Kiss me at midnight

I cannot believe the year 2008 is almost over. I remember when it first began: I was in Heppner with Craig, really upset, really drunk, really wishing I could disappear. Let's just say it was an interesting New Year's Eve. A lot has happened since then, as outlined below.

Falling in love: Good.
Being laid off: Bad.
25th birthday party: Good.
Family trip to Michigan: Good.
Roadtrip to Montana: Good.
Economy: Bad, bad, bad.
Sex and the City movie: Good.
Renee's 21st birthday: Bad.
Celebrating Renee's 21st birthday: Good.
Golf tournament weekend in Heppner: Good.
Politics: Bad.
Valentine's Day: Good.
Cougar football: Bad.
Reaching mid-20s: Bad.
Keeping up with friends: Good.

Looking back on this list made me realize that my years usually revolve around either personal success or professional success, but not both. For example, in 2008 I lost my job but found the man of my dreams; in 2007 I excelled in my position at work but had an up-and-down love life; 2006 is when I landed my dream job while blindly enduring the most destructive relationship I've ever been in.

Hopefully 2009 will be my year to have it all.

Crazy, or what?

I've always been uptight, but lately it feels a little out of control. Example: On the way home from Christmas dinner, I worried the roads would be slick; I worried my stomach would remain unsettled; I worried how we would manage to carry all of our stuff in without slipping on the ice; I worried about who would clean up everything once we got into the apartment; I worried how the girls would get to work in the morning; I worried that maybe I did something dumb in front of Craig's family.

According to the National Institute of Mental Health, 6.8 million Americans suffer from generalized anxiety disorder. "GAD is diagnosed when a person worries excessively about a variety of everyday problems for at least 6 months. People with GAD can’t seem to get rid of their concerns, even though they usually realize that their anxiety is more intense than the situation warrants. They can’t relax, startle easily, and have difficulty concentrating. Often they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep. Physical symptoms that often accompany the anxiety include fatigue, headaches, muscle tension, muscle aches, difficulty swallowing, trembling, twitching, irritability, sweating, nausea, lightheadedness, having to go to the bathroom frequently, feeling out of breath, and hot flashes."

Well that certainly makes a lot of sense. Just mentioning something is enough for it to suddenly become top priority, bumping all other thoughts from my mind. You nonchalantly ask me where the tape is, but all I hear is "findthetapfindthetapfindthetape." Your inquiry becomes my obsession. Normal? Apparently not. Normal for me? Unfortunately.

Maybe next year

Thanks to a huge snow storm, this has been the least Christmas-y Christmas ever. There are no stockings hanging at my parents' house, my apartment, or the place I'm staying right now. The girls and I didn't make a gingerbread house. We haven't watched Christmas Vacation. There have been no frantic trips to the mall to pick up those last-minute gifts. I've been to one church service. Grandma's family get-together was postponed until after the holidays, and Uncle Bob and Aunt Sharon are most likely not hosting anything this year. With the roads as bad as they are, I'm not even positive we will be able to get to Mom and Dad's on Christmas day.

Even when I was going to college 300-plus miles away from my family, I still made it home with enough time to shop, decorate the tree, make cookies, put together a gingerbread house and just plain prepare. This year, not so much. I guess sometimes you just have to grow up.

Take it or leave it

I realized a few nights ago just how much I have changed in the past year – In the past six months, even. So who am I now? I’m someone who likes to read fashion magazines. I drink a lot of tea. I think it’s cute when guys wear scarves. I want to be Carrie Bradshaw, minus the smoking, not getting married until 40, cheating on Aidan, and random sexual partners. I stay up late and wake up early (most of the time, anyway). I jog. I get excited about painting my toenails. I have very little patience. My favorite movies don’t always have happy endings. I am in love. I can’t cook very well, but I often try. I eat a lot of vegetables. I live with my two best friends, who also happen to be my sisters. I can’t stand being cold. I find Gerard Butler incredibly attractive. I am inspired by great writing. I drive really fast, and sometimes on the wrong side of the road. I don't know what my favorite color is. I am looking forward to the future.

Surprise!

There are some people who use spray paint for art, others who use it as a form of rebellion, and still others who actually paint stuff with it.

And then there are the people who use spray paint to ruin movies... Like in Los Angeles with the billboards for Marley and Me.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

You're only as old as you feel

The sad evidence of my grandmother's advancing age came in the form of a voicemail she left the other day. "I'm having the family over for a Christmas party on the 20th, so will you tell Miranda and... and... will you tell Miranda and... oh, oh, I can't think of her name, but will you tell her?"

Yes Grandma, I'll tell Renee. I'll also be sure to visit you a lot more often.

Time takes us all

I almost thought I was ready to be a mom, but eight days with Lily and Zoe showed me otherwise. I'm sure a good amount of my distress can be blamed on the fact that these girls have been raised in a different manner than I would have chosen; I'm also sure they are a lot better around their parents. That said, I am still doubting my preparedness for the patience, devotion and utter selflessness that parenthood requires. I honestly don't know how people do it. Anyone care to enlighten me?

On a completely unrelated note, I just got a box of Pop Tarts for $.19, a savings of $2.60. Hooray for using the double coupons on top of an additional discount at Safeway...

On second thought...

I'm fully convinced that parenthood is nothing more than a combination of bribes and threats. You sacrifice your sleep, your income, your freedom, and (women, anyway) your body, all to hear the little mongrels complain for the next 18 years.

Babysitting is one thing, but a child of my own? I think I'll pass.

Um, what?

Have you ever wondered what happened to the Backstreet Boys? Time has definitely not been kind to these guys. Yikes. I never thought I'd see the day that Howie was the best-looking member of the group...




Nick's face is the stuff of nightmares, for real.

What are we celebrating?

I think it's really indicative of the American culture that we set aside one day each year to show our thankfulness. It's as though by reflecting on our blessings as a unified group for a 24-hour period, we are excused from the selfishness that dominates the rest of the year. What about during May, when there aren't any major events to celebrate? Are we so robotic that we need to be told when to show our appreciation?

And now, like almost all other holidays, Thanksgiving has become so commercialized that it barely reflects what it was created for. These days it's more about food and football than family and friends, and it certainly isn't observed as a celebration in honor of the Pilgrims. I was reminded of this just a couple days ago while babysitting my friend's two daughters. Lily, the 8-year-old, was describing for me a house on the way to her school. She said they'd had Halloween decorations up in September and the Christmas stuff came out weeks before it was even Thanksgiving, just like in all the stores. This was so offensive to her because, as she put it, Thanksgiving is one of "the only truly American holidays" (well, that and the Fourth of July).

"If you think about it," she said, "people in Africa aren't going to celebrate Thanksgiving. They don't care about the Pilgrims coming to America. We're the only ones who care about it." She thinks that's pretty neat. I think she's pretty neat.

A whiner's post

I'm sick, I'm tired and I'm unmotivated to write. I have a lot to do but all I want is some quality sleep and a backrub.

Now that I have that out of my system, maybe I can be somewhat productive. Maybe.

A little bit of life

Renee was watching Shopgirl earlier today, a movie I really, really enjoy. (If you haven’t seen it yet, you should – it’s weird, and funny, and just plain good.) She kept making comments about how it was interesting but she wasn’t sure if she really liked it. “It’s all just so awkward,” she said. Well, yeah. I think that’s exactly why I like it. Life is awkward. Sometimes it’s carefree, but most of the time it feels like a shoe that’s too small or a tooth trying to push up through the gums. In a nutshell, it hurts.

I only let Renee off the hook for her lack of enthusiasm after she told me about some really nasty sex scene in one of Steve Martin’s other books, something she’s reminded of whenever she sees him. Ew, and touché. I still love that movie.

Courtesy of the red, white, and blue

As an American, I can't tell you how many times I've been told how important it is to vote. "It's your civic duty, your right as an American citizen," my mom always said. "You are a fool if you choose not to participate."

While I agree with her and have voted every time I was able to, I also wonder what would happen if the election process was revealed to be a sham. What if it was like American Idol, where the winner is hand-selected by executives based upon a number of factors (talent, marketability, looks, ratings, etc.), but then passed off as having been voted on by the viewers?* Or, how about if it was based on Whose Line Is It Anyway?, where everything is made up and the points don't matter? I'm not saying this is how I think things work in this country at all, but just, what if?? It reminds me of that Weird Al song "Everything You Know is Wrong." In a word: crazy.


*This conspiracy theory about American Idol has not been proven, though Ruben Studdard somehow beating Clay Aiken does nothing to soften my suspicions.

A subtle shift

As I watched my dad take his chainsaw to a log and my mom hoist a large chunk of wood onto the log-splitter the other day, I realized just how fragile they both are. It seems like Mom could be crushed by the mere weight of a falling pine cone, and Dad... well, he is at the stage where pretty much every joint always aches. He even paused during his chainsaw-wielding routine to work out a kink in the middle of his back. The number of gray hairs on their heads continues to multiply every time I see them. Mom's hands and fingers have begun to constantly ache. Dad can hardly hear.

As much as it hurts to admit, I am fully aware that there will be a time when neither of them will exist on this earth. Never again will I be able to joke with Dad about him needing a haircut. No more will I see 'Mom' on the screen of my ringing cell phone. Their house -- complete with the impossible driveway -- will cease to be a gathering place for us children. My heart literally starts to hurt at the idea of all this. I guess it's good to think about it when they are still around so I can appreciate and love them as much as they deserve, but dang, it's a scary thought. I don't want to try to function without one or both of them here to turn to.

And now Dad wants to deep fry a turkey for Christmas. Yikes. All I can think is how incredibly dangerous it is if you don't do it right, or if you are easily distracted, or if you are a little klutzy, or if you are ... well, my dad. It's as though the roles have reversed a little, with me wanting to be more of a protector for them.

Wow, is this what being an adult is like??

I'm not the best, I'm not the worst

So here I am. Waiting. On the computer, just waiting, waiting, waiting. For a phone call, an e-mail, anything that tells me if I need to head over to Tualatin to practice some investigative journalism. It's not yet 8 in the morning, I didn't actually get to my bed until around 2, I am exhausted, and yet... And yet I can't just sleep through this mess of media disorganization. Hospitals are funny in that reporters are not allowed (at least at Legacy Meridian Park) to schedule or show up for interviews without a PR person present, yet (again, at least at Meridian Park) the PR people seem to be virtual Neanderthals to work with. A five-day turnaround on a simple request? Seems a tad unreasonable for me, especially since everyone involved was clear about when the deadline is (it's Monday, in case you are wondering).

I almost feel like shirking my responsibility and just going back to bed. Almost. And you can tell I'm serious by my use of the word 'shirk.'

Hate will get you

To make a mountain of
Your life is just a choice
But I never learned enough
To listen to the voice that told me
Always love
Hate will get you every time
Always love
Don't wait til the finish line

Slow demands come around
Squeeze the air and keep the rest out
It helps to write it down
Even when you then cross it out

But always love
Hate will get you every time
Always love
Even when you ought to fight

Self-directed lives
I want to know what it'd be like to
Aim so high above
Any card that you get dealt you

Always love
Hate will get you every time
Always love
Hate will get you
And I've been held back by something
You said to me quietly on the stairs
You said
Hey you good ones

Thank you, Nada Surf, for this slap in the face. Driving home and hearing this song made me realize just how petty it is to be jealous, annoyed, angry, bitter. People are people, and you should try to love them the best you can - and by you I mean me. I should try harder to be more understanding. I should be more generous. I should do the best I can in all situations, regardless of whether I feel like it. It makes me sad to admit what a failure I've been in this area lately, and really just in general.

Get your shine on

“All I have to do is check your blog to find out what’s wrong.”

Sorry buddy, this time you’re actually going to have to ask me. It might seem as though I’m mad, and maybe I am a little, but how can I stay angry at the guy who bought me a heated blanket for Christmas? It’s the gift that keeps on giving, especially during these cold winter months. That’s something I try to keep in mind when things don’t seem to go the way I had planned.

Baby in here?

It seems like everyone is either announcing they are gay or pregnant. Clay Aiken. Jamie-Lynn Spears. Bristol Palin. Daniel Radcliffe - wait, excuse me, he's not out yet. Ashlee Simpson. Lance Bass. Lindsay Lohan. Nicole Richie. Jennifer Garner. Someone I know. Someone else I know. A few people they know. It's the newest trend!

Craig? Brad? Is there something you want to tell me?

I laugh because I can

"You know how book stores make you feel stupid? Health stores make me feel unhealthy." - Curb Your Enthusiasm

Have you ever tried to write something funny when you have a case of the blues? It doesn't work, not for me anyway. Drawing pictures on my skin makes me feel better, as do long baths, sad songs, painting my nails, naps... and Larry David.

Seinfeld and Curb Your Enthusiasm almost always alleviate my bad mood, I think partly because one of the characters is guaranteed to be in a more unpleasant predicament than I am. You dropped a Junior Mint into someone's chest cavity during surgery? You keep coughing because one of your wife's pubic hairs is stuck in your throat? Your ex-girlfriend became a lesbian right after the two of you broke up? You suddenly believe your head is too large for your body? You got trapped in a car wash with a really bad case of diarrhea? No, no, no, no, and no; none of these things will (hopefully) ever happen to me, which is why I love watching it play out on the small screen.

Say hello to good times

Miranda turned 20 just two days ago. My baby sister. Wow. I still remember the day she came home from the hospital, and I may or may not recall the hour she arrived in this world. I remember when Renee was born: Something about being in a hospital, Ramblin' Rod on the tv, blood (so much blood!), my mom screaming. I thought she was dying. For some reason I was allowed in the room during the beginning of her labor, and it scarred me for life. I wasn't yet 4 and I already knew I never wanted to have children.

With Miranda it was only traumatic after she came home. My grandma was over that day, which is always a special event. The two of us walked to the end of the road to meet Joseph being dropped off the bus after kindergarten, and when we got back to the house there was a baby. Another one! I was not pleased. At the time my mom wasn't much older than I am now. Yikes.

Now I look at my youngest sister and am amazed. I can't believe she's not a teenager anymore, that she is technically an adult (and has been for a couple years now). She seems so young and fragile, and yet at the same time I watch her handle situations with an air of maturity far beyond where she used to be. I'm proud of her -- of both of my sisters, really. Neither of them will likely ever understand the depth of my feelings. There are still times I worry about them being out in the world; it's like I fear they will get stomped on, crushed, or taken advantage of, and I want to do everything in my power to stop it from happening. Obviously I can't, not always... All I can do is love them.

And so I will.

A good man is hard to find

After spending so much time at Craig’s house I’ve learned some people find tasks such as turning off the light when leaving a room, putting dishes away, taking out the trash, putting laundry away, sweeping, etc. just too difficult. And by some people I mean boys.

How do I make my boy turn into a man?

Money makes the sex go 'round

I learned something about rich people yesterday when I drove my brother's Mercedes: Rich people are better than poor people. Or at least they expect to be treated better than us little guys. Not only do other drivers stare at them like they are something, the engineers who designed their expensive cars added features that boost an attitude of superiority. For example, Mercedes turn signals have a special setting (I like to call it the "asshole blinker") that, with only a slight pressure on the wand, flashes the signal three times and then shuts off automatically. It's like as soon as your income exceeds a certain amount you are no longer expected to remember to turn your blinker off; I guess it's too taxing to remember such minute details. I also hate how it only flashes three times, basically giving a three-second warning for whatever action is about to take place. Why not five or seven blinks? There's no harm in having it stay on too long, is there? The limited warning time sends the message, "I have money, I'm coming over here, get out of my way." Gross.

Now before I go any farther with this, I'm going to say that it's not that I don't like rich people, I've just never understood why most of them think they should be treated so much differently. I understand luxury and how good it is to have some of life's little treats, but is it so important to always have such things at your disposal? I don't need a free loaner car when I drop mine off to be serviced (it's a nice bonus, though), I don't need the interior and exterior to be extensively cleaned (again, nice), and I certainly don't need to be offered chocolates for my inconvenience (um, kind of weird). I realize the disclaimer at the beginning of this paragraph is very ironic (like saying, "I'm not a racist, but ..."), but it's true. There are a lot of people out there who work very hard for their money, my brother included, and they deserve what they can afford. I just don't see why they think it's okay to spend money on this stuff when there are innocent people out there starving. I'm not sure where I'm going with this... I think I somehow ended up on a soapbox. Whoops.

And on another note, the kid at the Mercedes dealership who offered me chocolates looked exactly like Michael Cera. I kept staring at him, desperately hoping he'd bust out a George Michael Bluth impersonation and offer me a frozen banana. Oh how dirty that sounds...

No.

I was doing some research today for a story I'm working on about home security systems, when I came across the worst piece of online writing ever. Right now you are probably thinking to yourself, "There is no way she found the single most poorly-written article on the internet." No, no, my friends, it's true. Take a look at this masterpiece by Bishara Hazboun (original can be found at http://www.articlesbase.com/home-security-articles/why-do-i-need-a-home-security-system-76548.html):

Its system of the home security must be the most important application in home. One of the first investments that you must do after buying a new home is a system of the homemade security. Now more than always, with use of the drug between the youth of America that maintains in a constant step or that rises, a system of the homemade security it must be upon his list of the priority. Like ex- salesman of the system of the homemade security, it always surprised to me how much people would buy a system of the homemade security after she had been victimized.

The main problem is, people has the true capacity to think that the crime will not happen to him. It would have to say that at least 6 outside 10 times that I went to an appointment, he were after an incident of a certain class. Most of people, if not everything, as to think they live them in an pleasant vicinity, so they think that they do not need a system the homemade security. The problem is, I can say to him of first hand that happen the crime throughout. The portions of the crime of the times happen in a vicinity without any person but the victims who know on him. People always do not have taste to share the bad news with her neighbors, specially if she is not in speech terms. The industry statistic demonstrates that the occasions are that if robs to him, they are by which is familiar with his home or vicinity. He is generally somebody that lives in the vicinity or perhaps knows to somebody in the vicinity.

A system of the homemade security has four objectives: 1, Dissuasion you are statistical hour 3 to 4 less probably doing than an intruder between in your home if you have a sample of the system of the homemade security in your front turf and labels gummed in your windows. 2. Minimum loss if somebody is quite brave to enter its home after seeing the sample of the turf does not think that you really have a system of the homemade security. You can go now to ebay and to buy a sample and gummed labels of the yard of ADT, that means that each sample of the yard that you see you do not mean that the homemade owner has a system of the homemade security. If an intruder decides to incorporate his home and the sounds of alarming, the occasions are he are not going to stick around very long, he can take an article or two, are he will not be able to go to make purchases in their home because he knows that they have called the police. 3. The last thing avoids a confrontation that any person wishes, that she must return to house to only have an intruder in the house. If you have a system of the homemade security, if somebody were broken in its home, when alarming it probably sounded it to the left. If you arrive home and his to alarm she is sounding, you know not to enter the house. 4. The protection against fires the system of the homemade security of today has ability to have detectors of smoke connected with her.

ADT really calls the signalers of the smoke. If the smoke is detected, the system of the homemade security alerts the supervision station and the calls of a representative are sent their home, if anybody does not answer the telephone, the body of firemen. The insurance agencies offer until a discount of 20% to have a system of the homemade security, the that being said, the investment that you do, possible will be paid stops by their insurance agency. Total, a system of the homemade security is due to strongly consider if you are a new owner of a house or if you have been in your home by 20 years, he is an investment that is worth each penny.Visit: http://www.homessecuritysystems.net.

Don't let the bedbugs bite

Last night when I was waiting to fall asleep, I realized one thing: I wasn't trying to fall asleep at all. In fact, I was struggling to keep my eyes open under the dorky sleep mask I wear. My brain was running at 100 mph, my back was tense -- this is not the way to power down after a long day. I was actually straining to stay awake.

And why? No reason at all. I had nothing to stay up for, I'd been dragging all day... really, I had nothing to do besides sleep. I had to consciously tell my body to relax in preparation for drifting off to dreamland. I forced my eyes to close, my shoulders to loosen up, and my brain to stop whirring, and, miraculously enough, I fell asleep.

The sad thing is I'm pretty sure I fight myself in that same manner almost every night. It's like the list of things I didn't get done during the day comes sneaking out of the shadows to haunt me when I'm trying to rest, causing even more fatigue when I try to tackle it all the next day. I sabotage myself without even knowing it.

Sept. 11

"They took from us innocent lives in the names of their God, and it seems some people have forgotten what happened here seven years ago. Our lives are filled with pain and always will be. Thank you to all the men and women fighting for us." - Rosaria Reneo, sister of Sept. 11 victim Daniela R. Notaro

Today, more than so many other times throughout the year, is a chance to reflect on things much bigger than us. Thousands of Americans lost their lives seven years ago -- no, no, thousands of humans were senselessly murdered seven years ago. It's not something to be taken lightly.

In New York this morning, silence was observed at 8:46, 9:03, 9:59 and 10:29, marking the moments when the towers were hit and when they collapsed. The official death toll sits somewhere between 2,819 and 2,823, but we may never know the exact count of how many died that day. You think times are hard now? It could be worse.... We've seen it a lot worse.

I'll never forget.

No kids allowed

This is why I shouldn't have children: When I hear one crying I always want to know why, not to make sure the little one is okay, but to see if he or she is overreacting. This obviously doesn't count when I know the child or am in charge of watching it - at those times the concern is real. But the rest of the time? Eh, whatever.

Like just now, when the neighbor girl went from laughing to crying, I ran to the window to see what was going on so I could evaluate the maximum volume her sobs should be reaching. To me, falling off a bike warrants loud cries, little brother taking a toy away warrants medium, being told to do something and then throwing a fit about it warrants a smack on the butt.

This is a somewhat morbid way of judging little kids, now that I think about it.

And the winner is...

I just read an article about how good it is for your brain to constantly try new tasks; even something as simple as brushing your teeth with your non-dominant hand can help keep your mind sharp.

But if I use my left hand to brush, my teeth won't get as clean. So... brain or teeth?

Hmm.

Hmm.

Hmm.

Lies for the liars

So, let's pretend you are me. And as me, there is this one person in your life (or not even really in your life, actually) that you do not care about. Nothing, nada, blah. It's a "been there, done that" kind of situation, and one you rarely think about.

And now let's say you found out he lied to you about something the last time you talked. Does it contradict your self-proclaimed lack of feelings to be angry? And if so, is it possible to ever truly be devoid of feelings? You don't want to yell at him about it - to be honest, you'd rather not talk to him ever again - but you are curious about why he would do such a thing. One last time to play the Mess with Elena game? Tough, it's not going to work.

Being lied to by anyone always makes you feel a little like poo, so it's not a reaction reserved for the important players in your life.

I know just when to face the truth

So how exactly does one make love out of nothing at all? I adore the Air Supply song (it's actually in my head right now), but I don't completely understand what the phrase means. Is it about that feeling you get right after seeing the person you love, where it's as though what once was empty is now full and warm and happy? A sense of fulfillment, if you will. Or could it be more along the lines of sadness, like when one person develops unrequited feelings and is doomed to a life of longing? Most of the time I like to think it's the first one - it's much less depressing that way, and it makes it easier for when Renee and I belt the song out at the top of our lungs with the windows rolled down. I just wish I knew the absolute truth of what the writer's intent was...

Every time I see you all the rays of the sun
Are streaming through the waves in your hair
And every star in the sky is taking aim at your eyes like a spotlight
The beating of my heart is a drum, and it's lost
And it's looking for a rhythm like you
You can take the darkness from the pit of the night
And turn into a beacon burning endlessly bright
I've got to follow it, 'cause everything I know
Well it's nothing til I give it to you

I can make the run or stumble
I can make the final block
And I can make every tackle at the sound of the whistle
I can make all the stadiums rock
I can make tonight forever
Or I can make it disappear by the dawn
And I can make you every promise that has ever been made
And I can make all your demons be gone

But I'm never gonna make it without you
Do you really want to see me crawl?
And I'm never gonna make it like you do
Making love out of nothing at all

I'll be back

I left my heart in Montana... sort of. I literally left my phone charger there, but figuratively I fell in love with the laid-back lifestyle and gorgeous scenery. I don't know if it's a place I'd ever be able to live (too much snow), but visiting will always be on my list.

It's all on you

There are just a few days of summer left (in my book, anyway). That means this weekend -- this roadtrip to Montana -- is my last shot at creating memories of the summer of '08.

Is that a lot of pressure? It sure is. I've done so much the past few months, but I can't help feeling like I need to go out with a bang.

I'm counting on the Scott family to make sure it happens...

A small favor

On the way home from meeting some of Renee's friends the other night for some drinks, the five of us stopped at Safeway to pick up a few baking supplies (Miranda wanted to make a cake for her friends who were working the graveyard shift all week). After making the rounds of the store and being stupid - a stein of beer will do that to you - we finally paid for our selections and began to walk to the car. I, as per usual and for no reason at all, checked my cell phone.

Which was 3 minutes into a phone call.

At midnight.

To my parents.

So now I'm wondering if: A) my mom and dad are sitting by the phone listening, waiting, trying to figure out who is calling them at midnight; or B) I just left a message on the answering machine that they will hear first thing in the morning.

What were the topics of conversation we covered? Beer. Finger condoms. Butt sex. I know there was some swearing. Possibly a racist joke or two. "This is not good," I remember thinking to myself, "not good at all." It turns out I had nothing to worry about because the computer was hooked up to the internet (thank goodness for dial-up!), but man, that was close. Late phone calls are never a good thing. It made me think of the time I answered the phone at 3 a.m. and it was some guy's collect call from Clackamas County Jail. I didn't know him, I had no way of helping him, so I hung up. I still don't know what I could have done.

To this day I wonder what happened to him.

In my dreams, literally

Oh Michael Phelps, the things I would do to you...

To be honest, I've never really considered the guy all that attractive. Yeah he's sort of cute in a nerdy-swimmer-with-big-ears kind of way, but nothing too lustworthy. I'd actually typically prefer the classic looks of Aaron Peirsol or Ian Thorpe. That was, until last night.

Seeing Phelps become the quote-unquote Winningest Olympian ever opened my eyes to his ridiculous abs, which, by the way, appear to be about as close to perfection as humanly possible. The thing that really got me going, however, was how much he reminded me of the pictures of Craig during high school. The big ears... the lean body... the muscles... the goofy smile... the cockiness.

I'd never EVER do anything to hurt Craig, and I certainly won't get a chance at Michael Phelps, but just so we're clear: It's not cheating if he reminds me of my boyfriend, right?

Two down, six to go

When you say you're going to do something, it's like "Oh, okay, maybe, we'll see what happens." But when you say you're determined, there is a lot more weight behind it. It's like, "Whoa, watch out, this person is serious." With that said, I am determined to stick with this new DVD workout plan I started two weeks ago. Mom and Dad have been following it for the past several months, and their results have been very positive. I can especially see the difference in my dad's physique. It's supposed to shrink your waist in eight weeks, so I guess I'll find out at the end of September. Wish me luck!

A wrong turn

It's amazing to me how much I miss my old job sometimes. Yes the stress headaches are gone, but so are the constant jokes, the weekly lunch meetings, the established routine, and the satisfaction of seeing my hard work in print. I felt like I was a part of something special, one of the few who were allowed to go behind the scenes of things. Now I'm just me. Boring, lazy me.

I'm upset because there is still so much I want to do with my writing, and I wasted a great opportunity to do it. I see that now. I almost feel stupid for saying this, but I'd jump back into my old position in a heartbeat, even after how horribly things ended with the company.

It's a bit nutty

The other night when I was home alone I went outside to visit Luke. I knew there was nothing to be afraid of, considering the 7-foot fence around my brother's back yard, but I was still just a little bit on edge about being outside after 10 p.m. I became even more wary when I opened the door and smelled skunk. Finally, after nearly a minute of sitting with the cat and scanning the yard for movement, I gave in to my fear and went back into the house. I tapped on the window and told Luke not to worry, that no animal would be able to get through the fence, and then I promptly headed to my room. A skunk wouldn't be able to get into the yard - and there is no way it would be able to get in the house - yet for some reason I didn't feel safe until my bedroom door was securely shut. Silly, right?

Enough is enough

Dear VH1,

Don't you think things have gone far enough? I understand the appeal of basing a show around a washed-up or nearly famous celebrity's quest for a lasting relationship (ha), but to use this trash as an anchor for your channel is just plain annoying. I see why some people might initially find that kind of television entertaining; heck, I even admit to having been slightly hooked on the first season of Rock of Love. What I don't get is why all of these shows - A Shot at Love, I Love New York, Flavor of Love, Rock of Love - keep having sequels, spinoffs, and sequels to the spinoffs. Make it stop. Please, just make it stop.

Don't you see as time goes on the subjects of these shows become less likable, and the would-be love interests become more trashy? I kind of rooted for Bret Michaels when his show first aired. To me he came off as a semi-genuine, cool guy... A pervert, yes, but not one of those annoying people who should never have been famous in the first place. Now that he's burned through two seasons of Rock of Love, with a third on the way, I like him a lot less. In fact, he kind of makes me sick. All I can think about is how many of the contestants he's slept with and what an idiot he sounds like when he says he's looking for "real love." Same with all the other subjects of these shows. At this point there is nothing new or inventive about any of them... You've seen one, you've seen them all.

Speaking of contestants, where do you find these people?? Most of them look like they should be shouting at imaginary friends on a street corner or snaking up and down a stripper pole somewhere. Not hot at all. I don't want to see Flavor Flav on my television screen, period, but I especially don't want to see him making out with some crazy Jerry Springer-reject who can barely string two sentences together.

Obviously there are enough people watching this junk to keep it on the air, so maybe my beef should really be with them. But until I can find those viewers and convince them to change the channel, VH1, I'm just going to have to ask you to come up with something original. Please.

Sincerely,
Elena

Love don't love me

Late-night television really is the worst. I was up until the wee hours this morning (coffee at 10 p.m. will do that to you), unsuccessfully trying to find something worth watching, when I started taking notice of the commercials. Sure there were the usual ones about sexy local singles, but there was also a very high volume of dating site advertisements. I've seen these commercials before, I'd just never really paid a whole lot of attention to them.

The thing that struck me about these promos is the way outward appearances were never mentioned, with all the focus landing on a connection, some similar interests, or how quickly they knew the other person was "The One." What I'm trying to figure out, however, is how happy these people truly are. Do dating websites really do such a great job of matching people, or is it that by the time you sign up your standards are so low you are willing to settle on anything decent? You both like Italian food, want two children, and aren't repulsed by the other person's face... and those are your main reasons for getting married? I'm not trying to insult people who join these sites, I am genuinely curious.

If you are tired of being alone and one day find someone with the same interests/beliefs, is that enough to convince yourself it's love? Or do these personality profiles really work? I wish I could see some numbers on how many of these relationships lead to marriage, and how many of those marriages fail. I know that data is out there somewhere. It has to be.

A rock and a hard place

Today I became fully aware of why I hate living in Molalla. It's a somewhat long story, but it goes something like this: A bunch of realtors had a scheduled walk-through of Joseph's house at 11 this morning, so I obviously wanted to spend my time in a different location. If I lived in Oregon City or Clackamas it would be easy to find something to do for a couple hours without even having to drive. Around here? Nothing, unless I wanted to walk to a few different grocery stores or half a dozen bars. The library is somewhere nearby, but I prefer the staff at O.C. ... and by staff I mean Hallie. There really was no point in wasting time in this area when I had some errands to take care of elsewhere.

The real dilemma is which errands I should run. I could do some shopping, banking, library business in Oregon City and then come back home, only burning up about 2.5 gallons of gas, or I could go the extra 20 miles and head into Clackamas to get the new phone I need. The phone that is on sale. The phone that may or may not be in stock tomorrow. If I go all the way out there, however, should I not also see Craig? And since I am going to be at his house all day tomorrow and probably the next day, shouldn't I just plan on staying there after purchasing my phone today? That would be the wise economical choice, would it not? Too bad it's not that simple. I can't just leave at the drop of a hat, hoping I have everything I need and finding out later if that is the case. Not me, not now, not ever. I'm a planner. A doer. A worrier. A regretter. Since I found out about this realtor situation only a few hours before it was scheduled to take place, I didn't have enough time to get all of my stuff ready.

There's also the business of whether I want to spend most of my days at somebody else's house. It's nice every once in a while, but lately it has been too much. I love Craig, I love hanging out with him, Brad, Justin, and Keith, but I also love being by myself. I love being in a big, clean house. I love sleeping in my own bed instead of an oversized beanbag thing upstairs (it's more comfortable than it sounds). I love feeding Luke, rather than just dumping a bunch of food in his automatic feeder and hoping it is enough to last him. That's another thing: How am I supposed to feel good about myself when I am never home to care for my cat? Yes he's mean, yes he's annoying, but he's my responsibility. I'd be devastated if something happened to him. Just another reason why I shouldn't be over at Craig's house so much.

But how can I justify trips back and forth between my house and his? It's 50 miles roundtrip, a cost of about $10. Ouch. Right now, at this point in my life anyway, I can't afford that. I either have to accept things the way they are, see Craig less, or move somewhere different. Bummer.

Dum dum dum

During my morning jog I came up with an idea for a book, one I'd feel comfortable pitching to a publisher even right now. It's more of a novelty than it is a brilliant literary work, but still something that will make people think. I may even start it off as a blog to get the ball rolling. We shall see...

I just can't say no

Does anybody else find it slightly funny that bikini season and barbecue season overlap one another? Or maybe not funny at all. Seriously, how am I supposed to fit into tiny summer clothes when a constant stream of deliciousness is headed straight for my mouth? And from there it goes to my stomach and thighs. Grr.

Ironic.

Breaking the law, breaking the law

When Joseph's real estate agent dropped off the fliers for his house, I inwardly groaned. I may have even outwardly groaned. The reason is that this woman, like so many other people these days, doesn't understand grammar.

The headline above pictures of the house reads, "WHATS NOT TO LOVE!!" What's not to love?? How about an apostrophe and the proper use of the question mark? I love both of those. I know other people might love them as well.

Time to reconsider

I have trouble telling if I'm overreacting about things or if I'm possibly brushing them off too easily. I know I obviously blow stuff out of proportion sometimes because I'm a girl, because I'm a Boryczka girl (yes, that matters), but I also know I'm too lenient about other things. Complacent? Perhaps. Or maybe I see all the fights going on that don't involve me and would rather not add to the drama any more than I feel is necessary. I'm not saying I'm any good at keeping things peaceful, having been the cause of numerous arguments during my time, but at least I can say I'm trying.

We both know it's better than being alone

I'm not going to cry right now. I already cried once today, so any more tears would be self pity. I keep going back and forth on if I should write this out because I know I'm going to sound crazy, but if that's what I am then what's the harm? It matters not.

What's wrong with me? Why do I feel like such a lump on a sinking log? You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it drink, just like you can't make someone care when they don't. This isn't news to me; I've been through it all before, I just didn't expect to feel this way with him. I'm sure part of it is my fault. Maybe most of it is. I don't know, I haven't felt right in a while. It's like walking around trying to remember a word that keeps escaping the tip of my tongue. I can't stop thinking about it, obsessing over it, trying to coax my mind into coming up with it, all to no avail. I try to forget about it in the hopes that it will surprise me like a happy revelation, but it doesn't. It never does. I can't keep trying this hard and failing. How stupid is it that I feel like I need a vacation? A vacation from nothing, ha, that's funny.

This is the literary equivalent of a big sigh.

It's always cloudy except for when you're looking to the past

Just because I no longer have a quote board posted up in my house doesn't mean I've stopped gathering some of the interesting things people have said. Here are some of my recent (or not-so-recent) favorites:

"Wow, well I sure hope you don't ... die." - Mom, after hearing that Joseph is going skydiving

"I'm just a live-saving machine." - Brad

"I have a piece of meat stuck in my hole." (A pause for laughter) "Laughing made it come out. No, maybe it was bread." - Nay

"There's no pistachio crunching in apologizing!" - Curb Your Enthusiasm

"Sometimes I tell him, 'I'm glad I'm adopted, I don't want to inherit your nose.' " - Chad

"No, but if you think it's a good idea to make a Silly Putty impression of your remote you're wrong!" - Kim

"I've only got two balls?!" - Joseph

"If someone attacked us I'd run so fast." - Craig, as he, Renee and I walked through a creepy area at night

"Guns kill people like spoons made Rosie O' Donnell fat." - A random bumper sticker

"Why would you want to be gay? You already have it!" - Justin


And I'm not really sure who said these:

"I don't believe in beautiful mistakes."

"Lena, I've never wanted to brush my teeth, but you make it look fun."

"You look like a sexy zebra."

It's better than best

For about a week I was spinning. This was the first time I’d felt that way in close to eight months, and it was more than a little unsettling. I’m not sure what set me off down that path but I know what brought me back: a touch. A small touch. An unexpected touch. The touch of his hand on mine, caressing me when he didn’t have to.

There was no reason for physical contact, what with his back facing me for a better view of the slideshow playing on the wall, yet he still made the effort to reach for my hand. It was almost as though he needed to, like he couldn’t resist the feeling of his skin on mine. Not sexually, just lovingly. It was that exact moment I remembered why being with him feels so right. After that I finally came free from the emotional baggage I’d been trapped under and was once again swept into his patient arms, a feeling unmatched by anything in this world.

And now I'm back to normal - or at least normal for me.

It's go time

I already know I'm weird, but sometimes I amaze even myself. Like the thing I do when I put on my running shoes: I hate when the tongue or back flap gets scrunched down inside and touches my feet (it kind of makes me want to pee my pants or throw up), yet I always let it happen for the satisfaction of pulling it back out. I could easily hold onto the tongue when I put the shoes on and eliminate this problem altogether, but I don't. I probably never will.

I force myself to endure this unpleasant experience for the sole purpose of becoming more appreciative. How would I know how great the right thing is if I never knew how awful the wrong one is?

Same with life. I honestly believe what doesn't kill you makes you stronger. You want to be a marshmallow forever? Fine, don't run that marathon. Don't graduate from college. Don't let go of that bad relationship. Don't stand up for what you believe in. And certainly don't leave the tongue inside your shoe for a couple of seconds.

A tree of wishes

I added up all the money owed to me (some of which I may never actually get) and it's right around $3,000. That's a decent amount of money, no? If I had that cash right now I'd get some new shoes... And jeans... And sunglasses... And jewelry. I'd drive up to Seattle. I'd take a trip to the beach. I'd treat Craig to a fancy dinner.

Who am I kidding, I'd probably just hide it away in my savings account. I sure wouldn't be scared of checking my balance at the bank anymore though...

It's all in the hips

I celebrated turning the big 2-5 with lots of drinking and good times last week... I don't remember it all, but trust me, it happened. Now I find myself caught between being young and being old. So what are the benefits?

Being 25 means I'm too old for:

Acne (I wish).

Making bad decisions (Ha).

Tantrums (Possibly never).

Getting carded (Not quite).


Being 25 means I'm too young for:

Grey hair (I've had that for years now).

Aches (Constant).

Bad hearing (Huh? What did you say?).

Memory loss (I'd forget my head if it wasn't attached).


Well, at least I'm back to being an odd-numbered age. That's good, no?

I believe I can fly

Is it weird that when I run down the stairs at home I grab my boobs? It's not something I think about, I just do it. Stairs, both hands, boom - It's like a reflex or something.

Speaking of stairs, Luke fell from the top of the railing today and landed on the hardwood floor. I'm a horrible judge of distance but it's a good 10-15 steps to the top, so... 20 feet? He's a huge cat with a huge belly, which I'm sure made for an unpleasant landing. All I know is he was balancing on the railing behind the chair one minute and the next he was gone, and half a second or so later there was a loud THUMP from below. Renee and I looked at each other in shock and raced to the bottom to make sure he wasn't dead (he wasn't); the second we saw he was okay we burst out laughing. Does that make us horrible? It was really quite entertaining. Right now the poor guy is upstairs sleeping, but I do hope he's okay.

At the end of this week I will be one year older and most likely weighing in at a few pounds heavier. I'm not excited with the getting older part and I certainly don't want to be fatter, but you can't stop time, and you sure as heck can't say no to the ridiculously awesome spread Renee has mapped out for this weekend. Ready or not...

Such a waste

I'm stumped. It seems that each time I sit down and try to write I'm interrupted with a bout of lameness. Even now I find myself struggling for words.

It took 15 minutes to come up with those three sentences.

Who would want to 'R' her?

My cousin's baby is so cute that I almost changed my mind about not having children. Almost. At the little guy's birthday party on Saturday he smeared his face with cake and was just all-around adorable, leading me to imagine what it would be like to have a family one of these days. It might also be because Maria and Harlan are such a cute couple and have a cute house and a cute baby and are just cute, cute, cute that I couldn't help but long for something similar.
At the same party I got roped into making cupcakes and taking pictures of them for a book my Aunt Joyce is writing. Okay, so I volunteered to do it... and I'm really excited to get started. But still, making 31 different batches of cupcakes and then taking pictures of them is quite the task. Anybody have any outstanding recipes they'd like to share?? (I'm talking to you, Will, if you still read this.)

Renee had her wisdom teeth pulled on Friday. Ouch. I can't get mine done until I get insurance again, although I'm more afraid than ever after seeing what she went through. Funny story though: Before the dentist put Renee under they asked who was there to pick her up, to which she replied, "Debra." (Mom usually goes by Deb but for some reason Renee went with her full name.) Mom and I were in the waiting room when one of the dental assistants came out looking for "Brenda"; we both kept talking because we assumed it was some lady who was late for her appointment or something. A few minutes went by before the assistant came back out asking for this Brenda person, even opening the door to see if someone was waiting outside. She seemed a little worried, and in my mind I wondered if maybe they got Mom's name wrong because they read it off something Renee filled out with her chicken-scratch handwriting. I nixed this idea when I heard them say "Brenda" drives a green Ford... it seemed like she must have been a regular patient for them to know what kind of car to look for. Mom has a green Ford Escape, but I just pictured this other person's car being a light green Ford Focus (don't ask me why). Finally, about 10 minutes after the initial Brenda announcement, a different lady comes out asking for Elena and saying she's looking for the person who is here with Renee. Ha. I guess they kept going back to Renee and telling her nobody was there to take her home.

Craig, Brad, Renee and I saw the Sex and the City movie at midnight on Thursday. It was fantastic, I'm going to see it again. Any questions?

The best is yet to come

I just read over my last post and realized what a complete whiner I sound like. Ugh! I still hate the things I listed before, but in order to not be such a doofus I've decided to put a positive spin on each of them. So, here goes:

I hate it when people complain about something but don't make any effort to change it. I do, however, enjoy saying, "I told you so."

I hate when the weather decides to act like it's March instead of May, but I love getting the most bang for my winter-clothes-buying buck.

I hate that I can't find a job anywhere, but I love the free time, extra hobbies, and fun weekends I've been enjoying.

I hate how much I rely on coffee to wake me up, but I love savoring every sip of the dark nectar.

I hate predictable movies, but I love pointing out what should have been done to make it a better cinematic experience.

I hate my computer's inability to go online, but I love having three other computers nearby that are able to access the internet.

I hate living in Molalla, but I love my brother's house.

I hate not knowing, but I love being able to pretend.

I hate unpaid debts, but I love knowing that someday I'll get it all back.

I hate missed opportunities, but I love how much they make me think.

I hate cold feet (literally), but I love letting Craig warm them up for me.

I hate people who make lists of what they hate, but I love remembering that I can do better.

Raindrops keep falling

I hate it when people complain about something but don't make any effort to change it.

I hate when the weather decides to act like it's March instead of May.

I hate that I can't find a job anywhere.

I hate how much I rely on coffee to wake me up.

I hate predictable movies.

I hate my computer's inability to go online.

I hate living in Molalla.

I hate not knowing.

I hate unpaid debts.

I hate missed opportunities.

I hate cold feet (literally).

I hate people who make lists of what they hate.

Dumb and dumber

I encountered a problem last night/this morning while picking up supplies for the dinner Renee and I are making for our men: No money. Not to say I literally had no way to pay for my groceries, I just didn't have my beloved debit card handy (I later realized it was sitting at home in the pants I had worn earlier in the day). With my preferred mode of payment no longer an option, I was left with a few other choices: cash, credit, check. The $4 in my wallet was not enough to cover the nearly $20 worth of food I'd loaded into my cart, so obviously that wasn't going to fly. I was wary of using my credit card just then because I still hadn't informed the bank of my recent address change, which would mean days of waiting for a bill to arrive that could possibly never even show up. Granted, I could have just called the bank the next day to let them know of my move, but at this point I figured writing a check would be no problem. As I pulled out my checkbook and hurriedly began to fill in the blanks, I told myself not to sweat it, that I had plenty of time to do this without causing too much of a delay.

Except for when the address on my driver's license and on my checks didn't match up. Things really got complicated after the other register closed, leaving the line I was currently holding up as the only available way for the half-dozen shoppers to purchase their goods. Even worse was when the checker loudly informed me of the discrepancy between my information and left to go get the transaction approved by a manager, adding a solid minute to the total wait time of the people behind me.

Suck. I realize it was almost 1 a.m. at a store nowhere near my current home, but I still felt like a moron. At least I can laugh about it now.

You put my heart in motion

It's official: I'm in love. Craig and I are nearing the six-month mark, and I honestly can't imagine my life without him. He makes me laugh. He makes me smile. He makes me think. He holds my hand when I need him to. He rubs my back when it's sore. He listens. He understands me, even when most of the time I confuse myself. He gets along with my family. He holds doors for me. He knows when to give me space. He is about as close to perfection as I can stomach.

(And Babe, sorry if this makes you uncomfortable but you know it's what I do.)

This earthquake weather has got me shaking

I’m amazed at how a group of people – related or not – can suddenly morph into one big conglomerate of sharing. I’d had this idea in the back of my mind for a while before Craig volunteered his own thoughts on the subject this past weekend. “Not to sound gay,” he said, “but we’ve become quite a family.” This was after the five of us (Justin, Craig, my sisters and I) had spent the day at the beach together. The drive down consisted of us singing Rock Band songs at the top of our lungs, while on the way back the girls and I did our best to keep the sunburnt boys from getting any worse. We came home to some good ol’ fashioned beer pong with Brad, and the next night we added Keith to the mix and cooked up a fantastic barbecue dinner. Later in the weekend we roasted marshmallows and shared stories over the fire pit. We put together a swimming pool, fruitlessly attempted to patch the holes, bought a new pool, filled it, and willed the water to be just a few degrees warmer as it numbed our lower halves. We filled up dozens of water balloons for a boys vs. girls battle that was reminiscent of our junior high years. It was, to say the very least, a lot of fun.

I’m not sure if it’s the weather that has brought us so close together or if it’s just the fact that we spend most weekends in the same house in Milwaukie, but whatever the reason I do enjoy it.

Hello, lover

My girls are back, and I couldn't be more excited! They may be a little older, a little more responsible, but by golly they are certainly the same Carrie, Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte I fell in love with just a few years ago. For me, May 30 cannot come quickly enough.

I became hooked on Sex and the City during what was probably the most difficult period of my life. For close to an entire month I went to work, came home to my lonely apartment, popped in a DVD and did my very best not to think about him. Yes, him. I got lost in the ups and downs of Carrie and Big's tumultuous romance, ignoring how it oftentimes mirrored the relationship I had just walked away from. I laughed at Samantha's sex life, cried with Charlotte during her baby struggles, and cheered on Miranda's pursuit of Steve. I was as shocked as any of them with Berger's breakup post-it note. It sounds pathetic, but when the four of them met up for lunch I wanted more than anything to be sitting at the table too.

The feelings I have for these four characters goes beyond mere admiration. I want a fabulous closet full of clothes and shoes. I want friendships that last a lifetime. I want to be able to withstand heartbreak. I want to write a weekly column, and later land a fantastic book deal. I, like so many other women out there, want to be Carrie Bradshaw. And maybe, just maybe, one of these days I will.

Close your eyes and hope for the best

I hate when I have a list of this many things to do and I only get this much done. I hate it, I hate it, I hate it... And yet for some reason it keeps happening. Today wasn't so bad - not like yesterday - but I still feel like a waste of space the majority of the time.

No matter, at least I'm not as dumb as this guy at the Mariners game last week:

So tell me, what exactly is a "strick"? How did he not notice the discrepancy between the spelling on his sign and the scoreboard, the jumbotron during "Take Me Out To The Ballgame," and every other place it was correctly written throughout Safeco Field?
By the way, an old guy brought the sign - he just happened to pass it off to a little kid right before I took the photo. Moron.

Another fine example of grammar misuse appeared on a pole between Joe's and Best Buy. I know, I know, people who deface public property are generally of lower intelligence anyway, but a part of me still hopes for the best. Hint: There are two mistakes in this pic.


This is fun! Maybe I'll make it my life goal to point out the flaws of others. Ha, as if I really need more of a reason to be judgmental...

A ghost of you?

I think this house is haunted. I'd say it was just me being paranoid if Renee hadn't voiced her own suspicions earlier this afternoon.

That sure makes things more interesting.

Life will go on, right?

I'm broke. There's no way around it. I'm as terrified right now as I was that first day I realized the financial burden that would come with losing my job, yet now I feel like I have more to be ashamed of. It probably looks like I've just pissed the last couple months away but I've written a good number of articles and hopefully been laying the foundation for my next career. Too bad it hasn't been a very monetarily-rewarding endeavor.

And even though the money has dried up, the bills have not. I never would have had a problem driving somewhere before when I had a job. Now that it costs me $50 to fill up (about as much as I make writing an article), I cringe at the thought of going anywhere. Those Pumas I've been wanting for months? Keep dreaming. Summer clothes are pretty much out of the question now too. Whenever I do buy something I immediately feel guilty about it and want to return it. I'm going to hide my debit card when I get home to prevent these lapses of judgment, but for now I'll sit here silently hating all the money I just spent.

It seems like almost every day I ask myself why I don't just get a regular job. And why not? Part of it is because jobs these days are not easy to find, even for college graduates, and until recently I didn't want to get involved in something that wasn't going anywhere and consequently lose sight of my ultimate goals. Now I'll settle for anything. I'm even considering looking for work in other states. I know if my biggest debtor would ever pay me back I would not have to worry so much, but that will probably never happen.

I guess I might as well kiss that money goodbye, along with my self-esteem. Dang.

Somehow I dozed off and woke up in a pile of garbage

I don't know what to say about this weather except "bleh." It sucks, we all hate it, move on, right? Only, summer is and has always been my favorite season. I live for the sunshine, the longer days, the sports, and just the relaxed way of life that comes into play during these warmer months. Last year we really didn't have a summer, and I'm afraid this year might turn out to be a bummer too. I really hope I'm wrong.

As I type this I reek of campfire smoke and have a belly full of s'mores. I'm watching The Food Network. I can hear Miranda, Justin, Craig and Brad playing Rock Band downstairs. Renee is sleeping on The Love Sack. I'm going to Seattle to watch a Mariners game tomorrow.

Summer or not, life is good.

Follow your heart? Riiiight

Who the heck does Jewel think she is? She begins her career playing up the folksy/hippie angle, which earned her a handful of Top 10 singles and critical acclaim, and then for her fifth CD she goes and tries to market herself as some sort of sex kitten. Why? Because Mooooom, everybody else is doing it! Her influences at the time were clearly the popsters with canned beats and phony vocals (see Britney and Christina). After dropping out of the biz for a few years she came back in 2006 sounding more like herself, but for some reason (I wonder why?) she no longer had any credibility. Nobody bought it, and nobody bought her CD.

Now here it is a few years later, which means it's time for yet another Jewel career facelift. The direction she has decided to pursue is (surprise, surprise) the suddenly-popular country field. Annnnd her first single just happens to feature the themes of being a strong woman and staying true to yourself. Right, just like you obviously are, Miss Identity Crisis. Even better is the fact that Jessica Simpson is reportedly not far behind with that country disc. Ugggggg...

With that said, I'll probably end up thinking her CD is amazing and regretting this whole rant.

I'm a hick, I'm a hick

Some of what I witnessed during a walk through Molalla this sunny Sunday morning:

A man drinking Sparks. Before noon. While getting ready to drive a car.

A garage sale with the sign: "No price to low." To low what? To low where? To low who?! Ohhh, you mean too low. Got it.

A large woman squeezed into (and busting out of) a teal shorts and tank set that would have barely fit Miranda.

Co-stanza

I'd be willing to bet - and I'm sure there are plenty out there who'd agree - that my cat takes some of the stinkiest dumps in the world. Just a minute ago I walked by the laundry room and ran smack into a cloud of stench that was wafting from his most recent achievement. I almost gagged.

I know it's possible to teach cats how to use a toilet, but I just want Luke to learn how to turn on the exhaust fan.

Mission accomplished

There was only one night in the past week where I got more than six hours of sleep, and that was because I was recovering from some heavy drinking. Exhaustion, however, is a small price to pay for the memories I made in Michigan. Memories of Uncle Wayne and Aunt Joyce taking us out for breakfast. Of Aunt Penny's gracious hospitality. Of my cousin David talking candidly about some of the mistakes he made as a teenager. Of those pool players in Paisano's. Of huffing and puffing to the top of that giant sand dune - and then finding out Miranda barfed halfway up. Of zipping around in a golf cart with my cousin Crystal. Of seeing the farm where my mom grew up. Of fake mustaches.

Miranda and I snapped a combined 1,400 pictures on our digital cameras, so the photographic evidence of our vacation will soon be available for all to see.

On top of all that, my siblings and I bonded in a way we haven't come close to in years, ever since those days we all lived at home and found a joint activity to annoy Mom with. I'll never forget the four of us driving down the back roads of Michigan, the windows letting in the chilly afternoon air and Keith Urban blasting through the speakers while we all took turns sticking our heads out the moonroof. Renee even took the wheel of the Jeep so Joseph could have a chance to experience the wind in his face. Dangerous? Yes. Fun? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. You can't buy moments like that.

I never thought you were an effeminate weirdo

Here's something to get excited about (pun intended): May is National Masturbation Month and National Orgasm Month.

Wow, I bet that's why this is my favorite time of the year.

You seem like a drunk on the go

In the past few days I've learned:

- The majority of my mom's family is nice. Super nice. Ridiculously nice.

- Highways with odd numbers go north and south, even numbered ones go east and west. Except for M 40, which goes north and south. Hmm.

- My cousin looks like Seth Green. Oh, and he's friends with Joey from 'N Sync.

- Steak 'n Shake is yummy, especially the mint chocolate malt.

- People out here use "don't" and "doesn't" interchangably, as in, "It don't matter." Oh but it does, at least to me.

- The littlest girl in the Narnia movies is Craig's mom's twin.

I've also realized my boyfriend is an "out of sight, out of mind" kind of guy.

Everybody knows the only thing we should be ashamed of is our bodies

Long flight made much longer by the presence of an unholy former boss - the one who so callously ended my career at The Times those months ago - just three rows in front of Miranda. Oh how I longed to throw something at him; instead I glared at the back of his oversized head and eventually lost myself in some British lit. Thankfully we parted ways in Chicago. Seriously, what are the chances??

And now as I sit typing this in a small house in a small Michigan town, life seems okay. Words hastily jotted in my notebook during an extended layover at O'Hare reminded me of the whole reason for this trip: "I'm here to remember my grandpa, but I'm also on a journey to discover my mother. I want to connect with the person she was before marrying my father and long before us children became her whole life. I'm determined to keep my mind open to everything, as I know this will help me understand what makes her tick. I'm doing all of this for her."

What's the story?

The plane is scheduled to leave in seven hours, and more than ever I'm wishing I could back out of it. I'm sure it will be a worthwhile experience, I'm positive it's "the right thing to do," I just am incredibly anxious about the whole trip.

I guess all I can do at this point is cross my fingers and hope my family behaves...

Maybe it's Maybelline

One of the best things ever said to me: "Holy crap, do you have any lotion?"

Um, have you seen my room? The stuff is everywhere... same with body sprays. It's a bit of an obsession.

I want to know what love is

It was sad hearing about the divorce, it was sad moving into this lonely house, but the saddest moment came when I found out the picture frames on the living room wall still had the fakey photo inserts they come with when you buy them. You know the ones: not-quite-sexy women staring down the camera while their giant 1980s hair blocks out the scenery behind them, annoying families enjoying a tinseled-out holiday, etc. The offenders in this instance are black and white snapshots of France and the Eiffel Tower.

How unhappy must they have been not to even put their own pictures on display?

Do it, do it

As I sat in Starbucks on Saturday with my friend Janette, a.k.a. one of my favorite people in the world, I couldn't help but feel bad about all the things I've missed out on in the lives of those I care about. Birthdays, anniversaries, new jobs, new cars, relationship drama... Even little things such as hobbies or vacations have flown under my radar. This became even more apparent when I found out one of my best friends from college is now engaged (OMG!!!) and then the next day when I was able to steal a few moments with Chad, who was home only for the weekend. Yes Janette moved to Scotland and eventually settled in good ol' Idaho, but telephones would have no trouble reaching these or any of the other locations my friends are currently inhabiting.

It's not just faraway folks I've neglected - there are plenty here in town I rarely see. The last time I saw David was easily a month ago when he went to dinner with Renee, and it was probably twice as long before that. Bryan is leaving for good the end of May and somehow I can't find the time to go see him? Stupid, I tell you, just stupid. And pretty much any Thursday I could go have lunch with my former colleagues at the paper, yet I always find a reason not to. What the deuce?

I've never been great with keeping in touch, but this is getting ridiculous.

Nowhere to go but up

Last night I finally confessed to someone what my dream job is, and her response was surprising yet comforting: "I've known you wanted to do that for a few years now."

Wow, really?

I take it as a good sign she didn't laugh in my face or tell me to dream on. She even seemed to think it would be a good idea. Whew. Now I just need to make it happen...

Some of the best times you'll never remember

"For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God." - Romans 3:23

Whoa, whoa, where did that come from? I used to be a strong Christian and go to church each week, but I haven't thought about God, I mean really thought about him, in weeks. Months even. It's not that I doubt his existence. I know God's there - it's not even a belief for me, more of a fact. And yet . . . And yet I live as though I'm uncertain I'll be judged when I die. Why? Simply put, I'm an idiot.

Learning to breathe

Two sisters, a brother, a boyfriend, a girlfriend. A mountain of spaghetti. Meatballs. Five bottles of wine and some mixed drinks. French bread. A big salad. Peanut butter cookies. "Soup Nazi" and "Kenny Rogers Roasters."

Tonight was a good night.

Do you want fries with that?

Have you ever noticed how different heated food tastes when it's allowed to cool? Everything congeals and, for me anyway, the flavors are intensified. I'm also able to simply enjoy the food. No longer do I have to worry that my tastebuds will be burnt off in a fit of impatience, nor do I concern myself with whether the texture will be lost during the cooking process; I just eat.

I was thinking about these advantages as I munched on the curry Renee left in the fridge for me. "Gross Lena, don't eat it cold!" she'd shouted the night before as I attempted a sample. "You're so weird. I don't see how you can do that."

Well, Miss Renee, it goes a little like this: I'm lazy, impatient, and have a very agreeable palate. And yes, I am weird. The best thing about having opposite tastes as her are all the leftovers that end up on my plate. Choosing a restaurant when we go out is oftentimes difficult (especially when it's her and Miranda The Vegetarian), but the company more than makes up for any inconvenience - except for when she vetoes both Mexican and sushi time and time again. Is it my fault I could eat that food every night and not get sick of it??

And for the record, I don't always eat things cold, I just am not afraid to do it.

The kids that thought they'd run this town ain't running much of anything

It's impossible to tell where I'd be in this world without the love of my family and friends, though I have a feeling it is somewhere between hell and a whorehouse. From feeding me to offering advice to just listening, I can't imagine my life without such a strong support system. My parents more than anyone have sacrificed to get me where I am today, and yet far too often I feel the need to unnecessarily argue with what they say. No reason, no rhyme, I just don't want them to be right. Unfair, I know.

How old am I? The rebellious years are behind me, or at least should be. I'm at the stage where I should be able to accept their experience as valid and learn from the mistakes of their youth; for some reason I forget this whenever I step through the door to their home. My mom is great, I can't even begin to list all she has done for the family. Yes she is stubborn at times (sooo unlike me, right?), yes she can be a bit old-fashioned, but I love her dearly. My dad is such a character that it's almost impossible not to find something to laugh about with him. It's true there are times when it seems like the only things we have in common are sports or making fun of people, but deep down I know he cares about me. They both do. My mom's tears yesterday confirmed that.

I'm not the kind of child who will call or visit as often as I should, but a blog shout out has to be better than nothing. At the very least it will remind me to take the time to thank them as they deserve.

Must be somebody else's blues

Really, how can anybody feel sad when the sun is shining? I sure can't.

It's only in your head you feel left out

Something about this house makes me sad. I think it might be because it reminds me of failure: a failed marriage (my brother's), a failed career (mine). It's not so terrible when people are here, but that doesn't seem to happen all that often. No wonder Luke is so scared all the time...

I guess I don't really need to be here money-wise, but if I had a real job it would make paying rent to an apartment manager a lot easier. At least in this position I know I won't get evicted if for some reason I (please God no, please no) run out of cash. A steady paycheck would also help me justify driving the 20 miles to see my friends, or even just the 12 or so miles to good ol' Oregon City. It seems like the past couple months have been a whirlwind of spending time at Craig's house and hanging out with him and his friends/my friends, and now all of that will change. It has changed. Already I feel the pull of wanting to see Craig but not being able to. I'm afraid I might become clingy and needy and just annoying because all I want is for him to be here.

How stupid is it that those extra miles make me feel like a world away?

God helps those who help themselves, and I'm about to help myself to some snacks

It's amazing how different it feels to be moving out of this apartment compared to how it felt when we moved in. Not just the influx of direction, obviously, but the entire situation. Even though I've had apartments before, moving in with Kim and Renee felt so grown up, so adult. It also seemed like it was going to be so much fun. As the three of us - plus Miranda, Justin and David - unpacked the pile of boxes and began putting together furniture more than a year ago, it felt like the lease we had just signed was more of a six-month excuse to party. We all had jobs, we all had bills, we all had boy problems we were going to share with one another night after night. Now I don't have a real job, Kim is in Seattle, and Renee and I are downsizing to renting rooms in our brother's house. In Molalla.

I feel as though I missed something somewhere, like perhaps I am going backwards in my life rather than moving forward to maturity. Shouldn't I be getting ready for a family? For marriage? For some big promotion or raise? For my own house?? This is not how I saw myself at this age. Was my life plan too specific or have I lost the plot somewhere along the way?

Pros, cons, and con artists

Tanning beds are bad for you, right? Frequent use causes wrinkles and unnecessary exposure to potentially harmful UV rays. It also costs money, which, at this particular juncture in my life, is somewhat scarce.

At the same time, however, I love going tanning. It makes me feel better about myself, puts me in a better mood (Vitamin D, anyone?) and is all-around enjoyable. It may or may not be the reason my fingers and toes haven't been so frigid lately.

Should I risk my future self to feel better now? Ultimately it comes down to whether I care enough about the future to save my skin - and my cash. But really, what other bad habits do I have? Drinking? Check. (Occasional) smoking? Check. Eating fast food, driving too fast, hanging out with a fast crowd? Check, check and sort of check. So what's another addition to the list?

This is probably the kind of thinking that'll get you hooked on crack.

Life is what you make it

I'm done, but this time I went out on my own terms. I can't tell you how much better this feels.

Faith is the way to believe lies that we need

So, so many mistakes. I don't know what to do, really about much of anything anymore. It seems the only time I can relax is when I forget. Just now I imagined it being Sunday night instead of Saturday and I almost started crying. I don't want to go to work, but I'm also afraid to quit. Which is worse: working a job you hate and failing, or giving up without properly trying? I'd give almost anything to be back to where I was just a month ago. As unhappy as that job made me sometimes it also gave me the confidence and security to make future plans. I knew if I wanted to go out of town I could swing things and make sure my section was covered. Same with when I was ready to change apartments, go to concerts, have a 3-day weekend. I knew what was expected of me, and yet somehow I must have messed it all up.

And now I wonder if it was my fault my last relationship failed. What did I do to mess things up then that I'm still doing now? I know I'm not perfect, I know I'm hard to deal with most of the time. I guess I just don't want to be blindsided by anything. Maybe I will just live in my car for a while and drive around the country, just to see what it's like. I really have nothing to lose at this point...

There isn't one of these lines that I would erase

Today can't be Thursday. Yesterday was Wednesday, tomorrow is Friday, but today is not Thursday. It just can't be. Thursday is the day that, for the past 2 years, I have arrived at my desk in anticipation of seeing everyone's hard work in print. Finding out what Kevin - and later Jessie - did with the front page. How Jennifer decided to structure her story. What Mikel's column is about.

Oh, but it is Thursday... Only this Thursday I am unemployed.

Lost, lost, lost my marbles

I'm having a midlife crisis.

I'm only going to live to be 50? Yes, I'm confident of this.

Thanks for the memories

Did he know that with those words - "Elena, can Nick and I talk to you in my office?" - my heart would start pounding out of control? Simple words, not alarming by themselves, but coupled with all the empty desks of late made me dizzy.

"As you know, there have been a lot of personnel changes within the company." Did he have any idea the rushing sound that nearly drowned out the string of sentences explaining why they decided to eliminate my position?

When I was unable to keep that tear from escaping my right eye (damn tear!), was he at all aware that this Thursday was quite possibly the worst day in my life so far? No notice, no options, no thanks at all.

So now what? I can't tell if this is the beginning or the end.

I made a list and I'm checking it twice

Things I intend to do between now and the end of my 25th summer:

Buy a good bottle of wine
Get a massage
Cook for Craig
Plan my financial future
Take my sisters out to a fancy dinner
Start a scrapbook
Go to a reading at Powell's
Visit Nila
Visit Kasey
Go to lunch with mom
Set aside a weekend to read an entire book
Dine at a Greek restaurant
Sing karaoke
Host a Girls Night at the apartment
Go to the beach
Go to a Lumberjax game
Go to a Winterhawks game
Go to a Blazers game
Wear a skirt with confidence
Go ice skating
Take Grandma to the zoo
Call in sick and spend the day taking pictures at the Rose Garden (not that Rose Garden)
Hit some balls at the driving range
Learn to walk in those dang Carlos Santana shoes
Attend a play
Get a tattoo
Check out a country-western bar

No bones about it: I've been through worse

Okay, okay, this is the worst misspelling... ever: pelage. Instead of plague. As in, "you avoid it like the pelage" (copied directly from the blog I found it in).

Am I missing something here? Pelage actually is a term for the hair on a mammal, so perhaps this is just a phrase I somehow missed through all these years. Maybe. Or maybe the guy who wrote it is just dumb.

You tell me.

Where do you go when you're lonely?

I'm back from my trip down the road to insanity.

Sunday brunch with Craig helped.

Mid-day naps helped.

A Saturday night with some wine and my Sex and the City girls (and Nay) helped.

A glimpse of nice weather helped.

Seeing Mir smile helped.

Sushi with Shawn helped.

Throwing away all those old letters helped.

Here's to hoping I can keep my head on straight for at least a few more months, and if not, that I can remember how to get it turned around again.

I do my best thinking when my head is full of you

All give, no take. Damn me.

I went to a reading at Powell’s last night for a new book called “Not Quite What I Was Planning,” and now I’m hooked. The whole thing is based on a long-ago challenge to Ernest Hemingway to write a story in half a dozen words (he came up with “For sale: baby shoes, never worn”), and the authors thought it would be interesting for regular people to come up with their own six-word memoirs.

Don’t forget who knows your secrets.

Some of the entries include “Overjoyed I’m not like my sister,” “Learning to be great at mediocrity” and “Just in: boyfriend’s gay. Merry Christmas.” Joyce Carol Oates wrote: “Revenge is living well, without you.” Stephen Colbert’s? “Well, I thought it was funny.”

Happiness is being next to you.

Readers are encouraged to write their own. Even if they are not descriptive of an entire life, the six words only have to be true for the moment you write them down.

Lost mind. Never got it back.

I’m obsessed.

They just say stupid things. Really, we're dealing with stupid people

The best non-word I've seen in a long time: alphabeticize.

What's the big idea?

I was looking through the I Saw U ads on Portland Mercury's website and saw this:

Chris S.?

The phone number you gave me last year was dead when I tried calling it. It's a boy and he's due in 9 weeks.

When: Sunday, July 29, 2007

Where: Downtown

I saw a: Man

I am a: Woman

Date posted: Monday, February 11, 2008

That has to be one of the most shocking ads I've seen. I wonder if Chris S. will ever read it.

Are you happy when you're standing still?

You know those days when you don’t feel like working? Today is one of them. Tomorrow will probably be one also. And Friday? Friday is usually an extension of Thursday in my workweek, and therefore is full of equal amounts of apathy. I get my job done though, so at least that counts for something.

But what am I here for?

Not at this office, I mean, but on this planet. Who am I helping? When I see a friend in need should I step in and offer my support? Or is that meddling? I don’t want to be in the middle of things but I also don’t want anyone to think I don’t care. I do care. Even if I don’t say anything, chances are good I am worrying about you. And how about those people who don’t have enough money for food, clothes, a place to sleep, transportation, a hot shower? I feel like I should do something to help them. I work hard for my money (though not as hard as I could, as evidenced by the above paragraph) and more or less do not spend it on every little thing that catches my eye, but I could cut back and use that money to help the less fortunate.

This whole thing is starting to sound like a liberal can’t-we-all-just-get-along idealistic pipe dream, which is not what I was shooting for. I guess I just want to get some direction back in my life … which means it’s time to make a list.

Stay tuned for how it turns out.