yum.

I just ate approximately 6 otter pops in a row. orange, green, purple, blue, two reds. My mouth has no idea what color it should be. But is was DELICIOUS!

my love for otter pops is real and deep and true...

let's watch the rain

have you ever had one of those perfect conversation moments? The kind where it feel like you have left the real world and you exist to be just the two of you and you could say whatever you wanted and ask whatever question came into your head and you you would be completely honest and completely real and the person you were with was feeling the exact same way and you could both be completely who you were and let each other in to the secret places you don't let most people in that moment. and it is wonderful.

and then something happens. it gets too cold, or someone else walks in, or the restaurant closes, or....something gets in the way. and then you know that the moment is over and even if you keep talking and hanging out that magical space you existed in before is gone and you can't have it back tonight. and all you want in the world is to get it back because it made you feel like a whole, interesting, valuable person. but the time has passed.

I love those conversations. even despite the sinking feeling when they end. I am just glad they happen.

you are killin me, smalls...

You: hello beautiful.

Me: ...did i wake you up?

You: well, yes you did

Me: i'm sorry

You: its ok. I miss you.

Me: I really miss you too.

You: the next time i see you i am going to kiss you.

Me: no you're not

You: yes I am.

Me: no. you're not....you won't see me till Christmas.

You: yes I am. Would you be angry?

Me: would i be angry if you kissed me?

You: yeah.

Me: it doesn't matter what i'd be. you aren't going to.

You: ok. well you just think about it.

Me: alright. i will.

You: goodnight

Me: goodnight.

none for me, thanks

I don't want it. any of it.

to the best day...

My birthday was on October 7. And if you read my blog from a couple days ago you will know i was feeling like it wasn't important, but my view was radically changed. More people wished me happy birthday and did wonderful things than i ever expected. I felt truly appreciated and loved and i don't how another birthday will top it. it was wonderful and i am so thankful to everyone who was a part of it.

Better than fiction

I am in a fiction class this semester. I find it thoroughly entertaining and interesting, but i am having some trouble. I am a horrible fiction writer. And now i know for certain.

I just find myself liking to write the silly musings i write here on this blog far better. I feel like they are so much more truthful and sometimes i feel like they just write themselves. Perhaps it is just my selfish humanity that is much preferring to write about myself than anyone else, fiction or otherwise. This life is just so much more thrilling to me.

And there is one more problem i have noticed, all my stories are far too happy. I think my optimistic views about life creep in far too much and make every story sound like a stupid cliche. the thing is is that i still somehow believe in some kind of happy ending and that is the death of my fiction career. I can't make up situations about the way things actually are in life because i figure, "hey, while i am making stuff up, i might as well make it the way i think things should/or could be".

Damn.

SSSSSSSSSSSSsssssssssssssss........

There is a distinct noise a balloon makes when it deflates. If you close your eyes you can hear it. It is a soft hissing noise and if you think about it it can make your stomach feel like it is caving in. I feel a little like that. like everyday a little more of my air is escaping.

Sign creeper talked to me again tonight. I don't know why he keeps on trying. I have turned him down every single time, but everytime i feel a little worse about it. But I am not a nice person and the reason i feel worse everytime has very little to do with the fact that i might actually be hurting his feelings and more with the worry that now he is going to think i am truly a jerk and he will never try to talk to me again. Of course, i don't particularly enjoy it when he talks to me. I call him sign creeper for a reason. he makes me uncomfortable. i never miss our conversation, but it would be a lie to say there was not a part of me that feels good about the fact that time after time he has decided it is worth me rejecting him to ask me, one more time, if i want to be friends. It feels nice to be wanted. even just a little. even by sign creeper.

Of course, i have been completely honest. I have not led him on or misled him, because i think that is a horrible thing to do to a person. I shoot him down every time, and fairly bluntly. But once the conversation is over i wonder if that was finally the last time the little chatbox with his name on it will pop up on my facebook page. And i think how relieved i will be. And i also think about how somewhere deep down i hope it is not the last time. I wish for another chance to turn him down because that would mean i am still worth it. Pretty soon i wont be worth it anymore. I think he is finally getting the message, much to my delight and regret.

I am so ready to be wanted.

no one is ready to want me.

As anyone who is romantically lonely knows, your lonliness comes in waves, in seasons. There are times when you hardly notice the small empty place in your mind and heart, and then there are times when that small empty place feels like it is threatening to unhinge its mouth and swallow you whole. Sometimes it feels like the waves might just drag you out to sea. Right now i feel like i am trying to hang on to my life boat. But soon the storm will pass. the season will change. It won't be the day before my 22nd birthday and i won't be thinking about the fact that in 22 years the most men i have managed to interest is one sign creeper.

it will be a new day, and i will appreciate the new chill in the air and i will let it fill my bones and shock my senses and i will feel better and i will tie my life boat up on the shore again and i will wrap myself in a warm sweater and a scarf i made myself and i will enjoy my favorite season: the fall.

another day down.

It's my birthday tomorrow. I will be 22.

It's funny, because usually i love birthdays. I think they are fantastic and special and they should matter. I think people should make a big deal out of them and they should celebrate that their friends or family are there with them. And I should care about my friends birthdays and be glad they are in my life. Be glad they were born on this day however many years ago. You should feel important and wanted and cared about on your birthday. I love birthdays.

This year, however, my birthday is on a wednesday. Wednesdays in my life this semester are remarkably exhausting and flustering. and i am sadly beginning to realize, that for most people your birthday is just another day. it is something to write on your facebook wall and then forget about. No one else really cares about your birthday, and that is sad to me... my birthday is just another wednesday. But it is not to me. It is my birthday. I have now survived or squandered, or gifted, or lived twenty two years. And I will celebrate with me. despite the fact that it is wednesday

and i will remember to celebrate with you on your birthday, because if i know when your birthday is that means i am probably pretty glad you are here with me.