitched!

2007-08-19T18:20:00.000-04:00

Some selected scenes from Katie's nuptials this past Saturday. The ceremony was outside at the Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory on Belle Isle. The reception was held at the Tiger Club at Comerica Park. Katie wore an elegant deep red ball gown and the bridesmaids wore ivory tea length dresses. The day was beautiful, the people were friendly, and the food was awesome. All in all, a great wedding!

Congratulations Katie and Justin, may you have all the happiness in the world!

Nik's Surprise Visit!

2007-08-17T00:08:00.000-04:00

Nik, Steph, Linda and I went up to Shield's Restaurant in Southfield where Bobby was hosting an open mic night with some of his friends. He's visiting from Santa Cruz for a week or so. Crazy that I've known Bob since kindergarten! Anyway, took some pics at the bar and thought I'd share them!

My Nephew Turns 5

2007-08-12T20:24:00.001-04:00

The Dude Abides

2007-08-11T15:04:00.000-04:00

While watching "The Big Lebowski" with my dad the other day I realized that I had kind of forgotten how absolutely HI-LARIOUS it is. I remember going up north to Jetta's cottage in Manistee for MLK Jr. weekend senior year of college and drinking a lot of White Russians. In fact, if I remember correctly, there was one point when Alyssa walked into the kitchen and uttered this exact sentence:

"I think I'll have a glass of water.... Or a White Russian."

I think it was about 11 AM at that point. She chose a White Russian.

My favorite part of the movie is near the end, when their buddy has died of a heart attack and been cremated. (Haha, I just read that sentence back, and it sounds terrible, that my favorite part is when a guy dies, but hey, that's how it came out so I'm leaving it!) They take the coffee can full of his ashes up to a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean, and after waxing poetic in a eulogy that unneccessarily contains a ton of stuff about Vietnam, they throw his ashes off the cliff -- and the wind blows them right back into The Dude's face. To me, it is one of the purest moments of comedic genius ever captured on film.

The Dude abides, and so do I. Long live Lebowski!

Katie's Bachelorette Celebration

2007-08-05T12:37:00.001-04:00

And then some!

Amazing Art

2007-08-05T11:37:00.001-04:00

Watch this video first and then check out his new link at the right. Phil Hansen is incredible and his website is worth exploring. You will not be sorry. I promise.

Thanks Mom.

Technology Overload

2007-08-02T00:39:00.000-04:00

So in the past few days I've gotten my new computer and my new digital camera in the mail, and I just cannot stop playing around with them! (Add my iPod into the mix, and it's full on technology overload.) I'd forgotten how nice it is to have my own computer, and boy is it a nice computer! I'm also looking forward to having some great opportunities to use the camera, but I need to buy a bigger memory card for it so that it will hold more pictures.

Tonight I went to a meeting of the Southfield Historical Society with Steph and her mom. I've lived here all my life and never knew that Southfield had an historical society, and its very own history museum. There was some interesting stuff in the museum too, including some school registers from 1895 that Steph and I had a good time looking through. Orthography was listed as a subject, and I had no idea what that was until Steph's mom told us that it's the study of handwriting. Which probably explains why every page in the book looked like it had been written by a calligrapher.

Maybe the next post will contain pictures. For now I'm gonna go back to playing around with my brand spanking new computer!

Stopping Traffic

2007-07-31T09:27:00.000-04:00

On my way home from a recent trip downtown I found myself heading north on I-75. About a mile and a half from the exit to 696, I began to merge over to the right hand lanes. (Both of the two right lanes exit to 696, the far one goes east, the near one goes west, I was in the near lane.) To my right there was a guy in a pickup truck -- shirtless, muscled, tan, and wearing an actual cowboy hat. Although I couldn't hear the radio, I'd bet my two front teeth he was listening to Travis Tritt.

At first I thought he was motioning to me to see if I still needed to get over into the far right lane, but, upon closer inspection, it turned out that he was actually making horrible lewd gestures at me. Sticking out his tongue, blowing me kisses, and even pointing at his lap! Not wishing to encourage him, I returned my attention to the road and kept both hands on the wheel while looking straight ahead. I was still aware of him in my peripheral vision, but he was going east and I was going west and that would be the end of it as soon as we hit our exits.

All this while the entrance to 696 is rapidly approaching. I notice that the traffic on the exit ramps is slowing down, significantly, so I do the same. Cowboy over to my right failed to notice this, because he was still blowing me kisses, and of course he flew by me and slammed into the rear end of a poor, unsuspecting gentleman in a Saturn -- who looked thoroughly displeased when I drove by, jaw agape, seconds later.

Cowboy did notice at the last second that he was going to hit someone, and had laid on his brakes pretty good, but I estimate that he was still going about 50-55 mph when he hit the Saturn. Totaled the back of that poor man's car. Probably caused a major back up on the exit ramp (since that is a busy area of the highway, at any time of day, let alone late afternoon on a weekday). And all for what? To try to get some play from a strange girl in a separate vehicle while going 70 mph on the interstate. I was reminded of something my mom once said when a similar situation (minus the accident) occurred while we were in the car together: she looked over at the trucker who was gesticulating in her direction and said, "Give it up man, we'll never meet!" Then I accelerated and we left him behind us.

Who Gets Summoned for Jury Duty on Her Birthday??

2007-07-27T17:37:00.001-04:00

Me. That's who. What a way to celebrate #26. BOO!

RGB

2007-07-04T11:38:00.001-04:00

So a. margarita tagged me as a Rockin' Girl Blogger and I must pass the torch to 5 other girl bloggers, except that I only have 4, and one of them is a. margarita. I will add a fifth when I find one. Here's my list, in no particular order:

1. a. margarita
2. Aubs
3. Nik
4. Leah

Ladies, now it's your turn to tag some other kickass girl bloggers. Spread the love!

Homeslice

2007-07-01T23:27:00.001-04:00

I gotta say, I miss my homeslice Nikki. (Do we not look super cute in this picture? That's a rhetorical question by the way, no comments necessary.) This was before going to Memphis Smoke on Friday, where we were hit on by some really ridiculous men in their mid 40s -- I mean, seriously -- and then we went with Linda to a midnight screening of The Goonies at the Royal Oak Main Art Theater. That movie was always funny when I was a kid, but it was even better with a mild buzz going .

I am fortunate enough to have some AMAZING women in my life as friends. Unfortunately for me, most of them no longer live in Michigan, but whenever we do get in a chat or a visit, it always feels like no time has passed. It's empowering to have such awesome women as my friends. They inspire me to be strong, be smart, take chances, stand up for myself, and learn from my mistakes. I know that with all of my friends I can really be myself -- honest-to-goodness, occasional goofball, non sotto voce, cries at sappy movies, strange toed, always 10 minutes tardy Maria.

I Love Dane Cook!

2007-07-01T13:26:00.001-04:00

Dane Cook.

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What's A 20 Something Girl To Do?

2007-07-01T10:58:00.000-04:00

I've decided to let the stress go. I spend entirely too much time stressing about my job that I dislike, my student loans, my future... stuff like that. I'm done. If I don't get a job that I actually like by the time that school starts then I am going to quit and become a full time student. I can defer my loans and still make payments on them, so I won't have to worry about that. And as far as The Future goes, I can't control it, so it's better to just let it be. Hanging out with Steph and The Bridesmaid's yesterday, talking about life, I noticed a recurring theme. It may be cliche, but everything happens for a reason. You may not know exactly what the reason is at that very moment, but your old friend The Future will eventually roll around to clear it up for you.

We also discussed change quite a bit. Specifically, how people change, and, more specifically, how women try to change their men and when that is and is not OK. For example, we concluded that it is acceptable to try to break your husband's habit of picking his nose and wiping his boogers on the edge of the driver's seat in your brand new car. That's a good change to encourage. But the fundamental things, morals, religion, politics, responsibility, whether or not he is just a total slob -- things like that are pretty fixed. And if you do try to change something major, what happens if you change something else unintentionally? People change constantly, for good and bad reasons, but usually the changes that turn out to be improvements are those that came from within. You change because you want to, and that is probably something that will actually last.

Right now I am in a place where a person that I love, very much, is trying to effect a big change in his life. I believe in him, and I want to encourage him because I think he's doing it for the right reasons, but I don't know how much I believe that it's going to last forever. Part of me feels like a bitch for having that doubt, but that doubt is honest, and I always prefer honesty. The only experience that I can speak from is my own, and I know that when I've come to those few monumental transitions in my life that I've changed in ways I never could have predicted. Even relationships that I thought were stable and strong before leaving ended up cracked and broken after coming home.

That is a situation that is going to require much more thought. I just had to get Paris Hilton off the top of my page. I sincerely apologize that I left her up there as long as I did. My occasional schadenfreude sometimes gets the better of me. It's like doubt in that way.

Stupid Spoiled Attention Whore

2007-06-09T00:25:00.000-04:00

First of all, let me say that I thought long and hard about whether or not to write this post. I'll warn you right now, it's about Paris Hilton. I apologize in advance.

I despise Paris Hilton. I know it's wrong to judge, and I've never met her and blah, blah, blah, but, God, I am sorry, I think that she is basically a worthless, money grubbing, heinous be-otch. (Or, as Matt would perhaps say, a vapid screech owl. Ha! I just love that.) I hate how much air time on so called 'serious' news channels (CNN, what is up? Come on!) is devoted to her retarded ass. Part of me really wants to ignore it, and pay her less that no attention at all, since even bad publicity is still publicity. But another part of me gets so much joy out of watching her spoiled sex-tape-leaking ass get what she deserves that I just cannot help myself.

Last night Comedy Central aired one of my favorite episodes of South Park in honor of Paris and her current debacle. For those who haven't seen it, Paris comes to South Park for the grand opening of her new store at the mall, called Stupid Spoiled Whore, and madness ensues. She pays Butters' parents $250 million to have him as a pet and is ultimately challenged to a Whore Off versus Mr. Slave, who sucks her into his anal cavity just to prove he's a bigger whore than she is. It's a tremendously entertaining half hour of animated wonderfulness.

We keep the news on at work, on mute of course, lest Big Brother hear us and come running, and I cannot describe the joy I felt when I saw the headlines that she was headed back to jail. That judge in California single handedly restored my faith in the American legal system. With this one act he has told the world that you just cannot buy your way out of jail! (Of course, I know there are probably still a ton of people who do, but the fact that she just cannot get out of this is fantastic.)

If a regular old ordinary American had done what she did (which was get caught driving twice on a license which was suspended because of her drinking and driving) they would certainly be facing a similar penalty, if not worse. She already paid a $1,500 fine, which to most people would be a strong enough deterrent to get them in line, but Paris probably wipes her ass with $1,500 three times a day, so it's no wonder it didn't make an impact! Clearly, an impact is being made now.

I love that this alleged medical condition she has is what her attorney is trying to leverage as a reason she can't remain incarcerated. Supposedly she had a nervous breakdown. Imagine what would have happened if she'd actually received the body/cavity search that all other inmates are subjected to upon entering prison. She could have tried to smuggle her Sidekick or some mascara in up her ass -- probably not as effectively as say, oh, Mr. Slave, but she could have. So I don't buy the whole nervous breakdown thing. You don't think there are people in jail with actual, real medical conditions -- like heart disease, cancer, diabetes, HIV, fill-in-the-blank?? There are prison hospitals and infirmaries and doctors and counselors to help inmates with any manner of problems. It's what our taxes pay for.

I think Martha Stewart ought to give the Hiltons a call and tell them that the ridiculous behavior that got their daughter into this mess in the first place is not a Good Thing, and her even more ridiculous behavior now is even worse. She needs to suck it up and shut it up and just do her 45 days. Maybe she should try to make the best of it and get, like, a super sexy prison tat while she's in there. I know what it could say, right across her ass: "That's Hot."

Guilty Pleasures

2007-06-07T23:30:00.000-04:00

Sometimes in life you just need your guilty pleasures. Like eating a candy bar and drinking a gimungous glass of Coca-Cola at the same time. (So, so bad for your teeth, but good for the following sugar buzz.) I myself make it a point to indulge in guilty pleasures whenever possible, within reason, of course. For example, I find myself strangely drawn to movies starring Amanda Bynes. I mean seriously though, how can you not love this girl?? ------------------------------->

I also occasionally delight in the misfortunes of other people, like Paris Hilton. (Don't even get me started on how she bought her way out of prison. Disgusting. If anyone needed to get shanked in prison it was freaking Paris Hilton. Oh well, I will have to learn to live with disappointment I guess.)

Sometimes I enjoy kissing boys with fierce tattoos who I know I will never see again. I am *obsessed* with Showtime's mini series The Tudors, starring dreamy Irish boy Jonathan Rhys Meyers. Oooh, yummy! Other times I like to laugh obnoxiously loud at wholly inappropriate times, like when Brad Pitt's character in Meet Joe Black got hit by a car because he was standing in the middle of the street like a complete jackass. Yup, that was me that laughed so hard I snorted frozen Coke through my nose. (I was eating chocolate at the same time too, a double whammy!)

My point is, sometimes you just need to live a little. Go ahead, you know you want to go rent She's The Man. It's cool. I promise I won't tell.

Catch $22,000

2007-06-05T00:04:00.000-04:00

Part of me hates having Monday off because pretty much everyone else in my life is at work. That leaves me a day by myself, which sometimes, like today, is fantastic, and other times is not so fantastic. Today was great because I got so much stuff done. I registered for class in the fall and made an appointment with my new advisor. I called around and got a couple of quotes on computers (it's gonna cost me at least $1600, easy). Read my new issue of The Progressive from cover to cover, and a couple articles from The New York Times that I missed yesterday. And then I did something I have been putting off for months. I actually called all of the companies that have been sending me offers to consolidate my student loans to see what kind of terms they could offer me.

Turns out, they're not so great. Half of the offers are companies which only consolidate federal loans -- which does me no good since my federal loans are already consolidated. The other half wanted to lower my payment by extending the term of my loan from 20 to 30 years, but at a higher interest rate, which might be helpful in the short term, but screws me in the long term. So here I sit, stuck until I can improve my credit just a little bit more and consolidate with Citibank. The bastards. I'm caught in a Catch $22,000. Well, it's actually $27,000, but what's five grand between friends?

I think it may be time to sign up for some overtime at work. As much as I truly, truly hate having to do that, a $1600 laptop isn't going to fall from the heavens, no matter how hard I pray. And I will have to pay my tuition up front, and then wait for the reimbursement. (You know, for all my complaining about my actual job, I gotta give it up for that benefit. Education reimbursement gets 2 thumbs up in my book.) But it's cool. I've don't have much else to do this summer, all my vacation time is gone anyway. Might as well make a little money.

Grad School Here I Come!

2007-05-31T21:59:00.001-04:00

I am happy to share with all my lovely readers that I was accepted to Wayne State University's Graduate School today. I will begin work on my Master's in Library and Information Science in September. Woo hoo! I pretty much knew that I was going to get in, but it still felt great to see the, "Congratulations!" at the top of the letter.

This means that I am going to have to save my pennies this summer to pay my tuition in the fall, and I also have to buy a computer (yay!). I've been wanting to buy a computer for a while, I just couldn't justify the expense, but now I have a great reason to get a brand spanking new one!

Other than that, things have been pretty chill. Memorial Day weekend was nice, except that I had to work all day last Friday and Saturday. Sunday I went to the Tigers game with Kira and Jeff and a bunch of his *super cute* rugby buddies. (Seriously -- super, super cute. Rowdy, but very cute.) I told Kira that more of that needs to happen this summer, it's so much fun hanging out with her, and because she was in Kalamazoo for so long I feel like we got used to not being able to see each other very often, but that is a non issue now! So tomorrow we are going shoe shopping.

On Memorial Day Steph and I took our booties out to Kensington and walked the 8 mile loop around the park. I still cannot figure out why I thought that was a good idea. In sandals no less, with a hangover. Sometimes I am such an idiot I amaze myself. My legs hurt for two days afterwards, but I think they've finally forgiven me. It was nice to just hang with Steph though, and it was a BEAUTIFUL day. Days like that are why I love Michigan.

So yea, pretty chill. I have a much needed day off tomorrow and then this weekend is Linda's birthday, the proper celebrations will accompany the event on Saturday night and Sunday afternoon. I think we are going to go to Ann Arbor on Saturday with some of her friends, which should be interesting because I haven't gone out in Ann Arbor since the summer of 2003 after we all graduated. I'm pretty sure that my favorite bar (Mitch's, what??) doesn't exist anymore, but I am sure we'll have fun. A2 is always a good time. Maybe I'll have some cute pictures to post soon.

Til then, my dear readers, this will have to suffice. Toodles.

Music and Movies and What I Want in a Man

2007-05-22T23:08:00.001-04:00

So I thought the blog was getting a little boring without pictures. I found this one of me and my dad on a bookshelf in my parents' room. My hair looks red... wish I still had curls like that. On the back my mom wrote, "Winter 1982, Southfield," which means I was probably a little over one year old. Dad still looks the same, only now all his hair is grey.

Lately I've been listening to a lot of music and watching a lot of movies and trying to figure out what exactly I might want in a man. 1 and 2 are generally easier to deal with. I've had "De Stijl" (The White Stripes) and Joss Stone's new one on repeat for the last two days. Both are worth purchasing immediately, if you like that kind of thing.

As for movies, I watched "Strange Days" (Ralph Fiennes, Juliette Lewis, Angela Bassett), "The Tesseract" (Jonathan Rhys Meyers, yum!), "Domino" (Keira Knightly, and not nearly as terrible as everyone made it out to be), and "Reality Bites" (twice). Throw in many, many episodes of Sex and the City, both from HBO On Demand and from the DVDs I snagged from Kira's house last weekend, and the 4 newspapers I read from front to back on Sunday and Monday, and you've pretty much got my weekend all wrapped up.

As for the whole man issue, I think I've decided that I need to just be solo for awhile. My love life is such a disaster area it should have giant orange construction barrels around it -- complete with the flashing lights on top. For now I am just going to concentrate on saving my money, kicking it with the homies, and having a good summer. I'm hoping that everything else will just figure itself out. Wish me luck, eh?

Rollercoaster

2007-05-10T22:19:00.000-04:00

I'm almost afraid to write this for fear of all the groans of, "Oh Maria!" that are sure to be uttered, but here goes nothing. Shaun and I broke up. Again.

I've got my defense mechanisms working overtime on this one. I make jokes, I shrug off questions. I'm really just trying not to think about it at all. It took me a month to stop crying before, and I am determined not to start again.

At this point I am mostly just disappointed and sad. I've never had as much fun as I did with him, never loved someone that much, never imagined my life stretching out before me alongside someone else's - not the way I did with Shaun. And now it's all a big pile of shite. Well, certainly not all of it, but it's hard to think about the good parts because then I think about how they're gone, and that's just not a good path to start going down right now.

Someone please tell me how it is that I have managed to totally f*ck up every single relationship I've ever been in? Something happens and I slowly, painfully, achingly start to fall out of love. And then the shit hits the fan. Sometimes over and over again.

Part of me wishes that I could just forget about everything that happened between us and forgive him (and myself) for all of it. But I can't. And the fact that I can't upsets me, because if you love a person enough, you should be able to forgive them for just about anything when you know that they truly are sorry.

*sigh*

This is more difficult to write about than I thought it would be. Although, I guess it does go exactly against my primary defense strategy of Just Don't Think About It!

For once I'll take my own advise and just shut the hell up.

More when I'm not driving myself absolutely crazy.

Shameless Plug

2007-05-03T19:10:00.000-04:00

Listen up party people. My cousin Elliot is in a band called The Peasantry. They have a song in a contest and if it wins they'll get $5,000!! Go here and select "Student Films Across America" by The Peasantry to vote for his song.

Oh and P.S., not that this is even possible, but even if you like one of the other songs more, (pshaw, like that could happen!) I don't care, still vote for him!!

Hodge Podge

2007-04-29T13:01:00.000-04:00

It's a long way to the top if you want to rock n' roll. Or at least that what AC/DC tell us.

I forgot how great a sunny Sunday morning with fried eggs, WCSX Over Easy, and the Sunday New York Times is. Well, actually, I didn't forget, it's just that today I am enjoying it more than usual.

In fact just a few minutes ago I read about this guy who finds both interesting and not-so-interesting pieces of trash and puts them into little clear plastic ball shaped capsules, then loads up little 25 cent cheap-o junk machines with them. He has a blog, lovingly described as, "A destination website for chumps, rubes, maroons, clods, saps, schlemiels, and yo-yos," which, if you can find nothing else worth admiration, is great because I finally learned how to spell schlemiel. Check out Trashball.

Still awaiting the response on my application for admission the Library and Information Science program at Wayne State.

Decided that tomorrow I am going to resume the guitar lessons I started in college. Woo hoo!

Jesse is now the wealthiest member of our family. Who'd have thunk it?

Brian and Steph are now engaged, yay!

And, last but definitely not least, Shaun and I are back together. We still have a lot of stuff to work out, but I think we can do it.Now I am going to break out my bicycle and see if it's really true that once you've learned you never forget.

Peace out homies.

Odessa On The Verge

2007-04-15T18:20:00.000-04:00

Odessa is a little girl who lives in my imagination. Sometimes I think of sentences that involve her. Sentences like, "Odessa was delicate, even for an eight year old. She was small of frame with large, dark eyes, like her mother. She came to live with Ninny when she was only two, after her mother died. When she was five, Ninny gave her a box made of gold paper, shaped like a star. Odessa took the box into her little room and put the only photograph she had of her mother into the box and placed the lid on it, and there it has stayed, quiet and safe, ever since. Now, Odessa collects boxes."

And that's where it stops. I don't really know why Odessa collects boxes, but I know that she lives in Kentucky, has an older brother with leukemia, has a father that's in jail for killing their mother, and that someone eventually needs to ask him (the father) if he will be tested as a possible bone marrow donor for her brother. But like I said before, I just get a couple of sentences every now and then. Like right after I've taken a shower and I'm sitting on the edge of the tub with my towels wrapped around me. Which is not a very convenient time to whip out the keyboard and start writing them down. So the sentences go away, and revisit me again at other times, when I am bored or lonely or reading the label on the side of a cereal box while chewing. I have had her in my head for so long now that Odessa is a friend. I think maybe I'd like to keep her in my head.

This is the part where I think about not answering my phone for awhile. Where I wonder if maybe I am on the edge of a not-quite-mid-life crisis. Where I think about how I would like to live in a loft downtown and everyone in my life, without a single exception, tells me that it is a stupid idea, that it is unnecessarily dangerous, and that my car insurance premium will skyrocket. I feel like telling them all to take a flying leap off a tall building. Except that if they did, I would be an orphan, without any family or friends. And then it wouldn't matter where I lived, because life would be miserable no matter what.

But I digress.

I am restless, which is the root of all of this. I have a job that I despise, but that I hope I will be able to suffer through just long enough to get graduate school paid for, so that I can then get a job that I actually like. (Nikki sent me info about an organization that builds libraries in Central and South America. I'd like to do that.) I still think about joining the Peace Corps too. But then my feminine biology kicks in, and so does the math. 25 + 3 years of graduate school + 1 additional year at work to fulfill my commitment to them for paying for graduate school + 2 years, 4 months of the Peace Corps = 31. Then I still have to find my dream job, get married, make a baby (or two), buy a house (not necessarily in that order), which I figure puts me at about 50. At which point I have the mid life crisis that's been pre-empted by whatever the hell it is I'm going through now.

I get so exhausted thinking about all of that -- not to mention the daily dose of stress I give myself from thinking about how the hell our stupid government is going to fix the Iraq mess, hopefully before my kid brother gets sent there; not to mention finding a way to provide affordable, accessible, health care for all Americans, oh, and fixing global warming -- that I think I'd just rather sit in my towels on the side of my tub and think up some more sentences about my little friend Odessa.

Did I mention she collects boxes?

That Silent Evening

2007-03-18T23:29:00.000-04:00

by Galway Kinnell

I will go back to that silent evening
when we lay together and talked in low, silent voices,
while outside slow lumps of soft snow
fell, hushing as they got near the ground,
with a fire in the room, in which centuries
of tree went up in continuous ghost-giving-up,
without a crackle, into morning light.
Not until what hastens went slower did we sleep.
When we got home we turned and looked back
at our tracks twining out of the woods,
where the branches we brushed against let fall
puffs of sparkling snow, quickly, in silence,
like stolen kisses, and where the scritch scritch scritch
among the trees, which is the sound that dies
inside the sparks from the wedge when the sledge
hits it off center telling everything inside
it is fire, jumped to a black branch, puffed up
but without arms and so to our eyes lonesome,
and yet also - how could we know this? - happy!
in shape of chickadee. Lying still in snow,
not iron-willed, like railroad tracks, willing
not to meet until heaven, but here and there
making slubby kissing stops in the field,
our tracks wobble across the snow their long scratch.
Everything that happens here is really little more,
if even that, than a scratch, too. Words, in our mouths,
are almost ready, already, to bandage the one
whom the scritch scritch scritch, meaning if how when
we might lose each other, scratches scratches scratches
from this moment to that. Then I will go back
to that silent evening, when the past just managed
to overlap the future, if only by a trace,
and the light doubles and shines
through the dark the sparkling that heavens the earth.

Gravity

2007-03-03T13:32:00.001-05:00

The Crying Game

2007-03-02T23:50:00.000-05:00

Honestly, does a person ever reach a point where they just can't cry anymore? Each day I tell myself Ok that was really it, I'm done crying about this. But then I talk to him about the Consumer's Energy bill and the waterworks start right back up again. I wish that I could stop, but it just wells up from somewhere deep down and comes flooding out my eyes.

I've become a blubbering version of myself.

As if that weren't enough, I've somehow managed to catch a truly awful cold that has my sinuses in so much pain my right eye just kind of waters all on its own and I constantly feel like I was recently punched in the face. That blissful moment that happens every four hours or so when my Sudafed kicks in is all for naught when my phone rings.

I told him that I think it will get easier once we are able to talk to each other and not have to say things like, "No really, you keep the alarm clock, you'll use the radio setting," and, "The cable will be out of my name by Friday, if you want to call and order your own." The truth is, I don't really know if it will get easier. If I ever go to visit him in that apartment I'll cry. Every time I climb into our bed by myself I'll be sad. I find it difficult to think about him and not feel bitter disappointment rising in my chest.

I wonder about the possibility of us working things out. I wonder how long that might take. I wonder if I will find someone else. Or if someone else will find me. I am doubting and hoping for both of those things at the same time.

But to do any of that, well, that might actually require me leaving the house to do something besides go to work.

Tomorrow I go to pack up my things. Sunday the U-Haul will come to drive them all away. Maybe that will be the end. Maybe not.

I hope not.

The Runner Up

2007-02-21T21:11:00.000-05:00

While not the competitive person I used to be, I still don’t like 2^nd place. Third I can deal with; “Top Three” sounds good, like an exclusive club you belong to, but 2^nd place is just plain not good enough to be 1^st.

In life, actions will often speak louder than words. Tonight, I got stood up for hundreds of strangers. I got stood up so Shaun could go to a Texas Hold ‘Em tournament at the Greektown Casino. Tonight I came in second place to poker. The volume of his actions has reached a deafening roar. Granted, he did only pay $5 to enter the drawing to win a seat in the tournament, but I think we all know that the likelihood of him winning the grand prize out of hundreds of entrants was pretty slim. I, however, was at least offered a consolation prize called, “Well We Can Hang Out After,” but I turned it down.

After everything that’s happened, after talking about trying to work on things, after him talking about being more responsible – wanting me to feel like I can depend on him to make the right choice when it all comes down to it – I get stood up for a card game.

And maybe all we were gonna do was sit on the couch and watch some funny TV and play with the cats; maybe we just would have laughed and enjoyed each other’s company and taken another small step toward figuring out this terrible mess we got ourselves into, but God dammit that sounds a lot better to me than a room full of strangers trying to take my money.

So he can get mad at me all he wants, and he can say that I don’t support him, but I will not apologize for not supporting a gambling habit. I've seen it ruin people, good people, people you would never have thought would flush away their kids' college savings, and then ante up and head back for more.

For now I will just sit here, in the house I grew up in, listening to the John Mayer Trio on Dad's gigantic headphones, and I will try to stop the tears once again in this short span of days.

Gravity ... is working against me.... Just keep me where the light is....

My New Favorite Website

2007-02-16T22:23:00.000-05:00

Check out PostSecret.

Happy Un-Valentine's Day

2007-02-13T22:11:00.000-05:00

Raise your hand if you've ever seen Disney's animated classic, "Alice in Wonderland." Ah, many of you, I thought so. Well, remember the Un-Birthday song that Alice sings with the Mad Hatter? In the spirit of the Un-Birthday I'm creating Un-Valentine's Day. We'll have 364 Un-Valentine's Days to celebrate every year, and that is way better than the completed shitty actual Valentine's Day that I'm about to have tomorrow.

What happens when you break up 2 days before V-Day? I'll tell you. You throw some shit in a bag & drive to your parents' house, because, even though you are 25 years old, you know that you will always be able to wake them up at 2:30 AM in tears without totally pissing them off. The next morning you wake up and while brushing your teeth you try to figure out how you're going to get all your stuff out of the apartment. You skillfully avoid looking your dad and brother in the eye because they'll be giving you that awkward, I love you but I just don't know what to say! look. That is the last look you need right now. Then you'll drive to work, eating a pear, listening to Beethoven's 7th Symphony.

Once you arrive at work you will avoid, avoid, avoid (like the plague!) that horrible question, "Hey, how are you?" You will want to say something like, "Well actually everything is total crap, and I'm feeling a bit heartbroken and miserable. But how are you?" But instead you say, "Fine," and keep walking. You will sit down at your desk and remove the multiple and adorable pictures of him from their various frames. You will wimp out and shove them into the back of a drawer instead of just throwing them away, you know -- just in case. Deep down though, you know that there will be no just in case, not this time.

The moment you realize that a person you thought could be The One is not, in fact, The One, it feels like someone has just drained all the blood from your heart. I think the worst part about all of this is how utterly disappointed I am that I didn't realize all of this much, much sooner. Especially before I signed a lease on an apartment and stupidly put every single utility bill in my name. Now, instead of a clean break from which we might both be able to heal, there are loose ends that need to be tied up, messy conversations that need to be had. I know that instead of this being the end of the frustration and tears and bitter disappointment, it's going to be the beginning of something worse.

He made some big mistakes, and then he made some more, and for a while I stood by him, but everyone has a point. I just couldn't forgive him. I just couldn't forget. I've become an overanalytical, judgemental bitch -- a shadow of my former self -- and I know that's not my nature. I have become a person I hate, and I can't possible expect him to endure that indefinitely. Like I said, everyone has a point. Even though I'm unhappy with my behavior and feel like I've tried to change, I just can't stop. That nagging thought that this is all his fault in the first place!, if he could've just been more responsible times X, Y, & Z!, creeps back into my brain when I least expect it. I don't want to keep him at arm's length anymore and at this point I don't think the way I feel will change for a long, long time -- if it ever does -- and that is just too long to try to go on living with each other every day. I feel like it is impossible for us to ever be the way we used to be, as close as we used to be. And that's that.

So there it is my dear reader. Maria at the end of yet another failed relationship.

Happy Un-Valentine's Day.

RHCP

2007-01-26T12:43:00.000-05:00

So last night Nik and I went to go see the Red Hot Chili Peppers at the Verizon Center here in D.C. This is my third time seeing the Peppers and I must say that while they sounded great, this show lacked the energy of the others. They played a lot of songs from the new album, which I was excited about because I ADORE it, but they took long pauses in between songs and didn't play much from their earlier albums (nothing from One Hot Minute, much to Nikki's dismay). Nik and I decided that Anthony Kiedis must not have been feeling 100%. He was drinking a ton of water, leaving stage between songs, and on the close up shots of his face on the gigantic screens we could see huge bags under his eyes. Flea and John Frusciante jammed out quite a bit though, and I think I am ready to announce that John Frusciante might be my new all time favorite rock guitarist. To Jack White and Mike McCready I apologize, I still love you guys, honestly, it's not you.... it's me... well actually it's Johnny, he is just AMAZING! Sorry, I just get carried away with myself... it's his guitar solos, I can't resist them! And his lips... and the long rocker hair.... *sigh* I just hope he and the rest of the boys make sure they stay off the heroin. While some artists are arguably better while drug-addicted (ahem, Scott Weiland), some artists are incredible no matter what, and it'd be nice to see the Chili Peppers still putting out great albums and putting on great shows for a long time to come.

My Moral Opposition to the Child Leash

2007-01-25T10:49:00.000-05:00

While waiting near the baggage claim at Reagan National Airport in Washington D.C. last night I saw something that has always baffled and disturbed me: a mother walking her toddler on a child leash. Now, to those of you who have never actually witnessed a child leash situation in action, I am sure you can still understand the basics of it. Imagine a dog being walked by its owner and then substitute a child for the dog.

There are several sad and terrible things about the child leash. First -- and in no particular order of importance, I leave that to you to judge for yourself, my dear reader -- there is the laziness of the mother. The woman in the airport last night, for example, was carrying nothing but a simple purse. Through my powers of observation I discerned that she was not there to pick up luggage, she was there to meet someone else, who incidentally picked up all of his luggage and carried it himself, leaving her with nothing but the aforementioned purse and leashed toddler. How hard is it to hold your three year old's hand in a public place?? Or just pick him up and carry him?? I suppose it's possible that she just recently had surgery on her spine and consequently is unable to pick up the child, but somehow I doubt that. She moved easily, without the complication and discomfort of a surgical wound that is still tender and healing. I also know from experience that if the child is particularly small it can be difficult to hold their hand, since the distance from the bottom of your arm is still so far away from theirs -- even when it is outstretched. I assure you, that was not the case last night as the toddler was plenty tall.

The second thing I dislike about the child leash is harder to explain, so I am going to use an example. I would tell you to close your eyes to facilitate the imagining of this next scenario, but I don't know many people who can read with their eyes closed. So just picture a young mother walking down the street with her harnassed toddler. They come to a stop sign and find themselves next to a man who is walking his dog. The toddler looks over at the dog at his eye level and recognizes the parallel between himself and the pup, and BAM! He just equated himself with a dog. Imagine how emotionally scarred he will be for the rest of his life! It's all bad from that point on.

My final objection to the child leash is simply that it just looks bad. Plain and simple, it's just tacky. Get a stroller for God's sake. Or a babysitter to stay at home with the tot. Just in case you don't believe me, I have included some pictures for your viewing pleasure.

I Will Never Shop At Meijer Ever Again In My Whole Entire Life

2006-12-29T15:25:00.000-05:00

Yes, it's really that serious. Allow me to explain. On December 21st I worked for 12 hours. When I got out of work Shaun and I went to Meijer to pick up all of the groceries I needed to do all of my Christmas cooking. (Which, incidentally, was a lot, considering that I put gift baskets together that had homemade breads, cookies, and other goodies in them.) So we spend an hour inside Meijer picking out all of our groceries and what not, wait in the line, get all of our items rung up, and that's when the incident ocurred which pissed me off so badly that I will never, ever shop there again.

I had to show the girl my driver's license because I was buying some beer. She looked on the back and saw my change of address sticker. When she gave me the total I wrote her a check. My checks still have my old address on them, which J.P. Morgan Chase told me was absolutely fine. I've probably written 50 checks since I moved and never had any trouble. I just cross out my old address and put my new address on the check along with my phone number. I give the check to the girl and she tells me that she can't accept it becuase the address on my check is different from the address on my driver's license. I pointed out to her that the address on the front of my driver's license is the same address that is on my checks becuase I just recently moved and wasn't about to throw out an entire box of unused checks. She says she's sorry, that it's just their policy, and Shaun asks for a manager.

The woman behind us in line says that she has the same problem, because she also just moved, and she swears she's written checks at Meijer since her move. I thought that I had left my debit card at home, which meant that if they didn't accept my check I was going to have to leave the store empty handed after having spent an hour picking out all my groceries. The manager comes over and says the exact same thing, "Sorry, but it's the store's policy." And so I asked the reason for the policy. I consider myself a reasonable person, if she had been able to give me any kind of reason for the policy I would have listened, but she couldn't. She just shrugged her shoulders and said, "It's just our policy." So at this point Shaun is getting out his money clip to see how much cash he has on him, and I look in my wallet and realize that I do have my debit card on me, so I use it and we go.

Today I went through my bank statements and added up how much money I have spent at that Meijer since moving into our apartment. The total came to a ridiculous $1,219.66. That's groceries, apartment stuff, Christmas presents, etc., but it is still a buttload of money to spend at one store in less than four months time. They lost a good customer that day because of a stupid policy for which there is no apparent reason. Down with Meijer!