I'm not listening to you, dormouse. My head has been fed enough.

THOUGHTS WHILE HIKING IN THE ALPINE LAKES WILDERNESS LAST WEEKEND:

Tra-la-la-la-la, I love living in Washington! Everything is so beautiful! And COLORFUL! HAHAHAHAHAHA!! Because it's FALL! YESSSSSSSS!!

There's something vibrating behind my eyeballs. Walk it off. It's nothing.

Hm. It seems different in these woods. Wait, where am I? No. I know. I remember.

Just breath normal. I think I'm gonna pass out. No I'm not. Maybe sit down right here.

PERSON! OH JESUS, LOOK NORMAL!

*wide-eyed look of terror directed toward oncoming hiker* "....hhhhhiiiiiiiiii....ha....haha...."

I'm gonna sit down by this waterfall. It's pretty. That's good.

Goddamn this waterfall is fucking intense. It's practically happening to ME right now.

It is. The waterfall is HAPPENING TO ME.

We should go back down. We definitely shouldn't go any further. I'd feel better if we went back down.

OK. Fine. Lets just hike up to where the sun is. Good idea. Everything will be better there.

I can't talk anymore. It isn't a good idea for anyone to hear me talk right now. I just need to write a letter. Then I'll feel better. Forever.


Dear Psychadelic Mushrooms:


This isn't easy for me to do, but I believe we've reached the end of our road. It's time to say goodbye.
Come on, there there. Don't get upset. We both know that things have changed, and we need to do what's best for ourselves, and for each other.
It's not like what we had wasn't real, right? It was beautiful, and magical! Some of the most fun times I've ever had were with YOU! Our first few years together were unforgettable. You brought me closer to my friends, gave me new perpective, taught me to appreciate nature in a way I'd never thought possible! You've made me laugh harder than anyone, ever! I mean, really! 'Til my face and stomach hurt, 'til tears streamed down my face, 'til I almost peed my pants!
Shut up. If it's less than half the bladder-full it counts as ALMOST.
Anyway.
It's like we're grasping for something we once had; trying to re-live the past, ya know? But we just can't. We've outgrown eachother. The last few times we've been together it's been clear to me that things aren't the same as they used to be. There isn't the same care-free laughter, nor the mind-opening revelations. Instead they're more like prolonged states of confusion, little bouts of amnesia, mixed with the loss of physical control, which usually leads to some kind of panic attack.
This relationship has become....Exhausting.
Now, it isn't all your fault. Even though you have come on a little strong and caught me off guard a couple times, I'll take most of the responsibility for this. I don't know how or why I changed, but I did. I guess I just have a lot more to think about now than when we were first together, and I can't handle the intensity of our union anymore. I'm being forced to move on.
Don't despair. I know there's still A LOT of other people out there that will love you just the way you are. They always have, and they always will. You'll be OK. We'll both be OK.

R.I.P Psychadelic Mushrooms.
I'll always remember the good times.

When they tell you to" Grow Up", what they mean is "Stop Growing"

I'm not a planner. I'm more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl. I try to "seize the day", "live in the moment", "take it as it comes"-that kind of shit. I like it that way. Every day for me can be a different adventure, or a new opportunity. I'm not tied down to anything, I only have to work 8 days a month, I rent a cute and quirky little apartment in the middle of a diverse and exciting city, in the most beautiful state in America*, where my options for activities are endless.

Me and Melissa. Represent.

This is why I love my life. The only constant, long-term aspects of my life are my family, friends, and pets. Out of all the long-term responsibilities people commonly get stuck with (jobs, mortgages, marriages, kids, debts) I only have the best ones, the things people wish they could guarantee joyous and permanent. I'm fortunate enough to have had these things all my life, and I'm confident I always will.

So if I happen to get a call from some secret admirer telling me they want to send me to Brazil for one year where I will work as a hair model, and give me my own little monkey to live with me in a tree house I get to design myself, but I have to leave TODAY! Well... I can do that!

I consider myself a very lucky girl.

....But sometimes I worry.

Some people (my age and older) make me feel like I'm wasting time, like I'm at some kind of crucial point I'm unaware of, and they say things like, "If you don't start planning and working toward your future now you'll be sorry when you're my age".

Then I notice other people my age (and younger!) finishing college, starting careers, getting married, buying houses, having 2.5 kids, I mean... Paying into 401 K's and shit! Setting up Roth IRAs! Investing in stocks!?!

I've never even had a credit card. Or car insurance. Or health insurance, for that matter. I barely know how to cook, and I've just picked that up over the last 6 months or so. Before that I lived off of dollar menus and Melissa's home cooked meals (which I'm pretty sure she made for me mostly to make sure I was getting some nutrition). I'm all proud of myself when I pay my bills on time, how does everyone else throw themselves into serious commitments that seem impossible or scary to me?

Because they have PLANS.

I am very grateful for the life I'm enjoying right now, but then I wonder, what if it doesn't last?

What if one day I wake up 45 years old and all my friends are married, moved away, and changed into fakey grown-ups who get their teeth whitened, set up blogs for the sole purpose of updating people about their children, and send out those pretentious fucking end-of-year letters with their Christmas cards?

Oh my god.

What if I turn into one of those weird older people who tries to stay hip and with it by hanging out with way younger people so I can pretend I'm still as fun, good-looking, and healthy as them?

What if I end up being the bad example to children of friends/acquaintances, where everyone is nice when I'm around, but then when I leave, the parents whisper to their kids things like, "Start planning now if you don't want to end up like that" and "that's why it's so important to go to college", and "I bet now you won't experiment with drugs and alcohol, huh?"

Jesus.

The problem (if it is even a problem) isn't that I don't know what I want to do, the real problem is that I want to do too many things, and if I choose to focus on only one one, it will lessen or eliminate the possibility of the other ideas I have. So if I choose one thing, I might just be another older person who wonders what would have happened if I had turned right instead of left, or just stayed in place and waited to see what came at me. The grass is always greener, right?

When I express these worries to some people, I receive consolations just as often as warnings, like "You're young! Live it up while you can! That's what your 20's are for"! Obviously I choose to observe this form of advice; it feels more natural to me. I try not to push myself into making huge decisions where the outcome is unpredictable. Everything changes, and everything depends on everything else. Therefore, I try to pinpoint ideas and goals pertaining to my future that I'm pretty sure about.

Like, I'm pretty sure I'd rather be an old lady who other people think is weird than an old lady who regrets decisions that turned out to be a permanent headache.

I'm pretty sure I won't ever get married. I'm not being young and jaded, I just have my own theories and opinions about the institution of marriage, and I don't see my mind being changed about it. Maybe someday I'll want to spend the rest of my life with someone, maybe have some kind of ceremony, but I don't see any reason to get the government involved in my personal relationships.

I'm pretty sure I don't really want to own a house. Being locked into a 30 year mortgage is pretty much being married, and I want to travel so much in my life that I don't want a huge investment holding me back.

I'm pretty sure I'll buy a sailboat, and live on that instead. It's a two-fer: owning my own place and means for travel.

I'm pretty sure I don't care if I never have a lot of money. I've never had a lot of money, and I've learned how to have a lot of cheap/free fun over the years.

I'm pretty sure I'll never make a career doing anything where I can't be myself. I have tattoos and piercings (with more to come) and I refuse to cover them. I like my own clothes, and I won't wear any type of uniform. I won't ever take shit from ignorant rude people while smiling and saying things like "I'm so sorry, what can I do to make you happy?". I did that for 5 years and learned my lesson. Never again.

"Better watch your soul, it'll leave ya like a hundred bucks" - M. Ward

And... That's about it. I'm not very sure of much else, which might be the main reason I avoid life-planning. I'd rather not have plans and try to make the best of the day-to-day than to make big plans that fall through. I mean, I'm as optimistic as the next 23 year old woman trying to grab life by the balls, but I'm realistic too.

Marriages usually end in divorce, or people have affairs, or they just stay together no matter how much they hate or are sick of each other because of children, financial investments, or sometimes just conditioned apathy.

Houses can get foreclosed, or people live in poverty in every other aspect of their lives just to keep their house.

Jobs fall through; I've known many people who've worked in their career for 15-20+ years who have gotten laid off or fired all of a sudden, and then don't know what to do because that was the only career they were trained and experienced in. Or they get so sick and tired of their career that they're miserable every day, no matter how good everything else is going in their lives.

Even having kids (supposedly the best thing that's ever happened to anyone) looks mostly like a miserable experience to me. They ruin your body, sleep, etc., they drain all your time and money, rob you of your personal wants/needs, and then as soon as they're old enough to think independently, they hate you!

So my only solution to this conundrum for now is to continue living however I want, any way that makes me happy. I've never cared much about what other people thought about what I was doing, so I don't think I'll start now. As my mom told Melissa, "You can't tell Kristina anything. She's going to do what she wants no matter what anyone says". Although this probably makes me sound difficult and defiant, I have to admit it's true. My dad always tells the story of how I wouldn't allow anyone to teach me to tie my shoes when I was little because I insisted "I can do it myself!". But really, I didn't figure it out til I was about 8 years old. I was really proud when I finally did it though.

I'm aware that this could all just be the way I think about things at this point in my life, and in 10 years I could change my mind like I always do, and decide I want to strive for that "American dream" lifestyle. But I'm gonna wait until I'm more than pretty sure about what I want long-term. I'm gonna wait until I know.

So I try to just focus on my usual standard for decision making: "how will I feel about this on the day I die"? I don't believe in god, or heaven, or the probability of an afterlife. As far as I know, I only have this one life, and on the day I die want to look back and see more beautiful memories than burdens or regrets. On the day I die, I hope I can smile and say "that was great, and now I'm finished".


*FACT. Google it. There are hundreds -perhaps tens of hundreds- of people who agree with me.

**Blog title is a quote I stole from my friend Luke. He's full of little snippets of wisdom like that :) **

I'm the bad egg. I want it NOW, too!!

HEY!

YOU!

No, not you. You look boring. Or married. Same thing.

BUT WAIT!

YOUYOUYOU!!

You look stylish and funky and like you maybe wanna dance with me!

Well, you are in luck!

BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY ON THURSDAY AND WE ARE GONNA MOTHERFUCKING PARTY!!

*laughing demonically, clapping hands, stomping feet*

Oh, how old will I be?

I'LL BE TWENTY-THREE BETCHES!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AWE-SOOOOOME!!!

*crickets*

....I mean, it's pretty cool to be 23! Right? I'm in my PRIME! YEAH!!

*one lonely cricket*

....What?

Oh, really?

No one gives a shit about your birthday after your 21st?





No one wants to stay out too late because they have work in the morning and then have date-night with their fiancee's?

No one wants to come to Seattle because they imagine it to be similar to Compton c.1993, where everyone has a glock and is going to force you to buy crack and hookers with don't-know-until-it's-too-late genitalia? Or maybe they just can't parallel park?

But...

No. Wait.

What do you mean no one wants to get me any presents?

*intense/shocked/disillusioned look on face w/single tear*

This is an outrage.

This is sick.

How the hell am I supposed to get all the things I want that I can't afford? Why does no one want to see my list? WHY DOES EVERYONE LAUGH WHEN THEY FIND OUT I STILL MAKE A BIRTHDAY LIST?!?

Oh. Right. Because I'm a grown-up now and everyone expects me to buy my own clothes and accessories and food and intoxicating agents.

Just like every other day.

There are no more birthdays. Just days that remind you that you're just going to get older and more broken until the day you die.

WELL.

That's just...

I mean...

What the hell??

Of all the ridiculous bullshit...

In fact!

FUCK THAT!




Not me!

Adulthood can make me jaded about other holidays and traditions that used to be fun and innocent, but NOT my goddamn BIRTHDAY!

I will buy a birthday dress.

I will have fun.

I will have my favorite people.

I will drink and dance with reckless abandon.

Every year.

Forever.

So, with that said...

HERE'S WHAT I WANT FOR MY BIRTHDAY!



New Earrings!

Colored/textured tights/leggings!!

Lacey winter dresses!

A new camera!


Vegan Cookbooks!

Money and giftcards (esp. those Visa ones) are also ALWAYS great gifts! Don't worry, I won't EVER think that you're lazy for not getting me a sentimental gift. I'll pretty much always pick out something I'd like more than whatever you get me, so really you're being EXTRA thoughtful!

But really, I'm planning to have a spectacular day with my friends and family, go see the Tallest Man on Earth at Neumo's, party with more friends at the Garage, then see where the night takes us!

And to anyone who dreads their birthday:

It isn't the day you "become a year older". It isn't a mark of "another year gone", or a "loss of youth". It's a celebration of the day you came into the world! Everything that you are, everyone who loves you, and everything that your life will be a testament of, started that day. The world was changed by you that day. So take advantage of it! Act like a kid, waste some money, dance your ass off with your loved ones, drink too much, and take a minute to appreciate the anniversary of YOU, and the precious life you have been given! Then, when someone else you love has a birthday, show them how happy you are that they were created, and that their life intertwined with yours.

Every year.

Forever.

Summer lovin', had me a blast...

I pretty much only write on here when I get some kind of topic in my head that gives me that tingly blog-worthy feeling inside. This has made me an inconsistant blogger. Which makes me feel like a loser.

Come on Kristina, pull yourself together. You can't commit to anything.

There's so many things I could write about, but it's all just random "Hey look what I did!" stuff without much of a point or moral to the story.

But I like to write, so I'm just gonna do a mish-mash of what's up with me lately. It'll be like that first essay every teacher assigns you at the beginning of each school year:

WHAT I DID THIS SUMMER

by Kristina Thronson

period 3*

Summer in Seattle is like double-chocolate-marshmallow-coconut ice cream with magical whipped cream that grants wishes, glow-in-the-dark sprinkles, and banana flavored cherries on a waffle cone your grandmother made from scratch.

It is everything awesome rolled up into one thing, but you have to eat it and enjoy it fast because around mid-September that shit is gonna be a big melty gooey mud-puddle of lost opportunities and "what might've been". And your grandmother will be dead and her beloved secret waffle cone recipe just dust in the wind.

So you have to get your ass out and appreciate what all that cold, car-accident-causing rain has been creating throughout the rest of the year: an emerald wonderland of outdoor fun! Swimming, hiking, boating, biking, camping, drinking, BBQ-ing, sandals, shorts, and tank tops.

I may not always seize the day year-round, but when summer comes back each year, this lifelong Pacific Northwesterner has learned to seize the season!

This year I kicked off my sunny days with some music and travelling...

First the Sasquatch festival at the Gorge....

Camping with the family...

The Oregon Country Fair...
The impromptu week-long road trip to Medford and back, which I don't yet have photographic evidence of...

After that super-exciting money-sucking adventure, I spent the next few weeks appreciating the city...

There was the zombie walk, where I helped Seattle beat England for the world record of most zombies in one place (4200+ muh'fuckah!)
Dressing up fancy with my girls for no reason....
Weddings...

Besides that, I've been going for walks all around the city, going swimming (I even went off the highdive at Greenlake, my first time going off a diving board!!), singing, dancing, and playing games with the family, staying up late drinking with friends, that kind of thing. Still, there's never a dull moment in MY summer. Just over the last 2 weeks I've...

Gotten this weird new birth control implant in my arm called Implanon! It's this little alien white stick they shove in your arm with a giant hollow needle and it keeps you from reproducing for 3 years!! YIPPEEEEEE!!
Got a tattoo!!
Also, I paid to take a beginner's sailing course!! So nice to finally take a step toward actually DOING something you've been talking about for years...

And the other day I climbed a mountain!
To the top!
Naked!
I'm not gonna post the pic's of that, but use your imagination. It was a blast.
So those are the adventures I've been throwing myself into this summer. Hopefully I can squeeze another couple in before I'm forced to buy new windshield wiper blades....



*I'm not in school, but I HAVE had 3 periods this summer! 10 points for regularity!

What a long, strange trip it's been. A.K.A most unoriginal blog title ever. Of all time.

Good gracious! I have not stood still for at least three weeks. If I wasn't road-trippin' I was foot trippin', which are both better than my typical restless plain old trippin'...

ROAD TRIPPIN':

Had a blast at the Oregon Country Fair again, third year in a row! This time I headed from Seattle to Eugene, OR, with Melissa, our friend Rory, and Melissa's cousin Joy, who flew in from Florida to go to the fair and stay with us in Seattle for a few days. Oh, Joy is AWESOME by the way. We totally hit it off, which was good because it made the 6-7 hour drive a lot more entertaining sharing the backseat with her. We even have our own little inside jokes now. Like the whole thing about the "dance-box"?? HAHAHAHA!! Oh, yeah, you're not in on the joke. It's like a Me-and-Joy kinda thing so... Go make your own super-sweet new friend, K? Jesus.

We left on Thursday so we could set up our camp a day early.The fair itself was pretty fun, I always like an opportunity to unabashedly release my inner hippie. I used to be a lot more of an outwardly peace-lovin', guitar-stummin, psychadelia-experimenting, no-bra, no-makeup, flower-child on a daily basis. Now I've broadened my horizons a little, and my style has become a lot more diverse. And I care about things like people seeing my nipples when it's cold, and going out in public with my eyes looking like droopy stoplights. And I do lines of coke off of little mirror-platters like a real grown-up.

OK that last part isn't true. Like I can afford coke. haha.

But when I go to festivals... I like to un-stifle that giggly, grinning stoner girl who would burst out of me IF she could find the motivation (and wasn't so distracted with making daisy-chains for every puppy that walks by). So we got to the fair, she smoked, she drank, she danced, she ran around half naked, she made merry. Then we left for home Sunday night, and she packed up her knapsack and retreated to her bungalow to make brownies for the next festival.

Then Monday morning, after a lovely long sleep in my own bed, I got a call from my ex-boyfriend/current friend/tango partner/it's complicated, who had just left Seattle 10 days earlier to take a 2-month trip hiking up the Pacific Crest Trail. It went like this:

Him: "Hey sweetheart...."

Me: *hmmm... what an innocent and polite tone...* "Hey cupcake, what's up?"

Him: "Well... What are you doing today?"

Me: "Oh, I don't know, probably get some laundry done, unpack my camping stuff, I was thinking of working on my painting--"

Him: "You wanna drive down to Oregon?"

Me: "What do you mean? I just got back from Oregon last night!"

Him: (desperate tone) "I really messed up my feet and they're covered in blisters and I cant go any further on the trail because it's 50 miles to the next town and what if I get stuck somewhere and no one finds me and they hurt really bad and I'll pay for your gas and pleasepleaseplease come get me?!?"

Me: *sigh* "ok, what part of Oregon?"

Him: ".....um.... Medford...."

Me: "Gah! Are you serious? That's like a 9 hour drive!"

Him: "PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE!! SAVE ME! I'll pay for everything!"

Me: *sigh*...."well...." *sigh* "OK. Fine. I'll call you when I leave."

Him: "Hooray!! Thank you so much!!... Hey baby?"

Me: "Tch... What?"

Him: "I just wanted to tell you... You're my hero and I better not forget it."

That last part is our little inside joke. You wouldn't get it. Get your own complicated kind-of relationship type thing. Tch.

So I drove down to Medford on Monday, and we decided to take 101 all the way back up to Washington because I was so sick of I-5 after 9 straight hours I could tear my eyes out, and I preferred the coastal route. It actually turned out to be a really fun trip though. We walked around in the Redwoods, and stopped at this wierd roadside wild animal petting zoo where we got to play with baby lions and tigers, and I made friends with a wallaby, and we drank cheap whisky and camped out in my car by the beach every night, and I found a hermit crab, and poked those wierd little anemone type things that squirt you, and watched Ivy lose her goddamn mind playing in the sand (her favorite)... We didn't even get home til Friday. It was a pretty sweet mini-adventure.

FOOT TRIPPIN':

Having 5 days off a week can be a blessing, especially for the social life. Pretty much anytime someone says "Hey, you wanna go ____ with me on ___day?" You can be like "Hell yeah, I got that day off! And the next day too, so we can party afterwards! WORD (insert friend's name here)"!

They say TIME is the most precious of resources, so when I'd hear people complain about how they work so often that they don't get to do the things they want to do, or see enough of their friends and family, I got to feel like a rich person. I've had freedom to do whatever I want, with whoever I want, almost anytime I want. As long as it's free/extremely cheap.

I think maybe MONEY is the second most precious of resources, and my two days a week has been forcing me to pinch pennies and stress a little about my finances over recent months.

Also, there's those days where I havn't made a plan with anyone, and I've already checked off my list of random entertaining things to do with Ivy Mae or by myself, and I wake up and look around my room for awhile and think "hmmm.... What to do today..... Options are endless... So...Screwdrivers for breakfast? No no no. That's not a real breakfast. But it does involve orange juice, so... It's at least part of a balanced breakfast... Right? Right... Hmmm..."

And then there's the friends and family who know about my 5 days off and they're all like "Man! If I had that kind of time off I'd go to school, volunteer at the retirement home, take up ballet, join a book club, plan a trip to Spain... Hey, what have you been up to?" And even though I feel like I've been busy, all I can think of is "Oh, ya know, just kickin' it... with friends... ummmmm... Tango, I've been doing that still.... psssshhhhh...*tongue clicking, eyes rolling upward*... I went to this show last week, it was pretty fun... yeah... OH! Haha! The other day I had screwdrivers for breakfast, and I walked all the way from my house on Capitol Hill to the waterfront! And I tried to get as many high-fives from strangers as possible!! HAHA! I got like 12, and also $2.35 altogether because a couple people must've thought I was crazy or homeless or something! HAHA!!! Right? HA! haha... ha... ahem."

I started thinking maybe I should be more productive with my time.

So I got another job, canvassing for the ASPCA. Which is awesome, because I've always wanted to do something in the way of animal advocacy. Plus I get to walk around in the sun all day getting exercise, I REALLY like everyone I work with and they seem to REALLY like me, and I'll have some extra $ so I don't have to stress out so much anymore.

But mainly, I'll be busy and productive and healthier. Which equals happier.

Canvassing is a very interesting job. Knocking on the doors of stranger's homes and giving them a shpeal about animal cruelty, then asking them to donate to the cause brings forth a strange variety of reactions from the residents of the upper/upper-middle-class neighborhoods we spend our day in. I've only been out doing it for 3 days, but I've already experienced enough to give a lesson in...

ANSWERING YOUR DOOR

Not like this


Step one: Open door, smile, and say hello.

When a 5'2" smiling redheaded girl with a clipboard is at your door, there's really no need to be alarmed. It is entirely unnessicary to-

a. look at her through the window, make eye contact, and close your blinds

b. open your door 1 inch so she has to talk to only your eyeball

c. yell at her to get off your porch because you hate solicitors, point to your "no soliciting" sign, scream to be removed from her "list", slam your door in her face, and encourage your children to ridicule her while she says "sorry to have bothered you" as she walks away. Besides being rude, you are also being ignorant because a solicitor is one who goes door to door pushing a product for money/commission. A person working on behalf of a non-profit organization is out to educate you on an issue and alert you to what you can do to become involved. They are not pushy, or using tactics, and they are not getting rich off of it. They care about their cause, and they're biggest hope is that you might care too. If you don't, just politely say so. They will be more than happy to get off your fucking porch.

Step two: Just listen to the shpeal.

Unless you are doing something that needs requires immediate attention (such as dealing with a crying baby, cooking, entertaining guests, etc, in which case you can say "I'm sorry, now isn't a good time, I'm currently ____". They will ask you if they should come back at another time, and unless you think you might be interested, you should say "No thank you, that won't be nessicary") there is really no need to interrupt the person telling you why they came to your door. It will literally take them less than ONE MINUTE to get it out, so just listen and wait for them to finish, and if you aren't interested, politely say so and the person will say "thank you for your time, have a great day", and move on to someone who actually MIGHT be interested.

Step three: Don't make up some wierd bullshit about why you can't donate. Just say you aren't interested, they're not going to ask you why.

-acceptable responses to shpeal include:

a. No thank you, I'm not interested in participating today.

b. I have already allocated my charitable funds for this year, but thank you for the information.

c. I will have to discuss this with my significant other. Thanks for stopping by.

-unacceptable responses include:

a. "Oh, what with the economy and everything we're really stuggling, or we would donate. It's just that we really don't have the means." This CAN BE an acceptable response if you DON'T have a Beamer and a Mercades sitting in your driveway, AREN'T wearing fancy designer clothes or giant diamonds all over, or AREN'T living in the most giant ocean-view house I've ever seen. This just makes you look like an asshole, and you're better off just going with the "No thank you, I'm not interested in participating today".

b. "I already donate to my church/cancer/children etc." That's nice. Donating is a noble thing to do. But you don't have to prove it to the person at your door, and tell them that the cause(s) you're involved in are clearly more important than the one this person has chosen to dedicate their time to. It's nicer to say "I have already allocated my charitable funds for this year, but thank you for the information".

c. "Get off my porch you fucking solicitor". See Step One. And act like a goddamn normal human being. If this person's presence at your door is that irritating to you, there are deeper emotional issues that you should address before speaking to another person, unless that person is a therapist.

While I am aware that the type of people who act like monsters toward me are probably just miserable people, and are probably the kind of person that tells the diabled/possibly mentally challenged homeless person to "get a fucking job", and it's my personal opinion that these people should be euthanized as if they had rabies, for being a hazard to themselves as well as others, I still feel it nessicary to voice these little tips in hopes that it might change someone's attitude who maybe just didn't think of it this way before. You know, treating people with respect and kindness. I mean, maybe some people havn't heard. I'm here to educate, that's all.

I have had a lot more positive responses than negative, though. Also a few very strange responses, which I will throw into the positive category because they are entertaing and make my day equally as much as a contribution.

I've also learned that little old ladies are my favorite people in the world (while middle aged mothers are my least favorite).

On my first day, I was talking to a little old lady who responded "Well I can't afford to contribute today, but I want you to know that I'm very opposed to animal abuse.... The chicken fighting.... And the people who have sexual problems with them... I would say I'm especially opposed to the people who have sex with them."

Wait, what?

I tell you about dog-fighting and puppy mills, and when you think of animal cruelty the first thing that comes to mind is..... bestiality?

AAAAAAHHHHHH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

All I could think to say was "Well, I'm glad to hear you're opposed to those things... I mean... Who isn't, right?"

Then there was the house I went to where there was all kinds of wierd jugs and bottles on the porch, and it smelled like rotten food, and I wasn't sure anyone lived there, and when I went to knock on the door, but there was this spider that definitely ranks in the top 5 of the biggest spiders I've ever seen, so I was too scared to knock on the door because I didn't want it to fall on me or something. Just as I was going to leave, this little old lady opened the door. I tried telling her I'm working on behalf of the ASPCA, but she informed me that she's pretty much deaf, and won't be contributing to any causes because "I am happily waiting to die, so I'm not participating in anything anymore. I'm doing what they call "withdrawing from society". I am counting the days." This would sound very sad and morbid, but she was so cheerful about it that it kind of made me admire her for being so accepting, if not excited about her impending death. She went on to tell me she would soon be dying of Mercury poisoning from the old-fashioned fillings in her teeth, and about how corrupt the ADA is, and insisted on letting me know "I don't want you to think I don't care about animals. I have a big raccoon that comes into my yard, and I feed her, and she takes food to her five babies..." Literally right when she was telling me that I see this giant raccoon walking up the sidewalk, in the middle of the afternoon, and start briskly heading toward the porch. I blurted out "Oh my God!! There it is now"! The raccoon came right up on the steps, a little over a foot away from me, so the lady grabbed this little brown paper bag from next to her door and tossed it a couple pieces of bread and it walked into the yard and munched on them. It was like a scene from a movie or something.

Then there was the other half-deaf little old lady who's huband was gardening outside, and when I told her I was from the ASPCA she replied "Oh, I don't need anyone to take me anywhere. My huband drives me." And no matter how I tried to explain what the ASPCA was all about, this lady was determined to talk about what she wanted to talk about. To told me that She and her husband were 93 and 95 years old, and that the way they keep in shape and stay young is excersizing daily and going out dancing once a week. She said "Every time we go I dancing, I just don't understand young girls today. They just don't care about looking pretty. When I was a young girl, I wore high heels and pretty dresses every day of my life. I exersized and ate right, and even though I'm 93 I can still disco better than any of these drab looking young'uns. Do me a favor-when you go out dancing, dress up pretty and dance your best. That's the secret to staying young forever." I thanked her and told her I would, and she gave me a big hug and told me to please come back and chat with her anytime. I just might. I saved her address.

There's a million things to be, you know that there are

One of my Psych professors in college once stated that the uprise of anxiety and depression disorders in American culture over the last 50 years could be directly related to the rise in options we are presented with in our daily lives in our advanced industrialized society.

For example, in the 1940's the only cereals that were widely available were Grape Nuts, Shredded Wheat, Corn Flakes, Kix, and Captain Crunch.* There's your 5 options. Pick one.

But now when you go to the store there's an entire aisle dedicated to cereal. There's cereal in boxes, and in bags. Fruity, chocolatey, and marshmallow-y. There's rival brands' versions of the same cereal with different shapes, colors, and prices. Some are on sale, some never are, and some will be if you grab the coupon out of that little automatic coupon dispenser thing. There's corn or whole grain, there's sugar or sugar free, and it's all part of a balanced breakfast.

With all of the trials and stuggles the average adult has to deal with on a daily basis, now you have to spend like ten minutes figuring out what used to be a split second decision. Jesus. What the fuck DO I want for breakfast?

Judging by the way I've felt the last few years as a fully independent young woman, I have to agree with my Psych professor. With all of the other struggles with maintaining finances, relationships, health, work, home/car maintainence, plus trying to be productive with my time, planning my future, and trying not to make horrifying mistakes along the way, at the end of the day choosing my cereal could possibly drive me out of my goddamn mind.

I don't even know if I want to cut my hair or not.** I mean, it is summer and a short cut would be cute... I could dye it new funky colors and it would be all voluminous and super curly when it's short. I could even try out some bangs! But then... I really like the way it looks when I put it up while it's long. I can put it in a big curly pile on my head with a few tendrils hanging down, and it's really easy to style that way. If I ask other people's opinion I get 50% "Do it! Change is good!" and 50% "No, you'll miss your long hair!!" response. I mean, I shouldn't be too worried about this decision because it's just hair. It always grows back. But I can't help it. It's literally been weighing on my mind for weeks. I mean it's not ruining my life or anything, but it's just one more thing on top of everything else. Another aisle of cereal.

I can't deny that I've battled bouts and attacks of anxiety and depression throughout my entire life, from as young as I have memory of. This could be caused by chemicals, circumstances, my parent's fault, or just the way I'm wired. But I think it's only fair to recognise that I've never had an easy time making decisions. I see the pro's and con's to pretty much EVERYTHING, and I'm never entirely sure which option would suit me better. They're both good. They're both bad. But which one is more ME?

Well, that's impossible to know if you don't know "ME". If you're like me, and you live in a world of grey, where you accept that everything changes and almost nothing is as it seems, including "ME", you're back to square one. Always. When I was little, I was all about Cinnamon Toast Crunch. Then in high school it was Honey Bunches of Oats. Lately, I've been pretty into the Kashi Go Lean Crunch. But it won't last. In another couple months I'll find something new, and I'll probably tell Kashi to fuck off for awhile. Maybe for years. Maybe forever.
Or maybe not.

I'm OK with not knowing ME. Whenever I've tried to get a firm handle on "who I am", by the time I think I've figured it out I've already changed again. So... Fuck it. I'll be whoever I want to be, on any given day. My only focus is that who I'm being is GOOD. Meaning:
Not causing harm to self or others.
Not being destructive.
Appreciating what I have.
Making something better.

It doesn't make anything easier to accept this grey-way of life. But it makes things more fair. I'd rather be fair and admit that I don't know for sure than assume that I'm right all the time and limit myself as well as others on the path to understanding.
When you ASSUME, you make an ASS of U and ME. haha. Seriously though.
No one appreciates you seeing the tip of the iceberg once and then pretending you've been studying it for years.
When I was around 9 or 10 years old my dad used to say, "You're so open-minded that your brains are falling out of your head". I havn't noticed a trail of grey matter yet, but I have to concur that my degree of open-mindedness sets me apart from most people I know.

I can see every side to every story. I can take a step back from my emotions and opinions, and understand objectively why a person would do something seemingly crazy, or unusual, maybe even a little "sick". Aside from murderers, rapists, chi-mo's, etc., I can usually find a way to understand why a person is the way they are, and therefore cannot judge them for it, because they are just humans like me.

To pass judgement is to say "I know for a fact that I am smarter, faster, more capable, or otherwise BETTER than YOU". And even if you instinctively feel that way about someone, it doesn't make you RIGHT. You have extremely limited information that has formed your opinion about another individual. You don't know what it's like to be that person.
You don't know how their parents felt about them when they were born, or how much money they had.
You don't know how kids treated this person in school. You don't know if this person was just always the "duck, duck, duck", or if they were chosen to be "goose" frequently enough to feel important.
You don't know if this person had trouble reading, or whether they were an active member of their ASB, or if they were a drug addict for awhile, or if they lost their best friend.
You don't know if all their lives they felt loved, or if they've spent all their time on this earth feeling hated and misunderstood by all other human beings.

The point is, you don't know the events that have taken place to create this person in front of you. All you are able to see is the result. And judging that result by your own standard is a natural human instinct; but BELIEVING, and VOICING that judgement as if YOU KNOW YOU'RE RIGHT, is ignorant, counter-productive, and probably the exact reason that this person became this result you so disapprove of.

Maybe instead of saying "I HATE", try adopting "I DON'T UNDERSTAND".

Then try to understand.

Instead of declaring "THAT'S WRONG", maybe drop it down to "I WOULDN'T MAKE THAT CHOICE".

That's fine. You don't have to.

Having a wide array of options, ideas, people, places, and things in your life may very well cause uprises anxiety and depression. I guess I'll be looking forward to early wrinkles, grey hairs, and extra tears, because I'd prefer premature ageing tied to a neverending emotional struggle rather than putting limitations on what I can learn and experience in this one life I get, just because I wanted to pretend I already knew everything. I'd rather spend my life knowing that I gave every cereal a chance than spend it eating cornflakes and telling myself and everyone else that it's clearly best choice, and if you don't choose cornflakes you're a moron.

If ignorance is bliss, I'd rather be miserable.






*There may have been a few others, I only did about 5 minutes of research on that. But you get the point.
**This post was a draft for awhile. I cut it yesterday. I like it. I look like Shirley Temple.

Cream colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

I woke up in a good mood for no reason today. And so far, it's stayed. Isn't that nice?

Ya know, 'cause sometimes you wake up in a good mood for no reason and then you realize that your tank is on empty and you have to hit up the gas station, which is going to make you late for work, and in your frantic rush you spill the stupid drip coffee in your mug down your shirt so you look all dissheveled when you have to pay for your gas inside (because your account is overdrafted and you can't just use your debit card), and the clerk gives you a look like you're pathetic with your coffee stained shirt while you hand him a couple bills and a few pounds of change, and motherfucker acts like you just handed him Monopoly money or something, and you're all like "WHAT?!? Don't even start with me... *glances at nametag*... 'Ted'!! Count it up quick, I got places to BE!!" And then your mom calls you and feigns innocence while asking you all these questions about what you're up to like she's just curious because she loves you, but really she just wants to break down and analyze your daily activities and throw them back at you in an attempt to prove that you're wasting your life and you'll be sorry later that you didn't listen to your mother because she knows whats best for you better than you do. You're so irresponsible. And as you drive away from that asshole Ted, and struggle to find a fucking cigarrette butt in your ashtray that isn't COMPLETELY smoked, you say to the universe, "Hey, thanks for the 3 minutes of happiness before the shitstorm, fucker!"

But today isn't one of those days. Today I woke up early after only 4 hours of sleep, but I was feeling somehow refreshed. And confident. And graceful.

So I checked my bank account, and I got my direct deposit 2 days early, and it was more than I thought I was getting this paycheck. Sweet.

I looked out the window and saw the sun was shining and the birds were chirping at me, and as a little robin flew over and landed on my hand I did my best Snow White falsetto birdsong imitation, "ah ha ha ha haaaaaaaa"!

So got dressed and ready pretty quickly, giving myself time to grab some gas, and paid with my CARD. Like a grown-up. heh heh.

I drove smoothly down I-5 while rocking out to Dave Matthews all the way to work.

I grabbed my bi-weekly triple-grande-soy-white-mocha-no-whip-please payday treat from the pretty and friendly barista in the little hut by the gas station near my brother's house. I don't care which way you swing, a pretty and friendly girl always gives your day that extra sparkle.

Then I got to work at my brother's, parked my car, and burst out into the parking lot singing "Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens, bright copper kettles and warm wooly mittens!!" And then all the elderly people who live in my brother's condo community came out of their quaint little kitchens and gardens into the street, walkers and oxygen tanks in hands, and started singing and dancing with me Dick Van Dyke style... "Brown paper packages tied up with strings, these are a few of my favorite things!"

Then, before I went into my brother's house, I decided to just pose and smile for the paparazzi for a few because, hell, they're just doing their job, right?

Then I blew everyone a kiss and entered my brother's house as they all scurried back into their respective condos/hiding places in the bushes and began my work routine. With gusto.

True story.

This is me today.

Me: You're an idiot. Me: I am not! You just don't understand me... Me: *sigh* I'm the only one who makes any sense around here.

I've been keeping journals since I was about 13. They're not necessarily like "diaries", I don't commit to writing in them every day or anything, and I don't just record what I've been up to. But I've found that writing helps me sort out and separate my thoughts and emotions. It's totally un-structured, sometimes rambling, weird little tidbits here and there that I try to match up with eachother to get legitimate thoughts out of my scrambled brain and onto linear, organized paper. Sometimes I use it to whine about things that are bumming me out or pissing me off or confusing me. Sometimes I use it to remind myself of things I should keep in mind when making important decisions or handling delicate matters. Like song lyrics...(journal entries in red)

"Do yourself a favor, become your own savior" - Daniel Johnston "It's in the hiding place she finds in preparation for the storm, and in the way she prays for hell, so at least she can be warm" - Jared Mees
or to-do lists that will surely lead to my eternal unwavering happiness,
Steps to not being so miserable:

Step 1. Learn to cook. It's a two-fer, because you'll eat healthier AND be proud of yourself for aquiring a domestic quality.

Step 2. Talk it out with Ivy, Icarus, or Earl. They love you as much as you love them (for suresies) and they always agree/sympathize/got your back.

Ivy Mae Icarus, a.k.a "Sticky Icky"
EARL THE MONSTER!!!....who smiles for pictures :)

As you can see, my journal is not a place which restricts irrational thinking. But it IS a place to grasp for straws to make myself feel happier or more balanced, or to vent or record ideas. Which is good enough for me. Plus, no one ever gets to read them; sometimes not even me. I just write it out, read it over, get what I get out of it, and move on. Sometimes I give myself some pretty good ideas this way, or resolve some negative feelings, or (most of the time) ramble on about what's going on in my head until I'm sick of writing about it, and therefore sick of thinking about it. Every now and then though, I do read back over what I thought about things a couple years ago, or last summer, or last Tuesday. While doing this, I've noticed a very strange pattern in communication with myself...

It's like there's been something hiding in my journal all along, that even I didn't know about. And the author of a journal is supposed to know about EVERYTHING that's going on in there, right? That's what I thought. Until I discovered....

*deep breath*

.

.

.

I have journal split personalities.

And I never noticed WHILE writing them.

Creepy?

Yes. Creepy indeed.

I have realistic, brutally honest, abrasive me, who talks like,

"You knew in the beginning where this would lead you, and now you're acting all surprized?"

and, "If you could just start paying attention to all the bullshit that comes out of your mouth, maybe you wouldn't make yourself look like such a goddamn fool all the time. Ever think of that?"

and, "Fuck you, you stupid fucking fucker."

I know. Harsh, right? What a bitch.

And it's all directed at bummed out, confused, but more eloquent me, who talks like,

"Is it better for me to have the experience and learn from it, even if the result could be horrifying?"

and, "Maybe I should just stop trying, that way at least whatever happens won't be my fault, which makes it not so bad"

and, "I wish sometimes that the immediate positive effects of a situation didn't make me blind to the should-be-obvious consequenses later..."

I know. Pathetic, right? Poor sad emo kid.

THE POINT: Notice the difference in how I address myself?

When I'm being mean to me, I yell at myself like I was someone else, and I'm all sarcastic and nasty.

When I'm defending/explaining/whining/making excuses for myself, I refer to myself in the first person. And I almost never swear.

But wait.

It gets creepier.

I have actual conversations with MYSELF as TWO PEOPLE.

For example:

"You just need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get your lazy ass in gear to do the things you know you need to do. No one cares about all this bullshit you're worried about, and neither should you. I mean, it's not like I can't see how I got here, and how to get away from here, but when I'm confused and uncomfortable with everything, it's so difficult to be right in the middle of it and try to make a move. But if you weren't so busy sitting around being a crybaby all day, maybe you'd have time to take care of all the things that are upsetting you in the first place, one by one, and the situation wouldn't seem as difficult and huge as you're making it in your batshit crazy head. I try to be positive, and I know this is just another chapter that is bound to end, but I'm torn between riding it out and waiting for it to solve itself or taking action and risking making things worse. And it's like come on, are you really so stupid you don't even realize you're digging yourself a hole, and so pathetic that you're crying because you're holding a shovel and your clothes are all dirty?"

See how smooth the transitions between my selves are? I guess because I always just spew out whatever comes to mind without any filter I never noticed whether I was refering to myself as "I" or "you" while I was writing it.

I know what you're thinking.

"This bitch has serious mental health issues that should be addressed promptly."

And I am not offended by your thought, because I thought the very same thing. Because it gets even worse. Beacuse ACTUAL me kind of hates both of those other me's.

They're like the extreme polar opposites of my personality having a neverending slap-fight over who has better ideas.

They're like Daria vs. Eeyore.

They're like that hipster fucker at the used record store and the timid girl who never looks you in the eyes at the vintage clothing store.

They're like moods I get into, but fully represented as personalities.

I like the actual everyday me much better. The actual me is realistic, but cuts me some slack, too. Not overly negative, not too sappy. But for some reason, actual me doesn't play a big part in my journal. Actual me hangs out in my head. The me in my head is like,

"Chill out, girl. Everythings gonna be OK. Go for a walk, get some coffee, listen to your ipod, and people watch for awhile."

Now that is helpful advice. That makes me feel better. There's nothing INSANE about that.

But wait.

Does that make three of me, total?

Yes it does.

Crazy people can do simple math, too.

I Don't Just Love My Family. I'm IN LOVE With My Family. Take That However You Want.

It always makes me really happy to see people I love making positive changes and acheiving goals in their lives. So since I don't indulge in cheese anymore, and it's pretty much the only thing I miss as a vegan, I'm gonna have to get my metaphorical fix through this blog. HEY FAMILY! I LOVE YOU AND I'M VERY PROUD OF YOUR ACCOMPLISHMENTS! mmmmm, that smelled like smoked mozzerella....

My oldest brother David has just graduated from college with his AAS in building trades. He's 31, and since moving to Montana a few years ago, he has really picked up the pieces he'd been dropping for a long time.

Growing up, David was my hero. He never treated me like I was 8 1/2 years younger than him. When I was going through my akward/insecure/ugly duckling phases throughout my adolescence, David was my confidence booster. He always told me that I was smart and beautiful, he always took me to hang out with him and all his friends (which kind of made me everyone's little sister), and he made me feel cool by letting me drink beer and smoke a little weed here and there. Only as long as I maintained a B average, though. The responsible way to be an irresponsible older sibling ;). He always got me little gifts here and there just because, and he threatened to beat the living shit out of me if I ever repeated any of the mistakes he made. He was my therapist, my confidante, and my best friend when I felt like I had no one.

The point is, he was always so much better to me than he was to himself. Once I started getting older and finding my own way, I became broken hearted at the fact that I couldn't help him in the ways he had helped me. He had to do it on his own, for himself. I was terrified that he maybe never would, and even more afraid that if he didn't dig himself out of the hole he'd created I might lose my best friend forever.

But against all odds, he did it. It's so amazing, and inspiring. It's such a relief, and at the same time so exciting. I'm so happy for my big bro, and I can't wait for him to come back home now so we can hang out as adults with clean slates. It's gonna be a whole new chapter.

I'M SO PROUD OF YOU DAVID!!

Sometimes he's got a grill, and he shows off his true OG nature...

Sometimes he looks like Jesus. If Jesus was a cop. A scary Jesus cop.


It's good to have older brothers to look up to.

My little brother Jesse is graduating from high school in a couple weeks. He's 19 (yeah, he's a super senior. Go ahead, say something. *nonchalantly opens and closes switchblade* Didn't think so) and he's finally got his ass in gear and stopped the party train (or slowed it down a bit), got a full-time job, did his homework, and now he's getting his diploma. Not that he's ever been a slacker by any means, he's just always applied himself to physical accomplishments in the past.

He's been participating in rodeo competitions since he was like 5, started out riding sheep and went on to take the bull riding state championship TWICE. I hate rodeo's, and I don't support any kind of exploitation of animals, but I still rock Jesse's state championship belt buckle. It's like a giant silvery-gold pizza with jewels and a cowboy riding a bull on it, and I wear it with pride. I'll do lots of weird things to show my love for my brother, including embracing a little hypocrisy.

He was also captain of his high school's wrestling team for two years, mainly because he wanted to learn how to keep me from kicking his ass I think. When we were kids, I was always trying to *murder him* help him build character, which I think really helped toughen him up for his rodeo accomplishments. So if he ever gets any money out of that, I think it's fair that I claim 10%. Just sayin'. But once he got into wrestling and learning all these fancy moves I suddenly didn't stand a chance. I had a very "knock-you-down-and-sit-on-you" approach to fighting with Jesse, but then he developed a "tie-you-up-in-a-knot-with-your-face-to-the-ground-before-you-know-what-hit-you" technique that I just couldn't compete with anymore. Touche, little bro. Touche.

So Jesse's always been a motivated little guy, just usually in ways that cause himself or others pain and humiliation in a quest for belt buckles and trophies. So it's great to see him getting all balls-to-the-wall about his education. CONGRATULATIONS JESSE!!!

So proud of my badass little bro. Shut up, conscience! I'M PROUD!

It's always been plain to see that he was capable of acheiving greatness.

:)

A few other congrats:

Gramma: You finally got your new hip. You've been brave and strong and stepped out of your comfort zone, and I'm so happy you got it all done and overwith. We are gonna have a great summer :)

cousin Ashley: You're graduating college. You kick ass in life. You are such a dedicated over-acheiver go-getter strong woman, you have to teach me these skills. In exchange, I will teach you to crochet. Deal? ;)

cousin Lara: You finished your first year of grad school. You're an awesome and inspiring independent woman. You're not afraid to move around or follow your dreams or make a positive mark in the world. You don't get held back or held down, and you do whatever you want, whenever you want, and you don't apologize to tradition for kicking it in the balls. Plus you're all down-to-earth and funny and fun to hang out with. I totally look up to you. I don't know if you knew that, but I do.
I was like "aw, bummer. I don't have any pic's of me and Lara" but then I found this one of her and the cutest little old lady ever, so I'm satisfied.

Making the Best of What's Around

*BURSTS INTO ROOM OUT OF BREATH*

Fucking A! Moving is a bitch, no matter how much help you have. I'm usually a very easy-going, low stress, no complaints kind of girl, but packing everything I own up in 2 days, scrubbing a whole house clean Cinderella-style, and moving into new apartment that is nowhere near done being remodeled (never sign a lease and fork over $1000 a month in advance if theres no floor, no stove, no kitchen counters, no running water -no sinks/toilet/shower/washer/dryer/etc.- and only a pinky-promise that the only things left to work on by your move-in date will be light fixtures. Unless you like feeling like a naive dumb bitch who wishes she hadn't gotten a case of the giggles in such a seemingly important situation, that is) has turned me into a stressed-out bitch monster lately. Even Melissa commented that she'd never seen me like this before, and offered to buy me a coffee, or a cookie, or anything that might make me feel better. But Melissa doesn't know any Ketamine dealers, so it was a no-go.

So we (Melissa and I) moved in and had everything we owned piled into a mountain in the living room because that was the only area in the house not still under construction. We were told it would be all finished up in a few days, and the landlord took a week off of our rent for this month. So I was kind of OK with that. Only because I've been so broke that the extra week of rent was a somewhat pleasant exchange for having to walk to the QFC at the end of the block to use the toilet or wash my face. And it's kinda nice to hit up a happy hour in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday because it's not like you can really unpack yet anyway... haha.

Plus, it's all just a silly experience in young independent female life, right? Like when someone comes in to the QFC bathroom to use the toilet, and Melissa and I are chatting away with noxzema all over our faces, and as soon as we hear that someone start to pee we cant help but get all quiet, and when that someone wont stop peeing, and the stream is just going on FOREVER, and then we think it's stopping, but NOPE! this lady's been holding it for awhile, she keeps stopping and going a little more...

stopping...

going...

stop.

trickle...

stop.

streeeeaaaaaammmmm.....

stop.

trickle...

and the look on Melissa's face is so damn funny I'm trying my hardest to not be the immature freak who laughs out loud at the sound of URINE in a PUBLIC RESTROOM. But Melissa's facial expressions are so dramatic, and this lady can definitely hear my irregular gasps of air from my attempted muffled laughter and I can practically hear her thinking "Oh, fuck this white-creamed face pajama clad redheaded transient looking whore! I HAD TO PEE!!"

But I did the best I could. I mean, put yourself in my shoes. What would you do in this situation if your best friend was looking at the stall and then back at you with this look on their face?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

So when the woman came out of the stall giving me this look,

I did my best to seem apologetic while trying to wipe my smile and tears off of my cream covered face.

Ah, see? Memories in the making. I can now be glass-half-full about this whole remodeling fiasco.

I love living with Melissa. Maybe too much. Sometimes my mom or other friends and especially new friends seem to be a little confused by our bond. The best way I've found to describe our friendship is "just like a relationship, but the best relationship ever-minus the sex." We get the lesbian jokes all the time, but we've learned to chalk almost every one of those quips up to either jealousy or fantasy, or just a lame un-original sense of humor on the joker's part. So who's laughing now, funny man? Your ass kicking butch bitch friends, THAT'S who! And you'd better wipe that silly assed grin off your face before Melissa busts out her gat and does it FOR you!

Yeah, you wouldn't think Melissa's packin', but she is. Always. Actually, I had to drop Melissa off at the airport yesterday because she's taking a week-long vacation in Hawaii with her friend Eunice (see? If she was my girlfriend I probably wouldn't let her go on a romantic vacation with some other woman. Plus, I mean, Eunice is 85, so if she WERE to cheat I doubt it would be with an older woman like that. Not that I've ever thought about this... ahem... anywho....). I had been stressing out over this vacation more than I thought I would over the last couple days, just because it's lonely at home without your house-mate, and because Melissa takes on such a motherly role in our duo, I suddenly felt... I dunno... Not abandoned... or scared, necessarily... but like... a rolling stone? Yeah. On my own, like a rolling stone. Thanks, Bob.

It's just that Melissa makes life so easy for me in all those motherly ways. She helps me make all my decisions, like what I'm wearing, and what I should have for lunch. Plus she always plans all this fun stuff for us to do so I'm never bored, and... Ya know. Offers to get me coffee and a cookie when I'm freaking out a little.

She keeps me from smoking and drinking too much, wakes me up early for morning walks, tells me when I look pretty and when she's proud of me. She makes a fool of anyone who treats me badly, 9 times out of 10 she agrees to be the designated driver, and she gets me a nice card and hot cocoa when I'm sad. She tells me that I'm great and that no guy deserves me, tells me I'm talented and amazing at everything I try, and when I turn all crazy/anxious/depressed Kristina, she explains to me exactly how and why everything is gonna be OK, in a way that makes me believe her.

She's the BEST best friend EVER!

I'm sure you can see how I've gotten so attatched to all these comforts she provides. Because while other people have to deal with their lives going through a living hell sometimes, my Melissa makes sure my life is a living HEAVEN at all times. It's a little sick and cliche, but it's also very true.

So as I was driving away from the airport yesterday, I was getting all choked up about her being gone. It's not even the time apart, it's that she's so far away! For some reason I feel like the further the distance between us the more likely something terrible will happen to one of us. This isn't a rational belief, just another crazy bullshit feeling. It's not like I'm really afraid of being bored or lonely, I've already jam-packed the week with plans to prevent that from happening. But as I was driving, I kept thinking "What'll I do if ____ happens, and Melissa isn't there to help me?" But then the worst I could come up with was if I cut myself cooking or sewing and I couldn't quite get the band-aid on right.

Melissa always gets the band-aid on right.

She washes the cut, puts neosporin on, puts the band-aid on straight, and tells me not to touch it or get it dirty. Then she checks on it later on in the day to see how it's healing, or if I need a new neosporin filled band-aid. Before Melissa, I would always just stick my bloody finger in my mouth and let it heal on its own, no band-aid or nothin'. I'd never used neosporin in my life. But now that I've been spoiled for so long, I can't just neosporin myself!!

But then I said "Dammit Kristina, pull yourself together! You made it the first 15 years of your life without Melissa, and you can make it one week without her now!"

So I'm feeling good about it. I'm glad she gets to go have fun in the sun with Eunie, and I'm just gonna embrace being my own best friend for the week. It's actually kind of nice to be forced to appreciate all that someone does for you. Now that she's gone, I'm not so stressed and worried about all the ridiculous shit that could possibly go wrong. I just miss her, that's all. Yeah, I said I dropped her off yesterday, what of it? I miss her!! Fuck you..... :)

"It's not having what you want, it's wanting what you've got"