I just realized that I never wrote about seeing Collective Soul & getting backstage at the Regatta on last Friday & meeting Shinedown & Eight Days Gone. Hmmm...that was a fun night. I'll get to it here in the next few days. Maybe.

A Night on Fleet Street

Last night I arrived in Baltimore at about 8 PM. Rose & I went down to chow down on some mexican cuisine at Don Pablo's. After gorging & having a 30 minute conversation with our hot, young waiter, Jim, about his career aspirations & why he should visit West Virginia, we sauntered down the street to check out the night life on "The Avenue". The one bar Rose had in mind was called Bayou Blues Cafe. We walked up to the door & peered through the glass to find a very large woman in a red t-shirt shaking her groove thang more rapidly than I would have thought possible for a woman of her size. Hell...I'm not that...um...voluptuous and I can't fucking move that fast!!!! Rose said I just stopped on the sidewalk and starred at her slack-jawed. Yeah. I decided that we didn't need to go there.

So then she drove me down to Fleet Street/Broadway area, which is one of the many happening party areas in Baltimore. It was a block of pubs, clubs, eateries, & charming little shops situated right along the Bay. After walking around to scout out live music, being approached by more than a few inebriated males, & avoiding a couple of piles of puke on the cobblestone streets, we decided on a little pub called The Horse You Rode In On. There was a live band, a cover band, but live music nonetheless. I enjoyed a couple of New Castle's, courtesy of my sis, chatted with the bassist, & then Rose & I left to walk down one of the piers.

It was absolutely beautiful out there last night. The lights were reflecting on the water & a constant breeze was blowing in from the Bay. The sounds of the bars & of people laughing & talking flittered down & mixed with the wind & the lapping of the water. It was perfect. Another one of those moments where I found myself thinking, "This is so magical. If I were experiencing this with a guy I would fall in love with him due to the time & place." It felt right being there.

How to be a Catholic in two easy steps...

I went to my first Roman Catholic mass with Rose this morning. The service was more ceremonial than the Pentecostal services that I grew up with, however it was more modern than the Greek Orthodox services I attended for a short time while in Huntington. Having attended the Orthodox masses in the past, I understood much of what was going on & much of the symbolism involved in the actions & church design. One thing I had never experienced or seen before was the holy water at the door, with which everyone dips their fingers in and then crosses themselves as the enter or exit the sanctuary. The other new & interesting thing was the kneeling & standing. Kneeling bench down, kneel, say some stuff, kneeling bench up, stand, say some more stuff, kneeling bench down, kneel, say some stuff, & so on & so forth. I believe that the first two steps to being Catholic are 1) Kneeling & 2) Standing. If you can kneel & stand, the Catholicism is for you, my friend!!!

Seriously, I don't mean to belittle the Catholic religion in any way. I actually enjoyed the service this morning & the ceremony of it all. I found myself wishing that it were more formal, like the Orthodox services I had previously attended. I could see myself attending mass once a week...and then maybe a meditation circle once a week as well. Why not? Might as well cover all of the bases, right? After mass, I wanted to explore the cemetary behind St. Joseph's & so we walked around for a bit back there, reading the names & dates on the tombstones.

170 miles in a Mercedes

After the cemetary, we set out to find the Good Shephard Center, where I will be interviewing for a counseling position tomorrow. We followed the directions given to me by the HR person from the Center...and ended up driving around & around for hours!!! Tired, frustrated, & starving, we finally started calling people, hoping to find someone to look up directions online. My beloved Chris Jarrett was home & kind enough to look on MapQuest for us. (God bless you, Mr. J! I love you!!!) It turned out that a very crucial step in the directions was left out by the HR lady involving a split in the road. (Insert explative directed at HR lady here.) So after almost three trips around Baltimore or 170 miles or 4 hours later, we finally found the fucking thing!!!! Also, I know how to get to Fleet Street, the Inner Harbour, & my sister's house all by myself...so I suppose there was an upside to all of this circular driving. Now I only hope that I'll be able to manage the traffic on the Beltway in the morning!

Dinner at the Harbour

After finding our Questing Beast, we then headed down to the Inner Harbour for some grub. Parking & walking happened & then we found ourselves grubbing down on some meiocre americanized asian food on the outdoor patio at one of the malls there. Dinner was filling & relaxing, as we had a lovely view of the water, the "pirate" ship, & all of the activity going on in that area. The sun set as we ate our rice, noodles, & sesame chicken (packed with MSG) & enjoyed that beautiful & constant breeze of which I am growing very fond. I took a few pictures of the Harbour area, which are posted above.

Casper Meets Wendy, the Red-Headed Slut

On our way home Rose called her friend Jim & we convinced him, after much coercing & gnashing of teeth, to come over for some chips, salsa, & conversation. He initially didn't want to meet me for fear of what I would end up writing about him on here. =) Of course, I don't know if that's true or something he said to be clever. At any rate, it was terribly amusing. Rose tried to get me to write about him under the code name of Casper...but I don't do code names.

He hung out for a couple of hours, indulging in chips & salsa, while conversing about the presidential candidates, the events of the weekend, music, his band, Rose's Mr. Wonderful - Mr. Bill, Megan, my interview, Rose's sperm allergy, night terrors, out of body experiences, shadow people, demons, aliens, & the Blue Guy that haunts his thoughts & fills him with terrors of night terrors. =)

Jim strikes me as a very intelligent, witty, & trustworthy guy. In short, I liked him. I'm glad that my sister has made such a friend & if I move to the Baltimore area, I would request the pleasure of his company on a regular basis. Every word, explicit & hardcore truth, my friend. I promise. =)

Wish me Luck!!!!

Now I must to bed, for I have yon interview forthwith on the morrow! I wonder what will happen?! I'm a bit nervous...but not. I'm interviewing them as well tomorrow, deciding if it's a place that I want to work. I think I'm more nervous about having to decide if I want to move here or if I want to stay at home. It will be such a tough decision. Or perhaps not. Fate will point me in the direction I need to go. She has thus far.

Oh man. What a night. I'm so fucking lucky I'm not hung over right now. =)

Crystal, my new friend Eric Parsons, & I went out to the Empty Glass last night to hear Noizbox. We got there just as they were finishing up their last song. I was so disappointed! I saw Roadblock, the bassist for Noizbox, after the show & he finally gave me the Noizbox CD that I've been coveting for 2 weeks now. He advised me to stick around to see the next band, FreekBass. (That's bass as in "base", not like the fish.)

So Crystal, Eric, & I played a 30 minute game of 1913 while waiting for the music to start. Plus I wanted to get a little fucked up because we were celebrating my Birthday!!! (Yay me! I'm alive! Look at me! Wooooo!) For those of you that have never played 1913, let me fill you in. It's not a hard game really. I'm not even sure it's a game. It's just something that me, Ben, his old neighbor Beth, & her friend Rachel all thought up one night while he was living in that cinderblock joke of an apartment at 1913 6th Ave. back in 1998. =) The same apartment in which Eric Hoffman had mold growing on his bedroom wall and opted to "let if thrive". Nasty, nasty. Oh, them were the days, folks!

Anyway, in 1913 a person has to toast to something and you all take a drink and then the toast passes to the next person, and the next, and the next, and so on. You keep going & going & going. But if a person hesitates to toast to anything, he/she has to finish her entire drink right then and there while everyone else gets a little break from drinking. =) Last night we went with the 3 drink rule if you fuck up the flow of toasting. We didn't want anyone getting too hurt. =)

We got good and toasty (Pun oh so intended) and then went up front to enjoy the funka-delic grooves of FreekBass (Like "base", not the fish.) They were awesome! You guys need to check out the link I posted up above. =) They play in Columbus next month boys...maybe we could go see 'em? If I'm not in Baltimore that is.

I'm about to leave to go up to Baltimore...all my shit's packed and I just thought I'd write this first. I have my job interview Monday. I don't know if I want to get the job or not. If I do then that means I have to make one fucking hard decision. Eeeeeek!

Anyway, back to last night, I saw Rob at the Glass, so that mystery is solved. He was there with his girlfriend. I tapped him on the shoulder and said, "You are a complete ass. You don't tell a girl you'll 'definitely call' and then not call, at least to let her know what's up. " His answer was that he didn't have a phone. Which he doesn't and his mom's was disconnected last week. Hmmm...well...fuck it. I'm just glad that I didn't get that emotionally invested in the situation.

Alrighty. Well that's that. Wish me luck...maybe. I don't know what I bloody fucking want! More money, that's for sure. And I'm tired of living alone. I need a roomie to keep me from going nucking futz! =) Of course, when I had roomies, with the exception of Ken, they all drove me nucking futz! =)

Meeeeeeeep!

We gonna party like it's your Birthday!

Well, not really. You know...as you get older birthdays really do get to be less & less of a big deal. I'm 26 today. Am I happy with where my life is right now? Well...I'm doing better than I was last year. I'm not dating Steve. =) (You know your my boy, Stevie! That's just revenge for that comment yesterday!)

Yeah, I'm cool with my life. I'm poor, but I've always been poor. I'm working in a field in which I get to help people. I'm slightly overweight, but that will change as soon as I actually do something about it. I have great tits, a big, goofy smile, & a fun personality...(maybe). I had a wonderful job interview at SSA DDS on Tuesday, a good phone interview with the Good Shepherd Center in Baltimore, MD on Tuesday, & I have an face-to-face interview with the Good Shepherd Center on Monday the 13th. I could possibly be making $28, 000 in Baltimore.

So now I'm going to spend my evening with my neighbors, Matt & Scott, watching Fight Club, eating pizza, & drinking beer. Fuck your khakis!! Fuck Martha Stewart!! Wooo!!!

Here's to me & being 26! May my breasts always be as beautiful as they are today, may I never lose my sense of humor, may I never give up hope, may I always be able to live in the moment, may I never fear death!

Wow. What an eventful weekend. God, I'm so fucking tired!!!! And honestly I should be going to bed. Yeah, well, I'll rest when I'm dead.

De chucha de tu madre

Happy 25th Birthday, to Terri Nichole Blankenship! Thank you, Nikki, for being who you are. I love you and I'm so glad that you're back in my life. If you ever try to disappear on me again, I'll beat the fuck out of you. =) You know what they say...best friends are like toilets...they take a lot of shit and you can't go long without one! =)

Miss September

Speaking of birthdays, mine is tomorrow! Isn't it so fucking exciting? I've got a great day planned! I'm going to go to work, work too many hours, and then come home and drool all over my pillow! Huzzah! =)

Yeah...just another day. You know what I wish? I wish that I knew what day I was going to die on, but not the year. Just imagine how relieved you'd be when you lived through that day every year. Now that would give you cause to celebrate. =)

A Copper Moment or Does this make me a Groupie?

Now...on to chronicling the events of the weekend past. I'll start with Thursday, because that's when my party technically started.

Thursday I went to the Regatta with Crystal to hear Copper and Crossfade. I've had the pleasure of seeing Copper three times now & I enjoy them more & more every time. =) In spite of the fact that the lead guitarist experienced some technical difficulty, they put on a wonderful show.

Keith Wallen, the lead singer and miniature John Bon Jovi look-alike, has an excellent voice...strong & clear and brimming with feeling. He's also a very charismatic front man, displaying emotion on his face while belting out each tune & making eye contact with the audience members. I'm not sure if he is aware or not, but he has the uncanny ability to make you think that he's singing to you. Pretty impressive. =) Plus he has very cool rooster-like hair.

The Brad Pitt-esque bassist, Brad Reynolds, has a great nonverbal rapport with the crowd (or maybe just the ladies) & is fairly active on stage, more so than any other "local" band that I've seen. The first time I saw Copper I remember thinking, "Wow! The bassist moves & makes eye contact! Neat!" Granted, he's not hopping around like Brad Stewart from Shinedown or like Flea from the RHCP, but give him time. He'll blossom. =)

Speaking of activity on stage brings us to none other than Mr. Shawn Lickliter, the supposed Keith Richards look-alike & lead guitarist. Compared to this guy, Brad is fucking standing still on stage. Mr. Lickliter (not harder), I salute you! How the fuck you spin around, hold your guitar in the damn air, and still manage to play without fucking up is beyond me. Your no Eddie VanHalen, but you're a hell of an entertainer. And you have very large veins. =)

Last but not least is the man who keeps it all together, the drummer & Dave Matthews look-alike, Brack Owens. Brack has impressed me due to the fact that he not only keeps time in a very "striking" manner (god that was a bad pun), but he sings, & looks good doing it. =) I myself struggle with playing guitar & singing simultaneously. Granted I am a newbie, but I can't fathom having hands & feet all active & throwing singing on top of that. You along with Scottie Ross, drummer for Split Nixon who shares this skill, are a credit to your craft.

Overall, your lyrics are simple, honest, & straight-forward & your melodies catchy. You guys have excellent stage presence...you just look like you're having a hell of a good time & you want to audience to have a good time. Also, you seem to have good onstage communication...it's obvious that you're attentive to what the other guys are doing. That's important. If you continue to think of yourselves as a whole & attend to the image that the whole is presenting, you'll be alright. =) The only problem I see is that although you have your own sound, you sound very similar to some other bands out there right now (like Hoobastank) & the labels might pass you over because they're looking for something more divergent from the norm.

After Copper, came Crossfade. Their sound was interesting, mixing traditional guitar, bass, & drums with a dj who produced all sorts of quirky, weird noises. I enjoyed the fact that they have three singers in the dj, bassist, & lead singer/guitarist. I also enjoyed the fact that the lead singer looks like Chris Cornell...grrr...sexy! I'm sorry I don't have more of an impression than this, but I was starting to get tipsy by the time they went on. =)

Crystal and I stood through a few of Crossfade's songs and then went in search of a sanitary place to urinate in privacy & more Bud Light. On the way back from the toilet I found Mr. Lickliter talking to a lovely young fan & stopped to chat for a moment. The moment passed & Crystal & I continued on our trek to the Bud Light Beer Garden of Glory. Nearly to the promise land, I was stopped by my friend Ros who informed me of some drama between Sherri & Walt. (Man...those two will ever have a tumultuous relationship. I say we kill one of 'em and save ourselves the drama. Who's with me?) A few seconds later, Brad & Brack from Copper saved me from the Sherry & Walt episode by coming over to say "hi" & chat for a minute.

I was pleasantly surprised that the guys in the band remembered me & greeted me so warmly. I was even more pleasantly surprised when Brack decided to hang around & talk with me & Crystal for a while. =) We hung out for a bit, & had the general getting-to-know-you conversation, I turned from band-aid to roadie for a sec & helped them carry a box, all the while saying, "I'm gonna drop it! I'm gonna drop it!", & then hung out some more. There was a cute little chica named Jess that was getting them to sign her jeans & ass & such. I acquired her Sharpie and to draw something on Shawn's back. While I was thinking what to draw, I head someone say, "She's a cool chick...she'll draw something cool." Ha!!!! I fooled them!!! I drew a stupid looking tree on Shawn's back along with my little phrase: To live in the moment and never beyond. Sucker!!!!!!! I hope the rubbing alcohol worked and it didn't interfere with you getting ass from your nubile, 17 year old girlfriend. =)

I was invited to come back to the hotel to hang & told them I'd think about it while taking Crystal home. I discussed it with her, dropped her off, mulled it over, & decided to go back to my apartment. I got there and hopped in the shower to wash off the icky sweat from the night & was putting my PJs on when I got a phone call. It was Brack. "Are you coming?", he said. I hesitated for a second and then said, "Yeah. I'm coming." I thought, why not? What the hell? So I threw on some clothes, brushed my hair, put on a bit of powder & lipstick & flew out the door. Impulsive? Yes.

I pulled up to the hotel to find the drummer from Crossfade talking to a couple of people. There were a couple of tour busses in the lot & I recognized Copper's trailer. I walked inside & proceeded up to 417, which was Crossfade's room. I stopped for a moment to listen as I noticed the sounds of partying or even talking were quite absent. Instead I heard a girl giggle followed by the gruff laugh of a young guy. Yup. Somebody in Crossfade got laid that night. =)

So then I turned around & went to 503. Brack, Shawn, Brad, & a-guy-whose-name-I-can't-remember-but-was-really-nice-and-in-another-band were in the room. Upon my arrival, Brad asked me & Brack to go on a beer run. So a beer run later, we returned to the Holiday Inn Express in South Ridge to kick back, have a few beers, & talk. After a bit, Keith came in from hanging out & driving up to the Capitol to chat with a cute, little brunette chica.

They talked about the show, their impression of the other bands, their liking for Crossfade, about what makes a good drummer, a potential future collaboration with another Knoxville band, & discussed whether or not they should release another single before being signed. I watched Keith get excited about the prospect of eating a sandwich & then sadly disappointed when he found that the mayonnaise was Hellman's. (I think it was Hellman's...) They offered me sandwiches. I ate a piece of bread. They had me guess which famous people they supposedly looked like. (I still don't think that Shawn looks like Keith Richards. You're way too handsome for that, Shawn.) All the while, Brack found ways to casually make physical contact. =)

I contributed little to the discussion, adding a thought or joke here & there, but mainly just observing behaviors and getting a feel for each individual personality in the room. My very vague impressions: Keith seems like a very genuine, open, honest, friendly, accommodating guy. Not much guile in this one. The word "perky" even comes to mind...But that might just be the hair. Shawn was friendly, funny, somewhat guarded, & stuck me as not terribly outgoing. Perhaps he was simply tired? Brad was very vocal, opinionated, guarded, and in possession of an amusing, but abrasive sense of humor. He likes to get a reaction from people. Brack was friendly, quiet, soft-spoken, very laid back, a listener, & observer. It seemed to me that he's a bit of an introvert, has or had low self-esteem in the recent past, & lets people take advantage of him. Overall, they're a very nice, very fun group of guys & I hope to hang out with them again.

As the minutes ticked by, I began nodding off. Brack motioned for me to lie down next to him for a bit & I did. He told me that he "didn't do this", meaning bring girls back to the hotel room. I arched an eyebrow skeptically & gave him a half-smile. Right. I'm too cynical to believe that. But I did enjoy lying next to him, listening to the conversation, & being part of that whole moment. I announced that I should be getting home as I had to work & he asked me to stay. Obviously, with four other guys in the room there would be no chance of sex, so I agreed. I slept for a couple of hours cuddled up next to him & then stole out at 6:30 AM, after everyone was asleep. On my way out, I grabbed a couple of muffins & some orange juice...gotta love the free breakfast!...and drove home with a smile on my face.

Was it impulsive? Yes. Was it stupid? Yes. It could've ended poorly, I know. I can see Shawn, Chris, Sean, Ben, Pat, & Ken all looking their noses down at me right now. I know, guys, I know!!! I've never done anything like that in my entire life, I know it was stupid, but it was fun as hell!!! And you all can't tell me that if some hot chick from a band invited you back to hang out a bit in her hotel, you wouldn't go!!! Well...maybe Chris & Shawn would turn her down due to apathy. =)

Do I expect to hear from Brack? No. Would I like to? Yes. We live too far apart for anything other than friendship, but I'm such a collector of friends. =)

Alright...well that was Thursday. I still need to discuss Friday & Saturday's escapades, but that'll have to wait. My red Martha Steward sheets are beckoning me thither to my soft haven of rest. Goodnight!!!

Oh god I'm tired.

Moon chasing doesn't allow for much sleep. =)

Have you ever tried following the moon?

This afternoon after work, I went up to Magic Maker's costume shop in Huntington looking for the perfect gypsy/fortune teller outfit for the upcoming Murder Mystery Party. I've been assigned the role of Madame Mama, "an off-kilter mystic, who is more likely to say something useless & bizarre than something valuable or wise". (I get to go into trances & foresee people's deaths all evening! It should be a good night! )

Anyway, they didn't have quite what I was looking for at the price I was looking for. So I stopped to visit & have lunch/dinner with Nikki, chatted for a bit, & then proceeded back to lovely Saint Albans.

On my way down 64E, just past the Teays Valley exit, I found the moon looming up over the tops of the trees. It was swollen, blood red, & peeking out from behind two black clouds. Set against a deep midnight blue sky, this image was breathtaking. I wish that I were a true poet or an artist so that I could paint it for you.

I was so caught up in it's beauty that I started to sing to it. And I followed it eastward, towards home, singing all the way. Once I got into Saint Albans, it had, as I suspected it would, turned a bright golden Harvest Moon yellow. I drove around the Loop and then made a right onto Pennsylvania toward my apartment. Just after I made the turn, I glimpsed to the left & saw it peering down at me inquisitively between night-blackened tree branches. Impulsively, I turned left & drove back to Kanawha Terrace. I would take a picture of tonight's very full, golden moon.

On Kanawha Terrace, I looked up & didn't see her, so I drove down to 6th Avenue. And there she was, looking down at me from above the BB&T bank building. I drove down 6th Avenue, but she dimmed a bit under the humming white glow of the street lights. I drove across the tacks to Route 60. I would go to the park & capture her there. There would be nothing to block my lens & she would be unable to hide. And so I drove down to Roadside Park.

Once there I got out of my car, walked past the teenagers looking guilty in their car, walked past the blue jungle gym/slide with the yellow top, & stopped next to the swings. It seemed that the closer I walked, the farther away she became. Now she was looming up above the Bayer Crop Science center across the river in Institute.

I stood there staring at her for a few minutes, admiring her beauty, enjoying the feel of the night. The air smelled a little more crisp than usual, the heady scent of summer green beginning to fade. It felt like September. It felt like home.

I stood there a moment longer & then turned away, back to my car. It had been a while since I had tried to follow the moon and I had forgotten. The closer you walk, the harder you try, the more you reach, the farther away she becomes. The moon is something to be enjoyed from a distance & for a moment. Not something to be captured. The moment you try to hold it, it slips away.

You could spend your whole life chasing the moon.

I bought a little, piece of shit digital camera this afternoon. You know what that means. I'm probably going to have a site devoted only to my photos in the near future. :)

Not to mention, I'll finally be able to reach my dream of online porn super-stardom. :) Now my boobies will be known worldwide!

Me & Megan, my niece, outside my brother's house this afternoon. 

Meg asking me if I poop. 

Isn't my little munchkin a cutie pie? 

Megan & her weird aunt Twiss 

Green, green, & growing things

I've had this obsession...um, no...wrong word. Preoccupation? Yeah, that's it. I've had this preoccupation with drawing trees over the past week or so.

I've never been much of an artist, really. My dad bought me endless sketch pads & pencils when I was a kid, but I never used any of them. It just wasn't my thing. But over the last week, I've been letting the little kids in my group at work express their feelings & thoughts through art. While they've been working & talking to me, I've found myself drawing trees. Over & over & over. Trees with green leaves, scarlet leaves, orange, & even purple leaves. Beautiful vibrant trees.

It's been so therapeutic & calming. And the trees are getting prettier & prettier. Who knows? Perhaps I'll draw a tree so big, beautiful, & brilliant that everyone will love me forever & ever & ever.

Chris, Burns, & Me at the 2003 Ohio Renaissance Festival. (Neato! I can post pictures now!!!)  

A Date

This past Thursday Rob called me & asked me out. Apparently he & his girlfriend broke up last Friday & he's now free to date. Well, this sounded terribly convenient to me & I told him so. But I thought, "What the fuck? Why not? If he says they're broken up, as far as I'm concerned they're broken up." So I accepted.

He picked me up last night (Friday) & we...or rather...I decided that we would see Hero. The movie was fucking amazing! Breathtaking cinematography! Kick ass fight scenes! It was so beautiful & mystical, & so moving. And yes, I cried a little. :)

Afterwards, Rob & I both wanted to see it again, however there were no later showings. After a bit of deliberation, we found ourselves at the Sound Factory where they were having a benefit concert for Adam Weaver, a local guy with Hodgkin's disease. Noizbox, who describe themselves as "An enormous glob of power-driven rock-n-funk-n-roll madness!" was playing. I concur with their description. They definately rocked out! :) With lots of funky changes in their music, ass-kicking bass, weird noizes, high-pitched squeaky almost robotic singing changing to loud, harsh angry yells, Noizbox certainly has a very different & intellectually stimulating sound.

I had seen Noizbox a few times before, but watching them with Rob was a bit more enjoyable as he used to play drums for them. Every song that they played, Rob gave me a bit of history on how or when the lead singer wrote it & why it was brilliant. :) After the show, we chatted with the bassist, Roadblock or Jason, & the drummer, Vince. I harrassed the lead singer to bring me a copy of their single next show and then Rob & I headed back to my apartment.

All in all I had a really great time. We saw an excellent movie, heard some awesome music, had good conversation, & ended the night with very nice kissing & such. Very nice.

Now the problem is this: I think I kinda like him a little. And he's got that whole breaking-up-with-the-girlfriend drama going on. I really don't want drama or any kind of icky, gooey mess.

*sigh* Ah, well. It's already in motion. I'd really like to see him again. We'll see.

To live in the moment
And never beyond
And never beyond

Ya know what's really kind of weird?

Finding your sister's hot pink panties in your dryer and not knowing quite what to do with them.

Wow. People really read my journal.

Well, Sheila, it seems we've got a case of "he said, she said" going on that's put us both in an uncomfortable position. Especially me. I feel terrible right now. Thank you for contacting me to give me your input.

I apologize for bitching about you & calling you a couple of less than pleasant & seemingly unwarranted names. My journal is how I deal with my stress...counseling for the counselor...so every emotion comes out raw, icky, & pure. Again, I'm sorry. Perhaps it's not too late for opinions to be reevaluated. I hope that we can start with a fresh slate & smile when we next meet, instead of hurling rotten eggs & tomatoes at one another. ;)

As far as Steve goes, I don't know what his motivation was for telling me those things. Perhaps he was trying to accommodate us in the best way he knew how…attempting to keep us from stepping on each other’s toes? I don’t know. He is rarely malicious, but I don’t know. He also told me that I was judgmental & I try too hard. (his opinions of me) On his better days he is less than tactless.

Again, I’m terribly sorry. Thanks so much for setting the record straight, and I hope it’s not too late for us to be pleasant to one another, if not friendly. For what it’s worth, you have a lovely family that I admire very much. Take care.

Nothing more, Nothing less

Man! I wanted to bitch so bad yesterday, but I couldn't 'cause this fucking thing was down! Fuck monkey ass shit bitchcock bitch!!!! Catharsis.

Anyway, I was in a cruddy mood yesterday. I worked from 8:30 to 6pm, and was exhausted from the night before because I had spent two hours talking down a suicidal former patient from the methadone clinic. (The patient looked me up in the phone book & called me. Yeah. I tried to refer him to the Prestera Crisis line, 911, the methadone clinic, & Highland but he wasn't having it.) So being really tired, I was cranky & had a headache. After my groups, I thought my day was going to get better, but I was wrong. :) A kid freaked out & had a two hour screaming/crying, flailing around on the floor episode in my office. I had to restrain him twice.

After that things went pretty smoothly, however, and I thought that the day might just turn around. I certainly thought so when I received an invitation from Steve to see Exorcist: The Beginning free of charge (courtesy of Rock 105). I accepted. He told me that his neighbor, Jessie, and his neighbor's wife would be attending the movie as well. I've met Jessie & Sheila a handful of times and they seem like very nice people, so I suggested that we sit with them at the movie & hang out a bit afterward. Steve said, "I don't think that's a good idea." I replied, "Why?" To which he replied, "Because Sheila doesn't like you."

This totally blew my mind. I expressed my incredulity to Steve & he said, "Not everybody has to like you, Christina." And I know that. I don't expect them to, but I don't know the girl. She doesn't know me well enough to not like me. I've seen her in passing & had small talk conversation with her. It just doesn't make sense.

I expressed this to Steve & he informed me that she told him she didn't like me after my brief conversation with her & her husband at Day on the Green. She told him that she thought that I was fake. What the fuck?!?! I think I talked about the weather & the bands that day. Small talk.

Well, I shrugged it off. Thinking, fuck it, it's no big deal. So went to the movie & Steve decides to sit next to Jessie & Sheila. Great. So I was a little uncomfortable. We watched the movie (which was predictable & boring, with overly dramatic, uninteresting dialogue) and afterwards stopped outside the door to process what we had just seen. So we engaged in more small talk. Great.

After Jessie & Sheila drove away, Steve told me that she had leaned over and whispered to him, "Why the fuck did you have to bring her?".

I had no opinion of this Sheila chick up until this point. I had filed her away on an index card in a filing cabinet in my brain as : Sheila - blonde, cute, wife of Jessie - neighbor & coworker to Steve Perry, ex-boyfriend. Nothing more, nothing less. I didn't know her well enough to form an opinion or judgment of her character & personality. Honestly, I still don't.

But, hot-fucking-damn! If someone can take a total of 30 minutes friendly, interaction & evaluate my fucking personality & character, she needs to do my fucking job!!! Bitch!

So I guess the index card in my brain card file of people now goes something like this: Sheila - stupid cunt, blonde, cute, wife of Jessie - neighbor & coworker to Steve Perry, ex-boyfriend. Nothing more, nothing less.

but I thought you saw
'cause you made me feel
beautiful

Jaggermeister-covered nipple, anyone?

Last Saturday night, Rose & I drove down to they Monkey to see Split Nixon & BobaFlex. Darling that she is, she let me drive her Benz! As indicated by the exclamation point, I enjoyed driving that vehicle...perhaps too much. Every time I drive it, I want one and I become discontent w/ my own little rusty, mottled mode of transport. See! Here's a perfect example! Desire = Suffering!!!! (I'll bet Chris is rolling his eyes at me right now.)

Anyway, we watched SN, which Rose enjoyed, and then BobaFlex, which frightened her. Poor Rosie. During one song, BobaFlex always has all the ladies come up on stage to hump at them..um..I mean dance, while they perform. Well, they called the women to the stage and several, including Rose & I just stayed in the audience. Marty McCoy (vocals & guitar) pointed back at a couple girls, unsuccessfully ordering them on stage. And then his attention shifted to Rose. He pointed at her and asked her to come up. I saw her eyes widen slightly with realization that he was talking to her. She visibly stiffened, her smile frozen in place as it always does when she's nervous, and shook her head quickly from side to side. I'm almost certain I could hear her heart pounding from where I was standing next to her.

After the show, little Marty (he's about 5'4") approached her and asked he why she didn't come up on stage. My sweet sister told him honestly that he and the rest of BobaFlex frightened her. To quote her: "I don't know if I'm getting old or what, but you guys scare me!" He then tried to convince her that she wasn't too old for him, etc. Quite amusing.

I introduced Rose to Jason, Scott, Jamie, & Brian (Split Nixon), who she didn't find terrifying. She got caught up on all the CASCI gossip through conversing with Shauna while I had drunken conversation with whoever the hell would talk to me. I obtained a new, glossy 8 x 10 of Split Nixon & had them sign it, making sure that they personalized it. (Hmmm...it's amazing how about 30 minutes of hilarity and bullshitting can be cut down to one sentence.)

I then joined Matt Wolfe & a Jaggermeister bottle in a couple of goofy pictures. After we had our wicked way with the bottle, we passed it on to a young, brunette, hot thing. First, she put it between her boobs and squeezed them together. In my drunken state, I decided that it was a good idea to shout out, "Show your nipple!" In her drunken state, she thought it was a good idea to follow my advice. She poured a bit of Jaggermeister on the tip of her tata and posed for a picture. Her daddy will be very proud, I'm sure. :)

Set It On Fire, Mama!!!!

This Thursday I caught the Pistol Whippers at the Monkey with Nikki. They "set it on fire" performing Haunted Whorehouse, Chevy Mandango, Roller Derby, Who's your Daddy & other of their ass kicking, hillbilly punk rock tunes. :) We had a great time & afterwards shot the shit with the lead singer (Brian aka. Guy Parker) & the drummer (Rob aka. Lance Steel). I tried to finagle a copy of their first CD, The Fat, the Bald, & the Ugly to no avail. They didn't have any, but promised to get me a copy if I came to their show at the Empty Glass the following night.

The Battle of the Bands & A Boy

Well...I made it out to the Glass on Friday, but I was a wee bit late for the show. As in Rob was packing away his drums when I got there. So I chatted for a bit and then made my way down to the Sound Factory to watch the Rock 105 Battle of the Bands. The competitors were Professor Mike, Shorthrow, Thurst, Split Nixon, & two other bands I can't recall at the moment. All of the bands played their hearts out, however Split Nixon prevailed in the end. As many times as I've seen them, their performance really impressed me! They had so much energy! I suppose it was the competative nature of the thing that fueled them. At any rate, they won the opportunity get open for Shinedown, Collective Soul, & Eight Days Gone on September 3rd at the Regatta this year. Congratulations boys!

(Speaking of the Regatta on September 3rd, the Murder Mystery party that Crystal & Shawn are hosting is on the 4th, so all those staying with me that weekend should come with me to check out Split Nixon, Shinedown, Collective Soul, & Eight Days Gone on the 3rd! I promise it'll be more amusing than sitting in the floor of my apartment playing drinking games & drunken twister. )

After rejoicing for a few moments with Jason, Brian, Scottie, Jamie & their ladies, I wandered back down to the Empty Glass to have a beer & chat with the Whippers. Rob had an extra CD in his car, so I obtained my coveted copy of The Fat, the Bald, & the Ugly. He & I talked for a whle. He's a really nice guy, funny, & intelligent (in spite of his self-proclaimed love affair with the reefer). Yeah...there was definately some attraction there, but he's got a girlfriend. Damn it! Why are all of the cuties that I'm interested in taken? Ah well. See! There it was again! Another example of desire = suffering. But then I rationalized that I'm cool as is, and I felt content again. See it does work! :)

Sunday, bloody, friggin', Sunday

So today I face the 2004 Garris Family Reunion in Camp Creek, WV. It's not the ideal way to spend my Sunday, however I suppose it'll be nice to see my uncles, aunts, & cousins. It's nicer to see them under these circumstances than under the circumstances of this June when my Uncle Elmer died. :( It will certainly be good to spend the day with my Mom, Dad, Wayne, Cheryl, & my precious little Megan Elayne.

I wonder if Meg will let me be "somebody" today? :)

Random Neural Firings on Communication, Impermanence, Death, & Happiness

More than a year ago I was ruminating on the imperfection of communication. I had had the realization that I will never be able to achieve perfect communication/communion with another due to semantics & the different life experience of, & therefore, different perspectives of each individual person.

This frustrated & distressed me to no end. Mainly because the only thing that I've ever really yearned for is perfect communication with another person. A lasting connection. An endless & perfect discourse. This is the thing that I viewed as my vision of happiness. This sought after perfect communication meant a kindred spirit husband that I could make love to every night and fall asleep cradling in my arms. This perfect connection meant, eventually, 2.5 kids & the white picket fence. It meant a constant perfect stimulating, entertaining, & fulfilling intellectual, physical, & emotional exchange.

And my realization of the impossibility of perfect communication meant, for me, the realization that I would never achieve my vision of happiness.

During that time, a friend observed that I was seeking this communion in order to make myself complete through connectedness with another person. He brought to my attention the fact that my intense desire for this connection was causing me suffering. It was making me discontent with my situation. I was not focusing on & accepting what was...I was focusing on what should be. On what I desired. He pointed out that if we accepted the fact that we are all ultimately alone inside ourselves, then we would be able to find contentment and completeness in and of ourselves. And anyone we held communion with after realizing that contentment in ourselves would just accentuate our happiness.

In recent months I've been struck by the understanding of the impermanence of our lives & everything. I was born & I will die. We are all dying a little each day. Spring, summer, autumn, winter. Morning, noon, evening, night. Baby, child, teen, adult, elder. Seed, sprout, grow, wither. Cycles & circles. Everything has a beginning. And every beginning has an end.

I realized that if I do ever achieve that perfect communion that I had been seeking, that my communication with falter, my kids will grow up, my husband will grow old & die or perhaps leave me for another "blond with big tits & an ass that tastes like french-vanilla ice cream", and the sparkling white paint on my picket fence will weather, crack, & fade. And I understood that the impermanent nature of everything meant that we can never own anything for any longer than a moment. We can never hold anything for any longer than a moment. We hold things, touch people, communicate with one another for only a moment...and then the moment is done. And you have your memories, but those will fade as well. We are born naked & alone. We live alone. Among others, yes, but alone in our individual perceptions. And we will all die alone, taking nothing & no one with us when we go.

In trying to take each moment for what it is, a moment that will slip through my fingers like sand, I am learning to yearn less for those things that I do not hold. And little by little, I am becoming more content with what is. And I do not regret all that is not. I just accept that it is not.

This is not to say that I don't have desires. I do. Believe me I do. I still would like to be a mother one day. I still want to marry a man who will stimulate & challenge me by day & burn my flesh with passion by night. I still wouldn't mind a picket fence with a nice, reliable vehicle parked in the driveway. I still want to learn how to play guitar and be a rock superstar. :) But if I don't attain, achieve, or experience these things, it's okay.

I am or have been a girl, a woman, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a cousin, a niece, a friend, a girlfriend, a lover, a fiance, the "other woman", a student, a writer, a poet, a singer, a lyricist, a joker, a musician, a dancer, a thinker, a feeler, a dreamer, an outcast, a counselor, a patient, a clinician, a skinny girl, a voluptuous woman, a computer geek, a band-aid, a fan, a seductress, a liar, a cheater, a drug user, an enemy, religious, profane, reliable, unreliable, pragmatic, idealistic, ambivalent, stubborn, coy, shy, bold, direct, quiet, loud, happy, enraged, jealous, melancholy, remorseful, surprised, delighted, disappointed, hungry, sated, empty, filled, envied, loved, desired, hated.

I have lived. I have had so many moments, which I only hold now in my memory. And one day, I will lose them altogether. But why should I fill myself with discontent over what was that is or will be lost, what is not, & what may never be? I may never add the titles of "mother", "bride", "wife", or "rock star" to my list. And that's okay. I have had so much. And I accept each moment for what it is & live in that moment.

It's so strange. For the first time in my life, I am unfraid of death. I am becoming content with who I am, accepting what has been & what is, & not worrying so much about what will or wil not be. I can accept death if she comes for me, because I am learning to accept each moment as it comes. And if it ends, well...then it ends. :)

I have a fucking sweet announcement! (And when I say "sweet", I mean totally awesome.)

Ready? Okay...here it is. I contracted oral gonorrhea from Josey Scott, lead singer of Saliva, the night that I gave him the "Best Blow Job Ever!" Isn't that cool? I mean...it wasn't like it was just meaningless oral sex. It wasn't like he just used my orifice for his pleasure. He gave me something!! It meant something, damn it!!!!

Alright. All tomfoolery aside, I'm actually excited because commenting is once again functional on this website! Yay! (I know...not nearly as exciting as oral gonorrhea, but what'cha gonna do?)

Now that you guys can comment, it means that Steve, Brian, and all of you other people out there who have been or will be offended or pissed at something I've written, can bitch at me instantly!!!!!!! Pretty cool, eh? No more waiting around and then making phone calls in the middle of the night!!! Nope!! Not for my readers! First class, online commenting by Haloscan all the way!

~Disclaimer~ The above mention of Josey Scott giving me oral gonorrhea is a joke and is not meant to slander Mr. Scott in any way. As far as I know, neither Josey Scott nor I have gonorrhea of any kind. And I never have or will give him a blow job. Please don't sue me.

You choose your own pain.

Throwing Copper

Last night I had the pleasure of watching Copper play at the Sound Factory in Charleston. After a few minor technical difficulties involving the lead singer's microphone, they turned it around and fucking rocked the hizzle!!!

I saw them for the first time at JaggerFest back at the beginning of June and bought their CD that night. I had them all sign it and then said, "Thanks boys. Now I can sell this on Ebay when you're famous." They sort of glared at me a little. But it turns out that the CD was so good that I didn't sell it. Instead, I've kept it in my CD player and became quite fond of a few tracks.

After the show last night, I talked with the band for a bit about the lack of promotion for this show and what not. I ragged the lead singer, Keith, about going to high school at Shady Spring High, which happened to be the high school sports arch enemy of my alma mater, Liberty High. He's a small man and during our conversation, he paused and said, "I just realized that I'm looking up at you!" He then put his arm around my waist and yelled over for the bass player to look, "Hey Brad! What's wrong with this picture?!" I agreed that I was a fucking huge woman and he was quite a little man. So little in fact that his head only came up to my shoulder. To make him feel better I made a comment about most famous rock n' rollers of the past being smallish people. Or maybe I just thought it. After five New Castle's and a shot of Jaggermeister, (courtesy of the lovely Rossiland Turk) I was a little tipsy.

After that I found myself talking to the drummer, another little guy named Brack. Of course, the obvious comment was, "Brack? Like the guy from Space Ghost?" I acknowledged the fact that I was probably not the first person to note his connection to the cartoon character. And I learned that he did not know the "I love beans" song. He never gets the watch the show, he said. I think it must come on past his bed time or something. :)

I also talked a bit with the bassist, Brad, & the guitarist, Shawn Lickliter. I remember Shawn's last name because he corrected my pronunciation of it (I thought it was Licklitter...like kitty litter) and then said, "Nope..Lickliter. You know...like lick lighter, not harder."

I think when I was saying goodbye to them I said something to the effect that I had enjoyed the show and meeting them, and that they were all very nice little men. Then someone made the comment, "You know what they say about little men..."

But I don't know what they say about little men. I really don't.

Tonight I'm heading out to catch Split Nixon and Bobaflex at the Monkey with my sis and her former coworkers. It's gonna be an excellent show! Rock n' Roll, baby!

Oh yeah...Wayne taught me how to play Dust in the Wind today. I'm slow, but one day even Eddie VanHalen will bow down to me. Um...right. :)

a communion of flesh
in and out
the resounding of heavy breathing
impish fire on my tongue
lust writhing under red sheets
if I concentrate, I can almost still feel you
warm
but then again, nothing is as real as real
in and out
the tracing tendrils of ecstasy
indulge my addiction
partake of this holy sacrament
a communion of flesh


See! This is what happens to me if I don't get deep dicking! I start writing crappy un-poetry about passionate encounters.

*Sigh*

Neil Gaiman was right, man. Desire really is a fucking fickle, tricksy little bitch!!!!!

This morning I revisited all of the little nooks and crannys of my parent's backyard with my notebook in hand recording my thoughts. It's funny how every flower, every tree, every bush invokes memory and emotion.

I had forgotten the magic of this place.

I sit here now on a soft patch of green clover and grass looking up through the brown, skinny branches of my mother's bean tree. The sky is mostly grey with clouds, only patches of summer blue peeking through. The leaves of every tree and bush click together softly in the breeze.

A burst of sunlight filters down through the tree branches backlighting the leaves, illuminating them to every vibrant shade of green. I lean back on one elbow, forgetting my notebook for a moment, and close my eyes. The air smells of earth and green, growing things. I open my eyes and watch the tops of the neighbor's poplar trees wave right to left and back again. They always reminded me of showgirls dancing when the wind blew.

My parent's home rests on the crest of a hill, overlooking a valley cut by a tiny ribbon of road lined with ancient, tattered coal camp houses. From my seat under the bean tree, I gaze to the west, across the valley at the writhing green sister of my hill. She's almost entirely covered with trees, wriggling in the breeze. All except for one large green clearing. It's always been there, that clearing. Inviting and green in the summer and spring, and barren and brown in the autumn and winter. And always empty. I used to want to go and lay right in the center of that field, so that, at least for a little while, it wouldn't look so terribly alone.

I leave my cushion of clover under the bean tree to stroll around and inspect the rest of the yard. Stopping where the steps to my grandmother's back porch used to be, I search the ground for the yellow bricks that once formed a path out to an outhouse that ceased to exist long before I was born. There just to the right of the apple tree stump I see an edge of yellow peeking out. Bending down, I pull at the moss and earth that covers the stones. The earth is rich, dark, and moist as it finds its way up under my finger nails. After a few moments and an earth worm, I've uncovered a yellow brick with the words "Olive Hill" carved into it's face. I was fascinated with this path as a little girl and with the carvings on the bricks. It always reminded me of a graveyard and of how my name will be carved on stone somewhere one day, and will eventually be covered and forgotten.

Leaving the buried yellow brick path, I walk around my grandmother's back porch to her side yard. Here are the cement-lined holes that once held the thick wooden posts of her clothes line. I recall Granny, blind and determined to be independent, counting her steps and feeling her way out to hang her "warsh" to dry in the sun. I often found her on her journey to the clothes line during my aimless childhood wanderings around the yard. I remember hanging clothes with those huge wooden clips and that fantastic huge wooden laundry basket that fascinated me so. Even still, nothing smells quite as clean and as simple to me as sun-dried laundry.

I walk toward the eastern fence to touch the little green bush whose leaves I used as money in my childish imaginings. My eyes travel to the lichen covered cherry and apple trees that line the side yard and then to the velvet, almost neon green moss stretched out on the ground between the money bush and a cherry tree. Bending down, I brush my fingers lightly over the surface of the moss.

Walking on around the front of the house, I find my grandmother's Rose of Sharon tree in full bloom. I pluck two flowers to give to my mother. I turn around to walk back into the side yard, my hand compulsively reaching out to the right to strip the leaves from a branch of the now unruly tree that once was a tame bush. Some habits die hard. I count twelve leaves in my hand and then throw them up into the air, watching them flitter down in the breeze.

I make my way back to the cherry tree that stands just to the right of the irreverently green, velveteen patch of mossy earth. My hand goes out, my callouses, newly acquired from fingering guitar chords, scrape across the brown bark and the seafoam colored lichen. I press my palm firmly against the tree surface and close my eyes. I hear the wind in the leaves, and smell the earth and grass. I feel the soothing caress of the breeze and the rough solidity of the living wood beneath my hand. I feel time and age in the tree...and something else. Something like a deep, smiling silence.

And I notice the contrast between the peaceful, silent, steady purpose of the tree and the chaotic, gnawing feeling in my breast.

I need peace. Silence. I need to cut away the noisy, bleating parts of my life. Become still. Let the rain and the night wash me clean, so that I may begin to grow. Unfettered in the sun.

I feel you
Like a drug in my veins
I taste you
Like a god on my tongue

so good
so good
and so alive in that moment

Can I bend you out of my head?
Can I break you out of my bones?
Can I cut you out of my flesh?

The way your hips moved with mine
The way WE felt...alive...alive
in that moment

As moving as music
As addictive as cocaine
And as empty as the thought of you makes me now

I took a taxi from LA to Venus in 1985
I was electromagnetically sucked back in to a party going on that night
It was the glory of the 80's with karma drawn up in lines
And two bugle boys models saying 'Baby, it's a freebee.  You sure look deprived'

~ Tori Amos from Glory of the 80's

Sadness is unpleasant, slow and steady in it's way, and usually somewhat tolerable.  People can live with sadness for years.

Anger is hard, empowering, and invigorating.  Some people enjoy the feeling of anger, keeping a little spark kindled inside at all times "just in case".

Disappointment, however, is probably one of the nastiest little forms of pain.  Because disappointment means that you hoped for, had faith in, or believed in something or someone and you were let down.

In the story of Pandora's Box, Pandora was given a gift by the gods, a box, and was warned never to open it.   Like all fallible creatures unable to resist temptation, her curiosity was too strong, and at last she raised the lid.  From the box sprang sin, evil, darkness, hatred, cruelty, despair, and all of the little nasties in the world.  Pandora shut the lid as quickly as she could, but it was too late.  Overcome with despair, she lifted the lid once more and one last thing was released from the box.  And that thing was Hope.

In most traditional interpretations, mankind was given Hope as a comfort and consolation from all of the evils that had been introduced into the world.  But this morning as I sit here thinking and feeling the sting of disappointment, I wonder.  I wonder if the gods didn't just play a trick on us.  I wonder if the one thing that is supposed to help us endure isn't really the nastiest little nasty of all.  Because without hope, we would never know disappointment.

A disappointment...What a piteous thing, A hideous thing was tainted by the rest.

 ~ The Cranberries from Disappointment 

I often forget that there are many people out there who are not so "thick skinned" or as heavily armoured with beliefs and defenses as I.  And I carry on in my usual way...and on occasion I break their skin with my words and deeds.  I need to be mindful of those sensitive individuals.  We all need to be mindful of them.

Thinking further...you know...it's not necessarily the "thin skinned" people that I've often wounded.  It's usually the people who get close to me and let their armour down...and me in my haste and thoughtlessness, I fail to realize that the armour has been lowered and their pink skin is bare before me.

For what it's worth, I'm sorry.  I will be more mindful in the future.

Lonely. 

Lonely is being sick and not having anyone to fuss over you with chicken noodle soup, Alka Seltzer, or Gatorade.

Lonely is talking to your sister on the phone while you're sick and having her choose to talk to her new love interest rather than you.

Lonely is remembering a time when your place was a hub of activity, a meeting place for friends, and thinking that it's probably never going to be that way again.

I'm tired of feeling inadequate.

I am aware of my virtues, but it seems like every time I bring them to the table, they're not enough.

I'm tired of being rejected for what I'm not.  Why can't I simply be accepted for what I am?

But I suppose that what I am is not in keeping with the world's measure of what is beautiful and correct.

I feel unwanted and out of place.  Like I'm trying to force my puzzle piece.

I suppose one day I'll find something that fits. 

But the waiting.  The waiting is so exhausting.

The Gothic Vampire Monkey
or
When you're a Stranger...

Nikki, Ken, and I went to the Monkey Bar on Friday night to see Gotham Road, a local gothic band. We chose this band, only because it seemed to be the most interesting act around that night. The other bands that I normally see were either out of town or taking the weekend off.

We arrived at the Monkey to find a much different crowd than I'm accustomed to seeing at that particular party place. Indeed, I think that no one other than Ken and the hottie, redheaded bar tender was wearing anything other than black. The number of piercings was well into the hundreds. Fish net stockings and shirts, chains, studs, black lipstick on guys and girls alike, pleather and leather, white face paint, seemingly moth-eaten black t-shirts, evil scowls, and pissed-off attitudes were in evidence everywhere. Needless to say, we DID NOT fit in. :) Knowing that it was a gothic band, Nikki and I wore black shirts...she a black t-shirt and blue jeans and I a black stylish tank top with blue jeans and trendy platform sandals. Ken was the extreme sore thumb in our party, however, as he was wearing khaki shorts, green hemp Adidas sneakers, a red American Eagle looking t-shirt, and a baseball cap.

After getting our first drinks and watching the first opening band, Dimension 13, for a few moments, I suggested that we play darts. The purpose of the dart playing was three-fold: 1) to allow us to become acclimated to the bar by doing something more than standing and staring at the stage 2) to distract us from the noise that was blaring from the amps up front and 3) to allow us to "blend in" and seem as if we belonged. Yeah...well..this only worked to emphasize the difference between us and the rest of the establishment's clientele. We kept bumping into and getting run over by various members of the dark, angry populous due to where we had to stand to throw the darts. Finally, tired of dodging people and fearing getting bitten and sucked dry of our precious coppery blood, we decided to take a seat in the corner of the bar and watch as the second opening act, Pi, took the stage. The first song was called "Appalachian Queen" and that's about all I could make out. They were a bunch of guys making a bad attempt at trying to be TOOL.

At this point Nikki had had 3 beers and a mixed drink, I was at 4 Bud Lights, and Ken was at a big fat Zero on alcoholic beverages, but had slurped down a couple of Cokes. Ken was, of course, sober, I was buzzed, and Nikki was...well...trashed. The more alcohol she drank, the more she started asking questions like, "Why do these people have holes in their shirts? Are they homeless? Should I give them some money?" During Pi's performance she tugged on my shirt, drunkenly told me she loved me, and then, looking at the stage with a puzzled expression on her face, asked, "Why are they so angry?"

Shortly after this, Ken and Nik decided that they were quite tired of blaring guitar and angry vampire boys, so we left. We drove down to Mycroft's but found it closing and then stumbled over to 20th Street, where we drank a bit more, played many fun hits from the 70's, 80's, and 90's on the juke box, and played a couple of games of pool. After that we went to the Omelet Stoppe, dropped Nikki off at her apartment, and then drove home. I passed out on Ken during the drive home. I remember trying to hard to make any form of articulate conversation and failing miserably. I also remember him laughing at me because I was doing the head bob nodding off thing and fighting sleep.

I woke on Saturday in my bed, topless and slightly sweaty, wearing only my white cotton briefs with the word "Angel" printed on the front in blue metalic print and a blue mettalic wing printed on each butt cheek. I was terribly thirsty, yet was without any trace of a real hangover except for some gastrointestinal troubles which I will not discuss in detail on this website.

Fantastic Family and Friend Frivolity on the Fourth...er...Third of July

On Saturday I joined Wayne, Cheryl, Megan, Clint, Christine, and Matt for a day of playing at the park and paddle boating at Coonskin Park. We attempted to enjoy putt-putt at Rock Lake, however were rained out. The parents then decided that they would like to take the little ones to Chucky Cheese's. My insides quivered with memories of the one time that I set foot into that nightmarish house of pain and I visibly grimaced. I then informed my brother of the cramped quarters of that so-called epitome of family fun and the contrasting wide-open spaces of Billy Bob's Wonderland. And so we went to the Huntington Mall and then to Billy Bob's.

The kids enjoyed themselves on all fronts and the parents and Aunt Chris for the sake of the children. :) Many games were played and many tokens were spent. The pizza wasn't half bad. Wayne and I noted that the animatronic bears at Billy Bob's were decidedly evil and menacing looking, like something you might encounter in a fucked up acid trip fun house nightmare, complete with stumpy, hairy male midgets wearing lipstick and rouge, talking snakes with three heads, and flesh eating clowns.

We left the wonder of the Wonderland and returned to Saint Albans, where I showed Wayne, Cheryl, and Clint the Official Ninja Webpage. Ken and Crystal joined my family and me at Kmart parking lot to watch the Saint Albans fireworks display at the River Front Park. As the first pyrotechnic exploded in the sky, the air filled with a penetrating boom that echoed off of the hills and down the river valley. The crowd cheered and I watched my niece’s eyes fill with wonder and then watched her cover her ears and cry. :) She didn't like the loud noise and was convinced that the sparks were going to fall down on top of us. We finally convinced her that the fireworks were not going to hurt us and she managed to enjoy the display. The show lasted for about 45 minutes and it was beautiful, with two teaser finales and a fantastic Grande Finale.

As lovely as the display was after the first few minutes I began to grow a little bored. When I looked at my watch a bit later and realized that a half hour had passed, I felt certain that the end was in sight. But no. I stood through about 10 more minutes and finally, tired, sat on the sidewalk. Then the first false finale happened, I hopped up, ready to head back to the car, and joined in the clapping and cheering. Just as the boats were beginning to honk their horns on the river, a lone golden swirly sparkle filled the sky. A couple more minutes of pretty sparkles ensued and then the second teaser finale. I again, clapped and turned to go to the car...but no. Again, the jokers on the barge in the river sent up a lone booming firework to signify that they were not finished yet. I sat back down, in a strange state of annoyance, surprise, and amusement. Finally, about 40 to 50 pyrotechnics were set off consecutively filling the sky with a lovely array of color and light. And it was over.

Communion with Satan at The Kabuki Rodeo

After the fireworks, Ken and Crystal and I decided to break in the new wet bar that Crystal acquired this week. The story goes like this...Crystal's friend was moving and didn't really have room for the bar. She accepted and now she has a bar. Fascinating, eh?

Anyway, so the bar itself is about 4 and 1/2 feet tall, black leather with golden studs spelling out the initials "K R" on the front. The fellow from whom Crystal obtained the bar did not have the initials K.R. Nope. The guy who owned it before him did, however. Anyway, Crystal's friend had decided to name it for the initials and he and his friends had called it the "Krusty Rubber". Well, Crystal, Ken, and I agreed that she couldn't have something called the Krusty Rubber in her living room. It was too much of a bachelorish, scratch and sniff your balls type of name. So we decided that we must rename it before the evening was done. :)

We started with two shots of vodka apiece and then pulled out the dictionaries. After about a half hour we came up with "Kabuki Rodeo" and "Karma Rising". Well...initially we liked Karma Rising. It sounded a little classy...but as the night wore on Kabuki Rodeo just started sounding better and better. We couldn't think about it and not laugh. Although I'm sure the alcohol had something to do with this, we decided that such a humorous name must win out in the end.

Aside from naming the bar, we played Dirty Minds and Fuck the Dealer, during which Crystal and Ken got fucked and I escaped relatively unscathed. Once we were good and intoxicated, we played drunken Twister, attempted Badminton in the dark at 3 in the morning, and ended with glow-in-the-dark Ouija. During our attempt at communing with Satan, we put on creepy Halloween music and lit candles. Strangely enough, the planchette didn't move unless we pushed it.

Disappointed at our failure to contact the spirits, we put the Ouija board away and passed out. About 2 hours later, I woke to the sound of Crystal screaming. I jumped up from the guest room bed and paused in the hallway. After a moment I discovered that the scream was coming from the living room. I ran in and found Crystal standing, screaming hysterically in the doorway between the living room and dining room and followed her horrified gaze to Baciana's pool. There I found Ken lying naked and face down in the doggie's pool, his head floating in the pool in a pool of his own blood. At that moment, I violently lost the contents of my stomach (alcohol, cranberry juice, and Doritos) all over Crystal's red leather chair. I fell to my knees and looked over to find Baciana nibbling on Ken's toes. She had already eaten one digit entirely and her jowls were covered in blood as she greedily gobbled and growled. A hot wave rushed over my entire body and I felt my eyesight fading as my eyes made their way up Ken's body. I found myself focusing on the muscle tone of his thighs and thought numbly, "Yeah...he said he had been working out." I forced my eyes upward and a rush of cold fear hit me like a fist. There, protruding from his rectum, was the glow-in-the-dark planchette from my Ouija board game. The small tip had been forced into Ken's anus and only the large top half of the triangle was visible. There were tiny streams of blood dripping down his lily-white ass cheeks. The word "Ouija" printed on the large end of the planchette winked at me from atop its perch on Ken's ass, seemingly gloating over the sadistic slaughter. And I could only think...I'm next! And then I woke up. :)

The Fourth of July 2004

George W. is going to be in Charleston today. Um...yeah. I think I'll pass. And the fireworks always suck in Charleston now.

So now I'm going to find something to do today. I've had a relaxing morning of listening to my CDs and writing. I hope that you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I hope that you all enjoy your Independence Day celebrations in clean, fun ways. Don't drink and drive, Click it or Ticket, and wear a condom. Shawn...leave Chris's asshole alone.

And whatever else you do, enjoy the fact that we're a mostly free country. True, we have a dipshit as president right now who is slowly trying to piss off the entire world, but it could be worse. Just remember to fucking vote next election people!!!!!

Tuesdays with Brian

So I'm taking guitar lessons again from a guy named Brian Henderson. Some of you know him. You went to high school with him.  He seems to be a fairly decent teacher, which is very fortunate for me.  What is unfortunate is that he is the lead guitarist for a band called Split Nixon and is rather busy. 

It's been difficult the past few weeks to hold our lessons at the agreed upon time and it's getting somewhat frustrating.  I have considered finding another instructor, however last night he managed to teach me the chords and how to play a bit of "Every Rose Has It's Thorn" by Poison and part of "Back in Black" by AC/DC.  (Keep in mind that what I play may not sound much like either tune, however at least I am playing the correct chord progressions.)  So yeah...I guess I'll keep him for a bit.

Sex and the City

I've watched a couple of episodes of Sex and the City. I never got interested in it before, probably because I couldn't relate to the plight of the protagonists. However, I can now. Granted I am not a fabulous 30 or 40 something, career woman in New York...but here I am, a loving, compassionate, kind, intelligent, responsible, creative, witty, and pretty girl who has a strong work ethic and who holds high moral standards...and I'm unattached. Does this make any sense really? Why aren't the good guys beating down my door? Is it the sarcasm? I suppose I could turn it down a little. Is it the weight? Damn. I'm not THAT fat people! :) I still look good naked, damn it, and that's what counts! :) So what is it?

I feel I'm ready now...not for a serious relationship, but I wouldn't mind dating people regularly. And having sex regularly. :)

But seriously, I was pondering the question of a woman like myself having sex like a man. Could I possibly function in that way? I don't mean go and whore myself out to every Tom, Dick, and Harry that so much as looks twice my way. I mean be selective and choosey, but when I find someone I'm attracted to...why can't I have sex simply for sex sake?

Hmmm...but then enters the whole morals thing. Sex is something one should never do carelessly due to the risk of creating life. And sex has never been a casual thing for me and I'm sure I couldn't detach myself from it in that way. Or could I? And if I did would my friends still respect me? Probably not. Would I still respect me? Probably not.

So that answers that, now doesn't it?

Waltzing Back Into My Life

Nikki moved to Barboursville while I was at the beach. She and I are now back in each other's lives and it feels like we never stopped hanging out. Very interesting how with some people, things never get weird. She and I are going out tonight to see a band, either here in Charleston or in Huntington. I think we're going to the Monkey...there's a band called Gotham Road that I'd like to see. It should be a fun night of punkish gothic music for all!

Ken is also in town. I'm gonna call him and see what his skinny Waisian ass is doing.

Until next time!

Sibling Vacation

My brother, sister-in-law, sister, niece, and my sister-in-law's brother (or Wayne, Cheryl, Megan, Rose, and Raymond) and I went to Rehoboth Beach, DE June 14th through the 19th for a long awaited vacation. This was my first vacation in two years and god did I ever need it!

Wayne, Cheryl, Megan, and I stopped in at Cheryl's parent's home in Preston County, WV for the night on Monday to breathe in the freshness of the country air and to take in the breathtaking view of the ancient hills from their front porch. The next morning we awoke and drove on to Baltimore to meet up with Rose and then continued onward to Rehoboth.

After seemingly endless hours of riding with my knees pressed against the dashboard of Cheryl's Suzuki, we arrived at our little castle on the sand on Tuesday, June 15th. It was a 2 story, 3 bedroom, 1 bath oceanfront condo complete with a deck overlooking the ocean. Once we completed shopping at Super G supermarket and ate our decadent dinner from Dairy Queen, we all returned to the condo to sit on the deck, cold beer in hand, (with the exception of Megan, of course) and watch the ocean. It was lovely. An endless gentle breeze blew in from the East as the water stretched itself tirelessly over the sand only to retract over and over again. The air smelled of salt, of sand, of sea. It was almost perfect.

One by one my family made their way to their beds until I was alone with the wind, the water, and my Bud Light on the deck in the dark. I sat there for I don't know how long just enjoying the peacefulness and slight melancholy that the environment stirred in me. As I listened to the waves, I occasionally heard the voices of other vacationers laughing, talking, and shouting out into the night. I thought of my sleeping family upstairs and smiled. And I thought of the single bed that I would find my way to and felt my smile become wry. At that moment I felt compelled to sing "No Need to Argue" to the ocean and so I did. It was so powerful and exhilarating. After a few minutes of silence following my aquatic serenade, I finally bid the ocean goodnight and crept upstairs to occupy the top bunk of the room that I shared with my sister.

The next morning (Wednesday, June 16th) I woke to Megan tugging at my covers and saying, "Get up, Aunt Twiss! We gonna build a sandcastle!" Very rested and excited, I hopped out of bed to join my family for a nice breakfast of bacon, eggs, and toast before squeezing my lilly-white ass into my old navy blue Old Navy tankini. Once suited up we all filed down to the beach with an umbrella to protect the little one and beach chairs for all. We played in the sand, built castles and mountains, and buried my brother from the waist down. On my first trip to fetch water for Megan in a pail I discovered that the ocean was quite cold...perhaps about 65 to 68 degrees. Since there was a constant breeze all day that day and the water was so frigid, I never even broke a sweat and chose not to brave the water. I did, however, get to finish reading Invisible Monsters by Chuck Palahniuk in between sand art. I also got to doze a good bit just lying in the sunlight with my family around me. It was so soothing and peaceful.

That night Rose volunteered to keep Megan while Wayne, Cheryl, Raymond, and I went to check out the local bar scene. We decided to stroll on over to the bar just down from our little slice of paradise, called The Starboard. The live band, Trip Fabulous, was headed by an adorable blonde female lead singer and an equally adorable (but in a different way) lead guitarist. They took turns singing lead vocals and were excellent at drawing in the crowd. They played mostly covers, but from what I remember, they were pretty damn good. Of course, by this point I was nicely buzzed, having had 3 cranberry and vodkas before leaving the condo, each with a shot and a half of liquor in them. Wayne and Cheryl also had a few drinks before going out and considering their current low alcohol tolerance from not imbibing alcohol within the last 5 years, they were pretty much toasted as well. :) We danced, sang, laughed, and had a general good time. Who knew partying with your family could be so much fun?

While at the bar I got hit on by an adorable little college dude. I was wearing my "Talk Nerdy To Me" t-shirt which for some reason inspired him with the ever clever pick up line of, "Hey! Nice shirt! Umm...What's your major?" To which I replied, "Ummm...I graduated already." What made this all the more amusing is that Wayne was standing right there when this guy dropped the line. Wayne's right eyebrow arched up as did mine and we exchanged a look before we both burst into laughter. The poor little college dude didn't know what to think for a moment.

After the bar closed at 1-fucking-AM, much to my dismay and disgruntlement, we walked back to the condo to drink a couple more drinks on the porch. That last cranberry and vodka that I made was probably 50% alcohol but I couldn't taste it. I drank half of it and gave Cheryl the rest. She claims that it was that drink which pushed her over the edge and bestowed upon her the first ever hang over she's ever had the next morning. :)

More alcohol was consumed and about 2AM we decided to take a walk out on the beach. Well...we walked for a few minutes and then noticed lights coming toward us. It was a little dune buggy carrying two city cops. "Everybody chill out! It's the cops!", said I. The vehicle stopped and one officer walked toward us and asked if we were aware of the beach curfew and the $287 fine per person for violation. My brother was the most sober and therefore became our spokesperson. He explained that we were not aware of the curfew and would return to our rental property promptly. The officers watched and waited as we walked, trying not to stagger and further reveal our inebriated conditions, back to the beach house. Once we reached our porch, the cops drove by and I decided to flash a picture of their little dune buggy with Wayne's digital camera. I don't remember much of the rest of the night except for a lot of hilarity on the little oceanfront deck, my brother's slurred speech, and Cheryl's endless declarations that she was not drunk. :)

Cheryl had her first hangover the next morning. Megan kept asking, "Why is Mommy sick?" so Rose and I took her out on the beach. Once the whole clan was outside and I was sweltering under the heat of the sun, I decided to test out the chill waters. Rose followed and we made our way up to our thighs and stopped to chat, letting the waves break against our bodies. The water had been pretty tame all day but from out of nowhere came one big wave which hit me hard, causing me to stagger a bit. I laughed and looked up at Rose who started screaming, "You're out! You're out!" I gave her a puzzled look and saw that she was pointing at my chest. I looked down and found my bossoms totally exposed as the force of the wave had ripped down my top. I pulled it back up hurriedly and looked around to see who had seen the twins peeking out. I looked back toward where Wayne, Cheryl, and Meg were situated and found Wayne pointing the video camera right at me and Rose. Upon viewing the tape later, we discovered that he had just missed the exposed breasts, and for that we were all thankful.

I left the cool caress of the water for the warmth and dry of my black beach towel and I managed to fall asleep in the sun. An hour later I awoke to find my ass, back, and the back of my legs a nice roasted red color. Rose helped me rub some aloe on my burns a few hours later after I had showered. Now we all know that sunburned skin is very sensitive and those of you that know me well know that the skin on the back of my legs is always terribly ticklish. Well...when she began applying aloe to the back of my knees and the lower part of the back of my thighs I started screaming and laughing in an uncontrolable and insane fashion. I'm not sure I should even attempt to describe the noise that came from my mouth. It was a sound such as an insane and demented clown would make just after murdering 20 or so school children. Hmmm...yeah...maybe I shoulda left that one alone. At any rate, my brother came running upsairs and called through the bedroom door, also laughing, "What the hell are you doing in there?" Rose was giggling a low and goofy giggle already and Wayne's inquiry worked to send us both over the edge into a wild fit of laughter. Rose managed to drool on the back of my legs and I'm pretty sure I got the pillows. :)

That night Raymond and I decided to go out again and get swept away in the beach party atmosphere. I got all hoochied up, prepared for another fun night on the town. I was sadly disappointed. The club across the way was absolutely dead and so we walked about 2 miles, checking out each little bar that we came upon. We stopped at the Rusty Rudder for a bit and watched an old and somewhat boring band perform and a bunch of old people dance. We got depressed, seeing our possible futures in their strange and twisted movements, and decided to head back to the Starboard. After drinking a few beers and watching a few semi-attractive bonehead looking college guys play a ping pong ball bounce drinking game, (during which the ping pong ball often bounced off of the table and onto the floor...and they only brushed it off and commenced trying to bounce it into the beer that they were going to drink) we strolled back to the house and went to our respective beds.

Friday the Garris and Cummings kin hung out at the beach one last time and then began packing and cleaning up. I said my final goodbye to the ocean as we departed on Saturday morning at 9am. She waved back and told me that she had tasted me once before...when I was not so bitter. :) We arrived in West Virginia at about 8pm Saturday evening. I slept on and off during the drive and found myself tired but strangely wired upon my return to my little lonely apartment. And so the vacation ended.

If at first you don't succeed...

I returned the phone calls I had received while away and Mr. Perry invited me to join him down at the Sound Factory for a couple of beers. I accepted the offer, being too tired to sleep, lonely, and somewhat depressed about the end of my trip. We hung out a bit, he tried to get me to go home with him, I refused. Same old, same old. He looked at my breasts at one point and said, "What? You mean I never get to see the twins again?" Yeah. That's what I mean. I've got to give it to him. He's persistent.

To ease the pain of my rejection of him, I encouraged him to hit on two blonde chicas that were perched at the end of the bar and he did indeed build up the courage to try his luck. However, his offer for conversation and possibly more was graciously declined by the one and he found that the other was there for/with one of the band members. Oh well...can't be a winner every time.

He disappeared after that and I was able to enjoy Split Nixon in peace. I started chatting with Matt Wolfe, drummer for the band Byzantine, and managed to enjoy the rest of the evening. Poor Wolfe got terribly drunk because people kept buying him shots (it must be nice to be locally famous) and seeing as how he lives right down the street from me, I offered to take him home. We had a nice little chat on the ride home, some of which consisted of him pouring out his inner-most secrets upon finding out that I was a counselor. I gave him some advice, which I'm sure he didn't remember because of his drunken state, dropped him at his driveway, and watched him stagger up to the door.

The Outlaw, Capitol City Gold, and an evening with Split Nixon

So tonight I finally got to try Sitar of India and man was it yummy! I went there with Vander Outlaw tonight. He's leaving town tomorrow morning for sunny Florida so we decided to have one last Hurrah and do dinner and see a band.

Dinner was excellent! I had Chicken Takki Something that started with an M...and it was delicious! After we stuffed out tummys full of Indian treats, we headed over to Mulligan's to check who was playing and found that it was Split Nixon, so we decided to stay. The problem was that we arrived at like 9:30pm and they were just setting up and it was as exciting as picking fuzz out from between my toes.

As I sat there watching the drummer assemble his drum kit, Vander came up with the brilliant suggestion that we go over to Capitol City Gold. So we did. There were only a handful of strippers, and though they were thin and pretty, most of them looked drugged out of their minds. We sat watching the girls work all of the poor Joe Schmoes for their singles.

Just as I had decided I'd had enough of anorexic bimbos parading around naked in front of me, the feature entertainer came out. She was all dressed in a black suit type thing from head to toe and had a gangsta hat on with a phantom of the opera mask. Her performance was very theatrical and spirited. She actually danced and danced well at that. And she didn't even start undressing until the second song began. I was quite impressed. She was very well built, but nothing excessive or unrealistic. Her routine involved fire batons which she used quite creatively, setting herself on fire in various locations for just a few seconds. The most memorable for me was when she put alcohol on her breasts and set them on fire. They caught and glowed blue for a moment! Now that is entertainment, my friends!

After we tired of naked women we went back over to Mulligan's. After about an hour Mr. Outlaw departed and we said our final goodbyes. Here's to you Mr. Vander Outlaw! May you find happiness in your sunny new home!

I watched Split Nixon play for the rest of the night and met and talked to various people in the bar. My sis's friends were there (as usual) so I wasn't alone. I was hit on by several men, but I "gracefully" declined their advances. I have no desire to meet anyone at a bar. Honestly, I don't know that I have any desire to meet anyone right now. I don't think I have the energy for that sort of thing. It's so hard. And so disappointing.

If only I were a two-bit whore and my standards were much, much lower. *sigh* Yes, then life would be easier. :)

I worked almost 12 hours again today. After which I went to visit my brother and his family.

I wound up going for a bicycle ride with Wayne and Megan this afternoon. Megan is too little to ride, of course, being only nearly 3, so she sat in one of those child seats on the back of her father's bike.

It had been at least 4 years since I sat my ass on a bicycle seat and I remembered how. Isn't it amazing, the things that our mind and body chooses to store memory of for long periods of time? Hmmm...who knows. Maybe bicycling will be the salvation of the world one day.

At any rate, it was really fun. I almost felt like a kid again riding along side my brother, racing a bit. :) I say almost because after about 20 minutes, my wrists began aching and my ass was sore from the seat. Yeah...I don't remember that sort of pain from bicycling when I was a kid. I just suppose that I'm just getting fucking old and my body can't take what it used to. Yes, friends. Another happy thought to close another happy blog. :)

Well, actually, I do have a bit of a somber note to add. One of my father's brother's, Harvey Elmer Garris, passed away this Tuesday night. Mom just told me tonight. It looks like the funeral is going to be Saturday and my Daddy needs me, so it looks like I'm going to pass up the weekend of Happy Magic Land fun I had planned. It was about time for another funeral anyway.

Steve and I reconciled at the Pistol Whippers show (www.pistolwhippers.com) this past Saturday night. He apologized, I apologized, and it's all good.

I had an excellent weekend with my sister, mom & dad, brother, sister-in-law, and niece. We had two days of cooking out and eating ridiculously wonderful food and just enjoying each other's company. I have such a wonderful family! :)

I'm supposed to start guitar lessons (again) next Tuesday with the guitarist who plays with Split Nixon, a local rock band. (www.splitnixon.com) He told me that he wouldn't make fun of me or show off like the last guy did, but who knows. I'm terribly defensive when it comes to learning something new. I threatened that I'd quit and he promised he wouldn't let me. We'll see.

It's raining tonight.

It reminds me of a Tori song lyric..."Girls you've got to know when it's time to turn the page. When you're only wet because of the rain."

Yeah, I feel like that today.

It was a beautiful evening. Sunny and warm in the sunlight, but in the shade the air was crisp and fresh. I went down to the little river front park in Saint Albans after work today. I just and sat watching the lazing sun turn the river into a wide ribbon of sparkling gold as it moved on it's journey behind the lush, green hills. It was so beautiful. The sky was a brilliant blue and the clouds were so white and contrasted against the sky that they seemed close enough to touch.

There I was surrounded in all of that beauty, but I felt painfully alone. I heard a rustling in the grass behind me and turned to find two ducks walking side by side. I was the only one alone at the park. Even the ducks kept companions. :)

So tonight I'm only wet because of the rain. And I'm really tired of being this lonely.

I suppose I fear that I'll never make the type of connection for which I am longing. Yeah, that scares me. And my fear is exacerbated by that feeling of lonely. And vice versa. Hmmm...what a nasty little place the human mind can be. The things we do to ourselves.