'HOME'

I’ve been wondering about the idea of home lately. What is it? Is it a person? A place? A thing? I don’t mean the place where you live, that’s just a dwelling. I mean the feeling of being home. Of course that might be the building you live in. Maybe it called to you when you saw it. Maybe when you first walked in you felt comfortable, and right, and home. Or maybe it’s just the place where you keep your stuff.

Is it the place you grew up? Or the house you felt most comfortable in when you were a child. Certainly that’s one kind of home. But surely that’s the kind you grow out of. Maybe you come back to it every once in a while, but it never quite feels like it did back when you lived there. Maybe it’s the town you lived in as a kid. Or the one you lived in the longest. Or even where you went to college. But it seems to me that those are past homes. The kind that are populated by memories. You can go back and visit, but you always see it through the lens of the past. Without the same people and the same situations, it’s not quite home. At least not for you. It belongs to a new group of people now.

So then is it the people that make up a home? Can a single person be ‘home’? Enough so that it doesn’t matter where you are, as long as that other person is with you it feels like home? That seems like an awful lot of pressure to put on that other person, but that’s probably a different topic entirely.

Is ‘home’ just the place where you feel the most comfortable? The place where it’s safe to let your guard down and relax. Or is it more than that? Can there be more than one place at a time that feels like home? Or can there only be one place that is your true home at a time? Certainly it can and does change throughout life, but can there really be more than one at a time? Would having two dilute the feeling, as someone suggested to me, or would that just make you incredibly lucky? Or maybe that’s only an option if you have multiple personalities.

Can you make a home? Can something start out as a place you exist in, and then turn into something else? Can ‘home’ be created or forced?

If you never leave the town you grew up in, does that just mean you were really lucky? That you recognized from the beginning what home meant to you and you were lucky enough to always exist there. Or does that just mean you never ventured further and explored the idea, and have therefore accepted where you are as the best that you care to do?

I’ve lived in many different places, less than some people and more than most. Our house on 87th street in Milwaukee felt like home when I was a kid, but I think that was mostly because I couldn’t remember ever being anywhere else. I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else, to be completely honest. Until we moved. The few random places we lived before we moved to Waukesha were little more than space holders. I fought letting Waukesha become home for a long time. It was a long time before I was comfortable in the house, much longer before I was comfortable in the town, and never comfortable with myself the entire time I lived there. I’m pretty sure the last part has more to do with the nature of adolescence than anything else. Eventually I guess it became home and, by virtue of the fact that my parents still live there, when I go home for vacation, that’s where I’m going. Madison was never home, and I didn’t stay there very long. Duluth was more comfortable, and I have it to thank for at least one of my best friends, but it was still too transitory to be home. Milwaukee as a city has always felt somewhat homey, but that might just be because I know it so well that I’m comfortable there. Certainly none of the myriad of random apartments that I lived in were home in any way. I used to say that Milwaukee/Waukesha was the home I was given, and Minneapolis was the home I made for myself. And despite the fact that I didn’t live in Minneapolis very long, there is something about it that feels home like to me. But when I say I’m going home to Minneapolis, it means I’m going to see Erik, Miranda, Sig, Cathy, Missy, Mother and Father Edison, etc. So while I know the town well still, and feel extremely comfortable there, it’s the people that really make it something close to home. Los Angeles has never been home, even though I’ve lived here longer than anywhere else in my adult life. It came close for awhile, but I’ve never felt like I belonged here, not really.

Looking back on all of this I think that maybe I’ve been searching for ‘home’ my entire adult life. I don’t know if I’m looking for a city, a house, an apartment, a person, a job, or what. All I know is I haven’t found anything yet that says to me “This is it, you can relax, you‘re home now.” But I truly believe that it’s out there somewhere. So I guess I’ll just keep looking.

Caution, Meet Wind

or Random Insanity - your guess is as good as mine.


For awhile now I feel like I've been slowly losing it, which is very much not like me. I've been calm, mellow, stable, completely in control girl for a very long time. Maybe I've been too calm and stable for too long and this is the backlash, who knows. Regardless, I had this idea that I could attempt to curb my own growing insanity. (Maybe "insanity" is overstating a little. Restlessness? Recklessness?) I figured if I let some of the crazy out, siphon some of it off, I would settle down a little bit. A calming of the inner demon, so to speak. Or at least feed it a temporary sedative. By no means did I expect to end up back on an even keel, but I thought I could, I don't know, maybe get close enough that I could figure out how to get back there.

So I did a crazy, irresponsible, reckless thing. I did exactly what I wanted. I didn't think about how anyone would react to it or what kind of repercussion it might have on my reality. I found things I wanted, and I took them. And when that wasn't quite enough, I went back for more.

Now, the hope there was that it would be enough. But, I'm finding that it's not.

I threw myself at life, and now I want to just keep going.

I liken it to giving a hit to a recovering addict. (I have no actual experience with that one, but I'm guessing it's similar.) A little taste is never quite enough. And even a little more than that just whets the appetite further. It's like sex. When you don't have any for awhile, you kind of forget what you're missing. At least, that's the way it's worked for me. You remember that it's a nice thing, and it's enjoyable, but the need for it fades. And then someone wanders along, and the next thing you know all you can think about is sex. And if it's good, suddenly you become inhuman in your need. And if it's really good, well...

Back to the topic at hand. The one I'm wandering around in my head trying to figure out. Why am I thinking and doing things I would never have imagined of myself? What the hell is wrong with me? Why now? How do I fix it? Do I really want to fix it?

Maybe I have been too controlled for too long, and this is my psyche just throwing in the towel. Some part of me is ready for life to be different, I know that for sure. But I don't know what, or how, or when. So maybe this is just me, casting around, throwing out possibilities, trying to figure out who the next me is going to be.

Maybe I should remember that new birth control is bound to screw me up, and I should separate myself from the phone, and the computer, and anything else I could possibly do damage with. It was understood when I was little that any new thing that was introduced to my system was going to go badly. I can't imagine what made me think that it would be any different now. Aspirin makes me loopy for God's sake! (Though it has made drug usage rather pointless, which is a good thing.)

Maybe I should remember to eat before work occasionally.

Then again, maybe this is just me now, and I have to figure out how to deal with it. Hell if I know what that looks like. Until I figure it out, this is my five millionth blanket apology to everyone who's forced to deal with me. For those of you who choose to, especially lately, you might want to question your own sanity. I sure am.

Tomorrow

When did "tomorrow" stop being an exciting word? I remember being a little kid and thinking it was one of the coolest words. It was so elusive, and unpredictable, and it held so much possibility! Anything could happen tomorrow, you just never knew. It could be the day I got a new book, or made a new friend, or the unicorns came to visit, or the day I got to walk to the store for stamps and spend the change on candy... Big things, little things, it didn't matter, it was all interesting.

Now tomorrow just looks like a long string of days ahead that look remarkably like the days preceding. Or else it's filled with a list of things to accomplish. It's followed with "I have to..." instead of "I get to.."

Sure, every so often there's something to look forward to; Tomorrow my sister gets here, tomorrow I get to go visit my family, tomorrow I get to see a show, tomorrow I have the day off, and so on. I find I look forward to those days so far in advance that they come and go far too quickly. Instead of tomorrow I'm busy looking forward to two weeks from now, a month from now, six months from now...

I feel like I miss today a lot. And I definitely miss the idea of "tomorrow".

Patience

...or my lack thereof

I like to get what I want. OK, who doesn’t? Let me rephrase that. I almost always get what I want. Possessing the ability to convince myself that I don’t want things I obviously can’t have doesn’t exactly hurt, but that’s not where I’m going with this.

Once I’ve decided want I want, I want it NOW. I have no patience. I don’t understand how to find joy in the process of things. I know there are people who do, but I honestly just don’t get that. I think that’s part of why the writing class I just finished was so hard for me. The teacher clearly enjoyed the process of building a script, beginning at it’s most minuscule parts. (I think he might even have liked that better than the actual writing of the story.) For me that was like working backwards. I had to take what was fully formed in my head, break it down, and then rebuild it. In increments. Very. Slowly. It drove me absolutely nuts! I’m getting irritated just typing this. Not to mention off topic.

Having gotten what I wanted, I want more. And I want that immediately too. What can I say, I’m insatiable. I can see the next hill in the distance, and I want to get on top of it, like, yesterday. (Bad metaphor? Agreed.) Then it repeats. Over and over and over. Until I drive just about everything I want right out because I’m in such a hurry to get to the end.

It’s true with books. I have to read the ones I really like at least twice. The first time I’m just ripping through it to find out what happens next. The second time I find whole sections that I completely missed. Sometimes it’s not till the fourth or fifth time through that I allow myself to take pleasure in the story.

It’s true with writing. I want to be able to sit down and write the entire thing, from beginning to end, virtually uninterrupted, even if it takes days. I have no problem going over things and editing. But writing in fits and starts makes me want to throw things.

It’s true with planning things. I don’t always need there to be a plan, but if there is one, I want to get started on it right away. I can’t handle the idea of sitting around and waiting. Sitting around and being lazy, fine, no problem. But when someone says “Hey, let’s do this!”, I can’t fathom why you wouldn’t want to just get to it.

And it’s very true with men. And sex.

If I don’t get what I want when I want it, I turn into a small child. Sometimes it’s an epic battle to keep myself from trying every tactic I can come up with; pleading, bribing, whining, threatening… I haven’t thrown a fit since I was a kid, but there are many days when I would really like to. And more than a few when I very nearly have.

The downside to all of this (aside from manic craziness, and a fair amount of repression) is that, at some point, I always realize that I've missed something. I didn’t take the time to enjoy moments that could have been remembered later. Or in my hurry to find a faster way, I end up getting lost and have to backtrack, which is just plain infuriating. Or I’m in such a hurry to get what I want that I don’t realize it’s not what I really want until it’s too late. And sometimes I push so hard and so fast that I scare things (mainly people, OK, fine, men) away.

I wish I knew how to stop wanting to have everything, and know everything, all at once. I wish I knew how to slow down and just enjoy the process of life. I wish I knew how to stop pushing so hard that I end up running right past what I was pushing towards. But I honestly haven’t the slightest clue how to do that.

Maybe someday someone will be able to teach me how to slow down. At this point I don’t hold out much hope that I’ll figure it out on my own. Maybe they’ll have to force me. That person may have a legitimate claim to sainthood. Until then, I promise to apologize, and feel appropriately bad, if I run you over on my way to wherever the hell it is that I think I want to be.

Vacation and Life Lessons

For the past few years I've been going back to Milwaukee every late June/early July, ostensibly for Summerfest. What's better than hanging out in the sun, by the lake, surrounded by all kinds of music, good fatty food, and tons of beer? Very little, in my opinion. But it's also become a time to reset. To hang out with family and friends, get away from regular life for awhile, and to just completely let go and not worry for a week. I always seem to learn (or re-learn) a fair amount about myself in the process, too.

I'm pretty sure I went back the year before last, but I don't remember much of it. It was a pretty rotten time in my life, and I tended to hide. A lot. So while I could look up a list of shows and tell you what I might have gone to see, I really don't know that I left my parents' house much that year.

Last year was a completely different story. I saw Rusted Root, Rancid, Rise Against, The BoDeans, and I don't even know who else. (I did mention the beer, right?) I danced and sang in the rain. I hung out with my niece and nephew. I got to take my entire family to a baseball game. I drank excessive amounts of alcohol, probably more than I had in the entire previous year. I went to the Greek Festival, got drunk (actually I think the drunk came first and just continued all night), and rode bumper cars with friends from high school. That was easily the weirdest night of that vacation, and one of the most memorable. (If anyone ever decides they need to show you their favorite porn, make sure you know how to turn it off before they pass out. Otherwise you end up awkwardly passing out on a couch to strange noises.) I saw a few old friends that I hadn't seen in years, and even reconnected with some that I thought I had lost. (I also nearly destroyed a friendship, but that's a different story.) I spent so little time at home that I know my mom got a little frustrated. I had more fun than I'd had in a VERY long time. It was a nice reminder that I could have fun again. Something I desperately needed at the time. None the less, at the end of that trip, I remember being ready to go home to CA and rejoin my life.

This year, when I got on the plane to go back, I had a little talk with myself. Mostly it centered around the idea that I shouldn't get my hopes up. While I fully expected to have a good time, I couldn't realistically imagine that it could possibly be as fun as the year before. Lesson number one. Never underestimate the power and knowledge of the universe. I got so very much more than I expected, more than I thought I needed, and more than I might have thought I deserved before it all happened!

I landed within minutes of my best friend, and we went to pick up a rental car. (The car was a fantastic decision that I think will be repeated for every trip from here on out.) Lesson number two. Patience. A recurring theme throughout this vacation, and I can't say that I made much progress on it. I suppose that's why it was recurring. Anyway, I forget sometimes that, even though LA has a pretty laid back vibe, things around here just get done fast. It doesn't feel like everyone's always rushed, just that there are other things to get done, and the sooner the better. Now WI isn't quite deep south slow, but it's definitely a different pace. People are more chatty and less urgent. It was an adjustment that I'm not sure I ever quite mastered. Also, it's not nice to laugh at the man at the counter when he offers you a GPS system. Not that it was really needed, but telling him I was pretty sure I remembered my way around guaranteed immediate lostness.

After random driving and mom visiting and beer cheese soup for dinner (yes, you read that right) I was ready to go home and go to bed. Lesson number three. Sometimes it's a lot more interesting to say "yes" than it is to say "no". Instead I went to see Cypress Hill, hung out with my sister and some assorted radio folk, and laughed so hard I nearly choked on my beer!

The next day turned out to be a mini pseudo high school reunion. If a high school reunion could be like this, I would actually attend. If we were to ever have one, that is. Lesson number four. People change. Obvious, I know, but sometimes epiphanies about obvious things are the most amazing kind. Sometimes people changing sucks, I'm well aware. But sometimes it's the coolest thing ever. People you were only kind of friends with become close friends, and people you never really hung out with turn out to be awesome in ways you'd never expect. That's exactly what happened that day, and the brightness that it gave me hasn't faded in the least!

The rest of the vacation was just as amazing as the first few days. Joan Jett and The Blackhearts (awesome and hysterical), The Offspring, The Heavy (AMAZING! I love them more now than I did before), more old friends reappearing, a backyard fireworks display that rivaled a small city's, and a 4th of July BBQ with family (complete with a spectacular loss in cards, and money, to Great Uncle Ted). I had crazy amounts of fun, got less than four hours of sleep a night, and still had more energy than I remember having in pretty much forever. (I was away so much that my mom had a hard time telling me she was glad I came home.) Lesson number five. Live every moment to the fullest. I feel like I got closer to being able to do that on this vacation than I ever have before. Now I just have to figure out how to drag that into regular life!

Plus, I got books from people! I'm always impressed when people can suggest a book that I can really get into, and oddly touched when they give one to me, whether or not they want it back. It's that much more impressive to me when it comes from someone who may not know me particularly well. I feel like that means they actually pay attention, and that seems so rare. There are a few different lessons inherent in that, but I'll let you work them out for yourself. (I can't do everything for you!)

My last night in town ended with amazing conversation with my sister on the roof of her apartment building (and corn nuts, cheese curds, and wine). We talked about music, friends, what we want from life, what we have to offer the world, and what comes next. We decided that maybe everyone goes through life blind, and the answer isn't necessarily to find your way through, but to become comfortable in the dark. Lesson number six. Faith. In myself, in other people, in the universe. Everything is the way that it should be.

That doesn't mean I was ready to leave.




To living life in a way that's worth the read.


*Thanks to Amanda for the quote, Sheila for the picture, and everyone who made this a phenomenal vacation.

Joy

Maybe it's because I grew up in a place that has the kind of weather that keeps you inside 7 months (or more) out of the year. Maybe it's because there was always music around all of the time, ever since I can remember. Maybe it's still a holdover from being in school. Whatever the reason, summer, to me, has always meant freedom and fun and music and pure, unadulterated joy.

In honor of what will always be Festival Season in my head and heart I offer you my "JOY" playlist. (In no particular order.)

Get in your car, roll your windows down, go for a drive and play these songs. If you don't feel amazing afterward, there might be something wrong with you.


What Is It - Jace Everett
It's not the most advanced song on the planet, lyrically or musically, but something about it just makes me smile incessantly.

You Gotta Move - Aerosmith
I know, it's a cover, but I can't help but dance. In my car.

I'm Alright - Kenny Loggins
Dissecting it is just plain silly. It makes me happy.

The Way You Make Me Feel - Michael Jackson
It makes the little kid in me, the one who remembers seeing this video premier on regular TV, dance around like a goofball. And the grown up in me is just... lighter.

Now That We Found Love - Heavy D & The Boyz
I dare you to listen to this song and NOT laugh hysterically.

Ecstasy - Rusted Root
I'm going to hate myself for saying this. The music in this song is the sound my soul makes when it's completely free of all concern.

Break My Stride - Matthew Wilder
Bouncy and happy and sort of silly, but so good.

Baby I'm A Star - Prince
Because it makes Purple Rain end so perfectly? Because no playlist of mine is complete without a Prince song? Because it's bratty and snotty and fun? Who knows. Who cares?

Country Livin' - Eric Lindell
The only song on the planet that could make me want to be sitting on a porch in a rocking chair with a big ol' jug of wine.

Walk of Life - Dire Straits
One of the few songs where I actually have very little idea what they're saying, and I don't care. I just get lost in enjoying it.

Lollipop - MIKA
The little kid giggle gets me every time.

Still The Night (Live) - The BoDeans
Definitely a product of being a Milwaukee kid. I want to dance around, and sing, and skip in circles, and have summer rain fall on me.

Part-Time Lover - Stevie Wonder
The urge to do a Carlton Dance is nearly uncontrollable. And the mental image of that just makes me laugh and laugh and laugh.


Suddenly I feel hopeful, and I love life, and I just know that this is going to be a great summer. The same way I feel at the beginning of every summer.

Who wants to come out and play?

One of Those Days...

OK, let's be honest, it's more like "one of those weeks". Actually, it wouldn't really be much of an exaggeration to stretch it to a month, with a few days of respite.

There are days (obviously today being one of them, or I wouldn't be writing this) when I'm pretty sure I'm heading straight down the path to crazy. I start out a little frustrated, bothered by mundane things, irritated by virtually nothing. And then it grows. Enough so that I start to notice that I'm getting twitchy and anxious. So I try to distract myself, but no game is distracting enough, no movie is engaging enough, mellow music infuriates me, and, worst of all, no book has the power to draw me in. So I go out, try to escape myself. But almost every conversation tires me*, almost every person gets on my nerves*, and nothing seems interesting enough to participate in. So I go back home, more irritated than I was when I left. Back to a messy apartment that I don't care enough to clean, things that I don't care enough to write about... I think you get the point.

All the while I'm quite sure everyone I know thinks I'm a royal bitch. And I guess right now I am. So, consider this my weird ass explanation/apology, for those of you who feel you need it.

It's not so much that I don't know my own mind, I just don't trust it right now. I'm heading towards the place in my head where crazy doesn't seem so crazy anymore. When making very dumb choices seems like an awfully good idea. And I am terrified of what might happen if I just ignore the voice in my head that tells me to just go home and hide until the storm passes.

So, at home I sit. Trying to remind myself that while destroying everything in my apartment sounds like fun, I won't be too thrilled when I have to pick up the pieces. And fearing the day when suppressing all of this doesn't work anymore, the day that I crack and take a giant leap into the black hole.



*A small caveat; Brian, you win the exemption on these today, by virtue of having a more screwed up mental state than me. Nice job.

I remember you...

...and I remember me, and I remember us, then. (Even if "us" only existed in my head.)

My experiences with men have been dismal as of late. In an effort to remember happier things I offer you my "Boys" playlist. Enjoy. I certainly did. Still do.


Hip Hop Hooray - Naughty By Nature
Being driven to school nearly every day of my sophomore and junior year by the boy I was completely in love with. And his best friend, who makes a point to harass me about it if and when I ever run into him.

Closer - Nine Inch Nails
Metropolis, once upon a time, when a cute boy danced with me and took my breath away. This was the first song we danced to.

Ditty - Paperboy
Back To The Hotel - N2Deep
The last songs we laughed at and danced to at his place before I lost my virginity.

Say Goodbye - Dave Matthews Band
Played for me in a dorm room in Duluth. If only I had actually caught the meaning...

I Would Die 4 U - Prince
In memory of the same boy as above. He helped me rediscover my love for Prince and the two will forever be linked in my head.

What I Got - Sublime
Too much to say on this one. Years of wanting what I couldn't have, getting what I wanted and wanting more, never getting it right but not willing to let it go. Sleeping together but not dating, going on dates when we weren't sleeping together... This one was my devil and could easily have led to my undoing.

Sex And Candy - Marcy Playground
A goal that took me a year to accomplish. Losing your friends at a party isn't always a bad thing... "So, how much do you love me and how much did you miss me?"

"Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness" - Smashing Pumpkins
I never was a big Pumpkins fan, still not really, but it made an interesting soundtrack to crazy, monkey sex.

7 Days - Craig David
The funny thing is, the guy this song reminds me of would absolutely hate it. He was much more of a Tool fan. But the song came out right around then and is pretty much dead on as far as the timeline for our... whatever it was. I broke a lot of stuff the first time he walked into the bar.

You Can Call Me Al - Paul Simon
No need to worry about confusing names when you date two in a row.

High Enough - Damn Yankees
One drunken night I was told I was beautiful, and was treated that way. I woke up in his arms with this song stuck in my head. That whole relationship was an experiment in drunken sex, but this stands out as a bright, if odd, moment.

Red Rain - Peter Gabriel
"So" was the soundtrack to the best date I've ever had, with one of the two men that I would have given anything to, if I could have only figured out how to do it without feeling like I would have lost myself. I think of him as the angel half. This one though... I think if he ever asked it would be hard to not run.

Don't Stop 'Til You Get Enough - Michael Jackson
Dedicated to the very attractive, and very good smelling man who danced with me at a club one night when I wasn't sure I could make it in LA. Don't know his name, never saw him again, and never did more than dance to this song, but it made me feel good about myself again.

Musicology - Prince
The one Prince album that doesn't belong to the guy from college. Instead it will always remind me of the big, scary, tattooed, Raider fan who went to see this show with me, and grinned like a small child on Christmas the entire time.

Me Myself and I - De La Soul
Same guy as above. I remember this playing in service bar while we made out in the walk-in.

Wrapped Around Your Finger - The Police
For the one I haven't met yet. I'm waiting. Move your ass!

Aloneness

Part of the problem with having far too much free time and a talent for procrastination is that it provides way too much time to think. And dwell. And, if you're me, have imaginary conversations regarding the things you're dwelling on.

So, today's topic for dwelling is my aloneness. Hence the title.

It was suggested to me that I spend far too much time by myself, in my apartment. After a fair amount of dwelling I decided I was rather angry at the person who suggested it. After a bit more I decided that there may be a small grain of truth to some of what this person said, but I still don't appreciate the approach. After even further contemplation (see, I told you I had too much free time) I appreciate the self reflection that came from the whole thing, but I'm still a bit irritated. So, I'm writing this. Partially to have my say, and partially hoping that it will vanquish my irritation with this friend of mine who, more often than not, I do truly adore.

I actually enjoy being alone. I know that a lot of people find that strange, and even more just can't begin to comprehend it. I've always liked being alone. Going out for dinner by myself, shopping, seeing movies alone, none of these things have ever bothered me. In fact sometimes I prefer to do some of those things alone. Like when I don't want to think over much about my food choices, or when I feel the need to go gaze at the latest Viggo Mortensen offering, or when I'm in a hurry or feeling particularly browsy. Alone works for me.

Not to say that I don't like people. I do. Bartending is an extraordinarily social job, and I'm lucky enough to work in a place where I enjoy most of the people who wander through the doors. And that's not the only time I'm social. I actually have a few friends that I hang out with on occasion. In public even! *gasp* I guess I just had a few years where I was extremely poor and I got used to not spending money. I got out of the habit of going out and watching it all fly away. Even now, when I'm pretty close to financially stable, I find that I like my money in the bank. You never know when that rough month is going to happen again.

The conclusion I've come to is that I am not now, have never been, and am not likely to be the kind of person that goes out just to have something to do, or that hangs out with people I don't particularly care for just to have someone to talk to. That doesn't mean I'm depressed, and it doesn't mean there's anything else wrong with me either. In fact I kind of like that about myself. I like that when I hang out with people it's because I really enjoy their company and I really want to be there. I sometimes wish more people were like that. Do I spend too much time in my apartment? Possibly. Somewhere along the line I turned into something of a hermit, I admit. There are a million different reasons, and excuses, and a million different places to throw that blame at, but it's not really worth it. This is just what I do. It's the way I am right now. It may change, it may not, but I'm not complaining about it so I don't see why it should bother anyone else.

As far as the other part of the conversation. I would say that I can't worry about being hurt again, if I've never been hurt that way in the first place. Embarrassed? Yes. Let down? Absolutely! Disappointed? Without a doubt. Saddened? Sure. Brokenhearted? Not so much. No one has ever meant that much, or I've never let them. Either way, I think that's probably the saddest part of the whole thing.

So, again, while I appreciate this little trip into my inner psyche, the next time you feel the need to project your issues onto my life don't think I will hesitate even a second to tell you to stay the hell out of it.



Well, I feel a little bit better now. Love you!