http://ohsweetjeebus.tumblr.com/

posting here from now on... mostly because the interface is easier to work with and it let's me merge a bunch of communication "tools" into one (I use the term loosely. Especially in reference to twitter). Anyway, catch y'all on the flip side.

i die.

she speaks to me.

[via jezebel]

So, I know what I'm wearing for Halloween '09.

the problem with the internetz

"...I think the problem was/is that your maturity level is far beyond his, and I'm not sure if it would have ever caught up. Plus, he never really deserved you..." - Rob

Notes like these, are one of the many reasons that we're friends. I needed to hear this. More importantly, I needed to hear it from someone who was there all along.

-------

Let's all just admit that Facebook, can sometimes be detrimental to one's mental health. I don't really miss the guy that this note refers to. It was a long, long time ago and we've both moved on. But this is where Facebook screws with you. A photo gets posted. One that reminds you of what you saw in them at the start. Before it got complicated and broken, there was that something.

With past relationships, it can be hard when you're reminded of the something. It makes your heart ache just a little. Historically, for me, it's been easier to demonize him. To pretend like the mess that got made was all his fault and there wasn't anything remotely redemptive about who he was as a person.

And yet.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I knew that it simply wasn't true. Following the initial break up, there were a few years of randomly making out before finally (and inexplicably), I knew that we were really done. His character, like mine, was comprised of his good traits walking hand-in-hand with the bad. I dated him because he made me laugh, because I was fiercely attracted to him and finally, because the person I thought he would one day be, was a person worth loving. This is where the fault is mine. I dated who I thought he might become. Not who he was then.

The photo reminded me of the something. Rob was there to remind me of everything else.

Dear Face,

Nose is about to raise a white tissue flag and truthfully, I can't blame her. Even Teeth are protesting the current state of affairs. They're aching like wounded soldiers and it's all your fault, Face.

Please, I beg you, stop taking your cues from lactating mothers and leave the leaking of fluids to them. I'm fond of you, but I don't know how much longer I can tolerate these shenanigans.
-s-

notable (if only to me)

Jackie walked. I cried just hearing about it.

Feather succeeded in stealing my attention (and heart)

I mentally compete with both noted authors and Martha Stewart. Deep down, I think I must believe I deserve their acclaim though I have done nothing to earn it. Summary: All ego, very little action.

I, who am a power sleeper of epic strength and proportions, have been waking at 3 am regularly. I have no idea why.

Big, billowy dresses that hide all your flaws? Maxi dresses are about to dominate my wardrobe.

My heart got a little bit wrenched. I blame Facebook.

After two consecutive days of TaeBo Cardio and TaeBo Flex, Billy Blanks can bite me.

I'm developing some serious friend crushes. The sort where you literally have to stop yourself from saying "No really, can we hang out again soon? Say, tomorrow?"

In 12 days I go home. I will see a friend get married, snuggle with my dog, hang out with my parents and find a way to avoid The Chicken Dance with Kricket. I really cannot wait.

For whatever reason, I decided that turning 25 would be a turning point for me. Now, all of life feels like a countdown.

we all go for different reasons I suppose.

Aunt: Was "HE" there?
Me: Jesus was. My favorite eye candy wasn't.

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Even so! I seem to have found a church I don't totally hate. The reasons are plentiful but I'll give you the short list as to how/why my ass has regularly found it's way into a church pew for the last few weeks:

1. There's a guy (as you might have gathered). A ridiculously tall guy who I'm shamefully fixated on.
   
   Sidenote: Capt'n Hottie Pants is in good company. I'm also a little obsessed with a guy from the train (he gave up his seat for an old lady) and another guy who somehow manages to make a Long Island accent sound sexy. Which seriously, I know. Long Island accents are about as sexy as finding gum on the bottom of your brand new shoes... It's a weird combination of cute and ick.
   
   
2. TGC meets in this beautiful old church. A completely swoon-worthy space that gives you plenty of things to pay attention to if the service ever gets boring. Not that it has, but I like to have a back up plan.
   
   
3. On the way into the Lent service this past Wednesday, one of the friends I was with dropped the F-bomb. She did it casually as though it was no big thing and really, there's nothing that could have made me love her more. Not only that, but everyone I've met there has been unbelievably lovely.
   
   
4. It gives me something to do on a Sunday night, when normally I'd just be laying on the couch resisting the urge to dive bomb a tub of Ben & Jerry's.
   
   
5. The pastor regularly calls us out on our nonsense.
   
   For example, I'm all for gays having the same rights as legally married straight people and I think the church should stop focusing solely on gay marriage and abortion as the only two issues of cultural significance. As a result of these beliefs, I tend to get cranky with the church collective, which may be justified, but whatever they're doing from way up on their high horse isn't really the point. If I care about the rights of gay people, then I should be doing something about it rather than hating on the institution at large. Likewise, if I think the environment is of monumental concern but can't be bothered to do anything about it, then that's a reflection of my character and my priorities. Not theirs.
   
   
6. A few weeks ago I drank a glass of wine before church. I'd forgotten somehow that I hadn't really eaten that day, so I ended up sitting in the back row feeling tipsier than one probably should while trying to pray to the big man in the sky. Incidentally, that was also the night I first spied Capt'n Hottie and spent most of the service sneaking glances at him. On the way home I decided that I was basically begging to be struck down by lightning because really, drunk and on the prowl in Church? I very much doubt that Jesus would be impressed. I figured I owed him at least a few weeks of my attention to make up for it.

So. Umm. Yeah.

That's the latest on that, I guess.