We Need To Talk

I met his friends last night. He decided I should meet them, so we went to nickel draft night at a local country bar. It was actually a lot of fun. But I got drunk and started talking.

The topic of a relationship came up. I was rambling about commitment issues at the beginning and then admitting we're pretty much dating as it is. Luckily, he was sober enough to decide to save that conversation for a time when we're both sober.

We were supposed to meet after work, but things came up on both our ends. On the phone he said he wanted to continue our conversation. I told him I was drunk and an idiot, to completely ignore anything I said.  That it wasn't something totally pressing. However, he still wishes to have that conversation.

It seems we're both messed up in the relationship department. I've been in emotionally abusive relationships and am still grieving the death of my friend. His last girlfriend committed suicide while they were together. I think he won.

I'm So Confused

I hate commitment. I hate feelings. I hate all that touchy feely romance shit.

I think I like someone. I enjoy spending time with him. I smile when I think of him.

It could be the sex. I'm going with the sex. I'm infatuated with lust and sex.

My mind is a state of utter confusion and irritation.

Delayed Ramblings

So I'm kind of an emotional wreck nowadays. Anything that resembles commitment scares me off. A guy asking me for a date has me making excuses, fake boyfriends. I don't want to let anyone else in. I'm afraid of giving someone every weapon they need to destroy everything I am. Because of this, I put all stock into the physical. If I'm craving closeness, I attempt to get someone in bed. Though that hasn't worked yet, but I have tried. I envision myself naked with more people than I care to admit.

I'm still blaming Rob's death on love and commitment no matter how wrong that is. I honestly believe he would still be alive if not for his feelings for someone. The accident was a result of a love spat and his eventual death was him giving up. I'm not ready to die, no matter how many times I visualize it. The days of me wanting to live greatly outnumber the days I consider driving into oncoming traffic.

I'm getting lonely. Lately I've actually been getting hours and been working as much as I can. I've been trying to keep busy, keep my mind occupied. But in those slow moments when I'm driving or when Facebook shows me something about Rob, I have to fight back tears. I have to force myself to stop picturing our last moments together, our last conversation. I didn't think he was so important to me until he was gone.

I want nothing more than to cuddle in bed with someone who cares about me. I want to be wanted. I'm being pretty damn self destructive with this anti commitment and love thing I'm going through. The people I want to be with are all in Massachusetts and I would kill for the chance to see them again. Husband is offering to pay for my plane ticket up there and to take care of me for a week. I'm currently trying to figure out if I could afford to take a week off work. If I have to live off ramen for awhile, I'm completely willing.

I want my family back.

*I was just about to post this but got pulled to Facebook for some reason or another. On my profile, Rob is the first person listed. I can kill myself now.

Saturday marked one month since Rob was in a car accident, the day his expiration date read one week. I'm still angry. I've denounced any emotional attachments to people that could potentially hurt me somewhere in the distant or not so distant future. I've decided that being single is the best possible thing for me right now while simultaneously having dreams about marriage and pregnancy. My brain is in such a state of contradiction I'm pretty sure it's peaking at World Record status.

I've had almost no voice for almost a week now. I talk as little as possible, though I still find myself talking about the death. I miss my ghetto Canadian. I miss walking through the neighborhood smoking cigars like we're cool kids. I voice my fears and losses even when I don't have a voice. The funny part in all this, I'm getting hit on more with no voice and state of constant anger.

I want to be back on my Cape Cod beaches. The ocean was always the one constant in my life, even though it's ever changing. The rolling waves crashing against the jetties always had a way of straightening out my thoughts.

To My Canadian

This certainly isn't the last letter I will write to you. I'm sure I'll end up writing a handful more that I hope reach you somehow. The last time I spoke to you I was hateful. I was hurt and upset. And while I'm sorry for how I said those things, I'm not sorry for what I said.

Your death has caused many emotions to come to the surface. Grief, anger, loneliness, regret, guilt. I haven't stopped thinking about you since I last spoke to you. Which happened to be twelve hours before you crashed. You told me you wanted to move this way, we talked about hanging out again. You hit on me. That affects me more now than it did at the time. I have to live with flirtations being the last words you said to me. I regret now not returning those remarks in a more serious manner.

Thinking back to when we first met, I did everything wrong. I drunkenly kissed you, that was our first meeting. After which I decided to give you a chance to correct my drunken mistake, but I couldn't go through with it. I admit the only reason I slept with you that once was because of my Canadian fascination. I unintentionally strung you along like a lovesick puppy as I was seeing other people. I feel horrible that I never was able to return the feelings you had for me. But I'm happy that a friendship was able to come out of it.

Hanging out with you was always one of my favorite parts of visiting my family. I think one of my best memories was our walk around the neighborhood talking about everything and anything. You were one of those kind hearted people that took everything in stride and I was felt as I could confide in you. Which is probably why I kept in touch with you after I cut off that portion of my family.

I've already told you why I'm angry, so I probably shouldn't touch on that again. My knuckles honestly can't take it anymore. So moving on to the part that will most likely have me in tears.

I blame love and relationships for your death. Because of that, I've kind of taken a stand against both and refuse to partake in such things. Love kills you, this is what I have learned from you passing. You gave up on life because a girl didn't love you. So why would I put myself through something like that? Why would I intentionally put myself in the situation where another person decides my fate? Sorry, but not going to happen. I've become emotionally unable to create stable emotional relationships with men. At this point, I think a simple fuck buddy would be too much commitment for me. Oh yes, that's a new one. I've started using that term. I now say I'm going to fuck someone, changes.

I'm almost happy I have no chance with the current man I'm attracted to. He's ten years older, gorgeous, and a sweetheart. Good thing I go out of my league so I have no chance of freaking out on him. I was talking to my Spanish Brother the other night because I was suddenly hit with a wave of sadness. The first thing I asked him, other than not to be biased, was "Am I unworthy of love?" I'm trying to convince myself of such thoughts to prove love is pointless. Love is a crutch for the weak and a weapon for the strong. End of story.

Platonic love I'm still good with. So for the first time, I love you Rob. I hate that you left me. But I sincerely hope you find everything you're looking for in your next life.

Love Kills Or How I'm Using Rob's Death to Justify Why I Hate Love

My friend died. My ghetto Canadian is gone. My friend of just a few years, whom was more than a friend at one point, passed away two days ago after being in a coma for a week. I've been in denial just slightly.

I'm officially in the anger phase.

I'm mad at Rob. The fucking asshole did it to himself. The accident was his fault. He was speeding in the downpour and hit a sharp curve going too fast. He left his lane and got clipped by a pick up. He drives drove a tiny ass car, smaller than the one I drive now. This caused him to fish tail, getting t-boned by a second pick up. His car flipped. Fuck you, Rob, for causing this and being to goddamn stupid to slow down in that weather.

Rob had gotten into a fight that morning with his girlfriend. They broke up because she didn't love him anymore while he was still in love with her. He said he didn't care to live anymore. Well, apparently someone was listening and made it happen. He fucking gave up and stopped fighting to live. She even had the goddamn nerve to show up at the hospital even though no one wanted her there. So fuck you, bitch, I'm blaming this all on you.

I spoke to him the night before this happened. Twelve hours before he was speeding down that road, Rob was talking to me. He said he missed me, he told me his plans to move to the Carolinas to be close to his best friend, my cousin, who had moved to South Carolina. He fucking hit on me. We talked about the time we had tried to go out. Our one date, the time we slept together, joked about it happening it again. Well guess what, asshole? It fucking won't.

I'm officially convinced that he died because of love. I'm going to stay convinced no matter how much anyone tried to prove otherwise, which many attempted earlier. Everything that caused his death started with his broken heart. So fuck love. Fuck relationships.

I'm using this one thing as an excuse to justify my commitment issues. What's the point of a relationship when it just ends in pain and ultimately death? Sorry, but I much rather live and not want to die everyday. I haven't wanted or been able to handle a relationship in a while and at this point, I don't even think I want to deal with a bone buddy. That's too much commitment for me.

I can't deal with anymore personal relationships at this point in time. I'm too angry. I'm angry with just about everything. Love, relationships, commitment, life, people, the world. When I want to punch something or someone everything five minutes, I don't think it's smart to involve people in my life. I can barely feel my hand from punching the ceiling of my car all night.

Love is pointless.

New Ink

I've been slacking horribly lately. But hopefully my pain will tide you over for now.

I went and got my foot covered yesterday.

Apathetic

It's raining. It has been for a few hours now. The sky has been dark and stormy for quite awhile. Nature is crying for me so I won't waste any more of my tears on you.

Whether these tears be from anger or sadness, they won't fall any longer. I've finally realized you aren't worth the effort. You never put the effort into me and now I'm done. This is the end of me worrying over you and this is the end of me caring.

I no longer love you. I no longer hate you. The thought of you brings about no emotion. You're just another number in my phone. Another name on my computer. Another face in my memory. That's all. This is going to be the last time I write to you. You're no longer worth the space on this site.

The scars you caused will fade just as you have from my life.

Tumblr

I hate your opinion of me. 


Stop only texting me at 1am.


I'm not your booty call.


I'm worth more than you're giving me credit for. 




That's a post from my Tumblr account The Itch. I encourage you to check it out. I use it for all the thoughts and quotes I find too short for the longer format of this blog. 

Why Meeting People Off The Internet Is Awesome

Tonight was amazing. It seems like every other night I have is the best ever, but tonight was a low key good night. I've been texting this boy from the interwebs for the last couple days and tonight we decided to meet.

We ended up meeting in the Walmart parking lot where I was sitting on the hood of my car and he was in staring at me from inside his. We established we're both creepers, indecisive, and tattoo obsessed. I brought him to my new favorite bar, the one I went to for both my birthday and a week ago, and he loved the place.

Chris and I ended up having a few drinks and talking for a few hours. He made from of my accent, teased me from being from a state he hated, and we watched a bit of a baseball game on. We discussed his time in the Marines, his upcoming deployment, our families. Though making fun of the horrible karaoke singers may have been the funniest part. At one point, Chris put his arm around me and twenty minutes later kissed me. We did make out for a bit, but it was nice.

I thoroughly enjoyed my night. Not in a lustful, hot man way. But a cute crush sort of way. He's already asked to see me tomorrow after work and I'm pretty excited. I'm kind of sort of really into him. More than I thought I would.

That is why I'm now wicked pro-meeting people off the internet.

Drunk Dick

So douche nozzle Johnny never called and didn't respond to a nonchalant text I sent. So therefore he is now being referred to as Drunk Dick.

Because I deserved more than his lame attempt at a bar hook up. He sucks at life just a little bit.

As for now, I'm just flirting with Chris at work because he's gorgeous and just a perfect specimen of the male body. If I could post his picture for you, I would. But I'm trying not to destroy his privacy like I've erased any form of mine.

So your favorite blogger, just pretend that's me for a second, is still going to jam out with her clam out and rock the single life. Pretty much because I don't have a choice and I rather rock it than be miserable.

Sorry folks, that's all I can make into coherent sentences for now.

Douche Magnet

So I facebook stalked previously mentioned cute boy from the bar, mister Johnny.

He's married.

I have a magnet for men looking to cheat.

I suck.

Let's hope it's one of those joke marriages.

Like the one I have there.

The Best Night I've Had In A Long Time

I just got home and it's just past 3am. But it's cool because I don't have work for fourteen hours give or take. I'm still slightly buzzed and elated from everything that just happened.

Disclaimer: I'm still buzzed from the bar therefore this gets very explicit.

While at work, Erika and I decided that we were going out afterwards. We needed to plan my Halloween costume for the big party and maybe we wanted a drink. Or two. I was scheduled off before she was, but she had come in a few hours earlier, so fingers crossed we'd get out around the same time.

An hour of waiting, a phone call from the Momz, and we were off. Momz requested I picked her up at work since she was on the motorcycle and there was a thunderstorm abrewing. Completely understandable, and since we were only planning on going to our local 24hour Walmart, Erika and I didn't mind.

We took the trip back to my place, met Momz, who ended up just taking the coat I brought and decided to driver herself since the rain had stopped, back to my place to change into nicer clothes. Nice clothes meaning, clothes that aren't work clothes. Dressed in low cut shirts, wedge heels, and a touch of makeup, we drove the half hour trip back into town.

We made our first stop to Walmart and I found my costume. I'm going to be a fallen angel. I bought black wings, I might wear Erika's black corset, fishnets, heels. I'm just not sure about the bottoms. I can't decide what sort of skirt to wear. Frustrating. Now, to the bar!

Turtle Butt & Serious Rants About Motherhood

I got home earlier this afternoon from a wonderful overnight road trip with my lovely Erika. She brought me to her hometown so I could be her moral support in court for the custody battle of her son. It was a fun night and day of long discussions, weed, mouths on my favorite cylindrical object, laughs, laughs about the Village People, and a turtle coming on to while talking about the neck foreskin.

Seriously. A turtle was coming on to me. A fellow and I named the turtle Johnny Foreskin, before realizing it was female, because the neck was all wrinkled and silly looking. The turtle stared at me. Maybe because I valiantly saved her from certain death on the side of the road, maybe because I'm awesome, maybe because I'm hot to turtles. Regardless, it was staring at me. When I accused her of checking me out, she nodded. So I made fun of her wrinkly turtle butt.

The main post of this post, which I was going to make wicked serious but got terribly sidetracked, is about the reason we went to Concord. Erika had to be in court with her husband to deal with the issue regarding the custody of her son. This guy was a major tool bag and I wanted to punch him almost immediately in his smug, ugly face. He was enjoying her agony way too much and tried inciting a fight to the point the bailiff had to step in. The child isn't even biologically his, he just wants to cause grief.

After all this, when we were on our four hour drive back home, the serious discussions set in. We discussed what her husband has put her through, what Mike put me through. My shitty, abusive father, the trials of being a parent. Abortion, teenage motherhood, marriage. Literally anything having to do with the court case. Erika is my age, 22, and has two children. A seven year old daughter and a seven month old son, whom the custody battle is about.

I will say this straight out. I have NOTHING against teenage mothers. I love Erika to death and she got pregnant at fourteen. I have nothing against them, it just isn't my thing. I'm not ready to be a mother. I'm not done being a child myself to think about having one. I honestly don't believe myself to be emotionally or psychologically stable enough to be a mother. I just don't see myself doing it. To add onto it, my current situation is horrible for a child. I make barely any money, I'm lucky if I get twenty hours a week. I have no health insurance, no savings, and I'm horribly single. I wouldn't have the means to even afford a pregnancy.

I'm pro-choice. I've always believed the government shouldn't be able to pass a law that tells a woman whether or not she could choose to end a pregnancy. There are situations where it's extremely, well not beneficial, but ideal. Some pregnancies are life threatening to the mother, some children live horrible, short lives, some pregnancies are a product of rape, others just don't have the means to get proper health care during the pregnancy. At this point, I would get an abortion if I happened to get pregnant while I was whoring around. I'm not at a place in my life were I would be a good parent. Then again I say that now, but who knows what I'd actually do in the situation.

With all this said, when you do have a child, I don't understand how you would abandon it. I would just say I hate dead beat fathers, but mothers do it, too. Basically, bring a life into this world, fucking take care of it. Whether you give it up for adoption, giving it a loving home, or don't fucking have a kid. Don't be one of those losers who knocks up a chick and does nothing. No contact, no support, no presence. Single parents have it too hard, don't make things worse. A child needs their parents. Own up to your mistakes, you goddamn tool.


/rant

For You

I dedicate tonight to you.

Where ever you may be, whoever you may be. Tonight is for you. You'll be on my mind tonight and I'm sure nothing else will be able to take your place.

My only hope is that somewhere, you're dedicating tonight to me as well.

My Gay Husband Loves Me

I should have done this two weeks ago. Seriously. I'm going to be a little lame and not completely follow through on the requirements because I'd just be regifting these over and over.

So yes, awards. I only ever get awards from one person, because we're lovers forever and ever. And I love him oodles. Legit. Jamie's rightful place is by my side hitting on all the cutie boys we see as we walk arms linked. Just picture that, it's a pretty damn powerful image I'm giving you right thurr.

My darling Sig<3.  A great blog that is so emotionally charged with honesty it makes  you wanna hug her and never let go.  Oh, and pure coincidence her birthday today:D

Isn't he just the best?! Anyways, this one came with some questions that I feel just a teeny bit obligated to do.

EIGHT EASY TAG QUESTIONS:
What makes you laugh, smile or giggle? Simple, stupid things. Plus, I have the mind of a teenage boy. Anything even remotely sexual will have me grinning like a lunatic.
What are your dreams for your future? Figure out what my plans are, find someone worthwhile, and possibly fulfill the generic motherhood dream.If you are to go to a cruise, where would it be and why? I would be on the first boat to the South Pacific. I'm so in love with Australia it's redic. It's been my fantasy since I was twelve to become a marine biologist and work for a non profit animal sanctuary in Australia working with dolphins. Yep, I was that kid.How would you spend your vacation time and with whom? I would love anything coastal. The ocean is a part of my blood. Honestly, I'd love either a romantic vacation with a special someone, or a party thing with some close friends.If given a chance, what life would you choose? Your life now or your past? Well, neither is an awesome choice, but present. Always move forward.Is there something that you wished before when you were young but you didn’t get it? A dolphin. Obviously, that wasn't a realistic wish.Have you been in a situation where you might have given up but still you chose to move on? Welcome to my first and only year of college. I was so miserable and depressed, I rarely left my bed. I ended up flunking out that year. But, here I am. I'm no longer manically depressed with no interest in hurting myself anymore.Is their someone in your life who has been your source of strength and inspiration? Honestly, not really. I tend to just do whatever.

And one more. Because, aduh, he loves me. <3

Letter to a Soldier

I'm actually really upset you're gone again. I've only seen you for a weekend in five years, but we've known each other twice as long. You were one of my childhood friends. Someone I greatly missed in the absence. You were what was good about Cape Cod, all the things I miss about it. Having you back in my life re-lit a spark in me that had died when I made the move.

I was so excited that you were stationed at Bragg. You were so close after being overseas for years. You would only be there a short time and within days we had plans to reunite. We had a short four days together, with me working half the time. But the two of us, it was great. It reminded me of home so much, of what I missed. I missed the humor, the sarcastic comments one after the other. It was so good to be around someone who didn't immediately write me off as stuck up rather than understand my personality quirks. 

Now, I'm worried about you. You're currently on a plane back to Afghanistan and it scares me. I don't want anything to happen to you. I don't want you over there for a year. I want you back here curled up in a hotel bed with me watching stupid movies and laughing. When I think of you, that's about all I imagine. Childhood friends simply enjoying each other's company.

My only hope is you stay safe and out of harm's way. Promise me you'll come back next year the same way you left. Come back to the people that love you just as we remember you.

My Taste In Men Is The Worst

So. I apparently have a major issue with guys my own age. I either like guys my younger brother's age, which I won't touch because of the whole "you're only freshly legal thing and I don't feel like cradle robbing right now" mood of things. Or, I like guys way older. Like, in their thirties. I'm sure you remember that debacle with Jeremiah, my 31 year old hook up who ended up ruining the universe. Well... there's a new one I have my eye on. Who is, you guessed it, ten years my senior.

I happen to think he's absolutely gorgeous. He certainly doesn't look his age, I honestly judged him at 25 when I first met him. So. Chris is a week into the job and flirting with me, so I invited him to a party this past Friday night. I got out about 9, so I ended over to the party early and was the first one there as per my usual. I cracked open a beer and relaxed waiting for everyone else to get off work. Once a decent amount of people got there, the beer pong games started. Courtney and I won both our games and took bragging rights.

Once I was properly drunk, the closing shift showed up to the party. Which included Chris. I was pretty damn happy about that one. Some more drinking occurred, one or four blunts were passed around. I was basically glued to his side all night. I told him it was his job to keep me warm and giggled on the inside when his arm was around me. I told him straight out I thought he was hot and that people kept leaving us alone because of that.

Drunk Birthday

My 22nd birthday was on the 7th and I should have written this post the day after but I've been avoiding the computer for some reason lately. I suck.

The day started with me leaving the house to beautify. I got a french manipedi, my hair cut, and my eyebrows done. Seriously guys, I cut my hair. Like five inches went from my head to the ground. It's much shorter than I wanted, but what's done is done and hair grows back. From that, I drove down the street to grab some lunch and some booze.

I'm sitting in a drive through and my car starts freaking out. Luna starts sputtering, stalling, and refusing to work. I manage to get out of line and into a spot but I know my clutch is dead. Thank you Luna for your amazing birthday gift, the amazing disappearing clutch. It rocked. I called my uncle, told him what happened, and asked him to come get me. I then called Erika that I wouldn't be at her house as soon as I had planned. Sitting at a McDonald's for close to two hours is no picnic my dears.

After much struggle, my car ends up being towed back to my house. Uncle offers to drive me to Erika's so I don't miss my own birthday party. I grabbed my bags and hop in, happy I actually get to end the night on a better note. She wasn't home when I got there, so I let myself in and start getting dressed. I'm all done up with my new do, killer heels, skinny jeans, and a shirt that makes my boobs the main attraction.

Hometown Love

This past Thursday (now about two weeks because I'm a slacker), I had a blast from the past. A friend I've known for ten years but haven't seen in five, came for a visit. He's currently stationed at Fort Bragg, at least for another week, which is less than two hours away. So from Thursday to Sunday, I was in a hotel room with the awesome John.

I made him drive through the country backroads to get into town, just for the fun of it. Half way through the drive I get a text, "Where are we, Smallville?" I laughed to myself as we drive further into civilization. When we finally made it to the hotel and got ourselves situated, we ended up going for dinner and a movie. That night I had a new experience.

I was peer pressured. John had brought some e and I had never tried that before. I took a few hits, popped in a movie, and we waited. And waited. And waited. Nothing happened beside complaining about not feeling anything and slight footsie action. So, we took some more.

A few hours in, it hit. I felt like my nerve endings were more sensitive than ever before. Being cuddled in those covers were the most amazing feeling. Then there was the talking. It was never ending. I honestly did not shut up. When I became aware of my over talking, I would attempt to keep my mouth closed. But that only lasted about two seconds. The moment something entered my mind, it was out my mouth. Oh, and since this is me, there was sex involved.

The next day was pretty bad. I don't get hangovers, but I felt as if I was hungover. John and I spent a few hours at Erika's and we both felt ill the entire time. Work that night, was not fun to say the least. But the rest of the weekend was great. It was full of alcohol, sex, and fun.

You have no idea how great it was to be back around someone from Massachusetts. I could act like myself and not have to worry about offended someone. Talking, the comebacks came one after the other. It was pretty awesome.

So now my birthday bash... I'll spill that later.

Apologies

I have been very neglectful. I haven't necessarily been busy, just preoccupied or away from the house. My being at home this past week was a rare occurrence.

Thursday to Sunday: Hotel.
Wednesday to Thursday: Birthday party.

Yes, I was home for three days. But I wasn't mentally here. I zoned out to random videos and movies. I haven't been able to write a decent post, hence the slightly depressing one I posted earlier this week. I didn't want to be home and kind of let my brain vomit all over the keyboard. For that, I apologize. I'm still trying to figure out the biography and write happy posts in the mean time.

With that, I'm promising to write up about my week of drugs, alcohol, sex, and some creepers. It'll be a two parter.

Title Unknown

Hello dear friend, I hope you have missed me just as much if not more than I have missed you. I lost power and internet privileges for multiple days then I was holed up in a hotel room half naked and not completely sober.

But that is a different story.

Though we might come back to it in time, as it may intertwine through the message of the following clip of writing.

This is the story of a girl desperately trying to write a biography of her disorder. Of her self destructive nature. Of her hurtful coping mechanisms. The instruments that have numbing qualities that may or may not include alcohol, drugs, knives, and self wallowing.

This is the story of a girl who's trying to fix everything but in the end can't fix a damn thing. This girl is growing older and not learning anything new. This girl will only be this age for another two days. This girl wanted to spill about her weekend full of sex, old friends, alcohol, and her upcoming birthday, but got distracted. Distracted like a a child would with the sound of jingling keys.

This too shall pass and maybe later this week, if I remain sober enough through the birthday partying, I'll let you know about my first time on ecstasy.

Confusion

Once upon a time, there was a very confused girl. She felt very alone and wanted the comfort of someone beside her. She thought about this constantly, mainly because it had been so long since she experienced that feeling. In an attempt to numb that need, she puts the physical needs far ahead of the emotional ones though it never helps for long.

The emotional wants always come back. She spends most her days watching her friends and hearing stories about their marriages and children realizing she's being left behind. She's the lone single girl in a sea of married women and their families. Its making her biological tick much louder than it should at this age, considering she's no where near ready for children.

Suddenly, she notices this boy. It begins as something silly, then grows slightly. She finds him absolutely adorable and wishes he would notice her in a way that's less than platonic. She talks to him a lot and really enjoys his friendship. She tortures herself over this infatuation because she knows it would never work between them.

There's this other boy, who's been mentioned here before, who also caught her eye. He still jokes around and flirts with her and she enjoys it. One night he asks her what she is doing after work and they go to a local fast food place for dinner, since that is the only place open at that time of night. Both are exhausted so the outing is boring and low key. A week later, this girl asks if he wants to try again.

She goes to the store near by to shop while waiting and gets his number from another coworker whom she's avoiding. After a quick dinner, they sit in their cars talking. After moving to another location, they continue talking. She may have slipped that she had a crush on him. They talk for nearly an hour before retiring to their homes.

This girl has officially decided she was in denial about liking this boy. He's three years younger than her and a coworker, so it's all kinds of horrible in the making. Hence making her very confused. And the lack of blogging in the past week.

I've been horrible this week. I've been working and had horrible writer's block. I've had so much swimming around in my head that I haven't been able to put it into coherent sentences. I suck.

Final NDE & Aren't You Pretty?

Today is the conclusion of my series about near death experiences. I wanted to save this one for last for two reasons. Firstly, I love Jamie's face. He is my gaybe (gay babe), my love, one of my closer bloggie friends. Jamie is simply amazing and always knows how to cheer me up when I'm having a rough time. Even when we had our fake fight, we got closer. Seriously, this boy has major real estate in my heart. And to stop this ranting... Secondly, it's a funny one liner meant to left everyone's spirits. 




* I once had a nine inch bone stuck in my throat, but then he took it out. *


See, I told you. Awesome. =]


So quick recap on nothingness. Dyed my hair. Don't worry, it's only sightly darker and hardly noticeable. Only something to cover the greys and therefore the proof I'm getting old. 


I got my big girl license! I will no longer be eyed suspiciously when buying alcohol with a minor's id that has a sixteen picture of me that barely passes for twelve. It's pretty exciting stuff considering it means that after a year, I am officially a resident of the state of North Carolina. I even got a fancy organ donor heart.


I decided I'm retarded and can't read. I've been freaking out for the last two weeks because I thought my car's registration expired this past Monday and have been running all over creation attempting to get it inspected. Luckily Momz is smarter than me and realized it expires September so I'll be able to get everything in my name afterall.


And I guess the feather in my cap later is all the flirtatious remarks I've been getting. I'm actually feeling attractive and I'm enjoying it. Granted none of the flirters are exactly relationship or even hook up worthy, but hey. The ego boost is something.

Cars NDE

Continuing my series, we have been graced with awesomeness. The lovely Tabs from Geeky, Ambiguous Me. She's just about one of my favorite bloggies ever, along with my favorite person from that distant country from the north where hockey and maple syrup rein supreme. I'm talking about Canada for those who don't catch my drift... She's also a writer with me on Belly Lint, which we need to use more. Oops. But anywho, I pretty much insist you check her out because you will totally fall into platonic love with her just as I have.

They say that in those short moments of a near death experience, time slows down and your whole life flashes before your eyes. Well, I’m not sure who “they” are, but they have obviously never had one of those near death experiences.

I’ve been through two of them, and I can assure you, if you’re lucky enough to have any time at all to process what is going on, it is typically the sudden realization that death may be imminent in that moment. It’s the understanding that in a split second, everything will change.

For me, these experiences have solidified my belief in God and given me a stronger resolve to be a better Christian.

The first experience left me far more terrified in that moment than the second one. I attribute it to the fact that by the second one, I had a vague idea of what was going on.

The first occurred three years ago. I had only been driving regularly for about 8 months by that point, and it was my first winter driving. It was the eve before New Year’s Eve in 2008, and at the time I was still living/working at the Christian Camp just outside of town. My sister had picked me up for a coffee date, and was letting me borrow her car so that I could drive in to my third job after serving breakfast in the morning.

Motorcycle NDE

Today's story was generously given to me by Andrea from life is a science experiment. She was in a horrific motorcycle accident and has now began to write a novel about her experience. The novel is titled Jerod's America, and this is an excerpt from Chapter 7.

The front of Jerod’s bike was no longer in the shape of a motorcycle and Jerod’s body was no longer on the bike.
All he saw was a combination of sky and concrete.  He could hear expounded noises as his breath was being violently beaten out of him as he rolled over the car.
He wasn’t quite sure what was happening next, because he was neither rolling nor stopping.  He was restrained in a strangle hold of air.
There was a long time before he actually landed.  During this time it almost felt beautiful to be suspended in air with not a thought on his mind.  Absolutely empty.
Until it ended.
He landed on his head under a parked car.  His body wanted to continue sliding, but his helmet stopped him by way of the chinstrap, which was now robbing his breath.
It was surreal.  Once he landed the beauty was stripped away and all he could see was the underbelly of a car.
Jerod took stock of the unusual situation, and tried to make sense of what was happening in this nightmare.
He wiggled his toes and his fingers.
Check!
Working!
And now he decided to stay put until someone else moved him.  Judging from the pain he felt in his neck, he knew better than to move himself in any way.
From the bottom of the car, all he could see now were feet.  Big, small, running, stopping, shifting, leaving, more coming…
Feet.
His world was now reduced to the mechanics daily eye view of a vehicle and curious feet coming to see the train wreck.
An angel appeared.  She stroked his back.  She told him to keep breathing and that help was on its way.
“Help is coming,” she reconfirmed.  “If you can just keep breathing you’re going to do well.  Here, I’ll open the front of your helmet to give you more air.”
An overwhelming muscle spasm began to take over.  Every muscle in his body began to convulse.  He had no control over it.
The angel stroked his back, “Keep breathing you’re doing good.  I can hear the sirens coming now.”
Jerod could also hear another voice, and it was obviously the woman who hit him.
“Oh my God,” Jerod heard through his muted helmet and from her sobbing, shaky tears, “I just didn’t see him there!  I’m just so sorry!  Oh God help him!”
Some of the feet ran to her.  He could hear muffled voices; “You’re not going to help him by being hysterical.  It’s only going to scare him.”
His angel said, “They’re here now buddy.  You’re doing really well.  I’m going to let them take over now ok?”
Jerod wanted to say thank you and hold his angel, but she left.  She was gone.  His fear became even more impassioned.
Shaking.
Hyperventilating.
Some very large voice came from behind him, “Sir, we’re here to help you, please don’t move.  You’ve been thrown 15 feet and you have landed on your head.”  That was all it took for Jerod to officially go into shock.  “Sir can you tell me where you hurt?”
Through his shaking voice and short breath, he tried to say, “My neck!”  The chinstrap would not allow him to talk.  The paramedics began to speak about removing his helmet.
“Sir, we need you to stay very still and we’re going to remove your helmet.”
Jerod did his best to stay still, but his convulsing muscles were just too strong to take charge of.  He couldn’t stop it.
When they finally removed his helmet, they asked again, “Sir can you tell me what hurts?”
Stifled through his shaking jaw, Jared jerked out, “M-m-my n-n-neck, m-m-my wrist…”
“Ok.  We’re going to move you on to a board, but we need you to be very still and let us do all the work.  Are you ready?”
“Ya.”
From behind him he could hear more than one take-charge voice. One voice asked him many questions and he knew it was to find out if he was still using his mind to it’s full potential, but it seemed almost annoying.  He just wanted the shaking to stop and really, he felt he was fine.  There was a lot of talking about who gets to watch the left arm with the damaged wrist, counting to roll him over on to the backboard, somebody holding his neck, head and all kinds of previously practiced routines that these professionals went through on a daily basis, making it really feel like just another day on the job.
As he was rolled, he could see four faces peering down at him with restrained panic in their eyes.  From that point forth it was a blur of scissors cutting his double layer of jackets off, including that brand new heated one he just bought.  They cut his gloves, cut up his shirt left shirtsleeve and began to lift him up onto the stretcher.
Oh, the loss of his brand new jacket.  Now his gloves.  Gone.  And what about his bike?  Where is his bike?
No more feet.  Now it was all faces.  Strangely enough, there was no sound amongst the chatter.
Deafeningly loud silence.
When he was moving and rolling, he wanted to just tell everyone he was fine I can just walk to the ambulance.  I’m fine.  You’re really all making way too much of this.
There was a dark part of him that knew he wasn’t fine.
This was the part where his neck shot bullets through his head.  The part where his limbs were numb.  The part where his muscles were convulsing and his lungs were hyperventilating.
But otherwise, “You’re all making too much of a fuss over this,” was all he wanted to say.

Crash NDE

In keeping with the guest post swing of things, I have some hot news. I had a piece published yesterday on someone else's blog. Yes, I was a guest writer. My piece, Letter to a Ghost, that I wrote about my absent father a few weeks back is now up on the Guest Writer Blog but you can find the original post here. His intro for me was simply amazing. But on to the main point...

Today we have the lovely Nyx from Notions. She's awesome, I love her, you'll think she's awesome, you'll love her. I mean, who doesn't love cat pictures, blogger going ons, and just random trains of thought. Me and Nyx, yeah we're pretty tight bloggie friends. So check out her bloggity blog and show her the glowing love that's just tugging at your heart strings. But, without further rambling, here is her story.

As the smell of gunpowder invaded my nostrils, I realized that I was no longer driving down Rt. 72.

Nope.  I was in a tree.

A big, fat, old gnarled tree.  One that, for some inexplicable reason, my car had wrapped itself around.  I didn’t know why, I didn’t know how.  All I knew that I had been driving down the road, singing along to the radio at the top of my lungs, and then suddenly…tree.

I stared around the interior of my car.  Both airbags had deployed, and a spider crack stretched its way across my windshield, almost as though it were reaching for me.   My hands fumbled for the door handle – I remember that it felt cool to the touch; I remember shoving against the door and feeling it creak its way open.  I could barely catch my breath as I saw the state my car – my beloved silver Sebring – was in.  Its hood was crumpled like silver tissue paper, tree branches jutted out from every angle, and its tires hung sadly from bent and broken rims.  I glimpsed towards the road – there were people there, shouting.

I stumbled my way towards them.  I walked, tripped through the carnage my car had left in its wake.  Stumbled through a ditch, and then finally I was with the bystanders.

“Don’t worry, we called 911.  Are you hurt?  You should lay down.”  The words infiltrated my brain – almost in slow-motion.  I remember telling whoever it was that I’m fine, that I don’t need to lay down, thank you very much for your concern.

I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket – It remained unscathed.  Fingers shaking, I dialed my father.

“Hello?”  I almost broke down right there, in front of all the people who had stopped, when I heard his voice on the other end.

“Dad.  I have a bit of a problem.  I had a bit of a car crash.”  I could hear him mutter an explicative, heard my mother question what was wrong.  They had been out to dinner with their friend.  Well.  Shit.

Disney KROD

It's that time again! It was Disney songs this time around so I chose Reflections from Mulan. I know the video is pretty crappy, I couldn't find my camera and was forced to use my phone. But you can hear me!

Drowning NDE

I'm officially kicking off my guest post series that I put into the making about three weeks ago. I was almost in a car accident and it got me thinking about near death experiences and how they affect our lives after the fact. Oh, and for future reference NDE = Near Death Experience.


This section of my Near Death Experince Series was given to me by Lauren.

Hello, I'm Lozzz123 from Science, Spouses & Silliness. Jess has kindly invited me to do a guest post on her blog about my near-death experience. As you can tell from the title of my blog, I don't often talk about non-silly things, so we'll see how this goes. 

This all occurred November 2002, when I was 17. We had just finished high school, so some friends and I decided to head off to the beach to celebrate (I live in Sydney, Australia so it was quite warm in November). There were six of us, three girls and three boys. We all excitedly jumped in the water, and things took a turn for the worse extremely quickly. There must have been a huge rip in the water that we didn't see, and we all suddenly got swept off in very different directions. One second I was standing next to my friend, and the next I was unable to see anyone and could no longer find the ground. The waves became extremely powerful and kept forcing me under the water. I was then swept over to some rocks that were under the water which seemed to have massive pits that were even deeper. Now not only when the waves knocked me under the water I had to swim to the surface, but I had to drag myself out of these holes as well. Breathing was starting to become a problem, as I was progressively spending a lot more time under the water than above it. It was all I could do to get my head above water each time; I was not able to think clearly enough to work out how I could get away from this situation. My body was getting flung around like a rag doll. I heard some concerning crackling noises in my back and neck, but I didn't have time to think about whether I'd been injured. 

I have no idea how long I was out there, but after coming up yet again just to cough up water and get a miniscule gulp of air and see the next wave about to pummel me I started to get tired - really tired. I stopped being scared and a strange calm feeling started to wash over me. Looking back now, this was the scariest part, because it was then that I started thinking things like "I'm really not going to be able to do this much longer. I can barely breathe and I don't have the energy to keep getting back up to the surface. Is there really much point in trying anymore?". It felt like it would be nice just to drift off to sleep. I was seriously about to give up and I was ok with that. 

[source]

What happened next, is to me proof that God was watching over us that day. Although I'd been far away from my friends and hadn't been able to see them at all, I caught a split second glimpse of one of them raising their hand in the air. Stupidly, I'd completely forgotten that if you put your hand up and lifesavers can see you, they'll come get you! I shoved my hand in the air, and suddenly got my energy back to keep swimming back up to the surface several more times until I could get rescued. The lifesaver pulled me onto the board and brought me back to the shore. I was so shocked I don't think I even got to say thankyou. The two other girls were there and we just were crying and hugging each other in disbelief. It was then that we realised that the boys were still missing. Two eventually emerged from the water, equally as bewildered about what just happened. We started to freak out as our last friend was nowhere to be seen, but thankfully the lifesaver finally pulled him in to safety as well.

The effects of that day still haven't worn off. I did get quite bad whiplash to my neck which still causes me problems, and I haven't been able to go in the water at the beach without feeling panic (and I know a couple of my friends from that day feel the same). It wasn't all bad though. I was so shocked at my willingness to give up (though I think this was probably at least partly due to exhaustion and perhaps oxygen deprivation), and I am determined that if I am in such a situation again I will react differently. It also strengthened my belief in God. Perhaps we never we in any danger that day since there were lifeguards around, but it was a good reminder that He is in control. One other good thing that happened:

Around this time there was a boy I was seeing, but it didn't seem very serious. That day, after I got out of the water safely, all I could think of was seeing him, and being safe in his arms. I was not putting much effort in at this point, letting him do all the contacting, but I messaged him to tell him I missed him and really wanted to see him soon. We got married in October of last year. :)