Blogging the 30-Day Breakup Guide: A week in a day (or two)

Ahh, The Frisky once again comes to my rescue.

It's been a little more than 36 hours since Brian and I made our split official. I felt strange waking up yesterday knowing it to be true rather than facing the possibility, as I did Monday, but despite the ease of the split and where we stand now I still (understandably) need to take active steps to move on.

So yesterday, I turned to the 30 Day Breakup Guide. Written by Jamie Beckman, the subject of a new book and on its second run through The Frisky, the guide is quite simply a day-by-day list of things to do to fully reclaim yourself after a breakup. I'm a poor candidate to run the book through, if only because of the nature of the breakup itself, but already I've done several of the days' suggestions and I have to admit - I feel good about it.

Day 1: change your cell phone's wallpaper so it has nothing to do with the ex.
     Okay...I wasn't going to do this one. My BlackBerry shows me the cast of Glee, an interest that was and is all mine. Still, the last few times I looked at my home screen I've been reminded of just how much our tastes diverged when it came to that show. It was time to make a change, if only to reaffirm that I am who I am. Now, when I pick up my beloved Berry I see the handsome and talented Jonathan Rhys Meyers -- good ol' King Henry -- and I'm satisfied.

Day 2: tell your friends.
     My closest friends knew all weekend that something was going to happen...and between the blog post on Monday morning and my relationship status change immediately after the fact, I have to say that they're pretty well aware. To cap it off, I had the best conversation with my friend Drew last night, who swore to me that I would have guys falling over me in no time. Regardless of the truth of the statement (I believe you, darlin!), it's exactly what I needed to hear.

Day 3: collect your friends' advice and kind words in a "Breakup Bible".
     In progress...when I have everything put together I will follow up with some of my favorite quotes.

Day 4: meet two gal pals at your neighborhood bar, throw back a few cocktails, and let them tell you it'll all be okay.
     Check...sort of. I went out with Sarah and Jake (not a chick, but perhaps even better) on Saturday night before the breakup, and they did tell me that everything would be okay - if, of course, I stood firm in the conviction that I am a strong person and if I didn't make the mistake of second-guessing myself. I think that a certain amount of second-guessing is inevitable and even healthy, but the bottom line is that I got some very important support.

Day 5: take a trip somewhere - even grandma's house will do.
     I planned to take a week-long trip at the end of April - to NYC, where I could visit my friends in the area and take in a lot of the sights that McKenzie and I missed during our road trip in 2007. I canceled that trip shortly after getting back together with Brian, in part because of money but also in large part because I didn't want him to feel abandoned if I went to another state for eight days without him.

     So, New York is back on the calendar! (Somewhere.) It will take some time to put everything in place and make sure that I can get the time off, but I'm excited to finally do what I've dreamed so long of doing. In the meantime, next weekend is a trip to Put-in-Bay, and this weekend is full of possibilities...

Day 6: go grocery shopping, buying exactly what you and you alone want to eat.
     I stopped at Giant Eagle on the way home yesterday. Sure, there was food in the house, but I decided to have a low-key Mediterranean dinner. Half an hour and some cash later, I walked out with giant olives, feta and camembert cheeses, grapes, raspberries and a bottle of Moscato -- all things I absolutely love and wouldn't have in the house because I knew Brian wouldn't eat them. I made my little dinner and had a movie date with myself. (Leap Year is the perfect movie to reestablish the idea that love is twisted and unexpected but totally possible.)

Day 7: box up his crap.
     Done and done. The benefit of having a face to face discussion is that the ritual exchanging of personal belongings can be accomplished at the same time. When we met in the park, he had a stack of things that I left at his house, for which I gave him a similar stack (and the parts to my car - another story). Once I got home, I commenced phase two: I took the pictures that sat on my bedside table, the Valentine's Day cards that graced my bookshelf, and the ring he gave me for Valentine's Day five years ago (which, regardless of how opposite my purposes it is I asked to have returned), and put them in a box out of site.

     This mini ritual was an eye-opener for me. For our years of history and the seriousness of our relationship, it was startlingly simple to erase the visible signs that we were together. The only item in the box that I haven't had since 2005-2006 is the Valentine's Day card from this year...and the packet of poppy seeds I just realized I neglected. The bouquet has long since faded.

Day 8: buy a new "look at me!" dress.
     I received confirmation that my brand new dress shipped this morning. If you skip the link, just keep an eye out for pictures of yours truly rocking it out. Online shopping may not have the same thrill as perusing the store and finding it with your own eyes, but it's pretty convenient -- and hey, if the dress isn't as amazing as I thought it was, I can take it back and then do some shopping!

Day 9: re-read a book you loved. Baby-sitters Club, anyone?
     Those books were good, but my favorite book is Wicked. My small, slightly worn paperback copy called to me from the bookshelf as I considered this particular step, so I pulled it off the shelf and set it by my bag to bring with me. For those of you who have lived under a rock for the last several years, Wicked tells the story of the Wicked Witch of the West before she earned that fearsome moniker. Maguire's masterful use of words and plot introduce you to a character whose compassion battles with her sense of inadequacy, and lends an entirely different perspective to the Ozian tale with which we all grew up. Revisiting my favorite anti-hero will be like coming home.

Day 10: stop watching crap reality show reruns and change your perspective by taking in art produced by a woman.
     Okay...I may need some help with this one. Results to follow.

I don't know what effect sprinting through the guide will have on me, except that when I woke up this morning I was a little less sad than I was yesterday. It's a good feeling to reacquaint myself with myself, rather than the half a couple I've been, and to realize that I still like what I see. And that, as they say, is the important thing.

Just an unrequited lover, wishing she had never spoken your name...

If I ever write this letter, oh the pages I could write
But I don't know where to send it
You have vanished, heaven knows where you live
Heaven only knows


If I ever write this letter, bitter words it would contain
Just an unrequited lover
Wishing she had never spoken your name
Had never known your name


But if I ever write this letter, the truth it would reveal
Loving you brought me pleasure
How I'll often treasure moments that we knew
The precious, the few

~"The Letter", Natalie Merchant

I am writing this letter. For four days I have maintained a pretty consistent silence, save with a few of my closest friends. I have stayed calm, resisted the urge to throw your things out the window, come to your house or blow up your phone and demand a confrontation. For four days I have continued to love you, even while imagining countless scenarios where I could crush your heart as handily as you have crushed mine.

And still, I linger.

We've both already begun to move on - I know it, even as we're officially "still together" and this was your "time to think", you're really just waiting for me to let you off the hook. But you see, I deserve better...and you deserve to be just a little uncomfortable.

You've punished me by drawing this out, and what's funny is that this was your fault. True, the arguing that's been going on for far too long is a product of many things on both sides, but you lied to me. You deliberately ignored me, turned off your phone (what are we, 12?) and then had the audacity to be put out when I figured it out before you had a chance to cover your tracks. I am many things, my love, but one thing I am not is stupid. I told you once before that I'm smarter than you; it wasn't meant to be an insult, but surely you can see now that I was right.

I only have my own perspective to explain why we fight, because you don't talk to me. Maybe you think that I want too much from you, while I know that I don't get enough. You might think that we spend too much time together, and I would agree - but we don't spend quality time together; rather, we sit with your friends (never mine) and talk about your interests (never mine), and though I'm the one who's working we almost always end up on your schedule. How is any of this fair? You tell me I'm your number one priority, but every other word and action out of your mouth betrays the lie. You want me to trust you, then you hand-deliver every reason I shouldn't.

Yes, I get angry. I cry, I yell, I stay up halfway through the night and threaten to, finally, leave you. Because that's the only time you ever seem to actually hear what I'm saying. Even then, though, your attitude tells me you don't care. Why, then, did I continue to stay?

Because I love you. I have loved you from the beginning, six long years ago and every day since then - when you cheated on me, when you lied to me, when you left me, and when you then turned to me for the support that I have always given you. I believe that the best parts of you are still there, hidden under a layer of indecision or perhaps fear of standing on your own.

I wanted to make this work, even to the point that I would fight my own negativity to do so. But I can't fight you too, and though you say you've loved me all this time and that we're meant to be together, I don't know if you're strong enough to be with anyone right now.

My own love, I know that you ultimately made the choice to act in a certain way, but I believe that your actions were directed by another. I've made my feelings quite plain on the matter, so just know that those of us who truly love you and always have are here waiting when you finally realize just how toxic he is to your life.

This isn't over. You will finally break the silence if only to tie up the many, many loose threads we still have hanging. And maybe, hopefully, when we walk away from each other tonight we will do so as friends who have always loved each other. But for four days I have kept silent and waited for you, and I'm tired of waiting.

I love you - now and forever - no matter how much it hurts.

I'm not afraid of anything...

Everybody who reads my blog on a regular basis knows how much I love The Frisky - it's the best blend of news and commentary and blogging that I've encountered on the internet yet. This morning, my perusal led me to columnist Wendy's discussion of her 20 biggest worries.

I am a champion worrier (I get it from my grandma). If everything is going well I immediately start worrying about what can, could, may or may not happen. As part of my quest to clear the clutter out of my life, I decided to share some of my worries, however inconsequential or unlikely - shedding some light on them is the first step to getting rid of them entirely.

I worry that:

-I won't figure out what I want to do with my life.
-I'll get pregnant before we're ready to start a family.
-When the time comes, I won't be able to get pregnant.
-I'll be broke forever.
-I'll lose the people I love in varied and painful ways.
-The time I don't tell the people who matter that I love them will be the last time I talk to them.
-I'll ruin my kids' lives.
-Nothing I do will be remembered.
-I'll lose my memory.
-Life will be over long before I die.

Obviously, I don't consider all of these on a regular basis - but they're there. I worry about other things, like will my car ever run/what if my other car breaks down and what will happen if I suddenly lose my job, but these are the biggest ones.

The key to worrying is not to cut it out of your life - by trying to ignore worry, you condition yourself to ignore those gut feelings that sometimes come along with it and are often your best indicator that something just isn't right. Rather, facing your worries is an effective first step to overcoming them. Most of the things on my worry list are things over which I have control - so, instead of letting them eat away at me, it's my responsibility to do the things that will make the worry disappear. I tell the people around me that I love them. I refuse to let life just pass me by. I'm actively searching for the path that will most fulfill me. And, of course, I use protection. :)

And the things I can't control? As hard as it is, I have to let them go - beyond my fingertips, the world will continue for all of us.

So, what worries you? How do you overcome it?

An open letter to President Obama: False Promises

Mr. President:

I have followed your career since your rise as the junior Senator from Illinois, and I was pleased and excited about what you could offer this nation if we chose you to succeed to the highest office in the land. I told friends and family and everyone who would listen that under your leadership, we would finally emerge from the shadow of war and begin to make progress toward a solid position in the 21st century world. To those who claimed that you were too ambitious and too inexperienced, I shook my head and maintained that your youth and vigor, your plans and your hope, would more than make up for whatever deficiencies you possessed.

No matter when you gave a speech, I would watch and listen and read, and revel. You are blessed with the eloquence of centuries past, a brilliant grasp of the intricacies of language and an intuitive ability to shape words into the message people need to hear the most. I can only aspire to such oratorical heights.

But more and more, I am disillusioned with the promise for which I voted. I stood behind your quest for health care reform, and I still believe in it -- if only I saw the benefits personally. Your foreign policy has been largely parallel to my own beliefs, though I remind you that we are still entrenched in two theatres of conflict. Now, with the environmental crisis spurred by BP's oil spill you have demonstrated a timidity that is not becoming of the "leader of the free world". If I was offered the opportunity to go back to 2008 and cast my ballot over, I must honestly tell you that I would have backed Secretary Clinton in the primary and, had you yet prevailed, I would have voted for a third-party candidate or not at all.

Let me call your attention to statements you made in your inaugural address, such a short time ago in months but so far removed in circumstance:

"[E]ach day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet." This is a wonderfully apt statement, but how has your lack of approach to solving the oil spill done anything to change that approach? By letting the oil continue to spread and deferring to the self-interested BP to fix the problem, you have become part of the threat to our planet.

"On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics." You took an oath to defend this country and its Constitution. How are you defending the people affected by the oil spill or, to look at another topic, the closeted LGBTQ community in uniform who actually do defend the freedoms that they themselves do not yet enjoy?

"In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned." Have you forgotten this?

"But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions - that time has surely passed." Bold words; I'm sure BP and Wall Street executives are shaking in their overpriced shoes.

"The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works - whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified." I'm sure I speak for more than myself when I say it isn't working - jobs at a decent wage are no easier to come by for the average person than they were before; care is still out of reach for millions of college students and graduates whose parents also cannot afford it, so there is no umbrella to which they can return; and retirement is increasingly becoming a pipe dream that those of my generation will never be able to achieve.

"What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility - a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation, and the world..."


Mr. President, we are failing.

There are still families with not enough to eat, who live every day under the cloud of uncertainty whether this meal might be the last they can afford, or whether the coming day will see them finally unable to keep the threads of their life from irreparably fraying. You don't want to stand up to BP and their disinterest in doing the right thing, but by continuing to defer to them you are telling every man, woman and child whose life and livelihood has already been destroyed that your words are as empty as your critics claim.

You are shirking your duty to yourself (to live up to your promises), to your nation (to protect and defend our interests), and the world (to be a leader by example). When we the people fail to live up to our employers' expectations, we lose our jobs. Sadly, the hope I had for you keeping yours beyond 2012 is feeble and far less than half-hearted.

I don't know if you have time to salvage your reelection hopes, but those aren't important right now. What is crucial is that you take true command of this nation and that you stand up for those you represent - you may still save your legacy. If you can finally demonstrate the leadership we need, you will once again be on the right side of history. If not, history will teach a very different lesson from the one you set out to establish -- a tragic precedent from which we will be hard-pressed to recover.

Make the right decision, and the people will stand with you.

With hope, however diminished,

Shannon

Say goodbye

I wasn't going to write about this, but it could prove to be an important lesson somewhere down the line.

One of my favorite families is leaving the area soon to continue their life adventure in Mexico/Columbus/D.C., depending on the family member. I'll miss them all and look forward to our next meeting. At any rate, this departure occasioned a goodbye party Friday night -- an event that of course I wouldn't dream of missing. Brian threw on a button-down and joined me, since he knows Sam and was pretty sure to know a couple of other attendees.

Oh, we certainly knew one.

Our closest friends know about the disintegrated relationship between each of us and a former friend, the point of which having been driven home at another friend's house party a couple of months ago. There is a veritable litany of abuse that spans five years. Most cases involve an oft-inebriated "him" taking offense at a perceived slight, then verbally abusing us to anybody who would listen and temporarily abandoning the friendship, only to return after a period as short as two days or as long as three months. Apologies were rare; it was understood that his reemergence was born of remorse (or, at least, loneliness). What I failed to recognize sooner is that those reemergences also occurred when his life was in a downswing.

There was other, more serious abuse going on here, though: he betrayed Brian by sleeping with his then live-in girlfriend for an uncertain period of time before they finally went their separate ways in August 2008. That fall, she decided to juggle the two of them but not to inform Brian of the arrangement; when I advised my then-friend to do the responsible thing and break it to Brian vis a vis, his response: "It's not my responsibility." For someone who claimed to want to repair that broken friendship on so many occasions, this sort of betrayal is unconscionable.

Fast forward to Friday. We arrive, see that he is at the party, and do the prudent thing: ignore him completely. I dislike drama, and refuse to be a part of it in public settings. It was simple to focus our attentions on other mutual acquaintances, as well as some friends of mine to whom I was happy to introduce Brian. Meanwhile, the ex-bff spent his time sending dirty looks in our direction when he wasn't tooling around on his phone. Some time later, Brian received a text message from a number that he didn't recognize. It read: "Can we talk?"

The message I received was somewhat more comprehensive: "You know I suck at apologies but I'm sorry and I miss you."

My initial reaction was a sigh and shake of my head -- right on schedule. Right on the heels of that, however, was indignation. Did I really just receive a text message from someone standing maybe twenty feet away from me and using their line of sight to mean mug me after our last decidedly unpleasant encounter? A text message, from the person who six weeks ago called me a "cunt" and told me to lose his number because he was drunk and I wouldn't flip a breaker? Riiiight.

At that moment I reaffirmed my decision to keep such a negative relationship out of my life. I don't have the energy or desire to continue in this macabre cycle, especially with someone who so offended the man I love and who treats his every relationship as expendable. I deleted the message; it's better than he deserves.

As we were getting ready to leave, we ran into the other half of this horrible duo: the cheating ex-girlfriend herself. Brian, being infinitely nicer than I am, executed a half-hearted wave to break the tension. For my part, I ignored her completely despite walking within inches of her. This is also better than she deserves; however, I am not at all an impartial judge of her character and any further discussion of her would be colored by the intense hatred I allow myself to harbor for her and one other person in this world.

And now, I will let this go and consign thoughts of them to the dumpster - where they belong. Now, I say goodbye.

Ride on the Magic School Bus...

Growing up, I have to admit: my favorite teacher was Miss Frizzle from The Magic School Bus. (Sorry, Mrs. Owens.) I mean, come on -- I will gnaw off my left arm if anybody I know ever got to take the sort of awesome field trips that those kids had. Watching those shows inspired me, and was probably the motivation for my earliest desire to become a teacher.

It's the vocation to which I find myself returning over and over, despite my own conviction that I just don't have the patience. That's the thing, though - I do. There's nothing I love more than sharing my knowledge and watching realization dawn on my students' faces. After much consideration, therefore, I've decided that I'm going to pursue my teaching license with my M.A. Instead of going full-time this fall, I will take a few core education classes, re-take the GRE, and turn in the best damn applications I can to the teaching programs nearby.

Teaching gives me the chance to do so many of the things I love. By teaching social studies, I can satisfy my craving for both politics and history; I can start my own Model U.N. team or help with an established one. I'll be doing public relations every day and, let's face it, I'll have my summers off. There are drawbacks, and I'm sure there will be moments when I wish I had gone for something more exciting...oh wait. Who am I kidding? Certainly there's little more thrilling than dealing with hundreds of hormonal teenagers five days a week.

This may not be the path to the rest of my life, but it feels like the path for me now. I'm more at peace with this than with anything that's crossed my mind so far. I have a plan...and it feels great.

True Life: I'm crying out for attention!

We have been having a discussion about MTV's True Life at the office over the past couple of days, and I was (un)fortunate enough to catch a 2-3 minute clip from last night's episode: "I Hate My Plastic Surgery". Never mind the larger question of when MTV decided that playing, I don't know, music wasn't good enough for their ratings. My purpose today is to help MTV with episodes of True Life for which I would actually tune in:

True Life: I'm a train wreck. In this episode, cameras will follow girls in their late teens whose drunken antics, compulsive need to sleep with any guy who talks to them for more than two seconds, and inability to dress appropriately for their age and body type is setting them up for a lifetime of ridicule that may or may not be cut short by the appearance of an STI (not the car).


True Life: I am a terrible neighbor. This episode will put the spotlight on people who launch a vendetta against their new neighbors within a week of moving in. From the lazy welfare mom who sits around all day to the kids who run screaming back and forth, to the fake noise complaints made just to get your neighbors in trouble, these neighbors will make you want to move to the boondocks.


True Life: I like myself the way I am. No season of True Life should be without an uplifting episode. The girls and guys in this world who don't feel the need to cry out for attention by being a whore, getting drunk all the time or investing in useless plastic surgery should be showcased as an example to everybody that it is possible to live without constantly seeking validation from others. Perhaps putting them on a show like this is an oxymoron, but hell -- the whole series is pretty moronic anyway.


Your turn -- what True Life story would you want to watch?

Hate is a strong word, but I really really really don't like you...

This morning, the Huffington Post posted this study about the benefits of hating your ex-significant other, from an article in the Chronicle on Higher Education. My immediate reaction was a mix -- "well, duh" battled with "wait a second, isn't that bitterness?"

Ultimately, though, I can see the benefit of this line of thinking. It's really quite simple: if you are going through a break-up, the last thing you want to focus on is your former SO's killer sense of humor, or the fact that he would bring you care packages whenever you get sick. If you are the dumper, spotlighting the best qualities of somebody you've removed from your life is a recipe for dumper's remorse and could ultimately lead to poor rebound judgment. If you are the dumpee, on the other hand, those qualities will inevitably lead to sleepless nights in which you convince yourself that obviously you are unlovable or otherwise not good enough because if this prime example of humanity couldn't stand you, who could?

Reminding yourself of your ex's negative attributes, however, is an important first step to re-establishing or reconnecting with your individual identity. If he thought punctuality is a contagious disease, think of all the times that you had to shuffle plans around and/or cancel them because you were minus one. If every discussion turned into an argument because he trashed every opinion of yours that differed, remind yourself that you are worthy of respect and be glad that someone so unsupportive is now in your past. And of course, if he was bad in bed... ;)

This is where we hit the line between necessary negativity and harmful bitterness. Calling out the poorer side of your ex should serve the greater purpose of allowing you to reaffirm who you are and what you will (and won't) accept in future relationships. It is by and large a cleansing exercise -- purposeful and temporary. Don't cross the line by blowing up his phone with messages outlining every last flaw in his character. Don't trash him to mutual friends and ask them to pick sides. Behavior like this will broadcast itself to your social circle and give you an unapproachable vibe that will make it difficult to connect with anybody who senses it.

Finally, don't let the negativity suck you under -- there is no set time frame for this sort of recovery, but if you notice that the negativity is seeping into other parts of your life, it's time to stop. How? Every time a negative thought of him crosses your mind, consciously disregard it and replace it with a positive thought about yourself and your circumstances. I-statements, people! Cut out "he's such a dog for cheating on me" and think "I respect myself and expect the same of others."


Negativity is a necessary part of life -- it restores balance, and can remind you of things you've forgotten in a haze of bliss. Just like too much pleasure, however, too much negativity can be more harm than help. Remember that, Negative Nancy, and you'll be just fine.


*Read "he" as whatever gender you like.

Get this party started

This weekend was one of the best weekends I've had in quite a while. Considering that it began on Thursday night and was full of adventure, that isn't surprising. Brian's birthday was Friday, so we started the celebration with a trip to Bar Room for college ID night. That was actually a bad idea from my perspective, because college ID night anywhere is little more than a sex-soaked cesspool of skanks and this was no exception. Fortunately, DJ EV made up for it with some great music and a midnight shout-out to Brian thanks to the wonders of Twitter (@DJEV).

After the bar we headed to Steak 'n' Shake for a 3 am snack. Of course, it was the night that they had a kitchen staffer walk out and the single server was trying to move around to four different large tables while making shakes and helping out. Poor guy. It worked out in our favor, though, because the manager comped our entire meal for being chill about the 30-minute wait. Lesson learned: always be nice to your wait staff.

Friday, we went to see Iron Man 2 (not bad, but I wouldn't pay full price for it except to lust after Robert Downey Jr.), then we met Brian's parents at Quaker Steak for birthday wings and cake. (By the by -- wherever that cake came from, it was delicious.) Of course, no birthday is complete without a party, so after dinner we went back to Brian's to start an epic night of beer pong and outrageousness. Two of Mentor on the Lake's most bored finest showed up sometime between 11 and midnight because the new neighbors suffer from a terrible case of double standards, among other things; fortunately, they were understanding and let the guys off with a warning. Such was not the case with one of the party-goers later, but that's not my story to tell.

The highest point of my weekend was going to OWU for commencement. I started OWU with the class of 2010, so watching them graduate was a moment of pride and also momentary sadness, because it marked the true end of an era for me. Still, it was also a great time to reconnect with my sisters and other friends from campus, and I can't overstate the importance for me of going home to Delta Zeta every once in awhile.

It was really an eye-opening weekend for Brian and me in terms of our relationship and where we are going. I think we each have a better understanding of ourselves and each other now, and we can look ahead to our life together with excitement and, for me, gratitude for being with somebody so perfectly suited to me. My heart fluttered when we talked about little things like giving our children easy to pronounce names so they don't get butchered at commencement, or what kind of house we're going to have one day. The best moment was when we had lunch at Taco Bell; Brian grabbed a packet of hot sauce for me without looking at it on his way to the table, and when he tossed it down it read "Will you marry me?" It was a priceless moment, and now at least I know he can't use that for an actual proposal. :)

I also realized something that I shared with Brian on the drive home. Though we may not see eye to eye on everything, and we may each feel possessive of him in our own way, Brian's friends and I are tied together with the blessing of having him in our lives. I'm so happy to see the strength of his friendships now, and to know that he has others in his life who love him as completely and unconditionally as I do. And I love his friends for that too; after all, if they are deserving of his love, they are more than deserving of mine too.

This weekend was amazing, for so many reasons. Now, I want to keep the energy going -- I can't wait to jump into what happens next.

Put a smile on your face...

I have an amazing friend who is always there for me. No, seriously. You name it, and she is on the phone or on my Facebook with spot-on advice and the kind of sympathy that jump-starts a solution without indulging in the mood.

Today's advice may be the best yet.

Elizabeth Gilbert, author of Eat, Pray, Love and a contributor to O, thinks we need to lighten up. Instead of being proud of our accomplishments and optimistic about the opportunities we have, women as a gender tend to consistently focus on those parts of our lives that aren't "as good" as the rest -- the career we passed up to start a family, the family we sometimes neglect to get ahead -- in short, we ignore the best parts of ourselves.

This article couldn't come at a better time. For the last several days I've been reevaluating my perspective on life and love and everything around me. I've been frustrated because I'm not where I want to be professionally, and the certainty I carried with me through college and the first summer after graduation is gone. Since I was a kid I wanted to do everything and be everything, and it hit me that I have to make a choice. So, there are a lot of ways I could lighten up and be happier:

Stop focusing on life after "I do." I'm fortunate to have an amazing relationship with a man I have loved since the day we met. We've already begun discussing the near-ish future, getting married and starting a family, and I'm completely excited for that day to come. I've been so caught up in picturing and planning and dreaming of that time, though, that it has started to spill over into every part of our relationship. The fact is, neither of us is ready to walk down the aisle yet. There is so much we still have to learn about each other and the people we've become since the first time around, and to learn about ourselves, and rushing into a lifelong commitment could destroy us rather than make us stronger. 


Put the calendar aside. I am a freak for scheduling and time management. I sync my Google calendar with my Blackberry, which is linked to Facebook. I have physical calendars at work and at home, and I carry a pocket planner in my bag. I time things to the minute and react poorly when others don't fall in line. I'm not the person you call for last-minute dinner plans, needless to say. Unfortunately, more than once I've had plans fall through and, because I cling to my calendar like a security blanket, I've ended up sitting at home with my knitting or watching Family Guy reruns for the twenty thousandth time.


My promise to myself, then, is to let go of my planner a little. I'll still use it for big things, like family vacation in July or Sarah's awesome parties, but for the day to day I'll just take things as they come. Well...I'll try.


Remember that I'm still young. I'm 23 years old, but some mornings I wake up with the fears of someone two decades older. Why am I letting my college degree collect dust on a shelf? When will I find a job to jump-start my career, and am I totally screwed because I live in the wrong area? Should I have studied politics? 


There is a huge world out there, with so much to experience that one person could never take it all in. I am fortunate to be where I am and to be who I am, with so many years ahead of me to fill with small moments and large adventures. Life isn't over at 25, 30, even 50 -- just because I'm where I am now doesn't mean it's where I'm destined to stay. Unless I want to, of course.


Take pleasure in small moments. Not everything has to be a huge production. Date night doesn't have to be a formula of x activity for y duration equals a pleasant time, dinner doesn't have to be a four-course meal, and taking five minutes in the sunlight is better than spending all day indoors because you can't have an hour. I'm a big-picture person who is tired of letting the small stuff slip through the cracks.


How will lightening up make your life better?

Watch what happens

I want the remote control from Click. Ridiculous and predictable movie plots aside, it seems like the right moments are over in a flash while the long ones stretch out interminably. If we have 70-90 years average on this earth, I think we should be able to spend more of that time how we want to.

I would spend more of my time listening to Michael Buble. His smooth baritone reminds me of Frank and Dean, my two favorite men. My musical tastes are all over the board, but there's something about MB that keeps me in a romantic mood all day -- dreaming of simpler times and kick-ass fashion, smoky lounges and dancing on Friday nights. Or maybe just a candlelight dinner for two...(ooh. There's an idea.)

Then there would be the writing. I love this little blog, and the personal journal I keep at home, but I have scraps of stories and the shell of a play that I've started so many times over the years, and when I finally pull it out I end up staring at the page for ten minutes before I decide to pursue something that just doesn't ask as much of my soul. I don't know if it's fear of failure, or fear of success, or just a fear of what I may find if I look more closely.

I would spin out that one-week vacation or weekend getaway until I couldn't stand it anymore. Why wouldn't you extend time in a new environment so you could overload your senses with new sights, smells, and tastes? What would an exploration be without the heightened tension of "so much to see, so little time"? I don't want to choose between parasailing and visiting historic sites -- let me do it all.

Most of all, I would spread out the summer. Languid, lazy mornings...sun-soaked afternoons...breezy nights on a beach lit by stars. It's so close I can taste it; when I look out the window at work I'm teased by the glow.

Of course, I don't have that remote. I don't think I ever will, though Sarah would criticize that line of thinking as being needlessly negative. :) What I do have is time wasted that I could be putting more toward the things that will make me feel whole. Work is a necessity, and I enjoy being productive. But what about the time I spend angry? What about the minutes and seconds I waste trying to find the right way to say something instead of just letting it out? And what the hell am I doing with all of this worry?

It's time to turn off Michael Buble, and turn on Lady Gaga -- she helps me get things done.

Let me see if you can ride it...

Friends...

This morning I got an email from the Chevy Riders in Cleveland. I signed up about two weeks ago on their Web site to be considered for a 2010 Chevy Rider position -- to be one of those people who drives the newest model to concerts and events around the city -- and now I'm a finalist!


There are two rounds of voting, and I need your help. If you go to www.chevy-riders.com/cleveland starting tomorrow, you can cast your vote to make me a Rider!

Tell your friends, tell your family, tell that annoying guy who sits next to you at work...hell, shout it out to the girl in the Chevy that's in front of you at the red light!

Love and thanks!

The music of my heart

This morning on Elvis Duran, they began a discussion about music that reminds us of different events in our life. For intern Loren, Darude's "Sandstorm" reminds her of a car accident she was in while the song was playing. Elvis, meanwhile, loves the good vibes of B.O.B.'s "Beautiful Girls". 

That got me thinking, and I realized that I use music to define my life on a much deeper level than it would appear. Of course, my post titles are nearly always song lyrics; beyond that, though, whenever I listen to particular types of music I can call to mind the event or season that made the music significant. 

When I hear Stadium Arcadium, I remember the Thursday of finals week 2006. After breakfast with the president of LCC Chris asked me if I wanted to get lunch. We went to the Subway on Mentor Avenue, then newly constructed, after which he asked if we could stop at the record store to pick up the CD. It released on Tuesday, he told me, and he was absolutely in love with RHCP.

Shortly after that we began dating, and I have a mental "relationship soundtrack" for each stage of the 9 months or so that we were together. Stadium Arcadium was the spring...and Fischerspooner's Odyssey was the summer. I get flashbacks whenever I hear that electropop on the radio, and whenever I put the CD in my car stereo I'm thrown back to what was one of the most exciting summers of my life.

We parted ways briefly right after I left for OWU, and when we got back together in October the album de la saison was Incubus's Morning View. "The Warning" still puts me in mind of fall, no matter what time of year it really is.

There is one song on my iTunes that's been there since 2005. I bought the entire album after hearing one song, and no matter where life took me between then and now I never forgot it. Newsong's More Life has a particular track, number 8, "When God Made You". Brian and I were discovering how deep our connection then was, and falling in love with each other. Even then I think we both knew that this was it, we were meant to spend forever together. When we broke up I refused to listen to the song; if I caught a glimpse of the title in my iTunes library the sadness would linger for the rest of the day. And when we got back together in January, it was the first song that came into my head.

It's the song that will play at our wedding, for our first dance.

There are so many more songs that bring back memories, both happy and sad: "As If We Never Said Goodbye" from Sunset Boulevard... Queen's "Bohemian Rhapsody"... Hell, even "Graduation" by Vitamin C (remember that one?) It's almost ridiculous.

So, what songs tell your life story?

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike...

Hooray for going green! Last night, after a harrowing adventure that led to one of my best life decisions ever, I became the proud owner of a Diamondback Lustre One -- it's pretty, it's pink, it's 21-speed, and thanks to the team at Dick's Sporting Goods I got a great deal and an even better experience.

And now, for my life lesson: I will never, never, NEVER shop at Wal-Mart again. (Notice that I'm not linking them, either; I won't be an accessory to your shopping experience.) I've heard the hype about what a ghetto-awful place it is, and I know about their tendency to union-bust and commit other questionable hiring practices, but hey -- I'm a broke college grad who has to stretch a penny as far as it will go, and for a long time the best way to do that was to shop at the store from hell. Last night, however, was just too far.


I went to the Wal-Mart Web site to check out a bike I was interested in purchasing. Even with the sale price on my beloved new DB, I was in the market to spend at least $75 less. I found the bike, a Next Power Climber, for quite a reasonable price and called the closest store to me to see if they did, in fact, have it in stock.

That phone call should have been my first warning sign.

First, it took them more than five minutes to even get somebody to take my call. This may not seem like a long time, but when you're waiting on the line that means you aren't doing other valuable things with your time. In that time I could have been to my car and well on my way to the store myself -- calling is supposed to save time. I decided to overlook it, though, when the associate who finally answered my call said that yes, they have one or two assembled floor models available. I planned to go in after dinner.

Fast-forward to 6:30 pm. I'm at the store, in the bike section...and there are no Power Climbers. This in itself is frustrating, but what is more frustrating is that we've been standing in the same aisle looking at the other models for nearly ten minutes and we've been ignored by the only associate to walk by. Oh well, maybe they have another model in the back. We stroll over to the "Site to Store" area (formerly layaway, of course) and press the button for assistance. While we're waiting, I see a Power Climber sitting there -- oh excitement! Until I look closer, that is, and realize that it's been tagged for repair.

Three associates walk out of the back room, taking no notice of the two customers standing there waiting. The fourth drags himself over. "You guys waiting for something?" I calmly explain that we'd like some assistance with the bicycles, particularly backstock. "[Name redacted] should be over here...oh [name], where are you..." If you're hearing a singsongy voice, you're hearing it right. A few minutes go by, and we walk back over to the bikes. Meanwhile, they've paged the associate in question, who walks right past us to see what they want. We hear snippets of the conversation -- the snippets in which said associate directs someone else to help us, he's doing something.

I feel sorry for the kid who came over. He was new (which we didn't know for sure at the time, but was pretty obvious), and when I told him what I wanted the expression on his face was akin to that of livestock just before the slaughter. Still, he was a trooper. He looked over the defective model and disappeared into the back to see what they had available. A few minutes later he walks back out: "Just a minute, ma'am." I can tell where this is going.

Yes, yes, I was right! Ten more minutes of waiting, during which time a Customer Service Manager approaches and asks if we're being helped. I told her what had transpired; satisfied that we weren't totally ignored, she walked away. Sadly, after that point we were in fact totally ignored and, as you can tell from the beginning of the story, we walked out without buying the bike. We did not walk out, however, before telling the management team about our terrible experience and that no, we will not be shopping at Wal-Mart again.

Good products at reasonable prices are only part of the battle, no matter where you go. What makes a shopping experience worthwhile is the level of service you are provided, especially when you seek out that assistance. I don't blame the new associate for being thrown into an unfamiliar situation; still, it's unacceptable to show such blatant disregard for the people who are willing to drop a considerable amount of money in your store.

Will my refusal to patronise Wal-Mart cause their demise? I doubt it. But it will make a difference to those around me, who have seen and heard about my trouble, and it may cause them to think twice about where they choose to spend their money.

Jagged Little Pill

Just in case you've been hiding under a rock...the House of Representatives passed historic health care reform on Sunday night, and President Obama is expected to sign the bill today. Within the next few weeks the Senate will pass changes to the bill through the reconciliation process, and we will join the rest of the First World in our commitment to providing health care to our citizens.

Here's what Michael Moore had to say:

Thanks to last night's vote, that child of yours who has had asthma since birth will now be covered after suffering for her first nine years as an American child with a pre-existing condition.

Thanks to last night's vote, that 23-year-old of yours who will be hit one day by a drunk driver and spend six months recovering in the hospital will now not go bankrupt because you will be able to keep him on your insurance policy.

Thanks to last night's vote, after your cancer returns for the third time -- racking up another $200,000 in costs to keep you alive -- your insurance company will have to commit a criminal act if they even think of dropping you from their rolls.

Yes, my Republican friends, even though you have opposed this health care bill, we've made sure it is going to cover you, too, in your time of need. I know you're upset right now. I know you probably think that if you did get wiped out by an illness, or thrown out of your home because of a medical bankruptcy, that you would somehow pull yourself up by your bootstraps and survive. I know that's a comforting story to tell yourself, and if John Wayne were still alive I'm sure he could make that into a movie for you.


Joking and sarcasm aside, he's hit the nail on the head. With this reform, people don't have to be afraid to get sick. I speak from experience; every change in the season that causes a sniffle or a tickle in my throat, a fever or a strange pain in my side, scares me to death. I, like so many people my age and in my situation, do not work enough hours at either of my two jobs to qualify for employer-provided insurance. I am too old to be covered on my parents' respective health care plans, and I certainly don't make enough money to pay for my own -- that is, unless I'd prefer to go without food or have my car repossessed. Coverage for a 23-year-old woman is expensive, damn that pesky uterus and being of "child-rearing age". For months I've been talking about trying to go full-time, or to find a job that will give me health care so I can actually afford to be ill -- or, at least, to go to the doctor when I am.


Obviously there are political ramifications to this bill, which are being widely commented in the news. We won't know until November if the Democrats will suffer for their "arrogance" or if Republicans will reap the rotted fruit of their hate-mongering. Throw it in Google, and happy reading. For me, though, this is so much more than playing politics.


I'm sick of listening to people who haven't even looked at the bill, people who think that Rush Limbaugh and Glenn Beck are credible in the least. I have fielded hundreds of calls from these opponents to health care who are arguing the opposite of what is in the bill -- okay, ladies and gentlemen, the bill does not provide federal funding for abortion. There is a provision to make prescription drugs more affordable for senior citizens. It will be illegal to discriminate based on pre-existing conditions. The mandate to carry health insurance will be offset by subsidies to aid in purchasing that insurance. And before you tell me that it will further bankrupt us, think of the tax dollars we will be saving because we will no longer have to put out for ER visits by the uninsured among us.


It pisses me off when these same people claim that those without health insurance are "lazy" or "irresponsible". I. Beg. To. Differ. I work two jobs, have an internship, and volunteer in two different positions for a non-profit organization. And, I'm applying to grad school. I guarantee there are others like me. So, those of you who cry "don't tread on me": you know what they say about people in glass houses...

"Go wipe off your face, you look like a whore!"

My favorite Web site, The Frisky, ran a story today from Marie Claire UK about Katie Price's upcoming makeup for little girls (see the full story here). This got me thinking, really thinking about the culture in which we live today.

Children are not allowed to be children anymore. They are surrounded by propaganda from the Disney Channel, Nickelodeon, and other networks for children that market products and clothing that before would not be appropriate for anybody younger than high school. The hell raised over updating Dora of Dora the Explorer to a chic ten-year-old is just one example; while I believe the company was justified in updating her image to maintain her relevance as one segment of her audience aged, it is still troubling that "maintaining her relevance" was only attainable by giving her hip clothes and the hint of cosmetic touch-ups.

Now, I don't have children (yet). However, I'm young enough to remember the rules of our household when it came to clothing and makeup. Nail polish and Chapstick was acceptable when I was still in elementary school; the only time I was allowed to wear actual makeup was when I was an extra in our high school's production of The Music Man - I was in the fifth grade, and you bet that makeup came off the second the show was over.

As I moved into junior high and high school, my mom was slightly more lenient about makeup (as in, okay, I could wear it), but she would be the first one to tell me if I was too imaginative or had used too heavy a hand with the little pots and tubes in the bathroom. She was also my primary clothing critic as, sadly, my sartorial prowess took a fair bit longer to develop (the girl in 8th grade who made fun of my misguided decision to use every mini claw in my collection at once was right...but she's still a bitch). More than once I heard: "That's too tight on you." "You're showing off everything you have!" "Go wipe off your face, you look like a whore!"

Okay, the second one is an exaggeration and the third one never actually happened, but sometimes I like to dream that I have an angry Jewish mother.

At the time I resented her intrusion, much less the idea that this old(er) woman could possibly understand the fashion woes and wishes of a teenager. Looking back, though, I find that I developed a much greater respect for looking classy and age-appropriate than I would have otherwise -- not to mention the fact that I avoided subjecting myself to even higher levels of peer hostility by listening to Mom and rethinking whether I would "really wear that out in public".

My challenge for parents and my hope for my own family, then, is that we get off of this propaganda whirlwind that causes children to lose their innocence far too quickly, all for the sake of product placement.

"You need to be mad as a hatter...which luckily I am."

After months of waiting, I finally got to see Tim Burton's new adaptation of Alice in Wonderland when it opened last Friday. (Get tickets without the wait at Fandango.) Though we saw it in 2D, I highly recommend that you have the 3D experience as well -- more to follow on that when I get the chance!

Australian ingenue Mia Wasikowska shines and inspires as 19-year-old Alice Kingsley, who falls back down the rabbit hole and into a "Wonderland" that is strange and familiarall at once. Old friends become new guides in her quest to wake up from a dream that is suddenly too real, and through her journey Alice learns an important lesson not only about where she is, but who she is.

Tim Burton, as usual, does not disappoint. His Wonderland is a beautiful and twisted place brought to life with the latest cinematic technology -- after watching it, you may just want to go there yourself. Unlike the original Disney treatment, Burton's Alice is more faithful to the original Lewis Carroll books and reintroduces some central characters that may be unfamiliar to fans of the animated version. As with the 2005 remake of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Burton has taken the lens and revealed a world that is darker and ultimately more real than the fantasies created by their predecessors.

Of course, this would not be possible without a stunning line-up of talent: Johnny Depp once again proves his aptitude for lending depth to difficult roles with his portrayal of a Mad Hatter who is something of a mix between Braveheart and totally bonkers. I spent most of the movie trying to make sense of things he said, which is probably the best compliment I can give. His interactions with Wasikowska were at once amusing and touching. 

Helena Bonham Carter (Mrs. Tim Burton, for the 2 people in the world who don't know) is perfectly impetuous as the Red Queen whose infamous temper is a poor disguise for her own shortcomings. And Anne Hathaway's White Queen is wise, regal, and outrageously saccharine -- you may need to shield your eyes from all the white in both the scenery and her personality. The supporting cast is equally delightful (I have a special place in my heart for Alan Rickman's Absolem), with the possible exception of Crispin Glover's Red Knave -- I have to agree with others, I don't really feel like he's acting...

Movie prices may be out of control, and you're crazy if you even think of shopping the concession stand, but with Alice in Wonderland you will definitely get your money's worth. Don't miss out, or you may lose your "muchness".

Rating: A+

Why don't you put it on a blog baby, rockin' like it's my job...

So...what do you do when your boyfriend is in a bromance that's just causing too much drama?

I've learned a lot of lessons about love and relationships, especially in the last four years. And I couldn't be happier that Brian and I are back together, where we belong. It hasn't been absolutely perfect, but it's been right and we're both working on communicating and using what we've learned to make our relationship even better. Because of that, I'm acutely aware of how much time we spend together and I try not to make it every waking moment. We both have our own lives and we'll be even better together if we keep those separate parts going strong as well.

Unfortunately, the last week has been totally jacked -- between Amy's funeral, being almost literally sick to death and moving, Brian has been at my side nearly every day. I'm so grateful to have a partner who is so tuned to me and who considers me to be such an important part of his life that he will spend the time and energy to be there for me in such a meaningful way. I couldn't have survived this week without him. Of course, being with me means that he hasn't been  spending as much time at his house, with his friends...and this is where the problems start.

Long story short, his friends either don't understand or don't appreciate that ours is a serious and lasting relationship, and because of their own views would prefer to think that I am leading him by the nose and/or taking over his life. This is beyond irritating because a: I'm not the one giving him shit for not being around, and b: this is a two-person relationship that doesn't involve anybody but Brian and me. 

Here's a clue: in five years, you may or may not be there -- but I will be. In ten years, I will be there -- where will you be? You want your friend, and that's fine, but don't be a pissy bitch because you disagree with his priorities. Trust me, he's a big boy who can make up his own mind. And one day you'll fall for somebody who will become your top priority, if you're lucky -- maybe then you'll finally get it.

Movie Review: Shutter Island

Tonight we went to see Shutter Island, the new Scorsese film based on the book by Dennis Lehane. I haven't read the book yet, but if the film is any indication then I think it's a must.

Early trailers provided an enticing look into what is billed as a top-notch thriller, but for the first hour or so I'll admit that I checked my watch more than once. Leonardo DiCaprio is excellent as U.S. Marshal Teddy Daniels, but the exposition drags and the dialogue falls flat even with DiCaprio's practiced Boston accent to punctuate his statements. Composer Robbie Robertson's score is rife with bass chords and heavy strings that swell to heighten the viewer's suspense but fail to deliver for a substantial portion of the movie. Scorsese is a master of the shot, however, and is faithful to a depiction of Ashecliffe as home to many secrets.

Fortunately, the action begins to pick up early into hour two and doesn't stop until the end credits roll. There are significant, accurate references to early psychopharmacology and antiquated psychiatric practices such as psychosurgery that further increase the tension as Teddy continues his search for answers. The conclusion, while not entirely shocking, is moving and well presented.

The more I think about Shutter Island, the easier it is to justify the first hour I spent waiting for something to happen. The plot points are so carefully woven together that one is caught up in Ashecliffe and its secrets as deeply as Teddy. In order to comprehend the story you have to pay attention -- definitely not the right choice for a "light" movie night -- but even so it really takes a few hours after seeing it to fully understand what you've seen and how everything fits together.

I walked out of the cinema with more questions and theories than answers, and my original rating for this film was a B+: the acting is good but not Oscar-worthy, and the plot leaves you more than a little confused. However, having had the downtime after watching it to process and consider, I give Shutter Island a solid A and my firm recommendation.

Happy viewing!

Review: Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him

I made a jaunt to Half-Price Books last week, one of my favorite places in the world and probably my greatest source of new and interesting reading material that, let's face it, I probably wouldn't find otherwise. I especially enjoy browsing the special section with $2 and $3 books, because those are probably some of the best understated deals around. On this particular journey, HPB had carts set up throughout the store with $1 clearance books -- thank you for saving me the walk back to your (poorly arranged, I will admit) clearance section! I had to take a look.

Unfortunately there wasn't too much to catch my attention, but on the top of one cart I saw a title that grabbed me: Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him, by Danielle Ganek.

Ganek is a first-time author and the book itself is about three years old, and I was momentarily turned off by the blurb's claim that "As The Devil Wears Prada demystified the world of high fashion, this funny and insightful debut novel dishes the crazy and captivating Manhattan art scene." After all, I still have visions of the interminable exposition from Little Pink Slips, which made a similar comparison to Jennifer Weisberger's 2003 debut hit. Still, for one little dollar I figured what's the harm?

Great choice.

The story opens on an art auction in the fall. Mia McMurray acts as witness and commentator to what even a reader unfamiliar with the art scene comes to understand quickly is more than your everyday auction. At the center of bidding lies Lot 22, Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him by the recently deceased Jeffrey Finelli. With the first chapter Ganek expertly back-starts the exposition and leaves the reader with a mind full of questions -- who are these people? what is so great about this painting? -- that are unrealized until Chapter 2 pulls the story back to the beginning.

Ganek's prose is straightforward and clean; she isn't flowery or overexpressive and because of that she is able to weave a complicated plot without any unnecessary tangles. Lulu, a haunting figurative portrait, becomes an object of fixation for the collectors vying to add her to their collection, as well as for Lulu Finelli, its subject. Mia, the receptionist at the gallery housing the painting, and Lulu develop a bond over shared experience, loss, and a growing attachment to the painting and whatever message Jeffrey left within for Lulu to now understand. Mia and Lulu are clear, obvious protagonists, but even at the close of the story it is impossible to determine for certain who the main character is - Mia, Lulu...or Lulu.

The plot moves at a brisk pace, giving the reader just enough time to process what is going on but never so much that it starts to drag. Intelligent commentary and witty banter aptly frame the underlying philosophical questions that this excellent first novel poses to the reader.

Lulu Meets God and Doubts Him is by no means comparable to The Devil Wears Prada, except that like the latter, the former is a spectacular sortie for the author into the world of contemporary fiction. Lulu, though about half the length of TDWP, does more than move the reader with a good story -- it haunts the reader with the same question plaguing the characters who make their way through the Simon Pryce Gallery: "God, is that you?"

You can buy the book through Amazon, Borders, or any book retailer.

One can't move without the other, they just have to be together...

So I'm back from an interesting weekend. This is the first weekend that Brian and I have spent almost entirely together in...well, ever. It was quite a different feeling to wake up next to him, leave and then come back to him after a day of work. Even with his roommates there it was...nice. Saturday night was a little touchy, as was yesterday morning, but I'm so glad that we have both made it to the point where we can talk out our frustrations and irritations instead of turning things into a major fight.

Also, I'm sure the entire world is aware that yesterday was Valentine's Day...

It did not get off to an auspicious start. First, I woke up about 3 hours before I needed to in order to go to work (which was not a planned thing -- I was asked to cover on Saturday afternoon); then, when I tried to get Brian's attention for a little bit of snuggling, he kept going back to sleep! Finally I just decided to read a book and pout a little (yes, I do pout on occasion...). He woke up as I was getting ready to leave, so we did get some time together and I gave him half of his present: an 8-pack of mini Mountain Dew bottles and a few candy bars. If you know Brian you know that this went over well.

After work I went back to his house, and we exchanged our real gifts before dinner. I thought I was being sappy/cute/romantic with my gift, a 2GB flash drive pre-loaded with a playlist of the songs that make me think of him and of course, the requisite card. But he blew me away with his last-minute idea: along with a card that just summarizes our relationship perfectly, he bought a packet of poppy seeds ("when we first met and decided to date, we planted seeds...") and a gorgeous bouquet of roses ("...with love and care, they'll grow into a beautiful bouquet").

Stop gagging, it was adorable. And it reminded me of so many reasons why we're just good together.

After the cute crap, we went to dinner at Red Lobster (always a favorite) and saw From Paris With Love (review to follow shortly). Since we weren't ready to call it a night just yet, we made a stop at Steak 'n' Shake for milkshakes and coffee. Then, somewhere in the vicinity of 1 am, we got back to the house and crashed. Now, even after only about 5.5 hours of sleep, I feel wonderful.

What I felt for him then pales in comparison to what I feel for him now.

And I will stand, and I will break the silence...

(Lyrics from "Break the Silence" by The Code)


This morning on the KISS FM morning show (visit the homepage here), Elvis read an email from a listener looking for advice on a new relationship v. girl code issue. For those unfamiliar with girl code, check out Urban Dictionary, or this interesting article that uses popular songs as a guide: "The Laws of Girl Code". (Note: I am undermining my own place in the girl community by even acknowledging the existence of girl code...but they did it first.)

One of the things you will notice in both these articles and any Google search of same is that there is one core tenet around which the girl code edifice is constructed: DO NOT DATE YOUR FRIEND'S EX. This also applies to crushes, flings, hook-ups, and that cute guy that she locked eyes with for 2.5 seconds at your brother's cousin's party three years ago, depending on your interpretation. And, of course, this was the very topic of said listener's email.


Eva pointed out that she's always had difficulty finding a good guy, but she started dating a new guy recently and they get along very well. She told her best friend about him, and her best friend proceeded to inform her that she and this guy had gone out on two dates a few years ago, that she is uncomfortable with them dating now, and that Eva should back off.


I'm sorry, what?


This is where my interpretation of the Golden Rule of girl code deviates to the somewhat unacceptable level. If it was two dates...several years ago...and nothing else came of it, then there is no foul. It isn't like two dates is a reasonable amount of time to decide that this person is the love of your freaking life. I don't remember if it was Carolina or Danielle who said it, but I am with the lovely lady who pointed out that not only should this not be an issue, but the "friend" should be supporting the letter writer!


Also, this coincides with a few other examples of the girl code coming into play over the last few weeks, examples that have been rankling me because of the circumstances involved:


1. A girl is not a "bitch" for getting together with a guy she dated first, no matter how much you've had to drink. This is especially true if no prior friendship between you existed during either relationship, if her relationship was more serious to begin with, and if you specifically indicate that you are over him and have no desire to see him again. Case closed.


2. A girl is not a "whore" just because she got action and you didn't...especially if she's your best friend. Take your green eyes and channel them into something useful, because what kind of backstabber are you to begrudge your "best friend" some enjoyment?


3. When you work to hook your best friend up with a guy, you forfeit the right to be pissed off when they actually hook up. Though circumstances may in fact play a role here, it is hypocritical and disloyal to throw your BFF together with somebody - being fully aware that their opportunities for face-to-face contact are limited - and then to be disgruntled that they actually make a connection and to hold it against them.


And people wonder why girls fight...