Memo

To whom it may concern:

Upon my winning the lottery I shall expect 3 things.
1) Chocolate chip cookies shall be baked fresh every morning.
2) A fleet of sports cars will be purchased in my name.
3) The giant spiders that hide in my closet and SCARE THE LIVING BEJESUS OUT OF ME will be hunted mercilessly by a highly trained spider assassin with a turbo Dyson and a machete.

Mother's Day

Once upon a time, there was a small young girl with long dark eyelashes and long dark hair. Life was bright and fair until her mother was taken from her. Darkness descended. Without light, the people around her turned into monsters. The small young girl with the long dark eyelashes grew into a tall young girl with nightmares behind her eyes and anger in her heart. She ran from the darkened land and tried her best to recreate the light. She succeeded in part but the light was still not quite right. It couldn’t block out the nightmares behind her eyes or soothe the anger in her heart. She ran again and with her two small bundles of light, she began anew. She met a man with dark hair but a light heart. The family grew and the light grew brighter. Sometimes it was easy to not see the nightmares. Sometimes it was easy to not notice the anger. Other times, it wasn’t so easy. Her small bundles of light couldn’t understand. The man with the light heart tried his best. One day, the nightmares and the anger overcame her. She tore herself from the light and fought with the darkness. She fought fiercely and with courage. The darkness receded to only a dim shadow. She returned to the light of her family with great strength. Gone was the anger in her heart. The nightmares still lived behind her eyes but their power had been diminished. After years of running, the tall young girl was able to embrace her own light. Life was never again as bright and fair as it was when she was small and young but it was beautiful.

There are always nightmares and always darkness but the light and beauty of family can overpower any shadow.

HOORAY CLEANING!!!

I've procrastinated long enough. Today is the day to clean. But I need to explain myself first.

I am a slob.

I blame it on my artistic side. I prefer to live surrounded by chaos so as I'm surveying all that needs to be done, I'm looking at a total flippin' mess. There are piles of clothing that need to be washed. A pile of shoes that could stand to be put in the closet. Piles and stacks and towers of artwork and pieces of artwork that need to be put away in some order. And art supplies? Don't even ask. You will find them everywhere.

Long ago, I had a roommate. After living with me for a month, she informed me that I'm a college guy trapped in a woman's body. Disaster doesn't really bother me. It was one of the reasons I decided that I would live by myself when I got my apartment. I keep thinking that I'm going to be better with my beautiful loft apartment. It's so lovely that my disaster area mentality might not complement it too well. I'm not holding my breath though...

Meme: the Seven Random Facts one

Ma got me...so here we go...

1) I sing. A lot. I used to sing in a band and in high school choir. Since then, I sing only in the shower, around the house when no ones there, in my car, and the rare karaoke occasion. I really want to start singing in public again. I'm hesistant to take lessons because I don't want to sing church music, I want to sing jazz and the like.

2) Regardless of any hardass image I project, I'm a total romantic at heart. I think it is possible for some people to find that perfect person they've been waiting their whole life for...but I also think its possible that there are those that never do. There's something romantic about waiting your whole life for a perfection you never find, even if it is kind of tragic. In my short little life, I think I've fallen in love a few times but it was only because I saw the possibility of who those men could be for their someone, even if it wasn't me. For as much pain as they've caused me, I'm acutely aware of how wonderful any man can be towards the woman they truly love.

3) I used to be really religious, pursuing a knowledge of it with a scientific mind. Since that period of my life, I've kind of stopped wondering. I don't know if there's a supreme being. I don't know that I feel a divine presence guiding my life. I'm not sure I'm overly concerned with it. I'll work with what I've got and I suppose one day I'll find out one way or another.

4) My favorite color is a deep, dark red. Almost the color of blood but a little darker and a little less orange. My other favorite color is black. They're comforting to me. Anything in those colors is beautiful to me. Metallic paint on a car, flowers, fabrics, insects, anything. I'm drawn to objects that are that color of red.

5) I spend an inordinate amount of time in my own head. I can remember being young and instead of playing with my siblings, I'd go out and lie down on the grass and just spend time thinking. I still do that sort of thing from time to time. It makes it hard to sleep. It also gives me little frown lines permanently etched in my forehead from concentrating. I also noticed that I sometimes talk and act differently from people my own age. Sometimes from people in general. Maybe its not so much that I spend time in my head as much as I'm just a little weird.

6) I'm a chameleon. I think I get it from my dad. I can get all dressed up and rub elbows with business types or I can put on a bandana and a tshirt and hang out at the tattoo shop. I like talking to all sorts of people. Being a chameleon lets you hear stories that maybe you wouldn't have otherwise heard. The downside is sometimes its hard to know who you really are underneath all the color-shifting.

7) I've managed to have a pretty amazing life. I've lived through some things which might have ruined some people. I'm still standing and I think I'm a stronger person because of all that's happened. Sometimes I think that it's all going to hit me someday and I'll crumble in a broken heap. Part of me thinks I should be a complete mess because of all that's happened. But then I wonder what the point would be. All those things didn't kill me. Sure, they were horrible at the time but they have no control over me now. Bad things happen to everyone. It's just a matter of what you do with the aftermath. Learn from them what you can and if there's nothing to learn, throw it away and move forward. I'll enjoy my life while I can.

Appreciating life and wicked-awesome Mondays

The last couple of weeks stand out as significant in Em’s Grand Scheme of Things. Nearing the end of the semester, I’d had a feeling like things were about to change. While things were going pretty well externally, I just had this unsettled feeling. Something needed to change. I had been overstressed, depressed, and pissy in general. I wasn’t all that happy with life. I needed to be proactive. About a week ago, I decided that maybe getting out on my own would help figure things out. In my entire life, I have lived alone only briefly. For about 6 months during my (first) freshman year I had solitude and crashed it into the ground with my immaturity. Since then, I have always either lived with family, in a dorm, or with my ex-husband. I decided that it was time to live on my own and see who I really am.
Shortly after I made this decision, my brother’s friend John died. While my external reaction to his death has been limited, internally, I think about it every day. He’s made realize that I’m not going to live forever. And the time I get may be shorter than I think. It’s made me more confident in my apartment decision and more confident in living my life the way I’ve always wanted to.
I’ve always felt like I’ve grown up in the shadows of others. I can talk a pretty good game but I’ve never been as independent as I project. I’ve always been concerned about what others are thinking of me, what I should or shouldn’t do, or say. I’ve edited the real me to fit expectations. Slowly, over this semester, I’ve allowed more of myself to come through to those around me. Sometimes as a shock, I think. Several times in the past couple months I’ve heard that things I do are ‘so not like me’. It’s been a little difficult to tell people that, actually, these kinds of things are SO like me, I’ve just been too worried to act like it.
Since my mortality has decided to smack me in the face, I’ve felt compelled to do all the things I’ve always wanted but have been too cautious and concerned to actually do. Yesterday, I got my nose pierced. It’s lovely and contrary to all that I had feared, it didn’t really hurt at all. I’m working on making decisions based on what’s good for me, not just what is comfortable. My greatest change of all, I’m talking to strangers more. Usually, I don’t initiate conversation and I’ve been told that because of that (and my smartass nature), I come across as a bitch (go figure). Since I’ve started talking, people are actually way nicer than I thought they were, I actually want to be around people all the time …FASCINATING.
I’m excited. From this square one of appreciating what life can really be, things seem like they can be amazing. That I can be completely myself and people will be okay with that. For someone whos stifled themselves for as long as they can remember, this is an amazing thing for me. Things couldn’t get much better…

…and then I found MY HAIR STYLIST ON ACCIDENT. I shit you not. Life is so good right now.

Gentlemen, start your engines...

Notice: this post will be a mix of nostalgia and blatant mockery. Let's do nostalgia first, mkay?

Thursday was my little brother's birthday. He's old. Which makes me old. But that's another post. He's the resident stockcar driver in the family and so it was only natural to go to the track on Saturday to celebrate his big day. Now, I need to give a little family history here. Growing up, it wasn't unusual for my dad to pack us four kids up and take us to the racetrack on a Saturday night. We'd line up on the bleachers, suck down hotdogs and nachos, and place bets on who would win each heat. We'd scream our heads off, go deaf from the noise of the engines, and breathe in four pounds of track dust. It was great. As an added perk, we got to see the jovial side of my dad that only comes around after a plastic bucket of beer is consumed in the company of his friends. Nowadays, going to the track is even more fun seeing as lil bro is out on the track. We can still scream our heads off but we actually know who's behind the wheel so it makes it even better. Us siblings don't make it out there as often as we'd like but when we do it's just like old times, nothing changed except our height and the legality of us consuming plastic buckets of beer. It's a brilliantly good time, I'd recommend it if you've never been.

And now, for the blatant mockery...

One of the odd bonuses of going racing is the atmosphere. The demographic is a tad different, a bit more, uh, shall we say "small town". You will see brown roots with bleach blonde hair, hypercolor t-shirts still in vogue, and many a hat which reads 'git r done'. The quote of the evening was "I done wore my big girl underpants tonight" by a woman who was hitching them up above her sweatpants to prove to her friends that she was no liar. After the heats were finished and before the main features started, we were treated to small town entertainment. A kid who was old enough to know better decided to roll down the hill and smacked his face on the cement foundation of the bleachers. In what I'm sure is standard protocol, the wee tyke was given a Frito-lays bag full of ice to hold against his face...I've heard the smell of chips is soothing, this proves it. I also noticed that although these tracks don't have expensive firework shows and such, the crowd still would go "ooo" and "ahhh" when a car would shoot sparks as it hit the rail. Or as is the case with my older sister, would occasionally laugh maniacally and shout "THAT WAS SO COOL!!!" (love ya, Manda). If you're a people-watcher, I would recommend going racing merely for the great sightings.

Sitting on the bleachers, surrounded by oddballs and the oddballs I'm related to, it was easy to remember how fun it is to go the races. I'm pretty sure there's a sign above the track that reads "blog fodder". I'll be going back more this summer and I'll be sure to bring my camera so I can show y'all just how, uh...unique it is at the track. Trust me, it's like your home away from home if you lived with a people who thrived off beer and deep fried food and had supremely limited hearing.

The brick wall that is Em gets scheduled for some graffiti

For months I've been toying with the idea of getting another tattoo. My first one, a butterfly on my stomach was in honor of Columbus Day 1999. I woke up and decided, what the hell, today is the day.
At any rate, I've been working on sketches for months in an attempt to design something I would love permanently etched onto my skin. I usually will draw something up and then not look at it for a couple weeks. If I still love it, its in the running.
I'm very careful about this sort of thing. I've seen the monstrousity my cousin has on her lower back. I will not be the victim of a blotchy, poorly designed tramp stamp. This is where I'm actually having a problem. I can't decide where I want to put it. I'm taking into consideration that I might have a grownup job someday. I'm thinking about the possibility that hell will freeze over and I may decide to have kids (which of course means my cute little butterfly will be GINORMOUS and then sad and potentially grody...). I'm taking into consideration most of the practical aspects but I really just want it somewhere I would like it.
My options are:
- on my neck below the hairline
- on my upper back, off to the side of the knobby vertebrate at the base of the neck
- my hip, below the waistline
Whatever and wherever it will be, it won't be huge and gaudy...it's just not my style. Do any of you, lurkers included, have tattoos? What kinds of experiences have you had related to them? Any other words of wisdom*?

* I have already estimated that by the end of this post, my father has rolled his eyes approximately 18 times, speed dialed my mother once, and said the following words at least twice "I made it through the Navy without a tattoo, why does she need to do this?" I still love you to bits, Dad:)

Saying goodbye to one of the good ones

In high school, my older brother was Mr. Popular and I was the awkward little sister that lived in his shadow. For the most part, his equally popular friends ignored me or on occasion made little jokes at my expense. One of his friends, John, stands out in my memory as one of the nice ones. He was nice to everybody and was pretty upbeat in general. Everyone knew who he was and everyone liked him.
Last night John died. It was a heart attack. There's so many things about it that shakes me to the center. He was so young. The same age as my brother, only a few years older than me. He had a fairytale-like life (compared to Iowa) working as a chef in New York. It just happened. Just like that.
This is one of those things that makes you so aware of how short and valuable life is. I couldn't sleep last night thinking about how preoccupied with the mundane I get. How many of us really enjoy life?
John was a great guy. I'm certain he will be missed by many.

Procrastination, thy name is Meme

A - Available or Single? Single and painfully aware of it.
B - Best Friend? Uh, no not really
C - Cake or Pie? That's tough...Yellow cake with chocolate frosting or cherry pie
D - Drink of Choice? Coffee, water, Boulevard Wheat
E - Essential Item(s)? Chapstick, sunglasses, drawing tools, music
F - Favorite Color? Dark Red
G - Gummi Bears or Worms? I'll smoosh them but I won't eat them...
H - Hometown? Ames, Iowa
I - Indulgence? Mud Pie Blizzards, going to chick flicks alone, and expensive haircuts
J - January or February? February
K - Kids? About .01 percent of kids and I get along. They terrify me.
L - Life is incomplete without… hope
M - Marriage Date Heh, well...March 19th was one of them. Couldn't tell you what any of the others will be. Haha
N - Number of Siblings 2 brothers and 1 sister, all 3 are rockstars
O - Oranges or Apples? Green apples
P - Phobias/Fears I think I've conquered most of them...not a huge fan of heights but we get along okay. Clowns are still icky.
Q - Favorite Quote: Don't really have one in particular
R - Reasons to Smile? Tomorrow is my last final. This summer is gonna be a good one. It's baseball season.
S - Season? I love all of them for different reasons. But I like winter the least.
T - Tag Three Aw crap, I have limited internet friends...
U - Unknown Fact About Me: I used to read the dictionary when I was a kid. My nerdiness is thankfully not as obvious anymore
V - Vegetarian or Oppressor of Animals? As long as animals are tasty I shall continue to oppress the hell out of them. Sorry Bessy.
W - Worst habits? Over-analyzing. Being a workaholic.
X - X-rays or Ultrasounds? I had an ultrasound of my heart once, it was the most bitchin' thing I have EVER SEEN.
Y - Your Favorite Foods: Chicken Poblano Rojas, Mexitalian Spaghetti, Enchiladas with beans and rice, egg rolls, chicken wings, nachos, white cheddar cheezits, the Caribbean Way from Smoothie King, pizza from Waldo's, crab legs, steak deburgo, open-faced hot beef sandwiches, homemade chinese food, pad thai, sushi, Iron Vegetarian, those sandwiches in Florida that were so damn good I'm contemplating going back for a whole week sub-fest...
Z - Zodiac: Cancer

Must keep wandering into good light...

Within the last three days, I've managed to be approached by two different people to be photographed for portfolios. A woman went on and on about how expressive my face was and how I would be perfect for the headshots she needs before her big conference. Today, a guy I've known for awhile at work interrupted me and asked how tall I was when I wasn't wearing my 3-inch heels. He then decided that I was perfect. He'd been looking for a tall, slender woman to complement the male model he'd had picked out for weeks for his photography portfolio to get into a design college. The woman is expecting my call this week. I have a tentative shoot on Sunday for the photography portfolio. I've done this sort of thing before but I had assumed that my modeling days were over. It's all kind of exciting.
The only question I have...I've been living off junk food and caffiene for the last few weeks...should I stick to this diet as it seems to be working or should I go all 'model' and start eating carrot sticks and drinking water?

Eh, screw it...Bring on the twinkies!

My summer of possibilities

While I have only one week left in the semester and I should OBVIOUSLY be so overjoyed that it rivals only winning the powerball (the 3 dollar one, not the jackpot...I don't think anything would make me happier than the jackpot. Seriously. Hook me up, people.) I'm actually getting a little anxious about the summer. I get into such a workaholic mode that I'm worried I'm going to get bored. I've already thought up art projects I want to work on, I'm possibly getting a second job, but I can't help thinking that I'm going to get stir-crazy. Lately, even days off drive me borderline nuts. I get all twitchy and weird and just feel the need to get out and do something.
Maybe I'll start training for a marathon or something.

and that's when my eyes fell out of my head

I pulled an all-nighter last night. I'm tired. I had mashed potatoes and pie for lunch. Now I'm tired and going into a food coma. While attempting to stay awake, I've been catching up on my blog-reading.

Sizzle linked me. Yeah, that's right...THEE Sizzle. It's like having a celebrity make eye contact with you while you're blowing your nose. I'm not sure whether to wave or look away real quick and hope no one reads my end-of-the-semester boring posts.

Maybe I'll just have her autograph my kleenexes...

a Timeless SomethingOrOther

Every year, Iowa State decides to hold a little celebration they call Veisha. In years past, student riots and the occasional stabbing marred the history of this fine thing. Last year, I managed to miss it because I was moving back from Kansas City (its been a year, can you believe it?!). This year, I decided I was NOT going to pass it up. These are the highlights...

1) All you can eat pancake breakfast. Now with SAUSAGE. Be still my heart. Literally.

2) While waiting in line for said pancakes, some guy started laughing at my new aviator sunglasses and then asked me if I was " The Law". I'll admit, they're hilarious. I only bought them because they made me laugh. And yes, I am The Law.

3) Got my picture taken with a girl dressed in a Cherry costume. Her counterpart wears a sign that says how many of the famous Veisha cherry pies are left. They also had a fantastic routine where he would sing "This is why she's hot, this is why she's hot" while she interpretive danced around. They should get hired on automatically for next year.

4) The Parade. Words cannot describe how hokey, ridiculous, funny, and absurd a Veisha parade is. Where else will you see a Bullwinkle balloon, goose hunting float, and a marching 'band' that plays lawn chairs all at the same time?

5)I got recruited to paint faces of wee little childrens. Yes, I don't particularly like them but for some reason, I like them when they're in costume. I developed a puppydog face that became the staple of our band of merry facepainters. It was superdupercute. I couldn't stop giggling long enough to get a picture of one of them.

6) Fooooooood. It's like the state fair only not.

7) And lastly, the Sunburn. My arms and nose are a charming lobsteresque pink. No, I didn't wear sunscreen. Yes, I'm borderline stupid. Eh, it was the first major outing of the year, I'm allowed to be an idiot.

So endeth my break from schoolwork...back to the grind:(

Stalking may be an option

Yesterday, I got my hair cut. Now, I’m sure this doesn’t seem like something too tragic but my regular stylist has disappeared. DISAPPEARED. I see you need some background to understand the tragedy of this event.

A few months ago, I was in an unfamiliar salon buying shampoo. On a whim, my mother decided she wanted her haircut. I was also due for a trim so decided to try out someone new. My old stylist was an old friend from high school and I had been seeing her more out of obligation than out of amazement with her work. When I tried out the new stylist, it was like love at first sight. She knew exactly what I wanted but altered it just perfectly to fit my face shape and hair type. She was confident in her ability. Her chitchat wasn’t contrived or forced. She was perfect. I left that day in complete awe. I was petting my hair for hours, if I remember correctly.

I had been seeing Laura for months and months, overjoyed with her work. A week ago, I called to make an appointment when the snarky receptionist told me that “Laura no longer works here”. My exact words in a low horrified tone were “Oh…my…god…”. I was in shock. Snarky Receptionist informed me I would be seeing Margo instead. MARGO. NOT LAURA. I hung up the phone terrified. That night, I couldn’t sleep wondering where my stylist had gone. The next day, I googled her to no avail. I decided that maybe, just maybe Margo would be fine.

Margo is not fine. I arrived for my appointment and Margo came out to greet me. NOT LAURA. She was overly cheery, overly touchy, and her chitchat was overbearing. I spent the whole time thinking that as long as the cut was good, I could stand the chitchat. The cut was not good. Margo kept asking my opinion on things. She was not confident. She wasn’t sure what would work with my hair. Or my face shape. She asked me 15 million times if I wanted something to drink…even after I told her 14.9 million times that I didn’t, I really didn’t, just please god let this get over with so I can go home and find a hat.

So I don’t know what to do. I’m forlorn that I’ve lost my perfect stylist. The stylist I’ve looked for my entire life. I’ve determined that I’m going to have to call every single salon in the area until I find her. She’s worth it. My only fear is that she was so good that some celebrity stole her to make her into their BFF ala Kevin Paves. Things would get ugly. Uglier than this blah haircut.

Come back Laura, please. I miss you.

a life of balance

Since determining that life is worth living, even life during the final weeks of a semester, I've been trying to keep things in perspective by doing little things to retain my sanity. It's managed to bring my stress level down quite a bit, even if I'm not being my most productive self. Examples of the little things that keep me happy...

Pizza: Simple, elegant, it can do no wrong
Skipping that lecture where the dude rehashes everything and I'm getting 115% in the class so far
At least an hour of worthless, mindnumbing television a night
Listening to all of the Finals Week compilation Cds I've made in the past. I had no idea I had such a weird habit of making them when I was in college last time.
Driving aimlessly listening to said cds
Drinking. A lot.

Okay, maybe not that last one, although I've noticed it seems to be a favorite among the younger crowd. I can only imagine the heinous bitch I would be were I stressed AND hungover. Best I spare the world.
I could come up with more but the timer just rang on the pizza...

Were there room left on my bumper...

Thanks to T for cheering me up with this one:)

Remembering where I come from

Lately, I haven't been quite myself. I've been stressed and angry and very focused on minutae. Tonight, while managing some posts, I decided to go back and read the ones from my previous blog, NotDorothy. These were from when I was married and living in Kansas City. I have them stashed away should I ever feel the need to do what I did tonight. Reading through them was so good for me. It was good to see that I have a sense of humor that isn't cutting and cynical all the time. It was good to see that I found humor in the day to day things that happened at work and at home. It was really good to see that I am still the same person, even though I live somewhere different, doing something different, with different people. I'm proud to know that I'm making progress in having a real life. I'm proud that I still talk to the man I was married to and we still laugh on a weekly basis. For all the change that has happened since that blog, it's so good to know that much of me has stayed the same. I really miss the people in Kansas City. I miss the ones I considered family. I miss having an apartment. I miss having days off. I know that someday, I'll regain some of these things. So maybe NotDorothy and Mellow aren't as different as I thought they were. Maybe they're chapters of the same book, after all.

Mason jars and angry Minnesotans

Thursday night was deemed worthy of what we call in my family a "Stress Management Meeting". These typically involve groups of friends, large quantities of beer, and endless smartass remarks.
The participants: Me, an art major buddy, and her sister.
The venue: Trailer Trash Night at a local bar.
The highlight of the evening had to be the arrival of the band. Granted, I have a little bit of a rockstar fetish but these guys didn't really fit that particular build. What made their arrival so great was the hour long parallel parking fiasco that took place right outside the window where we were sitting. Hour. Long. There was curb jumping, bumper tapping, the back-forth-back-forth-no-progress-shuffle, and they even gave up once just to come around the block and try it again. Because the space most assuredly got larger while they were cruising. Ultimately, other bandies walked up and they switched the malfunctioning driver out for a good one. Much to his embarassment, Dude 2 aced it in a heartbeat to the roaring applause of the bar. Or at least our booth.
After that entertainment ended, we were blessed with delightful chap who heard our parking-related mirth and decided to give us a visit. He wandered over, all 5 feet of him, half-filled pitcher of mystery liquid in hand (with two straws for rapid consumption). I caught an accent and asked, innocently of course, where he was from. Upon answering "minnesota", I caught the accent and, again INNOCENTLY, poked fun at the 'o'. Instantly, he became defensive and explained how horrendous the Iowa accent was. Apparently, we click in the back of our throats when we say things like "click", "buck", and "chick". I couldn't tell any difference between the two accents but he became so disgusted that he told us to "quit making that gross noise". Finally, I broke down and employed one of his friends to remove him from the table. I could hear him walking away still complaining about our nasty accents. I've decided that his anger stems from when his Iowa-native ice skating coach said he would never make it in professional speed skating because of his abnormally small thighs. It's just a theory.
And so ended our delightful evening. I've left out several details that involve hookers, noise makers, and the disappearance of the month of July but I'm not sure that it would make any real sense to anyone else. Perhaps when you're older...

At some point

That phrase has popped into my head constantly for the past week or two. Walking to class, eating a bagel, working on a drawing...there it is.

At some point.

It's typically open ended like that but I catch myself wondering what the rest of it could be. There are so many options but none of them stand out as why it's become a weird little mantra. Regardless of why it's bouncing around in my head, I've decided I kinda like it. There's a promise of something better in it. Granted, there could be something bad in there too but I suppose that's why life is so darned amazing, right?

It's been...fun?

For about 6 months, I'd seriously considered getting back into the dating thing. Since my divorce, I've seen a few people and briefly tried an online matchmaking thing (a good friend met her 'soulmate' there and is determined that it would work for me). The whole endeavor left me perplexed. I don't remember dating being this stupid before. There seems to be an overabundance of mind games and extreme contrasts in neediness. The younger men want no-strings attached and the older ones are looking to get married in 6 months. I've become more than a little cynical.

Talking to my aforementioned friend, she's convinced that the man of my dreams is just around the corner. If I just keep looking, she's sure I'll find him. I remain wholly unconvinced. Granted, I see where she's coming from. She speaks with the voice of someone who is zealously in love. My voice of reason does little to pierce her armor. I know myself. I know I'm a difficult person. I know that it will take an insanely incredible person to be able to put up with me. I know they may not exist.

I've decided that for now, I'm better off alone. My friend thinks I'm being defeatist and depressing. I see it completely different. I get to enjoy my time by myself. I get to figure out what I really want out of life. I get to make decisions without considering how they may affect other people. There is so much I still have to learn about myself. I've been through a lot in the last couple years and I don't think another person could fully appreciate it.

So Dating, it was nice seeing you again. You've changed a bit but I'll try not to hold it against you. Perhaps in a year or two we can talk again. But for the love of god, don't call me, I'll call you.