Witty Blog Title Goes Here

Hehehehe...

2009-09-22T12:28:00.002-05:00

Love it.

Quote

2009-09-17T23:21:00.000-05:00

“The most important thing in life is your family. There are days you love them, and others you don’t. But, in the end, they’re the people you always come home to. Sometimes it’s the family you’re born into and sometimes it’s the one you make for yourself.”

- Sex and the City

Bored, bored, bored...

2009-09-15T12:25:00.004-05:00

What is your favorite movie ever?
Oooh...that one is really hard. I think...ever ever ever? Can't say. Probably a four way tie between The Notebook, Coming to America, Full Metal Jacket, and Return to Oz. Yes, I'm a walking contradiction.

If you had an all expense paid trip anywhere you wanted to go, where would it be?
Italy. For sure. I'd love to spend a month there, drinking wine, seeing the palazzos, soaking up the culture, riding a vespa. Ciao.

How many tattoos do you have and what inspired them?
I have 5 tattoos. Actually, one is a cover up, so technically I have six. The sad part is, I only really LOVE two of them. I’ve got one on my foot of my initials and you can barely see it (I was young and dumb), one on my right ankle of my astrological sun sign – Virgo (self-explanatory), one on the back of my neck of a tribal that I quickly drew up (I found money in the parking lot of the tattoo parlor and decided that it was fate that I get a tattoo), I originally got my initials on my back when I was 18 and later decided that I didn’t like it, so I got it covered up with a purple lotus this past year and I adore it (the lotus is considered one of the most sacred and distinctive flowers in India. It represents human consciousness in that it germinates at the bottom of a pond in the mud and muck and raises above it all to flower above the water. The color purple is supposed to represent spiritual fulfillment and strength.), and my last tattoo is an ouroboros on my lower back that my sister and brother also have (to represent the cyclic nature of the universe, yin and yang, and family).

Would you rather hang out with Christopher Columbus or Aquaman, and why?
Lemme break it down for you. Both of them pretty much suck. Everyone used to think that Christopher Columbus was this great guy, and then we find out that he didn't even really discover America, and that he was kind of an asshole to boot. The Italians don't even want to claim him anymore. But there's still a big festival every year. I mean, any excuse to eat a bunch of food and drink grappa, right? To top it all off, he has his own day here in America. Complete madness…Then… there's Aquaman. Yeah, he's a comic book "superhero" but his powers are kinda sucky. Big deal. He's a good swimmer. In my opinion, he's a glorified mermaid. (Merman? Whatever.) However, he has a great body, and far be it for me to overlook a six-pack. (Of muscles, I mean. Or of beer. Whateva.) But what if he smells like a fish? Hmm.So my answer is... Aquaman. But only if it's Vincent Chase (aka Adrian Grenier) from Entourage.

What's one totally random goal that you have, and why?
That is an exceptional question. I have lots of goals. I mean, I’m sure that most people do. We set little ones for ourselves every day. But a random one...well...I guess it would be to go to Prince Edward Island in Canada and see where they filmed Anne of Green Gables. Because I love those books, and when I was younger I kind of wanted to BE Anne. (You know, minus the whole orphaned as a pre-teen thing. And the part where she dyes her hair green and has to chop it all off.)

What outfit do you feel most confident in and why?
I think most days it just depends on my mood. Usually, I wear a lot of black. So I will say probably this great black tunic-y shirt I have that shows just the right amount of cleavage, my favorite worn-in jeans, and my white and black leather bow-tie peep-toe stilettos.

What do you do when you think you are totally alone that you worry a homeless Japanese woman living in your closet might see you do?
This question kinda freaked me out. It made me want to go home and check all the closets. Because quite frankly, while I'm not so worried about a homeless Japanese woman lurking about, you can never be so sure about someone else. Like Ashton Kutcher waiting to punk me, or something. Actually, that would be rad. I'd be all "Hey what's up Ashton?" and he'd be like "Not much, you?" and I'd be like "Eh, the usual. How's Demi? Ready for Social Security yet?" and he'd be all "That's kinda mean, yet funny and true!" and I'd be like "Yeah, I know. So, you're cute, let's be friends" and he'd be like "Okay, cool. Demi's harshing my mellow anyway." and I'd be like "Dude, old people do that to you!" and then we'd go grab a beer at Murphy’s. But… if Ashton wasn't in my closet, and it was some weird homeless Japanese woman? I'd be worried that she might see me change my underwear three times before I decided on a pair I wanted to wear. Yes, I do that sometimes. Don't ask me why.

If you could live anywhere and had unlimited funds to do so where would you live?
Honestly, I would probably live exactly where I do. I love Memphis. Then again, I might like to try out Seattle. It’s always appealed to me for some reason.

Why ARE you so fabulous?
Ahh...the age-old question. Clearly. I think fabulous is a state of mind. I generally know what I want and I am not afraid of being myself. I am confident, but not conceited. I like extravagance and to buy things, but I'll also drink beer and eat pretzels while watching the game. I don't like to get dirty but I will work up a sweat dancing my ass off or running. I am independent and fiercely loyal. I can cook and I can bake. I don't like to clean but I can crochet. It's very difficult for me to apologize or accept a compliment. I try to be exactly who I am, all the time, no matter what. Because being true to yourself is fabulous.

What's your biggest regret, and how would you do it over if you could?
I have no regrets. I think everything happens the way it's supposed to. Most people would probably say that they would erase many of the disasters that have dotted my past like mini, glaring Hiroshimas, but I don't regret a thing. Looking back clouds your vision. It distorts memories, and rose-colored glasses are a bitch. I can't say I would change anything because I did what I thought I had to do. Hindsight isn't fair. It makes you doubt yourself.

Do you like ice cream? And if so, what flavor?
Ummm... who doesn't? I like butter pecan and strawberry. (Not together… that would be gross.)

Why is English so difficult?

2009-08-17T12:48:00.001-05:00

Sent to you by Heather via Google Reader:

Why is English so difficult?

via SPARKLING AND DAZZLING! on 8/15/09

cherrylolita:

Some reasons to be grateful if you grew up speaking English:

1) The bandage was wound around the wound.
2) The farm was used to produce produce.
3) The dump was so full that it had to refuse more refuse.
4) We must polish the Polish furniture.
5) He could lead if he would get the lead out.
6) The soldier decided to desert his dessert in the desert.
7) Since there is no time like the present, he thought it was time to present the present.
8) A bass was painted on the head of the bass drum.
9) When shot at, the dove dove into the bushes.
10) I did not object to the object.
11) The insurance was invalid for the invalid.
12) There was a row among the oarsmen about how to row.
13) They were too close to the door to close it.
14) The buck does funny things when the does are present.
15) A seamstress and a sewer fell down into a sewer line.
16) To help with planting, the farmer taught his sow to sow.
17) The wind was too strong to wind the sail.
18) After a number of injections my jaw got number.
19) Upon seeing the tear in the painting I shed a tear.
20) I had to subject the subject to a series of tests.
21) How can I intimate this to my most intimate friend?

Let's face it - English is a crazy language.

There is no egg in eggplant nor ham in hamburger; neither apple nor pine in pineapple.
English muffins weren't invented in England or French fries in France.
Sweetmeats are candies while sweetbreads, which aren't sweet, are meat.
We take English for granted. But if we explore its paradoxes, we find that quicksand can work slowly, boxing rings are square and a guinea pig is neither from Guinea nor is it a pig.
And why is it that writers write but fingers don't fing, grocers don't groce and hammers don't ham?
If the plural of tooth is teeth, why isn't the plural of booth beeth?
One goose, 2 geese. So one moose, 2 meese? One index, 2 indices?
Doesn't it seem crazy that you can make amends but not one amend?
If you have a bunch of odds and ends and get rid of all but one of them, what do you call it?
If teachers taught, why didn't preachers praught? If a vegetarian eats vegetables, what does a humanitarian eat?

Sometimes I think all the folks who grew up speaking English should be committed to an asylum for the verbally insane.
In what language do people recite at a play and play at a recital?
Ship by truck and send cargo by ship?
Have noses that run and feet that smell?
How can a slim chance and a fat chance be the same, while a wise man and a wise guy are opposites?

You have to marvel at the unique lunacy of a language in which your house can burn up as it burns down, in which you fill in a form by filling it out and in which an alarm goes off by going on.
English was invented by people, across the ages, and it reflects the creativity of the human race (which, of course, isn't a race at all). That is why, when the stars are out, they are visible, but when the lights are out, they are invisible.

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Weddings...

2009-06-07T15:42:00.003-05:00

DSCF7846
Originally uploaded by andresen.heather

The only good thing about them is the open bar. Well, that and you know... two people you care about being able to spend the rest of their lives together in marital bliss. There's that too.

(This pic was taken at a friend's wedding shower this past Friday.)

Bacon Cake

2009-05-26T18:59:00.003-05:00

A tribute...
Originally uploaded by andresen.heather

Lyn and I have been talking about this cake for a minute and I actually had all the ingredients to make it for once, so I did. (Sorry, Lyn!) Here's the recipe I used if you're brave enough (or love bacon as much as Lyn & I do) to make it!

Brown Sugar Chocolate Cake:

4 ounces semisweet chocolate, separated
2 cups cake flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
8 ounces unsalted butter at room temperature
1 pound dark brown sugar
3 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla extract
1 cup cold milk

In the top of a small double boiler over low heat, melt four ounces of the chocolate; set aside to cool.

Sift the flour with the baking soda and the salt then set aside. In a large mixing bowl with an electric mixer, cream the butter with the brown sugar until light and fluffy. Add the eggs, one at a time, scraping the bowl frequently. Beat in the melted chocolate. Mix one teaspoon of the vanilla with the milk, and add the sifted dry ingredients alternately to the batter with the milk, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients. Beat only long enough to make the batter smooth.

Turn the batter into 2 greased and floured 9-inch pans. Bake at 350° for one hour. A toothpick stuck into the center of the cake should come out with just a few crumbs clinging to it. Cool the cake on a wire rack for 15 minutes. Loosen the edges and invert onto another rack to cool completely.

Dark Chocolate Butter Cream Icing:
2 2/3 c. confectioners' sugar
3/4 c. unsweetened cocoa
6 tbsp. butter
5-6 tbsp. milk
1 tsp. vanilla

Combine confectioners' sugar and cocoa in a small bowl. Cream butter with 1/2 cup of the cocoa mixture in a small bowl. Alternately add remaining cocoa mixture and milk; beat to spreading consistency. Stir in vanilla.

If you want the frosting to have a glazed appearance, mix in 1 tablespoon of corn syrup.

I used maple cured bacon to go with the brown sugar taste in the cake. Hope you like it! (Or are brave enough to try it, rather...) - H.

I Think...

2009-05-13T19:41:00.000-05:00

It's time to go sit in the sunshine.

I Am...

2009-05-07T18:52:00.005-05:00

more tired than I should be.

likeable, but only before I start overthinking things and detaching myself from what's happening.
a bitch, but only as a defense mechanism.
seeking something more.
often finding that something more in sex, but the feeling is fleeting, as I'm sure you've discovered.
afraid I'll never really be loved like I want to be loved.
naive and blind to when I'm loved in general until it is too late.
a closeted superstitious individual.
a closeted optimist.
more self-flagellating than most people would think I am.
a self-saboteur. Egregiously so.
aware that it's all illusory.
able to do a lot when I stand to one side and allow it to happen naturally.
living an underachieving existence.
wishing that life were simple instead of filled with a myriad of facets.
more loyal than one might suspect.
listening to Delta Spirit.
a sucker for a sense of humor and a soulfully goofy smile.
in love with life. It's an unrequited love.
marked by a complete lack of arrogance.
terrified of moths.
worried that the moment I start "making it," the world will end or I will be severely maimed and unable to enjoy "it."
confused as to why nine seemingly intelligent professionals don't know the meaning of the word acquiescence.
annoyed by the fact that I still think about him on occasion.
perspicacious.
one that misses my Siamese's perfervid outbursts.
yearning.

Just so we're clear...

2009-04-22T22:55:00.002-05:00

He is one of the sexiest men alive. That will be all.

My Niece Asked Me to Do This...

2009-04-07T12:24:00.001-05:00

For Paige.

A
-Available: Perpetually.
-Age: 25
-Animal: Alligator!

B
-Beer: Red Stripe, Leinenkugel’s, Guinness, etc.
-Birthday: September 9
-Best Friends: Yo. Daddy.
-Body Part on the Opposite Sex: Hands, Eyes, Smile
-Best Feeling in the World: Driving with the music too loud, windows down, and open road.
-Been in love: Yes
-Believe in Santa: What’s not to believe in? He’s a fat guy that likes cookie. That’s believable, right?

C
-Color: Lime green
-Continent to Visit: Australia

D
-Day or Night: I like both. They have their own little places in my heart. I don’t pick favorites.
-Dancing in the Rain: Love it.

E
-Eyes: I have them… they’re blue, if that’s what you’re asking…
-Everyone’s got:
-Ever failed a class?: Negative, Sparky.

F
-First thoughts waking up: Just… five… more… minu… ZZZZZZ.
-Food: Sushi, sucka! I loves me some Dragon Roll… Eel sauce… Mmmm…
-Fears: Being in the dark alone, not being successful, that my apt will catch on fire while I’m in it

G
-Goals: Live my life. That’s all I can do.
-Get along with your parents?: I get along with my father and stepmother. My mother passed away last year.

H
-Hair: Red
-Height: 5’3”
-Happy: yes
-Holiday: Halloween, St. Patrick’s Day

I
-Ice Cream: Butter Pecan or Strawberry
-Instrument: I played Bb clarinet, bass clarinet, and contra bass clarinet in high school and college. Piano when I was younger. Can I play any of them now? Who knows?

J
-Jewelry: The ring I received as a “Senior gift” from the Highlander Social Club when I graduated from the W, ring I got in NOLA with a celtic cross cut out in the top
-Job: Distributor for Slumber Parties, Inc. and an Office Manager for the Rehab Dept. @ Methodist South Hospital

K
-Kids: None currently that I’m aware of…
-Kickboxing or karate: Neither.
-Keep a journal: Yes, although lately I haven’t been writing or drawing in it. (It’s really a sketchbook. I write in it sometimes or draw. Depends on my mood…)

L
-Love: My family, friends, & my dog.
-Laughed so hard you cried: Sunday when I pointed out to KB that she had inadvertently showed her no-no bits to a roomful of our guy friends.

M
-Movies: Wizard of Oz, Return to Oz, Boondock Saints, Fight Club, Adam & Steve, Circus, Tomcats, The Happiest Millionaire… I’ve got too many to name.
-McDonald’s or BK: BK FTW

N
-Number: 9

O
-One wish: That my idiot boss would go away.

P
-Perfect Pizza: Stuffed pizza from Little Italy with pepperoni, jalapenos, & feta cheese
-Pepsi or Coke: Pepsi all the way

Q
-Quail: QUAILMAN! (If you don’t know what that’s from, you deserve to die.)

R
-Reason to cry: Oh, gah. Don’t get me started. Last week was the crying week.
-Reality TV: ROCKS. I’m addicted to celebreality. >.>
-Radio Station: I generally listen to CDs in the car, my iPod or iTunes at home, and http://www.playlist.com/ at work. :\
-Roll your tongue in a circle: I’m always amazed when people can’t do that…

S
-Song: I’m currently listening to Sunshine Highway [x] Dropkick Murphys
-Shoe size: 7 ½ to 8
-Salad Dressing: Ranch
-Sushi: Yes, please.
-Skinny dipped?: >.> No comment.
-In the shower: I sing. Loudly.
-Strawberries or blueberries: Strawberries!

T
-Tattoos: 4
-Time for bed: Whenever I go. Lately, it’s been 9-ish. :\
-Thunderstorms. Scary or Exciting: Both.

U
-Unpredictable: Life

V
-Vacation spot(s): Beach

W
-Weakness: Sunglasses. Shoes. Cute men. Sunglasses. Tattoos. Sunglasses. Did I mention sunglasses?
-Which one of your friends acts the most like you?: I’m pretty much the original. Nobody else like me.
-Who makes you laugh the most?: I laugh with all of my friends. Why else would I keep them around? ^.^
-Worst feeling?: Alone
-Wanted to be a model?: Hahahahahhaa. No.
-Worst weather: Freezing. Cold. Rain.

X
-X-rays: Arm, wrist, hand, feet, legs, head, stomach, other arm, knee, other knee, chest. (I’m a sickly urchin.)

Y
-Year of birth: I’m an 80s kid. I’ll leave it at that.

Z
-Zoo animal: Yo momma! Oooooh!

It's National Cleavage Day

2009-04-03T10:17:00.003-05:00

So celebrate, bitches!

Time to do it...

2009-03-25T11:48:00.004-05:00

Haiku for today:

I really need to.

I really don't want to, though.

Packing really blows.

I've negelected packing all the way up until the VERY last second yet again. Why do I always do this to myself? Oh, yeah. Now I remember. I LOATHE PACKING. ¬.¬

Last night, I was doing things like watching Boondock Saints, painting my toenails, and giving Sasha (my dog) a bath. In short, anything but sitting on my bed staring at my suitcases, wishing fervently that they would fill themselves with appropriate clothing, shoes, and accessories without my intervention or effort. :\

I do have New Orleans to look forward to, I suppose. I've never been, so it's all super exciting for me. Also, I get to visit with my college/"sorority sister", Lyn, so that's a major plus. (She's my fellow Eddie Izzard-loving counterpart.) I do have the distinct notion that I may spend the greater portion of Thursday afternoon wandering about, cursing and wondering why I get myself into situations like this. I have the most horrible sense of direction, and almost always get lost at least twice on trips to cities I've never been. It never fails. Luckily, that's one way you're able to learn about the city you're in. I'm still friends with several people I met on my "lost in the city" excursions and would more than likely have never known they existed had I not gotten disgustingly lost.

With all of that being said, I love being somewhere new and exciting. I just really hate getting there.

Haikus from Last Friday

2009-03-24T14:30:00.002-05:00

This isn't all of them, but some...

Doyle: Myspace His Band

Musician, play, play.

A beautiful chocolate man.

Psychoanalyze.

@scout: Twitter

Moving really stinks.

At least it's not to a box.

Being homeless blows.

@puppetmuppet: Twitter

Zombies go to school.

Muppets teach zombies to dance.

Thriller. Thriller night.

@the_lyn: Webcomics #1 Webcomics #2 Twitter

Lyn wants a haiku.

She talks about poop often.

This cracks me up hard.

@bwassink: Twitter

Sushi for lunch today.

Shouldn't have bet on that game.

Better team next time.

@2manysocialnets: Twitter

Amputate your leg.

Eat your bananas. No pain.

Solutions for you.

@futuristicplans: Webcomics Twitter

Stank in the G Chat.

Stank everywhere today.

Stank won't overcome.

@Zeblue_Prime: Website Twitter

#1 -

Disgruntled worker.

#Zombietalk overcame him.

Brains he did eat then.

#2 -

Limericks so nice.

Evan is now scobbedknob.

Haiku FTW.

#3 -

Evan says “Sorry…”

“Heather is sweet awesomeness.”

All is forgiven.

New Standards...

2009-03-23T12:02:00.004-05:00

Hey, Statue...

2009-03-16T08:09:00.002-05:00

...I know how you feel. Last week + weekend was a long, long, long week. Lots of tears, fatigue, and booze were involved. (The tears were not a result of the fatigue or booze. Rather, the other way around.) Found out some bad news, but I'm sure it will be okay. Trying to hold my head up. Lots more booze & tears to come, I'm sure.

- H.

...

2009-03-12T17:37:00.000-05:00

Methodist Mega-Death Throw-Down

2009-02-27T14:32:00.004-06:00

That's right, people. It's that time of the year again when my esteemed colleague (Kia) and I have our competition to see who can lose the most weight/exercise the most. It's going down. I beat her in 2007 by an EXTREMELY large margin. In 2008, we broke even exactly - 13.5 lb apiece. This is my year again. I've got to make my comeback. If you need me, you can find me running in Overton Park with the insanity that is my dog, Sasha.

It's going down, Kia. March 1-20.

To Do List for February

2009-02-17T11:44:00.004-06:00

1. ~~Stop eating out every single night. Jeez. I just got a new stove. I might as well use it…~~
2. Clean apartment. It’s starting to look like a train wreck.
3. At least start my robot project. It’s going down, people. It’s going to happen.
4. ~~Book parties for Brent, Renee, and Kia. Also get back to Lyn & Annie about their possible joint effort.~~
5. ~~Order business cards.~~
6. Paint something. ANYTHING.
7. ~~Rearrange living room. With the extra couch in there, it’s looking ridiculous.~~
8. ~~Stop lusting after The Boy.~~
9. Look into obtaining passport for London trip in June.
10. Call stupid apartment manager back. Again.

Things I Am Over Today

2009-02-10T14:25:00.003-06:00

Chris Brown and Rihanna (i.e. Ike & Tina v. 2.0)
Winter
Rain
Memphis drivers
The mother of the octuplets (a.k.a. 14BL)
Crappy jobs
Negativity
Assholes hating on my new business

Over it.

An Open Letter to Memphis

2009-01-20T08:57:00.000-06:00

Dear citizens and travelers of Memphis,

While it *did* snow a whole 1/2 inch, I'd like for you to be aware that you can just go on with your day as usual. There's no need to stock your pantry with canned goods and bottled water nor to cram all of your heathen offspring in your oh-so-carefully placed inner room with no windows. Feel free to text, call, tweet, or facebook friends and family in excitement of the snow, but please, please, please, *do not* panic. Don't start making your last will and testament over a 1/2 inch of snow. I promise... it will be okay. I talked with the big guy (you know... J.C.) and he said, "Be cool, Memphis." and went back to playing the bongos.

That will be all.

Kisses!

Love,

Heather

Thoughts and Musings on my Mother

2008-08-06T12:18:00.000-05:00

People complain as they get older that they’re becoming their parents. I don’t think that is true. Each of us are our parents at some level. They’re mirrored in the everyday details of our expressions, sayings, mind thought, behavior. We all talk, laugh, smirk, walk, sit, stand, eat, and sigh like our parents. Continuing this line of thought, as long as we’re alive, in a very important sense, so are our parents to some degree.

My relationship with my mother was… complex, to say the least. I wish that I could say otherwise. We spent the last five years not speaking – the blame lies partially with me, but the majority lies with her. But I digress.

Our relationship was not the stuff happy endings are made from. I made the decision to cut her out of my life my sophomore year of college due to various reasons – mainly her choice of moving to Oklahoma with her abusive boyfriend – haven’t looked back very often since. Her recent death has made me start to think about her, (as it should), her life and how it ended entirely too soon, and how she’s shaped my own life.

I find myself a little angry with her for the choices she’d made in her life – regarding personal choices as well as health-wise. It saddens me that she didn’t think she was worth more than the way she treated herself. Or that she didn’t factor her child into the equation. (I’m her only child.) She didn’t take care of her health. She smoked for 20 years, was morbidly obese before she got cancer (she weighed close to 400 lb. when she found out she had cancer and weighed less than 120 lb. when she passed away), had diabetes, high blood pressure, and so much more. She was prone to depression, as well as several Axis II disorders (for you fellow psychology graduates out there). Not easy to get along with sometimes. Okay... much of the time. She lived life on her own terms. I suppose we could all do a lot worse – including me.

With all of that said, she was also clever and very witty. Intelligent, good story-teller, and extremely creative. She taught me to read at the age of 2 and encouraged me to continue reading my whole life. She raised me to be the overtly independent person I am today. She got me interested in religion and encouraged me to make my own decisions and have my own mind. She loved ghost stories, playing cards & board games, and crocheting. Her death was expected. Inevitable, even. In many ways, it is a welcome relief from a long, slow, stressful process. All the same, it’s very hard. I’m the generation on the frontline now, and that makes me feel very old – like an adult – and that’s not altogether welcome.

All of my family hasn’t been the kindest in this situation, either. I’ve come to realize that when it all comes down to a head, I’ve got to do what is best and right for me, and take care of myself. Chances are, the only time they’ll think of me in the future is to criticize what I did or didn’t do and how I did or didn’t do it. I can’t please them, so it’s best for me to just focus on myself for a while and trust that someday, it will all turn out okay.

It’s difficult not to be ambivalent, and at the same time, feel guilty about it.

That line from Gerard Manley Hopkins’ poem, “Sundry Fragments and Images”, has been resounding in my head for the past month.
“They are not dead who die, but they are lost who live.”

It has a bitter truth to it. I feel as though I’m living lost. My life really doesn’t have a purpose. I exist to live and live to exist. It’s not the best life, but I’m living.

Mini-Me Has a Sex Tape???

2008-07-14T12:00:00.000-05:00

Him: Now don't read anything into this, but don't you want to see Mini-Me's sex tape?

Me: Mini-Me has a sex tape?

Him: I want to see it.

Me: I'm so in!

Him: Is it weird that I want to see if he has junk and if it works?

Me: Who cares? It's Mini-Me. And he has a sex tape. How cool is that?

Him: True...

------------------------------------

I love my life.

TMI Friday

2008-06-20T07:50:00.001-05:00

Got tagged to do this, so I guess here goes... if you don't like the information within, you're forewarned in the title. It says TMI for a reason. - H.

1. Birthday spankings or birthday kisses?
I'm a lover not a fighter. Kisses.

2. Sitting on Santa/Easter Bunny's lap... fun or creepy?
Kids: fun
Adults: creepily fun

3. Once you start drinking at a party, do you usually get drunk or stop at tipsy?
That question is too vague. Did I drive? Do I have a ride home? Am I crashing there? My mood? The reason for the party? I rarely get drunk these days and when I do it is a spectacular event. I have a line (that isn't fixed). If I cross that line, I'll just keep drinking unless I have an outside force acting upon me to make me stop.

4. On a scale from 1-10, how passionate are you?
Again, it depends. About my family: 9.9, about my friends: 9.4, about my job: 6, about someone I am deeply smitten with: 9, about a fuck buddy who is a good kisser: 8.5, about a fuck buddy who isn't: 4, about winning (or at least not losing): 8.2

5. Have you ever seen a burlesque show?
No, but I'm dying to. Bawdy fun for the whole family, I've been told.

6. Have you ever been to an adult themed Tupperware-type party like this?
Yes. Madness ensued. I bought nothing.

7. What is your underwear "style" of choice?
I wore "granny panties" growing up. At an early point in my college career, I decided that panties were too boring for rebellious me. I couldn't continue wearing them, and I couldn't bring myself to go full out commando all the time, so I settled. Thongs – the happy medium.

8. How old were you when you had your first sexual experience?I was four. His name was Matthew. He was four, too. During naptime at pre-school, we clandestinely played (at his insistence) "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

9. What about a potential partner turns you on?He has to be willing.
Intellectual attributes: Self confident and passionate.
Physical attributes: I love a good smile and a mischievous gleam in the eye. Taller than me is nice too. (Not hard to be…)
Physical talents/skills: He has to be a good kisser.

10. Have you ever played a game which may require you or others to disrobe?Strip poker, strip uno, truth or dare, never have I ever…

11. Given or received finger scratch marks during sexual activity?I've given, but never received. It's not intentional… it just happens.

12. Have you ever been to an AA meeting or similar support group meeting?No. I am a rock. I am an island. I am my own support group.

13. Have you ever used ice for sexual purposes?Well, yeah… (if foreplay counts as sexual purposes).

14. On a scale of 1-10, how well do you receive constructive criticism?8 (since 10 is an unattainable score). I am probably a 6 or 7 on the "receives criticism" scale if you add advice while telling me I am doing it wrong.

16. Have you ever been INSIDE a store that sold adult themed toys and videos?Yes, and sadly, the best one I've ever been in was right in my own hometown.

17. Have you ever been propositioned for group sex?Yes. Multiple times, in fact. Once by a high school friend to add some "kick" to her marriage bed, once by a high school friend because he thought I could teach his fiance some tricks, and once by a random drunk guy on Beale St. Apparently I just look approachable for the group sex.

18. On a scale of 1-10, how much do you enjoy music in your daily life?
I don't enjoy music. I have a passion for it. I listen to it. I don't mean I hear music… Hearing is a passive activity. Listening requires an investment of time and energy. Listening causes me to constantly question my own taste in music. It requires an effort. Dissect every part of the rhythm, lyrics, melody, emotional impact. Then listen to the whole. Enjoy it. Live it. Love it.

19. Have you ever given or received a hickey on your upper inner thigh? Anywhere?
I do tend to respond very strongly to having my neck orally stimulated, but I'm a wee bit more fragile than I appear, so an accident or two has been known to happen. I also am a beasty, so I bite. Watch out!

20. Have you ever had sex while you or your partner was tied up?No and yes. Sorry… no details, multiple times with multiple partners (and they were all as different and special and interesting as the men and the relationships).

Things observed this weekend…

2008-06-02T07:01:00.001-05:00

1. Tourist season in Memphis has officially begun. (So saith Heather…) I went downtown Saturday to start working on one of my 101/1001 goals and was bombarded by massive amounts of touristy flesh while I was attempting to take pictures. Ugh.

2. Having ice cream for breakfast while walking down Beale St. is nice.

3. No matter how diligently I apply sunscreen to my body, I will always burn a little somewhere. Damn red hair & corresponding fair skin.

4. It's good to see & hang out with people not seen in a while. Even if their dramatics still reach you two days later.

5. I like it more than I thought.

6. Walking around in my Target brand fake Vans isn't half as comfortable as I thought. Blisters ensued on my ankles.

7. Sex and the City: the Movie was awesome. To quote myself describing it via a phone convo leaving the movie theatre: "It was wonderful. I laughed. I cried. I laughed 'til I cried."
P.S. – Two scenes that had me on opposite sides of the spectrum of emotions within 5-10 minutes of one another that amazingly enough involved Charlotte: 1. The hijinx that ensued when Charlotte accidentally drank the water in Mexico.
2. When SJP is getting back into the limo and Charlotte yells, "NO!" – I. Cried. I don't think I breathed throughout the entire scene.

8. This past week was sheer hell and I'm almost positive the time spent in the sun this weekend helped to turn my mood from morose bitch to semi-decent human being.

9. The Republican party has adopted a new tagline – "the change you deserve." The problem with this? Oh, nothing… except it's ONLY Effexor's slogan. In case you don't know, Effexor is an anti-depressant drug whose most common side effects are constipation, dizziness, dry mouth, insomnia, loss of appetite, nausea, copious sweating, nervousness, sleepiness, sexual side effects, and weakness. All in all, this makes me giggle like a schoolgirl on her first pony ride.

10. People watching is a favorite pastime of mine. The tourists on Beale Saturday provided hours of entertainment for an individual such as myself. Two actual conversations I overheard:

Convo 1:
Sober guy with Irish accent coming out of Silky's: "Did you have a civilized conversation?"
Extremely inebriated guy with Irish accent coming out of Silky's: "No… I was talking to that American girl."

Convo 2:
Panhandler: "Gimmee a dollah, main."
Tourist with Boston Accent: "A dollar? What do you need a dollar for?"
PH: "I need a dollah so's I can go to da sheltah tonight, main."
TBA: "I need a dollar so I can buy another Big Ass Beer."
PH: "Man, c'mon. Gimmee a dollah."
TBA: "You give me a dollar."
PH: "You want me to give you money…"
TBA: "I'll tell you what. You give me a dollar today so I can buy a BAB and I'll give you $5 tomorrow."
PH: "Main, I nee tuh sleep somewure tonight. Dat ain't coo."
TBA: "C'mon! Give me a dollar. Right now. For $5 tomorrow. We'll meet here. Same bat time, same bat channel."
*Panhandler walks off toward the Pepsi-Cola Pavilion presumably to harass some other tourist*

It was a beautiful day, kids.

I am...

2008-05-29T08:10:00.000-05:00

... happy.
... unsure.
... ecstatic.
... confident.
... worried.
... calm.
... tired.
... stressed.
... texting.
... secretive.
… awesome.
... trusting.
…wanting.
... naive.
...a whole mess of emotions today.

TMI Friday

2008-05-02T15:25:00.000-05:00

This morning, Matthew and I were talking about how he's a walking contradiction and I told him that he was being hypocritical, but after some thought, I realized that I'm a bit of a walking contradiction myself. So in penance to Matthew, I figured I might as well disclose some other possibly embarrassing and perhaps a teensy bit hypocritical behavior that I've displayed in the past and more than likely will continue in the future…
(Bulleted, for your reading pleasure.)

I like boy bands. *Nsync is my favorite, though. I like them so much that I know that the asterisk is in front of the 'N' and not behind. I've always liked them. Justin solo is much better than Justin of *Nsync, but I still like the group. I own all of their CDs, including the Christmas album. Despite this, I'd like to lodge a protest that my love of boy bands is not a proper reflection of my ability to seek out and listen to good music... more socially acceptable music. Promise.
I have been known on occasion to turn my nose up at people that couldn't live without Starbucks. I've ranted and railed against the corporation and told everyone I knew about what crappy business practices they use. How unethical and bigoted they are. I recently moved into my apartment and it's 5 blocks away from a tiny Starbucks on the corner. I'll admit it. It was a selling point. Granted, low on the totem pole of selling points, but I like Caramel Frappucinos. They're tasty and caramelicious and full of corporate guilt.
Despite my frequent rants against the government and more importantly, government public assistance, I still accepted federally subsidized students loans. They helped pay for my education. Granted, comparing the subsidization of my student loans to welfare programs is hardly equivocal in my mind, but there is still that small percentage of me that knows KNOWS that there is a little bit of hypocrisy in cashing in my loan checks while denying that the government should redistribute tax payers' money in the form of "welfare."
I claim to be a low-maintenance non-girly girl in any shape, form, or fashion, but it takes me at least 30 minutes to get ready for work every morning. Between showering, shaving, picking out something to wear, drying & straightening my hair, moisturizing, and putting on my makeup… I guess I'm a little more vain than I'd like to admit. Even to myself.
I don't know how to take a compliment. If you get the pursed lips and an "Uh-huh", consider yourself thanked for the compliment.
I get drunk after 4 beers. Since I graduated from the W, I haven't been drinking as often or as much. So… I'm a bit of a lightweight now and perhaps even a bit of a loser. Also, a cheap date. I'm over it.
I hate going to the gym. However, for the past two weeks I've been in the gym twice a day Monday-Friday. But I really hate, hate, hate going to the gym. Like… I loathe it. I also hate to run. I'll kick it up when I'm on the treadmill and jog a little, but never run. I admire runners. I really do, but nothing in me – not one iota – likes to run. I don't get that high other people get. It's more of a completely exhausted, my knee fucking hurts, self-loathing, on the brink of experiencing a heart attack first-hand feeling. But I have been going to the gym.
I'm not a book snob, per-se, but I won't date someone who doesn't read. (translate: again.) Okay, so perhaps that does make me a bit of a snob. They wouldn't necessarily have to be as obsessed about books as I am… I mean, I wouldn't expect them to wander around Books-a-Million or Barnes & Noble for three hours with me while I'm on my book high and walk out wondering where those 12 books in a plastic shopping bag came from.
On the subject of romantic excursions… I've never envisioned myself participating in a traditional wedding with the big, poofy, white dress and church full of people I barely know. Not even as a little girl. When I was 8, I told my mother that I wanted to get married in Vegas by Elvis. She laughed, but I was serious. I probably would have laughed at me too.

So… yeah. I'm a walking contradiction too. But I'm okay with being one.

TMI Friday: Meet-cutes aren’t cute.

2008-04-25T07:28:00.001-05:00

I watch way too many romantic comedies. Which is why I was so excited when Hottie McPreppie Man got on the elevator with me the other day in my apartment building. A lurching stop and go up 17 stories goes by much more nicely when there's a delightfully sexy guy standing next to you. Especially when McPreppie is giving you the sexy eye. Did I mention that he was giving me the sexy eye? Even if he was wearing a polo and a PUMA visor. Because isn't that how it works? Strangers meet-cute (thank you, The Holiday, for introducing me to that term…) and quickly come to the burning realization that not only are they attracted to one another, but that they are charmingly, if not a little sickeningly perfect for one another. Then the inevitable external, but amusing circumstances briefly keep them apart until the compulsory and inevitable happily ever after, complete with the standard running towards one another through various methods of transportation into each other's arms (airport terminals, near death experiences in traffic, horses, MATA terminals, train stations, and my personal favorite… the penny-farthing, a bicycle circa 19th-century).

I should have realized that he was too good to be true. He was too sweetly smart with the barely perceptible self-deprecating attitude that I find oh-so-charming. He's a financial advisor. Obviously, an unearthing of his fatal defect was destined to come about. Why didn't I see it? Why?

For a good two days, I was giddy and singing "Hallelujah." Then the date happened. Nothing terribly fancy – the sushi place down the street. Taking me there, he's already scored brownie points. This is, of course, taking into account my passionate love affair with sushi.
We chatted while we waited for our order. Normal first date talk – our families, friends, where we went to school, where we're from, etc. It was a beautiful thing, people. He was charming, I was flirty, I was laughing at all of his jokes, and he was laughing (in a good way) at my acts of silliness. Then… our food arrived and things went downhill from there. He'd ordered a roll that had scallions on it. McPreppie apparently isn't a big fan of them. Picking up his plate, he proceeds to stand up, snapping his fingers at the waiter. As soon as he picked up the plate, I knew that I was about to be mortified. I, sadly, was correct.

When the waiter didn't respond to his incessant snapping, (who would?), he raced after him, yelling, "Hey, you!" Mortified. Did I mention that I was mortified? Needless to say, a lengthy tirade ensued and McPreppie's dinner ended up being on the house. By that time, I was desperately texting everyone in Memphis that I knew to conveniently call me with a flat tire, dead baby, deathly epidemic causing disease, anything to get me out of this date. Miserably, I ended up waiting out the remainder of the date, counting down the seconds until I could leave graciously.

The check came. McPreppie made no move toward the black, gleaming cover. Exasperated, I snatch it off the table, opening it - $15.46. He takes the check from me and flags down the waiter yet again. Rolling his eyes, the waiter strolls over. "Can you split this? I just had the double whiskey and a diet coke. Everything else goes on her check. My meal was comped." Did I mention that he's a financial advisor? Pardon the foul language, but what. the. fuck. I definitely believe in the empowerment of women, but damnit, when you invite me out on a date for the first time, don't make it dutch. Especially if you make twice as much money as I do. Especially especially if you acted like a prick and got your meal comped on said date. Jeez. Where are the single gentlemen in the world? Because the ones I've seen are few and far between.

So much for meeting the man of my dreams and falling in love somewhere along the 10th floor and having a KICK ASS "how we met" story to augment the happy union.

Either way, I'm going to stop watching romantic comedies for a while. If nothing else, simply for the lone, miserable, hateful fact that meet-cutes do not work out in real life. EVER. Damn you and your career-long crusade of false hopes and happily ever aftering, Sandra Bullock. You too, Meg Ryan. And don't think I've forgotton about your cute happenstances, Audrey Hepburn. Damn you all to the false hope giving level of hell. (In case you're wondering, I've just made that level up. It's located in the center of hell with Satan himself.)

Meh. He said he voted for George Dubya anyhow. It could never work out.

i wish...

2008-04-24T11:49:00.000-05:00

that i could hate you. i can't. we both know it. now it's out there. i've kept you at arm's length for a reason. i wish i could hate you. i wish you would love me the way i want and deserve to be loved. i wish i could forget about you. i wish i could move on. i wish all of this and more, but i can't make it happen anymore than i can make the sun rise or set.

Plan E

2008-04-02T08:21:00.000-05:00

I have a new plan. I’m going to make it up as I go.

TMI Friday: I’ve done a lot of stupid things while drunk...

2008-03-28T11:40:00.000-05:00

Including but not limited to:- initiating a giant cake fight in United Way
- getting lost in my own hometown
- sending mass-texts to everyone I know and then not remembering the next day
- drunk-dialing (I know, I know. Shocker.)
- drunk-MySpacing (Waaaaay worse, I assure you.)
- puking in Matthew's jeep (I'm sure he'd agree)
- locking myself out of my own apartment
- ordering up an $80 tab when what I really needed was water & a cheeseburger
- making out with some random guy in Club 152
- etc.
... but I have NEVER threatened to blow up ANY city with a TV remote.

So drink safely this weekend, peoples!

TMI Friday: Same Scenario, Different Guy

2008-03-28T06:53:00.001-05:00

Why is it I find myself in the same situations over and over again?
I spoke with "Binx" via telephone this afternoon during my lunch break. He called to see if I wanted to go out to the Fox and the Hound tonight with him and his cousin. It's going to be difficult to let him go and keep saying no. First of all, just his voice oozes sex. But I'm going to have to. For the first time in my life, it's not about the man in my life – it's not about how much he likes me or wants me or even loves me. It's not about how romantic he is or how much fun with have together. It's about me and what I want and need. What I deserve and how I get wounded every time I settle.

I said, "No, B, I don't think that's a good idea." That statement was met with stony silence and then a subtle sniff. "Why won't you hang out with me anymore?" I repeated my stance. "I just don't think that it's a good idea for us to hang out right now." He sounded like he was almost close to tears. He told me how much he likes me, and how he thinks he is falling in love the more time we spend apart. He also said that he can't see himself in a serious relationship right now and how he is "soooo not ready to get married anytime soon."

Take a nice pause and let that sink in.

I gently responded that he shouldn't take me for granted and make the assumption that I want to marry him or get serious and that if he ever did want either of those things to happen that he'd have to work for it and not just assume that I was his for the taking. I did, however, give him points for honesty. He replied that he would have loved to have just dated me for a long time, but he knew that we would get attached to one another and that it wasn't fair to either one of us, and the last thing in the world he wanted to do was to hurt me because I meant so much to him. The part that made it even more difficult to let him go was that he said that if he could, he'd change anything and everything about himself just to make me happy. I said the correct and realistic thing: that I don't want or expect him to change for me – that I want him to be himself, flaws and all. The sad part was that I meant it. He asked if we could still hang out every once in a while, just as friends. I of course said yes, but I honestly don't think that it's a feasible task, taking into consideration the fact that neither of us can keep our hands off the other for more than 30 minutes, tops.

After we hung up, I sat for a couple of minutes in mild shock. I hadn't expected that outpouring of his feelings. Then reality called me in the form of my boss asking for some computer help, so I returned to work. About 15 minutes ago, he texted me, "I miss you. I'm sorry. I wish I could make you happy."

I simply texted back, "I miss you too."

My Favorite Vice

2008-03-24T08:32:00.000-05:00

I've been lucky to be the recipient of good times, great drinks, and even greater love of some amazing guy friends. Some I have lost contact with as I run through the years and boyfriends, but as long as I remember, I've had a guy friend only a phone call away. They've all had different personalities, appearances, characteristics, and always the varying sexualities, but they all have some common denominators:
We've never had sex with one another – even if we were both desperate and in the midst of a dry spell.
I've shared everything with them, from gossip to the mundane details of my life to some of my darker secrets that I can't even tell my family.
We've been each other's wingmen.
I would chat with them nearly every day and sometimes 15 times a day.
The latest would be Joshua 4010, but the very first was Matthew M. From that point on, there was Joseph, Michael, John, Cody, Jamie, Matthew J., David, and Brent. There are many more, but these are the Incredible Ten. The main men in my life. We've gotten in trouble together more times than I should admit to. I distinctly remember random moments of depravity…
Nakedness in public: skinny dipping, running down the middle of the street, truth or dare.
Drinks and Drugs: my first joint, stealing liquor from the parent's secret stash, jello shots at my 16th birthday, giggling together about nothing, being on my own plane.
Debauchery in general: getting grounded together for being arrested (him) and almost arrested (me) at a rave, writing one another letters in various classes, cutting up in the Spanish lab, indian leg wrestling one another in Mrs. Luna's French class, stealing cow lights, stealing road signs, crashing parties in Starkville, crashing parties in Fulton, crashing parties in Columbus, drinking in fields.
These significant individuals are not to be confused with the usual "guy friends." Not that those gentlemen aren't of a certain caliber as well – I like to subscribe to the quality, not quantity motto when allowing individuals into my life, so it definitely applies to that category as well as my platonic guy friends.
The thing with my understanding of men, more often than not, is that I don't understand them at all. At least when it comes down to adding sex to the relationship. It seems like the sex always make one or both of us temporarily insane. There once was a time that I believed that I understood the male mind and psyche, but fuck me in a forest – I have about as much a clue as the next vuh-g holder. What I do know, however, is that the male species has much to offer and friendship is one of those gems. Often, that friendship is only snapped up by girls like me – women that need a low maintenance friend that listens as much as they speak, that is kind, funny, and protective. The kind of friend that is perfect boyfriend material, but for one tiny insignificant detail that turns out to be a huge frickin' deal in the end. There has been ZERO chemistry. The X factor. That certain something that pulls you in and drives you mad. Some of my guy friends I've imagined naked, but for the most part, I'd have to say not. This is where I've been told I've gone wrong in the past. Maybe chemistry is huge for me. When a guy walks into a room, I want my jaw to drop onto the floor. I want to, within the first .038 seconds of contact, imagine doing dirty things with him without our societal mandated clothing on. That's what I want and crave.
Others may be able to date individuals that they will describe as "Look, it's not like I get butterflies in my stomach when I look at them, but he/she's really nice, you know? I mean, maybe it'll grow…" I've tried that venue, but I always end up hurting those people in the end. The ones that have hurt me have been those that I had an instantaneous, incredible, unmistakable wild animal chemistry with. When I couldn't remember where I was for a split second. Perhaps I need to start looking at forging relationships that don't begin with my feeling an instant chemistry. Maybe those fools that keep repeating, "Maybe it'll grow" know what they're talking about. It's not completely out of the question – I've seen it happen before.
Chemistry is an addictive drug. It's comparative to lying in a hammock listening to Nessun Dorma full blast, massive martini so dirty it's naughty in hand, with the best cheese and crackers in waiting. Addictive or not, it's one of my vices and we all know how difficult it is to rehabilitate oneself from a favorite vice.

What Heather Wants

2008-03-12T03:55:00.000-05:00

It’s like this: I want a beach, white sand, water that looks photoshopped, and a big umbrella to sit under. I want to get there without having to fly. I want myself, and only myself, and I want no one’s feelings to be hurt by that. I want a white tankini, and a tan so it wears well. I want to read full chapters – voraciously digesting them inbetween naps in the sun. I want cold water, in a glass with crushed ice and one slice of lemon. I want a notebook and a black fine point sharpie. I don’t want the black to bleed onto the next page. I want inspiration, a burst of drawing, followed by brilliant writing. I want to walk down to the water without worrying about who is staring at me and what they think. I want natural highlights, both in my hair and on my cheeks. No hair dye, no blusher. I want an endless supply of magazines – US Weekly, People, Glamour, Cosmo – the stuff I roll my eyes at but delve into when no one else is looking. I want a few hours to spend at the gym. I want strawberries – some fresh, some dipped in white chocolate, all with a side of whipped cream. I want a cell phone that can receive and transmit text messages, but absolutely no incoming phone calls. I want sleep - undisturbed by honking horns, car alarms, ambulances, early morning construction, fire trucks, and anything else that has the potential to ruin the peace and stillness of the night. I want to have a late-afternoon conversation over lemonade with another person, a stranger who is open minded and won’t judge. I want a 24-hour network featuring brand new episodes of all that is shiny and trashy: America’s Next Top Model, Celebreality, Project Runway. I want an early evening shower, reading while laying on clean sheets in my towel, my long and luxurious hair air-drying into natural waves. I want fresh sushi delivered daily for lunch. I want a car with an iPod hook-up, winding island roads and nowhere to be. I want fresh flowers on a table and cold water in a carafe. I want a 71 degree evening, a hoodie, flip flops, a balcony, and silence. I want a waverunner and no chance of getting hurt. I want perfectly polished fingernails (french tipped) and toenails (fire engine red, but I’ll settle for Scorsese red.) I want an internet hook-up, but no desire to use it. I want to sit on a raft and watch the fish and turtles hanging out in the water. I want chewy butter pecan cookies with the nutritional value of air. Also, white chocolate reese’s. I want flip-flops that don’t lose traction and a bathing suit cover-up that looks effortlessly chic. I want a skinny headband, overly large sunglasses, and the toe ring I wore when I was 16. I want all of my old journals – stacked in chronological order. I want all of my old short stories, papers, and essays, and professors’/teachers’ notes on that literature, loaded onto the same laptop. I want my digital camera and an endless supply of lithium batteries, so that when I come back and I’m myself again, I can upload the pictures and title the set "How Heather Got Her Groove Back." Think I can get it all?

A Letter to... Me.

2008-02-28T09:11:00.001-06:00

I listen to Q107.5 during my morning commute and the other morning, Karson, Kennedy, and Latty wrote letters to themselves at 17. I was fortunate enough to hear all three that morning and thought that it was a fantastic idea. So here's my letter to… me.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dearest 17,
You're about to enter your senior year of high school, and although it's supposed to be "your" year, I'm here to tell you that it will suck more than you'll ever know. (The reason I know? This is your future self. Seven years in the future, to be exact…) But you'll make it out for the most part unscathed. I know, I know. You've been through so much already. No one wants to go through what you have, but there's more ahead. You've learned to handle it all with great finesse and seem to appear unharmed to everyone else, but let me tell you something – covering up your hurt with humor doesn't make it all go away. I know your humor is part of your coping strategy, but you have other outlets available. You friends are there for you and you're still close with many of them even now. Keep in better contact with everyone. I know it's hard to do, but it's worth it.
When you graduate from high school, don't continue arguing with Gaynel. It will end in disaster. Trust me on this. Nothing – not even your ridiculous pride – is worth losing your sister. She's a light in your life that will pierce the darkness of days ahead. Forgive your father and let go of everything he has done and will do to you. It's causing a rift not only between the two of you, but between him and your siblings. When your mother wants to move to Texas, let her do it without feeling like she is abandoning you. I know that's what she's doing, but let it go. It's what she wants. She'll regret it all later, but it's her life.
When you go to college, don't drop out of band. That's something you'll regret. When you meet Matthew, don't shy away just because Tina introduces you. He'll be one of your best friends in the future and you two should befriend one another sooner. Be more outgoing at ICC – don't just hang out with your roommates. You won't keep in contact with any of them except for Tina and Amanda. Don't go to the field party in Mooreville with Jennifer. You don't need to meet any of those rednecks and will be a bitter and hungover mess the next day when you have to perform. Jennifer will drop out a semester after that to go to beauty school, so just say no.
When you go to the W, enjoy every minute. It will be two of the best years of your life. Take out larger loans so you won't have to work so many jobs. Yes, you'll pay more in the future, but it will be worth it for your GPA. Don't take Economics. For that matter, don't take Applied Stats with Dr. Milikin. Take as many classes as you can with Dr. Roth – he's an odd, befuddled man, but will impart more wisdom to you than you could ever comprehend. Attend class more. I know you'll be tired from shoving more activities into a 24 hour day than there should be, but go. B's are not good enough. Take more art classes. Art makes you happy and you need more happiness in your life.
Visit your grandmother more often. You'll feel guilty about it later.
When you see people that you graduated from high school with, don't turn and walk away in the other direction. I know you hate it in Caledonia, but high school was more fun than you realize now. Enjoy it while you're there.
About men… many will come and go from your life in the next seven years. Some friends, others lovers. Don't mistake lust for love. Use a prophylactic. Just because you can doesn't always mean you should. Make love the standard. However, when an offer is made to you in this form in the winter of 2007, accept it, but know that you'll come to care far more than you should or thought about in the beginning. You'll love him and he'll love you. It will end badly, but you both will be friends again eventually. ALL OF THE PAIN FROM THIS ENCOUNTER IS WORTH THE LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP YOU'LL RECEIVE IN TURN. When this is over, do not go to "Binx." This relationship will cause you more trouble than it is worth. Even if in the midst of everything you feel completely and heartbreakingly alone and it seems like no one will ever know how you feel, don't do it. You'll sit on your bed at night, staring into the darkness unseeing. It will hurt and you'll cry for what you lost and for what could have been. Just another trial for you to go through with guns not so much blazing as peeking out of their holsters, but you'll pull through. By the way – regarding men – you deserve the best. You deserve to be loved and it is possible for a man to love you as you are; to laugh at your silliness and jokes, to want to spend time with you just for the simple pleasure of your company without any ulterior motives. It's possible that when a man says, "You're beautiful", he means it. That he'd rather cut off his own hand than break your heart. He's out there and you'll eventually find him. Just keep hope alive.
As far as your spirituality and religion go… You're going to go through some very deep spiritual waters. You're even going to leave the church and question everything you believe in. You'll wrestle with your very soul, but you'll learn where your beliefs lie and will pursue those wholeheartedly. You'll learn to focus on god and it will make your faith in the almighty that much stronger. All of this will give you an abiding peace within that will remain with you. (At least until you reach where I am in life, anyhow. God only knows the rest…) I know that right now you spend much of your time reading your bible, trying to understand and find answers to your questions. All of that studying will pay off – not in making you a better Christian, but rather, it will make you better able to defend your reasons for not being one. I'm telling you this so you'll know it's okay. Nothing terrible happens when you lose your faith. The world doesn't end; the sky doesn't fall down on your head. I think most importantly of all, you're going to learn that the small things are not worth the worry. In life, it takes too much energy and time to worry and fret over the things that you face and deal with on a daily basis. Save it for the hard things that come along in life to trip you up. You'll find that even in the hardest situation, you have a well of inner strength and resolve.
I remember very clearly what you were like and I want you to know that you're going to grow and mature into the woman you'd always hoped you would be. You're going to learn to accept yourself as you are and relax in that knowledge. You're going to finally love yourself. So hang in there, 17. It's well worth the journey.
Love,
24

Do you ever find yourself wondering...

2008-01-02T16:58:00.001-06:00

...what could have been? I've found myself the victim of my own mind recently. I overanalyze and think too much to begin with, so when I found myself perusing the shelves of the "What could have been" Bar, I didn't (pardon the redundancy) think too much of it. A week or so later and it's out of control. It all started with a little trip downtown... I ended up on a street corner standing beside the old Tower Records store and realized that I'd forgotten my gloves. One thing led to another, and inevitably, as it almost always seems to happen, my mind turned to another time that I'd been standing in that almost exact spot with no gloves. Memories. I'm haunted by them these days. Michel de Montaigne said that "Nothing fixes a thing so intensely in the memory as the wish to forget it." God, do I wish I could forget. My life would be so much easier. This probably makes no sense to anyone but me, but that's okay. It helped to clear some unneeded thoughts out anyway.