They're All Dead

My phone. My pink Coach bag. My purple business card holder that I just made. Dead.

In a tragic series of events at lunch today, a lemonade poured into my purse, a water fell all over me, and red enchilada sauce plopped itself on my jeans and sweater. Thus, many things went wrong.

I threw away the card holder. I'm trying to dry out my bag. If my phone doesn't work by tomorrow, I'll most likely be e-mailing you asking for your digits.

My Inner Date Book

What's happened to me over the past four days [and what I learned]...
Saturday:
-Woke up in Vegas [even leaving L.A. at 8 p.m. still makes one hit traffic en route to Sin City]
-Heard Fiscus say great quotes like "He created the non-fiction novel. What more could you want from life?" and "They thought about talking to us for two hours and could only muster seven minutes of conversation. What was wrong with them?" [Truman Capote and Harper Lee were childhood friends, and guys from Minnesota love to talk about Kirby Puckett...but that's about it]
-Ate at a steakhouse in the Venetian [asking a waiter what is vegeterian but then ordering a salad with bacon will make him laugh]
-Heard a stranger say a great quote: "He was cute, not foreign...and you totally blew it with him." [I'm not the only one who now has issues with "foreign" guys]

Sunday:
-Went shopping at the outlet mall in Vegas [be aware of the shelves at Calvin Klein; they'll jump at you out of nowhere]

Monday:
-Heard from a (barely) acquaintance via friendster a month (or maybe even longer) after I sent him a message [everyone likes to hear from people over friendster]
-Rearranged my bedroom [change is good, and we need it to grow, forget and get out of ruts]

Today:
-Heard from some students on MySpace and the student blog [they really DO miss me; I love feeling loved]
-Stumbled on a hot guy from my freshman-year dorm on MySpace and found out he lives about 15 miles away from me [the world is a small, small place]

What does it mean to you?

FOB has come to mean three things in my life:
1. the little key tag that swipes me in at work
2. front-of-the-book, as in, the pieces I'm trying to pitch to all the magazines
3. fresh off the boat

Top o' the Weekend to Ya!

St. Patrick's Day was celebrated with our very own could-be-a-saint Patrick, who just happened to be visiting us this year on his namesake's holiday. Good times were had by all...it was great to catch up with Pat, as it had been nearly 10 months since we last saw each other. The pictures are few, but there were many good times.

Today I saw a couple of other friends I hadn't seen in nine months. I have to say, chatting with the Nimitz crew was just what I needed. It's great to be around friends that keep a positive outlook on life while still making me grounded. And making me laugh.

Go, Team, Go!

Something very few people know about me is that in high school I used to tape the championship games of the NCAA Tournament. But I didn't just tape the games, I actually watched them. Over and over and over. They were my inspiration when I needed it. They were my cry when I needed it. I loved those tapes. Even today, I keep them. They're still at my parents' house, and I sometimes watch them when I go home.

They're the reason I'll root for UCLA this year. I've got UConn and B.C. as the winners of my two brackets, but I'll be hoping UCLA wins again and gets another One Shining Moment.

Should've Been a (Gay) Cowboy

'Cause I've lost loved ones in my life
Who never knew how much I loved them
Now I live with the regret
That my true feelings for them never were revealed
-Garth Brooks

Cowboy love songs aren't really love songs. They essentially talk about not being loved or the inability to love. And essentially that's why I am a cowboy. Much like the now-famous gay cowboy, Ennis from Brokeback Mountain, I find it nearly impossible to show others how much I care for them. Although it was clear Ennis enjoyed his time with Jack, we as viewers were stunned by the scene following the end of the first summer; pounding the wall and crying in an alley, Ennis finally showed an emotion that outsiders didn't know was there.

We didn't see it before because cowboys aren't supposed to show their true feelings. Crying, love and dependence aren't supposed to be seen. They're not supposed to be in their lives. Much like every other truck-drivin' cowboy, I keep those feelings at bay. I've always found showing these emotions to be painful and a strain.

However, just because I don't show them, doesn't mean I don't feel them. There have been few regrets in my life, but the fact that most people I care about don't know I love them, will always be my main regret in life. Although I don't like showing that I love or care, I think it's important for people to know they're loved. But I don't think my family will ever know just how much I appreciate the love and sacrifices they gave for me. I don't think my friends will ever know how much I appreciate their listening ears and words of wisdom. And I don't think the few guys I've cared about will ever know that I truly cared. With all those people, articulating my feelings fails me...usually my words sound insincere, or my actions are inconceivable as one who cares. Thus, I'm trapped in a world where I hate showing my feelings, but when I try, they're unbelievable. It's just easier to not have feelings or to pretend, even to myself, that they don't exist.

Unfortunately, with that comes even more pain. Because even though people may get to know many sides of me, I've unwittingly fooled many into thinking I can't be hurt. That I don't care. So, my heart isn't handled with care. But it beats just the same as everyone elses; maybe even harder. And a heart that's been covered to look hard doesn't bounce when it's dropped; it shatters into pieces. And even after its put back together, some of those pieces are lost forever, only to leave a hole in the heart.

In the words of Rascal Flatts:
What hurts the most
Was being so close
And having so much to say
And watching you walk away
And never knowing
What could have been
And not seeing that loving you
Is what I was tryin' to do

Hahahaha

"I know! I'll dump her like she'd never been dumped before, and then we'll go back to being friends."
-Bart Simpson in today's episode of The Simpsons

Normally, lame-o TV shows don't allow for more than one mention on this blog. However, today's yahoo news headlines caught my eye. No, it wasn't the one with 4,000 wrongly low SAT scores. But The Bachelor headline made me open up the article. Turns out the "perfect" Sarah wasn't so perfect for the doctor. I find this funny only because I was appalled at the finale. In none of the episodes did Travis ever really appear to like Sarah. She was simply comfortable to him. He never looked at her with any passion. And although Moana was a little wonky at first, it was clear she won his heart over. She took a step and started to fall for the guy. He let her. He slyly winked at her (never with Sarah) and seemed genuinely happy with her. She opened up to him. And he truly cared about her. That's why his niece liked Moana better...something I've come to realize over the years is that kids don't listen to people. They see them. His niece saw him happy and saw that Moana did that for him.

Unfortunately, Travis didn't see that. He wanted the safe route. He chose the girl that could articulate her feelings to others. He chose the girl who his parents liked. He chose the girl that threw herself at him...He chose the one that made things easy for him. But, surprisingly (at least it may have been to him), those things didn't end up making him happy.

The break-up article ends with talk of the no-longer couple's future. "And we both agree and know that we'll be friends forever," Sarah said. That's when I laughed. She must have been the one that dumped him.

what have You done for me lately?

I pulled into the church parking lot just as the sun was setting yesterday. A big part of me didn't even want to be there. I figured I'd been so stressed out lately, though, that church was a good thing.

The service was like always. Nothing spectacular. Lots of telling parishioners that we should have faith that God gives us obstacles that he knows we can handle. Our character and skills may not seem of use now but they serve some purpose down the road...yada, yada, yada. Yet, despite my eye rolling, part of me started feeling better. In fact, when I left the parking lot at 7:30, I felt the best I had in weeks.

As I drove home, I began to wonder just why I felt so much better. There was nothing amazing in the evening's message. I began to wonder why church and religion are comforting to me. Part of me thinks that religion is just an easy way to say that life is out of your hands, so stop worrying about it. Another part of me wonders if people like me believe because it's easier to believe that someone larger than life does care for you and have a grand plan for you rather than think that this is it, and you're the only one looking out for you.

I don't really know why I believe what I believe. But if that's what makes me happy, who am I to argue?

My Manifestations

I know a guy who when he gets stressed out, his blood pressure shoots up. I know a girl who gets migraines in stressful times. I know another girl who passes out when stress levels increase too much. Although they're all strong, amazing people, their bodies have a way of telling them when they're doing too much or worrying too much.

Like them, I often deal with stress and emotions on an introspective level. I think about it and mull it over in my mind, not in my mouth. However, the last three years have taught me that even though I try to pretend (even to myself) I'm not stressed or upset, my body's reactions give me away. I may look like I'm all pulled together, but in reality, there's too much goin' on upstairs. Usually, it's just my sleep that's disturbed in times of stress (I often sleep too much or too little, or I have nightmares).

Lately, though, I've been having lots of weird body things going on. As I add them all up, I know I'm way more stressed about dating, careers, and living in general than I would ever admit. But because I'm hoping I can talk about them to help them go away, I'll tell you how my body is manifesting its stress. It's...

1. bringing back severe TMJ pain. It'd been dormant for about eight years. I guess, I'm unknowingly clenching my jaw, especially when I sleep. Whatever the reason, it hurts to talk, yawn, eat, or do anything else that requires opening my jaw.
2. building up knots of stress in unusual places. Usually I just have balls of stress in my shoulders. After going for a massage last week, I realized I have them in my calves now, too. My calves even jerk for no reason other than trying to relax the tense muscles there.
3. making me run. I've run four times in about 12 days. That pretty much qualifies as amazing for me.
4. crying at random times. I hate crying in public, and I feel like an idiot crying at a stoplight in my truck. Yet, I still do it and don't even know the exact reason.
5. drinking caffeine. I had no focus and needed to do some things for my class. Although I rarely have caffeine, I ingested a full can of Coke to help me focus. I hate when I feel I need outside stimulants to make me emote (what alcohol does) or focus and finish tasks (what caffeine does).
6. losing my appetite. I feel hungry often. When I eat, though, I start feeling gross. Soup has been my saviour.
7. having nightmares again. Last night I had a dream that I spilled some drink all over Jonny Moseley (a gorgeous famous skier). He wasn't upset, so we hung out. He helped me clean myself up, and we kept joking around; he had his arm around me the whole time. I was sure he liked me. Then at the end of the dream, two good-hearted kids walked out of some bathroom (not sure where the bathroom fit into the dream, but...) and one recognized me as Jonny's friend. He said something about Jonny being married. What? Sure enough, he was (in the dream, don't know about real life). I felt like an idiot for thinking he actually liked me. Then the dream ended.

I think of the Jonny dream as a nightmare because it alludes to an encounter I had in Cape Cod years ago, showcases my insecurities and worst of all means I'm also freaked out about my success as a travel writer. How it does all of these things, I'll let you figure out.

But I do have to admit, a nightmare with Jonny Moseley is much better than the recurring one I had two years ago when I kept getting strangled by an unknown stranger. I guess I should be happy that my sub-conscious is at least putting hot guys into my nightmares now.