~

Secure and safe, the circle
of your warm embrace convinces me
of the world's clairvoyant wisdom.
In a safe haven of
cherishing, unbidden love, the
stars above us align.
Questions linger unanswered;
how their theme metamorphoses
into a symphony of wonderment
and awe. How can I deserve this?
What did I do? How can you
be so perfect?
Thoughts cease to revolve around
the inexplicability of this unruly
universe. Instead, I repose
unchallenging in the solitude o
your kiss and ponder
forever.

smile

I was driving the other day, following the meandering, winding country roads so typical and classic of New England. Burnt orange and brown leaves fluttered and danced from the sky, catching a sudden breeze and hurled across the hood of my car. The nearly naked trees clutching onto the last remnants of fall stretched their twisted branches across the pavement, a majestic and yet eerie tunnel, the promise of winter lurking. Embracing these last vestiges of my favorite season, a realization dawned on me... Only one year ago this same time, I was driving these same roads with my little car, boxes and bubble wrap - hoarding what could fit of my whole life - stacked to the ceiling. I was returning... I was leaving... I was beginning and ending.

One year ago... Can it really be so short, and yet so long? Contain so many fragile memories, so many bruises and smiles? So much change that I look back on that person in that car and wonder how she can be so different, but so much the same, so much better. Suddenly, inexplicably, I found myself no longer looking back, no longer longing for what was left behind, no longer reaching out desperately for what I'd forced myself to walk away from.

One year ago, I had no direction. No answers to the numerous questions that plagued my every thought and action. No expectations. No promises. Just the present. As though the world reversed its rotation, my whole life has suddenly spun into a resevoir of dreams, of hopes, of determination, of inexplicable joy and contentment. A resevoir flooded by the rush of random experiences, determined choices, and abrupt decisions. A list of disconnected occurrences lined up next to each other like dominoes suddenly collide in perfect hindsight to fall into place like pieces of a puzzle to create an image, a view of what it was all meant for.

In a peaceful moment of incandescent clarity on a back road, the realization descended that this time -this year- was meant for just this. And suddenly a future, a forever and always, that I cannot wait to embrace and charge into awaits me with unbidden arms... And I smile.

untitled 3

I never knew the sun to shine
so brightly in the sky,
the air to smell so sweet;
my heart to pound within my chest,
this lightness in my feet.

They day you walked into my life,
I felt my whole world shift,
as though the axis ceased to turn,
a dark shadow suddenly lift.

To know and basque in such a love
surmounts my every dream.
To see forever in your eys
reflects perfection pristine.

A future with you transforms my past
reducing my fears to dust.
No longer believing the self-told lies,
within your love I trust.

Autumn...

Today is the first day of fall. It's going to be my first New England fall in five years. I'm excited in a silly, nostalgic way. I see the leaves changing, pumpkins on display at local stores, cornstalks and scarecrows gracing neighbors' doorsteps. It all wells up inside me, conglomerating into an inexplicable giddiness - as though in the next moment, I will - unrestrained - throw myself into the nearest pile of dry leaves and roll around in the sweet smokiness.

At the thought of New England fall, my mind immediately regresses to those afternoons spent at Foppema's shucking Indian corn, dusting off gourds, and sipping on sweet mulled cider, the crisp bite of a chilly Autumn breeze meandering through the farmstand. I think of early sunsets, fresh apple pie, chrysanthemums and haybails.

This fall will be different - new. This fall I have someone's hand to hold. I have someone to take long car rides through the rambling roads, gazing at the beautiful cascades of color. I can actually look forward to teh omenous winter - the only saving grace being that I won't be alone snuggled up with a steaming frothy mug of hot cocoa.

Nostalgia has its place; its reign; its comforts. Thoughts of old friends and lost friendships creep in and damper the soul a touch. The urge to pick up the phone and entertain a long conversation revolving solely around flannel shirts is nearly insatiable. People - like the seasons - change. We can only embrace the beauty that promises to unveil itself in the season to come.

smile

"Right now we're just a chapter, but I hope we'll be a long book." You amaze me.I sit here and wonder how I ever got so lucky. What I did to deserve this... Every day feels almost like a cliche because I can't imagine anything better. Comfortable to be myself; to unfurl; to whisper the things I've kept hidden for so long.

I had no idea I could feel so complete...

blister

So this morning, I woke up and underwent the same routine I always do on the weekday. I rolled out of bed, washed my face, gave the cat her morning treats so she'd stop following me around meowing incessantly. Most days I'll try to make lunch the night before, but this was not one of those days, so after standing in front of my cabinet staring at my selection of various pasta sides and pasta ronis, I finally pulled down a box, followed the directions and started that to cooking. After that was all set, I moved on to my morning cup of coffee. Every morning, I make myself a cup of coffee. Every morning it's the same routine... But something went terribly wrong this morning.

After pouring in the water, measuring in the correct amount of delicious caffeine, and turning the machine on, I checked on my pasta once more before running back to my room to continue getting ready - get dressed, do my hair, make sure my work bag is packed. When I realized my cat needed some fresh water, I grabbed her bowl and returned to the kitchen to find a brown watery mess creeping along the counter top and spilling onto the floor. My coffee maker was hissing and clogging and coughing, steam pouring out of it from all sides and orifices. Without a better idea of what to do, I grabbed the whole thing and attempted to put it in the sink - after turning it off of course. Well, the chord was wrapped around the dish-drying wrack, so the machine got caught, and in the process of moving it, I managed to splatter much of the burning-lava-hot coffee/water concoction all over the floor, and my bare feet. Holding in a few choice words, I quickly made work of my roll of paper towels feverishly trying to clean up the mess of water and coffee grains, which to anyone who doesn't know, get everywhere!!!!!

Meanwhile, I'm trying to keep an eye on my pasta so it doesn't either boil over or stick to the bottom of the pan. No one likes burned pasta. In the midst of this, I still haven't given the cat fresh water, and she's perched on the kitchen table meowing for her morning bowl of ice water. Yes, ice water. She's spoiled, I know.

Ten minutes later than I usually do, I dashed out the door without my cup of coffee and a burned toe.

Happy Friday everyone.

breathless

I didn't think it could be possible but my smile gets bigger every day. Amazed. That my life could do such a complete 180. That one person could make such a difference. That everything before is just a fog, just a cloud that hovers in the back of my memory.

When I'm with you, I feel complete. Happy. Comfortable. Beautiful. Accepted. I see in your eyes everything I've always longed for, but never had. I see things I convinced myself I'd never want. You're changing the way I view the world...the present...the future...even the past.

I thank God every day I'm with you that I met you. That I decided to go. That I wrote back with hardly any expectations. "Love always comes when you least expect it; when you're not looking for it." I wasn't looking, but all of a sudden here you are, and I can't imagine my life before you.

You make me speechless.

threshold

meeting the parents... i had myself convinced that it was a big step. "it's only as big a deal as you make it to be." truer words were never spoken. it's big. not because i'm ashamed of them, or nervous they'll embarrass me - whip out those incriminating childhood photos (thank God hardly any exist to my knowledge). they're not that kind of parents. stories and tales of misbehavior, curiousity, mischief and danger - more than likely. we have some of the best stories...
no...because we're a big deal. this is serious... i actually see this going somewhere. continuing into something. they're opinion is like gold to me. i'm dying to show you off. to show them the reason for this impossible smile, this infinite contentment, this impassable excitement.

i can't wait...because you're perfect.

sea

Heavy hearted. Complete lack of understanding. A lump in my throat I can't seem to swallow. Such a long, painful, torturous fight...only to end like this. A friend. A father-figure. A jokester. A child of God.

It's events like this - events? Changes? Endings? Times like this that make a person wonder what the point of it all is. Makes a person cherish every single thing in their lives that much more; want to gather it all close and hide it away, protect it, so it never happens again.

When all I want to feel is faith, trust, hope... I feel emptiness, anger, heartache.

I'll miss you George.

commercial America

It's come to my attention that the majority of people in grocery stores must be positively miserable drivers on the road because they can barely control a shopping cart - carriage, buggy, whathaveyou. Now, I'm aware that WalMart is the American giant that is slowly dominating the commercial world, and I'll admit that I'm suckered into their low prices gimick just about every time. But, despite my satisfaction when I compare my shopping receipts from Walmart to those of other stores, it doesn't really help to quell the frustration - the utter animosity and violent aggrivation - that results from any time spent there.

Yesterday, I was on my way home from work, after having stopped at the gym to mercilessly torture myself for just under an hour, and I knew I had to do some grocery shopping if I was going to rest through the night without a grumbling stomach. And...the penny-pincher my parents raised me to be...I resolved on heading down 146.

Well, I'm not sure if anyone else has this same experience, but I'm pretty sure there's a conspiracy where I always pick the gimpy cart. You know the one. The cart where one wheel keeps determinedly jerking to one side and sticking there, making an absolutely horrid screeching sound across the mass-produced linoleum.

So, while attempting to make my way through the store with a cart insistent on moving in any direction but straight, I then had to battle with every other incompetent, no-common-sense imbicil lacking any idea whatsoever how to follow the rules of general grocery store traffic. Two imaginary lanes. Both going opposite ways. Ironically - just like driving on the road! When you're on your errands, trekking down the road, you don't just stop in the middle of the road at an angle and sit there and stare at the stores, homes, and whatnot off the side, do you?? No. Well.... at WalMart... you do. And somehow the majority of the Walmart customers have acquired this glazed-over, "I have no brain cells" look in their eyes.

It's a customary occurrence... I'm sure any other normal human being who steps into WalMart experiences the same thing. If I'm wrong, please tell me.

smile

Always on my mind... Just the thought of you makes me smile. Intolerably happy. When I'm not with you, I'm thinking about you, and the next time I'll see you. I think back and wonder how it's only been such a short time... I feel like you've been in my life forever. And yet I wonder how my life was before without you...and I never want to go back.

Shivers. Giggles. Smiles. Butterflies. Goosebumps. My heart skips a beat every time I pull into your driveway; and drops every time I leave. I don't want to ever lose this.

It's the little things that are so endearing. The way you scrunch up your nose when you're laughing. How serious you get when you're talking about sports. The way your arms fit so perfectly around me when we hug....

I'm always looking forward to the next time I get to see you... And relishing in it when I'm with you.

Amazing....

slime

I might be what could be described as ambitious in a variety of definitions. It's pretty characteristic of me to attempt to do everything I possibly can by myself. It goes back to learning to tie my shoe laces. If I can do it myself, I will, or I'll fail trying. One such near-failure ended with my full-size mattress practically flying off my roommate's SUV onto Rt 123 in Clemson.
Anyone who knows me well is aware that I've recently moved into a new apartment in Worcester. As can only be imagined I had very little to move with me, seeing as I'm only a year out of college and was forced to leave much of my belongings 1,000 miles away in SC. But, as I'm not only ambitious, but thrifty, I've come across a lot of free stuff including a few pieces of furniture that I've resolved to refinish. The first two pieces - my little kitchen table, and my desk - were refinished in the comfort and confidence of my father's barn where I had every tool at my disposal, and frequent unrequested advice that, in the end, helped those refinished pieces to emerge quite nice.
Well...today was not that. I was given an old bureau by one of my mother's friends that is serving as a version of a sideboard in my kitchen. It's dark maple coloring and ornate, discolored handles certainly clash with my modern, clean yet funky, design in my kitchen. I'd resolved to refinish it after moving in, and decided to tackle that task today.
If only I'd seen it all coming. First of all this piece was so old that the screws securing the drawer-pulls were nearly fused together and required some serious elbow grease to get them apart. As if that wouldn't make removing the fixtures difficult, they were also evidently made from the softest metal around as I nearly stripped the head of each screw in the process. Imagine me sitting Indian style on my kitchen floor, drawer in my lap, securing the hold with one hand while attempting to push and unscrew with the other... the whole time thinking "righty-tighty, lefty loosey" and double checking that I was even turning in the right direction. I finally quit with only 2 drawers remaining and I started the sanding process. Now, lucky for me, there's a porch off our kitchen where I chose to do this next task; convenient to avoid sawdust all over the apartment, and the fresh air was sure to speed up the drying paint.
Surprisingly enough, the sanding went smoothly - no pun intended. Aside from inhaling a good amount of what easily could be dust from lead-based paint considering the age and condition of everything related to this piece, I was able to get all the drawer-fronts sanded and coated with one layer of black paint. *Pause*

Earlier in the day, I'd been raiding my mother's open paint collection in search of black furniture paint. After finding a can and quickly asking permission to use it without really reading the specifics on the label, I left to begin my project. *Continue*

Now, based on previous experiences with both wall and furniture paint, it's always been customary to rinse out the brush after using it so that the paint doesn't dry, and the brush is then re-usable.
Once I'd finished my painting for the evening, I went inside to do just that. Making certain the water wasn't too hot or cold, I stuck the brush under the water stream and began to attempt to squeeze the paint out. First, I noticed that the water was still running clear...strange. Then, I noticed the paint wasn't coming off the brush - instead it was all over my hands!! And wouldn't come off! My hands were completely black, like I'd gone doing handstands in an oil spill. Panicing, I tried to rinse them off with soap and water to no avail. It only made the paint tackier. At this point I was at a loss. Carefully turning off the water and trying not to coat everything in some sadistic Midus touch of black slime, I wrapped a paper towel and called the only person I knew would help... My mom.
"Is the paint latex or oil-based?" Mom asked
Oil, after actually reading the label.
"Soap won't work then. Do you have any Mineral Spirits or Vaseline or baby oil?"
No... I don't even know what mineral spirits are.
"I'll just have to send your father up. I don't know what else to do. Don't touch antyhing."
So I'm stuck here with black hands for an hour? No way. I start to think about anything oily I have and I recall my bottle of olive oil in the cupboard. Nearly breaking it open in desperation, I poured a little in my hands and rubbed frantically. Amazingly enough...it was working! So, half an hour and half a bottle of olive oil later, alternating with soap and water, I was able to get the majority of the pain off my hands. It was most definitely with relief that I realized I wouldn't be walknig around with black hands for weeks.
So, for any ambitious do-it-yourselfers out there, either avoid oil-based paint or make sure you're well stocked in olive oil.

Sunday

Happy. Giddy. Excited. Incapable of smearing the goofy grin from my face. It finally all becomes clear. I can see from all the past experiences, all the hurts and pangs and broken expectations... it all makes sense because now - now I can look back on all that and see how this is 10, 100 times better. I've found it - those butterflies, those knots, those shivers that give me goosebumps for no reason other than inexplicable glee. Can't wait to see where it goes....

awake

City life.... Last night I woke up in the middle of the night and couldn't go back to sleep for at least an hour. Why? Definitely more than one reason. To take a step back, I've been living in the city for almost a month now. Before moving to the nicer end of Chandler - and believe me, there is definitely a nicer end - I was living in my childhood bedroom at my parents' house, a quaint little cape set back in the woods on a back road in what could be classified as the poster-child of "small town". Where you step outside your back door and wave to your neighbors who are enjoying the summer afternoon on their bench in the shade of their giant oak tree. The same neighbors you've had for all 25 years of your life and who had not-so-typical farm animals growing up such as geese, chickens, and those goats your brother fed match-box cars, watermelon rinds, and practically the kitchen sink to.

So anyways, sparing any additional nostalgic gallavanting, I'm now on the 2nd floor of a 3-decker. The monsoon that has been the New England summer of 2009 is finally evolving into some variation of normalcy, including the humidity, the heat, and thunderstorms. Coupled with the phenomenon known as heat lightning - something that can be extremely anticlimactic when all you want is for an awful clap of thunder and pouring rain to follow a bright bolt streaking across the sky, and instead... silence.

As I'm sure every city has its own collection, Worcester has an impressive clique of tactless, disrespectful, grease monkeys that like to charge their crappy, jacked-up Hondas down Chandler at 2a.m. in some attempt to drag-race. While their muffler-lacking, imported piles of aluminum junk shift from 1st to 5th in impressive speeds somewhere between tortoise and hare, car alarms go off and join in the nocturne serenade.

And...because the night is not yet complete, the sound of clinking bottles and clattering cans pierce the din as the homeless crawl out of whatever box or gutter they're refuging in and sort out whatever they might find that will collectively in $.5 deposit form fund whatever addiction haunts them.

It's a wonder that I was only lying awake for an hour...although somehow on most nights, I'm usually able to sleep through it all. I blame the lightning.

2a.m.

Spinning. Tossing. Turning. Falling so fast. Giving up on looking ahead for what direction this may take... Instead, reveling in the moment. The hours. The words. The butterflies. How is it that so little time can feel like so much more? I wake up in the middle of the night looking for you next to me, wishing. Waiting.

Usually so methodical. So meticulous. So independent. So...me. Ignoring everything? Reason. Rationale.

So eager for whatever lies ahead. Whatever may come. Wherever this goes. So much cascades through my mind... So much has a completely different meaning if it means having you with me. Come back soon.

smoke

The countdown starts. 10 days. Wondering. Amazed really. How quickly things have completely turned around. It's already begun. Absence. The plane hasn't even left the runway yet.

Yesterday, I could only think of one thing. Walking along the narrow, bustling roads of the sea-side towns, all I wanted was to have you next to me, your hand in mine. The seagulls calling, the waves crashing on the sand, the warm breeze tickling our faces. The day was perfect... except for that. So many things I want to do... Places to go... Moments to share.

I miss you and you haven't even left yet.

candlepin

And suddenly, the clouds part. My smile has returned. My heart beats faster. My stomach ties into tighter knots. Total excitement. Eager anticipation. Complete curiousity. The fact that I have to wait is torture, but all the more worth it. Anxious to see you again. To smile with your smile. Feel your fingers entwined in mine. Perfection.

I can't smear the goofy grin from my face. I think about your words, and a tingling thrill shoots through my veins. There's so much I want to know. So much I feel like I already do. I wonder how something could be so amazing, so absolutely incredible, could feel so...right.

I started missing you when I closed the door. I'll keep missing you until you come back and I can feel your arms around me. Because "you've already got your girl".

blink

Scared of the clarity with which I see myself, how easily I understand my contemplations.... And yet I don't. Desperate to force things. Everyone around me is so perfectly happy. So content. So complete. It's like the world makes such absolute sense for anyone and everyone except me. While the stars and planets are aligning elsewhere, the world around me is spinning so fast and so out of control that things are shaking loose, coming unraveled, crashing, and all I want is the stability I lack.

Settling simply to acertaine a title, a definition, a meaning. Because outside of my own individual, complicated existence, I feel like I have none.

green light

The process of starting over... It's scary, nerve-racking, exciting, inexplicable. So hard to open up. To express those feelings that only so few know. To be myself despite the struggle and desire to be accepted. I carry my shell with me; crawling into it is so much easier. My shell...My facade?

There are rules to it all. Frustrating rules that I don't want to obey. Who decided they had the right, the gumption, the omnicience to establish such boundries. Who really cares? If things go well, why can't we just flow with that? Time frames... Safe topics... Phone calls...

I guess my feeling is just that at this age, at this time in our lives, after - and based on - all our previous experiences, we have an idea of what we want... What we're looking for. If we find it, why can't we just reach out, grasp it, and hold onto it. Why do we have to keep it at arms' length for just the right amount of time until it's permissable to clutch it close.

Eventually it will work out... Eventually I'll find what everyone else has and will share that scintellating, contended smile. I'm just impatient.

weigh

My thoughts are running away from me... Too fast and too far. Sometimes - accomplished, successful, content, happy. Others? Lonely. Sad. Lost. Failure.

I wonder where did I go wrong? What misstep did I take? Why am I so far from where I thought I'd be, and why can I not attempt to crawl out of this ditch and return to solid, stable ground. I'm struggling just to stay with the current - I've given up fighting against it. Survival. Breathe. Sooner or later, I'll wash up on shore, battered, breathless, and dripping with the consequences of my past mistakes... or I'll tumble into the rapids and over the falls. I have to fight.

Guilt envelopes me as I dwell on the life I left so far behind. Was it worth it? What did I find? My heart aches, and my arms reach out instinctively to find and embrace and recoup what I lost. But if you choose to leave it behind and not look back, is it really lost? Old dreams are dying; reincarnating into new ones...more rational ones? Rationale. What good is it? Life is built on dreams, they say.

All I can do is keep taking that next step. One foot in front of the other. Walk on. This too shall pass. Just keep on keepin' on.

"I took the road less traveled and that has made all the difference..." I seem to have lost the path.

quit

Circles... Everywhere. No matter where I go, no matter what I do. Like a dog chasing its own tail. Or like a firefly that just can't fly away from the light. I'm so tired of you, but at the same time, I feel like I can't live without you. I make myself so mad. You make it look so easy. It's like you toss me the smallest morsel of a bone, and I'm right back where I started. Part of me wants to get over you, to forget you, to break away. But part of me can't breathe without you, can't go one second of one day without being reminded of you. I've tried to imagine my life without you, and I feel the walls of the world closing in.

I can't quit you.

I wonder what I'm doing. I wonder why I left. I wonder what it was that I was searching for and why I can't find it 1000 miles away. I wonder why you won't follow me... and I know. Because. Because it's me.

want....

I hate how easily I can let my thoughts, my emotions, my head get to me. It could be the most mundane, absolutely dull day, and I have a thousand thoughts running through my head about a million different things.

I've learned to admit to myself that I'm a control freak. Even when I don't want to be in control of something, if I have the least bit of input, I find myself wanting to take over and do it all for the fear that it won't get done.

I'm also afraid that this plan I have... this decision I've come up with... is biting me in the ass. I'm worried that I'm making something out of nothing, but in more ways than one if that's even possible. I'm worried that my plan will completely back fire and I'll find out something I really don't want to know, and my life will come to a screeching halt... Or, my plan will go as I see it going, and my life will spin out of control because I will have no idea what steps to take from there.

I'm at a loss. I am lost.

dream....

Greenville, how I miss you.

gravity...

There's a part of my heart missing... I've left it behind. I was foolish to think that I would be able to function without it. How I couldn't see then what I'm feeling now, I have no idea. The physical heart wouldn't be able to function without the right ventricle, or the aortic valve... This is the same.

I miss you. I miss how you make me laugh, even when I'm sad or when I'm determined to be angry. You have that indelible way of finding that one thing that will tug at the corners of my lips. A tickle, a joke, a kiss. I miss how you know everything about me; you know when I'm frustrated and trying so hard to hide it. You know when I'm keeping a secret, but you don't tell me, so it's not ruined. You're happy when I'm happy, and you celebrate my accomplishments...even the little ones. You take the bad times and find a way to turn them around, you dig out the positive and set it on top. You know how to push my buttons and you break into a smile when you succeed. You teach me new things; you're always trying to help me learn. About the world, about life, about love. You always have faith in me, even when I don't have faith in myself. You think I'm beautiful.

I have such high expectations of you; they may not be fair. You've always been the bigger person, the better person, the forgiving person. You've never given up on me. I think back on my college career and I see you... From the first meeting at the foot of the steps at the bar....to kissing you goodbye that last morning.

Have I found what was looking for? What I left in search of? What I was so convinced was waiting for me? I don't know.... I found lessons. I found experiences. I found friends... I found you. Now I can't imagine my life without you; I wonder if you still feel the same.

A year ago, I set a proposal before you, jeweled with sapphires and diamonds. I can't help but wonder what life would be like now had you answered differently. "Yes" instead of "not now". I was so nervous; so many questions, so many uncertainties... Except for one. You.

bones...

I've noticed a pretty drastic change in my personality... I remember as a child, and even as a young adult, my ability - or weakness depending on the perspective - to wholly and completely trust someone; whether I knew them or not, I would easily fall into believing every word and action.

But now, suddenly, I find myself jaded, suspicious, scared. I find myself doubting, questioning, pulling away. I hate it... But I keep pulling. I continually assume everyone else has something their hiding, keeping in dark corners, concealing behind closed doors, and it's not until I let down my defenses and allow myself to begin to merge toward something resembling trust that those skeletons are not just released, but thrown at me with a certain vengeance... It's all in my head, I like to think.

My trust in the world is slowly fading...

sift...

It's funny and strange at the same time. I was rifling through today's mail and suddenly it occurred to me...

I had this instantaneous flashback to a random evening during a random week of a random year when I was young, carefree, curious, naive. My father was standing in front of the trash can in the kitchen, sorting through the huge stack of mail, haphazardly tossing envelope after envelope into the garbage with an authoritative "junk...junk...junk" after each one disappeared.
"Dad, why are you throwing all those away?" I remember asking, being at that impressionable age when I thought hopefully every day that something would come in the mail for me.
"Oh, just bills, punkin'. You'll understand when you're older..."

And suddenly, I was in that same position. Bill...bill...bill. Phone bill, credit card bill, student loan bill... You know you're an adult when you no longer enjoy getting the mail.



I spent the day today - my day off - running around taking care of some things that needed being done. Since I've moved back home, there has been an endless orchestra of shuffling papers, and making phone calls, and changing personal information, and this and that. I went to speak with an auto insurance agent today. I called my student loan company today. I bought a day-planner today. A day-planner... I debated between paying with either my debit or my credit card today at CVS because I wasn't sure how long I'd be able to stretch out my cash supply before my next pay check, and I really wanted a cup of coffee in the morning on the way to work. I realized today that I now so much more appreciate the weekend, and now I realize what everyone means when they say the weekend is too short and they have a case of the Mondays.

How did this happen? How did I suddenly turn into an adult? How is it that it feels like just yesterday I was sitting in the Cooper Library studying for finals or midterms or writing an impossible paper...and now I'm thinking ahead to my next paycheck and realizing most of it is already spent?

riddle...

Setting the scene: I spent an hour on the phone in my childhood bedroom, now temporarily also my current bedroom, at my parents' house with my best friend, southern to the core, who is currently in Pittsburg with her boyfriend while he gets his PhD. She and I both have completed college.

Now tell me this; tell me why we were both in tears stressing about how we were going to make ends meet. Tell me why we are both fighting tooth and nail to not even get ahead in life, but just to get by. Tell me why we both struggled, and sweat, and studied into the wee hours of the morning because we spent the better part of our day working in order to pay the rent, through college in order to earn a reputable degree only to find ourselves in jobs totally and completely unrelated to our field of study. Tell me why we found ourselves sacrificing, making hard choices, just in order to eat. Tell me why it's such a standard, such a stereotype for college students to be poor. Tell me why I'm making payments on loans I'll have until I'm 40 years old.

They say America is the land of opportunity... but for who? Where is America really giving the opportunity away? I know why I have loans up to eyeballs. Because I'm a white, lower-middle class American woman. I'm single. I have no children. I do not receive assistance from my parents - I am independent. BUT because I'm a white, lower-middle class American woman, the Federal standards measure me to be better off. Than who? Instead of finding grants, instead of receiving the assistance where and when I needed it, I was forced to sign away my future to the hands of Sallie Mae. Why am I being punished for being an average American who simply couldn't afford to go to college on my own?

Tell me this: tell me why I'm not the only one experiencing this. Tell me why my best friend and I are in interchangeable positions. Tell me why we're counting our pennies every day, spending our paychecks before they even arrive on bills, meanwhile the government is throwing money at illegal aliens, and drug addicts, and alcoholics, and people who don't have the sense to use birth control. Tell me why people who are content to just sit back and have someone else do all the work get the benefit?

What has happened to America? This is no longer the land of opportunity. This is no longer "fight for what the American Dream". Ask someone on the street what the American dream is. America now means laziness, obesity, sloth. America now means help those who refuse to help themselves.

Riddle me this: Why are the people who want to work, who want to succeed, who want to make a name for themselves, watching the world get pissed away?

fine....

Thinking... pondering... Dwelling to long on things I'm not even sure of. Focusing too long on dreams, or nightmares really, and allowing them to transform into a semblance of reality despite my attempts to fight back.

My thoughts are so good at manipulating my better judgement; twisting and contorting it into something so believable that I can't help but give in. And now...I just continue to mull over the same thoughts, the same hunches, the same fears, and pray that none of them are true, that none of them will come true.... that they will all remain dead.

I wonder what I'm doing. I get so frustrated with myself for being so gullable. How can one convince themselves of something that isn't even true. Such a loaded question. I do it all the time.

clench...

Facing mountains and valleys. Highs and lows. Wondering if the lows are because my highs aren't as high as I remember. For now, it's just repetition. Cycles. Predictability. Mediocrity. I am happy. I have every reason to be happy. I'm healthy, I have a job, I can pay my bills, I have food to eat, I have a family who loves me. I am happy.

It all comes down to what it always has....

I feel like I'm pushing myself lower by dwelling on what is no longer. Like I'm just magnifying the negative by continually focusing on it. I hear so many things so many times over and over about faith, and God, and trust, and patience.... Some of it sets in, takes root, feels effective. Then the rest? I get angry. So tired of hearing the cliches that so often never come to fruition.

So I wait...