I was just reading through one of my old poetry text books for kicks and I came across a bit of a poem that moved me. :) I just wanted to share it. :)

And you beside me, blessed now while sirens
Sing to us, steathily weave us into day
Serenely now, before day claims our eyes
Your cool arms murmurously about me lay.

While myriad snowy hands are clustering at
the panes--

Your hands within my hands are deeds;
my tongue upon your throat -- singing
arms close; eyes wide, undoubtful
dark

drink the dawn--
a forest shudders in your hair.

From The Bridge by Hart Crane

I just finished watching the movie Frailty for the first time. Didn't have time to catch it when it was in the theater.

All I have to say is Dear Holy Jesus God! I am disturbed to my core.

So, I bought a car last Saturday at that auction I mentioned in my previous post. I scored a 1995 grey Chevy Corsica for $2,100! (And if you're wondering, yes, I've been driving a Chevy Corsica for the past several years...my mother's car...it's a 1992...and it's grey!) And the kicker is that the car only has 56,000 miles!

When Ben and I went to look at the cars before the auction began that morning, I picked five cars that I decided I would be happy driving for the next 5 years or so. There was a red 1997 Dodge Minivan (big enough to haul all of my friends anywhere and my family on vacation!), a 1997 blue Ford Expedition, a 1995 white Crown Victoria (former police car. This was a freaking huge ass car...I loved it!), a 1993 white Jeep Cherokee, and the Corsica that I ended up buying. After narrowing my choices down, we approached the guy who inspects and cares for the vehicles for the WV Surplus Department. We threw question after question about the vehicles at this guy until we were satisfied. I had set my price limit at $3000 and after this talk I decided I had no chance in hell at winning the Expedition, so it got crossed off of our list.

We walked around a bit and after a short while it was time for the auction to begin!!! We took our place near the auctioneer and waited, excited and somewhat terrified. Now let me take a moment to describe the auctioneer. He had a large dark mustache, no beard, and was wearing a t-shirt and jeans along with a big white Stetson cowboy hat. A very interesting character, he drove a black limousine that had been detailed to appear that it had bullet holes all along the sides.

Anyway, it happened that there was a car dealer there...auctions are where they get most of their used vehicles...and he outbid us on nearly everything. The price on the Minivan shot up so fast we didn't even make our first bid, and we had decided not to even try for the Expedition. Then came the Crown Victoria. I wanted this car. It was nice and roomy, had 76,000 miles, and the only thing I would have to replace would have been the battery. So we bid up to $3,000 but the dealer outbid us at $3,100. :) And then the Cherokee came up and we were outbid again. Finally we came to the Corsica. We waited until the bid got up to $1,600 before jumping in and we took it up, matching the dealer with every $50 increase. It was so nerve wracking...watching Ben put me deeper into debt with the flick of a card...I was going to stop him at $2,300...but then the dealer caved in. We won! The entire crowd cheered for us, as that damn dealer had been beating everyone out of the good vehicles all day long.:) Victory for the little people...or in my case the big little people. Afterwards, he came over and gave me advice on where to get a new paint job for the car and congratulated us in his own way. He could've kept bidding...he basically let us have it, and for that I am grateful.

So now I'm the proud owner of my very own Chevy Corsica. The paint is chipping badly on the roof and there are a couple rust spots, though not very deep. That can easily be remedied with sanding. The only other problem is a loose screw in the motor mount, which can easily be replaced for the meager price of $20. I plan on getting it painted as soon as I get the license and all of that good stuff taken care of...that should be about $300 if the dealer is to be trusted. I just got my title in the mail today, so I'm going to try to head to the DMV tomorrow evening to pay my taxes and get the process started...and then I need insurance. All in all I should have it on the road in a week or two.

So the total cost of the car will be about $2,600...Hazel gave me $500 so that reduces it to a $2,100 cost to me...I had $700 left in my savings after the Florida trip...so that knocks it down to $1,400 that will actually remain on my credit card. This evening I'm applying for one of those cards that gives you 0% interest for a year on balance transfers...so I'll transfer my balance over and then pay that baby off as fast as I can! The cool thing is that I can set my own payment amount...and as long as I get it paid off within the year before the 0% interest runs out, I'm in the clear! Peachy Keen! :)

Damn...you can tell I came from a poor household, can't you? I think it shows in my ability to juggle money and debt. :)

Just when I think that my boss is the Anti-Christ she goes and does something incredibly helpful.

I plan on going to a state used vehicle auction this Saturday in Dunbar and I was discussing my hopes of finding a reliable car there this past week at lunch. After lunch Hazel tells me to remind her next week and she'll give me a $500 bonus. I tell her that I couldn't accept it, it's too much money, etc. I thought about it this weekend and decided that there was no way in hell that I was going to "remind her" about the money. It would basically be begging her for money and I'm still pissed at her. Ben and Shawn tried to change my mind...telling me that I was owed this money for her ill treatment of me, etc. But I wouldn't budge.

Well, yesterday she walks into the library and throws an envelope down on the table. I look up, surprised that she actually went through with it, and then proceeded to try and give it back to her. "I don't deserve this, Hazel. I haven't worked for it, I can't accept it. I don't feel right about it." She just held a hand up and told me to say "thank you." I looked at her a moment and nodded and said, "Thank you, Hazel".

I sat there a moment stunned. Feeling a bit guilty...a bit dirty. Then I laughed as realization washed over me. Hazel is the kind of person that offends people and then trys to smoothe it over by giving gifts. She was doing this to give herself peace of mind about belittling me in front of my co-worker. And perhaps to try and prevent me from leaving her employ the first chance I get.

Well, boss lady. I forgive you for your ill treatment. After all, it's not psychologically healthy to keep ill feelings and anger present all the time. It's far too stressful and damanging to the mind, body, and spirit. So, yes, I forgive. But I will not forget. Thanks for the $500, but the first good job offer I get I'm still out the door.

Silly wench.

Well guys, wish me luck at the auction this weekend. Hopefully I won't be outbid on the one I really want.

Sex was groovy. And now I feel like I could vomit. Beautiful.

Doesn't alcohol do the strangest things to people? And we use it to increase our chances in a relationship...to "bring out our true personality". Bullshit. All it does is make me want to pee more....and maybe lose my dinner.

I need water so I don't have an incredible hangover tomorrow.

I love you all. Yes...all of you...in ways that you can't even imagine.

Yeah...right now I'm drunk. My friend Shawn and I just polished off the very large bottle of Pinot Grigio that Ben's brother bought for me for my birthday. Actually, there's just a smidge left in the bottle, but Shawn has passed out and I've reached my wine guzzling capacity. :) (Didn't think that was possible, did you?)

It took me at least 30 seconds to type that last bit....yeah...I'm drunk. So now I guess I should go have sex or something. Bye.

~ CLG

If you pick at an old wound, it will bleed. (pick, pick, pick)

She never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes though every crack she puts her hand up to
The radiator's broken, so she has to use electric heat.

And tonight was the first date with the brother of the guy she worked next to
He lived a couple streets away
He listened, he had things to say
She asked him up for dinner sometime
Sometime was tonight

The radio gave updates on the ice storm while she made the dinner
They said, from all the talk, you shouldn't drive or even walk
And this just in, we're asking everyone to turn off their power
They need it at the hospital.

She ran around pulling plugs, then she called him up
Maybe now they shouldn't meet, he said that he would brave the streets
She met him at the door with a blanket and a candle
Saying, I heard it on the radio, I had to turn my power off.

He said you're not the only one, the streets were dark tonight,
It was like another century
With dim lamps and candles lighting up the icy trees and the clouds and a covered moon.

She said what kind of people make a city
Where you can't see the sky and you can't feel the ground?

I tell you something, I have this feeling that this city's dying
He said, it's not dying it's the people who are dying
She said, yes, yes I think the people are dying and nobody cares.

We had all this technology our dreams were bold and vague
And then one city got bad planners, one city got the plague.

He asked why did you move here? She said, for the job
For the job and I've been so lonely here, so lonely
There's no one I can talk to, you know I don't even know your brother.

He smiled and said, sometimes at night I walk out by the river
The city's one big town, the water turns it upside down
people found this city because they love other people
They want their secretaries, they want their power lunches.

And think about tonight, I heard the same newscast you did
I unplugged everything, I looked out the window
And I think the city heard, I watched as one by one the lights went off
So they could give their power to the hospital

They ate in silence while she thought this over,
They sat together in a dark room in the Mortal City
Shifting in their blankets so they wouldn't get spaghetti on them.

Then came the awkward moment after dinner, what to do,
The ice was still falling, the streets were still dangerous
The cabs were not running and this neighborhood was not the greatest.

They both looked at the space where a couch would've been
She felt her stomach sink, she felt like she could hardly think

She said, I never should have rented this apartment in the Mortal City
The cold comes through eve crack I put my hand up to
The radiator doesn't work, I have to use electric heat.

That settled it, they would both sleep in her bed
It was a matter of survival.

She brought out t-shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, socks, hats
If there was ever any thought of what would happen in that bed tonight
There was no question now
They could barely move
They were wrapped up like ornaments waiting for another season.

They lay in bed, they listened to the pelting ice
He said my brother's not a bad guy, he's just quiet
I wished you liked this city
She said, maybe I do.

I think I have a special kind of hearing tonight
I hear the neighbors upstairs
I hear my heart beating
I hear one thousand hearts beating at the hospital
And one thousand hearts by their bedsides waiting
Saying that's my love in the white gown,

We are not lost in the Mortal City
We are not lost in the Mortal City

~ Dar Williams from Mortal City

On September 8, 1978 at 11:45pm in the town of Beckley, West Virginia, a third child, a female child was born unto Garland and Diana Garris. If this child had been a male it would have borne the name William Harry and would have been called "Billy" by it's parents. But such was not the fate of the baby born on that September 8th long ago. :) Instead she was called Christina Louise.

The name Christina was chosen because of the meaning "Christian, Annointed, one who is Christ-like" and because her mother thought it was pretty. :) Her second name, Louise, means "female warrior" and was chosen for her father's sister's mother-in-law, Louise Cernuto. She was a very kind old woman and sent Christina a card with a 5 dollar bill every birthday until her death in the girl-child's 8th year of life.

Christina's brother, Wayne, was at first a bit disappointed that he wound up with a little sister. This was in the day before they could tell the sex of a child before birth, and because the child was so large in it's mother's womb everyone was certain that it was to be a boy. When the 10lbs. 2oz. baby was delivered, everyone, including the parents, was surprised by her sex. Even so, they loved her and took her home. But her brother decided that he still wanted a little brother and called her "Chris" instead of Christina and did his best to make her into a tom-boy. He succeeded somewhat. She turned into a girl who liked climbing the cherry tree's in her backyard to get to her grandmother's roof, who didn't mind getting dirty, and who liked playing with army men, Hot Wheels cars, train and race car sets, Transformers, and He-Man and Castle Grayskull. But she also like to play dress-up, to play with her She-Ra dolls, and her Barbie dolls. She hated Cabbage Patch kids and loved Garbage Pail Kids stickers. She never owned a Care Bear, but she had taped all of their movies on Disney. And for whatever reason, her entire family has been calling her Chris since she can remember. Easier on the mouth, I suppose.

And here it is, my friends: I, Christina Garris, or Chris Garris, am 24 today. I left my childhood behind me some time ago, though my Hot Wheels cars and Barbie dolls are still in boxes at my parent's home. I left the youthful invincibility of my teens 4 years ago and today I leave the safety of my early twenties for the growing shadow of my mid-twenties. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that it's not my late twenties or early thirties yet...but I'm not well pleased about aging. Today I'm one step closer to the day that I will die. Well...so are all of you, I suppose. (Cheerful thought, isnt' it?) But that's beside the point. :)

Before I know it (and if the Creator grants that I shall live long enough) my breasts will be sagging, my hair will be graying, and my skin will be old and wrinkled. The beauty and sexuality of youth will leave me and I will be a withered shell. (And though I may be able to tie my breasts in knots or sling them over my shoulders for entertainment at parties, it still remains that I will have saggy, unattractive bobbies.)

As melancholy as all of this seems, it helps me to better appreciate what I have now. I am not perfect, but I am young...and there is no cosmetic, astringent, or anti-aging cream that can truly re-create the beauty of youth. All of us, all of you, my friends, my family, inspite of any physical imperfections we have...if we are overweight or our teeth are crooked and not so white as we'd like them to be...if our muscles are not as defined as that guy and girl's on the cover of Muscle magazine...if we are losing our hair...inspite of it all, we are still beautiful, we are young, we are still alive. So I will enjoy what I have while I still have it, and remember it when I am 80 and my hair is white and my breasts touch my knees while I am sitting. :)

I am also vexed by aging because it reminds me of the mistakes that I've made in my past. If I could only go back to 19 and right all of the wrongs that I've done since that point. But then, I would not be who I am. Living and years we must lose to gain knowledge and, hopefully, wisdom. And if I were to go back to 19, I would be 19 again in body and in mind. I would not have the knowledge that I have now and would most likely make the same choices, the same mistakes. :) Funny, isn't it?

The best that I can hope for is to take the knowledge that I have gained and try to pass it on to my brother's daughter, to the children that my sister will one day have, and to the children that I will one day have. Hopefully, they will heed my counsel and save themselves my errors. But then I'm sure they'll only find new errors to make, and they will gain their own wisdom, and they will attempt to pass that knowledge on to the next generation. :)

Well, it's my birthday. I'm 24. And I'm going to go and live this day.

My thoughts are with all of you, my friends and my family. I miss you!

~ CLG

Well, my bitch of a boss insulted me yet again yesterday. And I was oh so close to walking out that fucking door…but then my bills poked their troublesome little heads into my mind and stopped me from doing anything rash and irresponsible.

So the story is this: A certain claimant of ours died in May in an auto accident (right after taking Ms. Straub on to help her in her Social Security Disability claim). We’ll call the deceased former client Elaine. Elaine’s husband…we’ll call him Frank…decided that he wanted to pursue the claim for the sake of their children. (And for himself I’m sure. The bastard was about to divorce Elaine before she died.)

Anyway, the hearing on Elaine’s claim is set for September 13th, so I was following up on medical requests that we’d sent out. Well, I called one doctor and his staff said they had no record of our request and asked that we send it again; with a medical release of information authorization signed by Elaine and one signed by her husband, Frank. Not a problem. We have those on file. So I typed up the request and copied the release forms.

Now the claimants do not date the release forms when they sign them. We usually fill in the date whenever we send out our requests…. that way the releases will never expire…they’ll always have a current date. Anyway, it was the end of the day and my brain wasn’t working properly and I dated Elaine’s form August 28, 2002. I’m sure you all see the problem here. She couldn’t have dated something for August when she died in May.

I realized this yesterday when I called to follow up again on the request. The medical records clerk told me that she couldn’t send the records and I explained my error to her. She told me I’d have to speak with the office manager, who, of course, was not available. I left a message for the manager, knowing that all I would have to do would be to forward a new release with a correct date and all would be well and I would get the records.

Later that day, Hazel asked me how my quest for Elaine’s records was going and I told her of the mix up but explained that it would be taken care of. She rolled her eyes at me, sighed, and said, “That was stupid, Chris!” Anger flares, but I know she’s right…it was a stupid mistake, but nothing major…so I just swallow my anger and smile. “Well, we all make mistakes. But don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.” (It was just a podiatrist's records anyway…and Elaine was not claiming disability due to the condition of her pinkie toes.)

A few moments later Hazel goes into Beth #1’s office and I hear her talking in a hushed voice, like she does when she’s gossiping about someone. So I decided to go and look for a file I was sure was in that room that I “desperately needed”. :) Hazel’s back was turned to the door so she didn’t see me come in and I heard her telling Beth of my error. She was using her best gossipy “oh-my-god-what-an-idiot” tone. In short, my boss was talking about me (in an unfavorable way) behind my back to my co-worker. I was furious.

Once she realized I was in the room she tried to turn it around. She said, “Well, who’s to say that I wouldn’t have made the same stupid mistake myself.” I didn’t even look her way. I just got the file I was looking for and walked back to my makeshift desk in the library. Obscenities were rushing through my mind and I wanted so badly just to let them fly. To tell the bitch exactly what I thought of her…how unprofessional her behavior was…how immature it was…how unkind…and how damaging to my integrity among my co-workers.

Instead I held my tongue for fear of breaking down in tears when I confronted her. She not only angered me but hurt my feelings. You see, since I was hired on at her law firm, I’ve done nothing but my best. I haven’t always done everything perfectly or as quickly as she might have liked, but I have done my best and I have to say that my best is pretty damn good. Every now and then, however, I have made the occasional error…nothing major though. But every time she has flown off the handle and insulted me. Like her blaming me for the cleaning staff messing with her fucking precious laptop computer. And her bitching at me for not delivering a document to Social Security that no one even told me that I was supposed to deliver! (It was my first day back from vacation and I was oblivious to what had been going on during my absence. I didn’t even know of the existence of the damned document.) Anyway, I take pride in my job and when I do something wrong; I feel it seriously and personally. When my boss insults me over it, I feel even worse.

My initial response to her insults was to try and do better. I internalized it, assuming it was a fault with me…assuming that I really was incompetent and stupid. After all, this successful and wealthy authority figure is telling me that I’m an idiot so I must be, right? Well, I worked harder, gave up lunches, came in early, but she never praised any of that. She probably never noticed. But whenever I fail to do something exactly as she wants it or if I mess up, BAM!!! She’s in my face telling me what a moron I am.

Finally, I realize that the problem is not with me. Yes, I screwed up, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed and it’s nothing that will harm her case. And I am tired of taking her shit. At first I really couldn’t believe she was actually saying some of those things to me. I was startled speechless. Now I’m just fucking pissed off.

It’s war, you goddamned, mother fucking, bitchy, old cunt!!!

I’m finding another job as soon as I possibly can, and then I’m going to tell her to shove her fucking medical records releases up her saggy, white ass.

Ma Soeur

I helped my sister finish packing up her shit this evening. Poor thing…she’s so stressed and afraid that she won’t be able to make it on her own in Maryland. But she will. :) She’ll be fine.

She’s had to sort through so much emotional baggage over the past 5 years since her divorce…her ex-husband completely undermined her confidence in herself during the last years of their marriage. He was always mocking her, never supporting her, always taking advantage and never appreciating all of the little things she did for him. For god’s sake, the woman laid out his clothes (and ironed them all) every damn morning…she even laid out his underwear!!! He never made a meal while they were married…never washed a dish…never did a load of laundry. She did all of the household shit and worked …but she was happy to do that as long as she was appreciated and treated with respect. But after the first two years or so he stopped giving her that. And he began drinking more heavily. And he changed.

After I graduated high school, my parents told me that I couldn’t get a job until the fall. They felt bad about not being able to send me to college because Dad had lost his job, so they decided that I shouldn’t work until I had to. “You’ll be working the rest of your life, kid”, my Mom always said. Well, when that September rolled around, I started looking for a job. The market was so bad in Beckley in the fall of 1996 that even McDonald’s didn’t call me in for an interview.

My sister had worked at United National Bank in Charleston for a few years and she pulled some strings and got me on there. I, of course, had to move in with her for a few months until I had established myself and could apply for a transfer to one of the Beckley offices. So from October 1996 to February 1997 I worked in Charleston at United National Bank as a teller. I worked at three branches…the main office on Virginia St., the Town Center office, and the Capitol Street office. Whenever they needed someone, I went. I also picked up an evening job at a kiosk in the Town Center mall. I’d work at the bank from 7:30am to 7pm and then I’d hike over to the mall to work at the men’s necktie stand until closing time. I worked all of these hours just to keep enough to pay my portion of the groceries and then I’d send the rest home to the folks.

Long days those were. But good ones. I loved living with my sister…I think it was during that time that we became better friends. We’d go grocery shopping together, cook dinner together, clean together, ride to work together, go to church together…the fun was endless. :) But the fun was actually endless…or it seems so now. I’m glad I had the opportunity to be there with her during that time. She and Rick were having troubles then…he was drinking a lot…and I think it helped her to have someone to talk to. And someone to witness his bullshit, so she’d know she wasn’t crazy…she wasn’t too picky…it wasn’t all in her head. I can’t tell you the number of beer cans I picked up around his chair during the time I was there. At least 6 every evening…very often there were more.

From observing their relationship, I began to understand how inequality in a marriage and/or relationship could destroy it. And I became wary. “If this is what marriage is”, I thought, “then I simply don’t need it”. I was my own woman, and I’d be damned if any man was going to tell me how to live my life. And I told myself that I would never become involved with anyone who likes to drink a little too much. Funny thing is that I forgot all about that shortly after I moved to Beckley, and fell head over heels for a young alcoholic. I had gone to high school with him…and he and I had had involvements in the past…but something just clicked that February. I was nuts for Mr. Joseph Carlucci…and he was one of the biggest lushes that I’ve ever met. My Italian Stallion, I called him. LOL! How bloody fucking ridiculous. All we ever did when we were together was get drunk and fool around…well, we would talk and we had a few good conversations…but it was mostly fooling around and drinking. Anyway, you’d think I would learn something from my sister’s relationship with an alcoholic. Nope. I learned my lesson the hard way…and ended with a broken heart, just like my poor sister when Rick asked her for a divorce a year later.

He asked her at dinner on Valentine’s Day. Lovely, eh? But she was tired of trying to keep it together. During their long struggle, she had grown so very tired and had fallen out of love with him. The “reward” of having him in her life became less and less a thing worth fighting for…and she gave in. She walked away to preserve her sanity. On the whole, I’m sorry that her marriage didn’t work out. In spite of his flaws, Rick was a good guy. He had been involved with Rose since I was 8 years old and was like a brother to me. However, I realize that if they had stayed together any longer, they would’ve just ended up hurting and clawing at the other’s emotions and sanity worse than they already had. It was best. But I was still very upset when they told me. That was in the winter (December or January) of 1997.

When I see my sister now, embarking on her move…her own journey to prove herself to herself…I am proud of her. She is terrified, but she is determined and that determination will see her though. She is coming out of that shell that her ex-husband pushed her into for so many years. She is becoming her own person…finally voicing her opinions…standing up for herself a bit, and I’m glad. For a while there she was the easiest person in the world to take advantage of. Whenever anything was asked of her, she felt as though she had to do it. She couldn’t refuse anyone anything least she feel incredibly guilty about it. She’s able to say “No” now and I’m glad. I can’t wait for the day that she stops doubting herself and realizes that she is truly intelligent, capable, beautiful, and on the whole, a wonderful person.

She still remains the sweetest person that I have ever met in my life. She’s the most selfless person that I’ve ever known, one of the kindest, and the most giving. I know that she will always rush to my side when I am in need, and I will do the same for her. She was my roommate in my childhood, my playmate, and (being 8 years my senior) my “little mother”. She is and always will be my sister and my friend.

Give 'em hell, Sissy! I’ll miss you! :)

"Thanks to birth order... I have something
she'll never have: a powerhouse to be inspired by."

~ Patricia Volk on her sister Jo Ann

I think my friends have all forgotten how to type....and it's kinda lonely and quiet. But maybe I should just enjoy the silence.

words like violence
break the silence
come crashing in
into my little world
painful to me
pierced right through me
can't you understand
oh my little girl

all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms

vows are spoken
to be broken
feelings are intense
words are trivial
pleasures remain
so does the pain
words are meaningless
and unforgettable

all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms
all i ever wanted
all i ever needed
is here in my arms

words are very unnecessary
they can only do harm
they can only do harm

Depeche Mode from Enjoy the Silence

Home Again, Home Again, and Never to Rest

Ben and I got back from vacation Sunday August 18th at 10:30PM. We drove the 16 hours back from Ft. Lauderdale, unloaded the car, and fell into bed exhausted. I had to get up the next morning bright and early to get to work. What a shitty Monday that was. It was a shitty week, actually. I was so tired all week long because of getting back late from vacation, I had to go in early two days, and I got up super early Wednesday morning to take a test for a position with Disability Determination Section of Social Security. The fun was endless! :)

This past weekend I was able to recover somewhat, but found myself sitting up late drinking and playing euchre with Ben, Shawn, and Ken, when I really should've been catching up on ZZZZZs. Plus I've had a hard time putting down the book I'm currently reading...(George R. R. Martin's Storm of Swords, the 3rd book in the Song of Ice and Fire series)..so I tend to read well past my bed time. I just can't help it! The plot is so exciting right now, killing off major characters and all, and the characters are so well written, and the wit incredible!! I'm thinking that Martin may well be one of the greatest fantasy writers besides Tolkien. (At least that's the way I feel at the moment. Give it time...I'll be declaring that someone else is the greatest, I'm sure.) But the staying up late reading thing doesn't really help with the whole rest issue, but oh well. I'll rest when I'm dead.

It was a yummy weekend, though. It's always nice to have people you love around you. :) And speaking of having people you love around you...I'll be losing one this week. :( My sister is moving to Baltimore, Maryland this weekend and I'm gonna miss her so much! She's my sis, and my friend, and she always laughs at my jokes (god bless her!). But we'll keep in touch. My family has always been really close...physical distance won't change that. :)

And Ben starts school tomorrow...while I sit at my job and rot. :) I'm so happy for him...he only has to pull through a year and he's got his degree!!! We're gonna have a kick ass party or go on some awesome trip when he graduates. But under these feeling of happiness and goodwill for him, I must admit, I feel sort of odd about not being in school this semester. I don't want to end up not going back. I'm so afraid that I'll just stop here and rot in a fucking shitty job the rest of my natural life!!!!!!! ACK!!!!!!

Okay. Calm down, bitch! Get a grip! That will only happen if you allow it to! Focus on your goals and make them happen!

Oh yeah, I'm losing it...I'm even talking to myself in my blogs. I'm gonna go read now....it's so much more interesting than reality.

Sending thoughts of Love and Popsicles,

c.g.

Well, here I am in Ft. Lauderdale Florida at my friend Patrick's home. Ben and I arrived here Saturday night after a 16 hour drive through West Virginia, Virginia, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. We brought his mother's car, so I finally got to learn how to drive a stick shift. :) I'm still having a little trouble letting the clutch out smoothly in 1st and 2nd gears...but considering the small amount of practice I had before we actually set out on the trip, I'd say that I'm not doing too shabby at all.
We're staying here with Pat until this Sunday. The poor bastard is at work today, but he's taking off a few days later in the week to goof around with us. It promises to be a nice, relaxing, fun vacation.:) Just what I've been in need of. :)

And now on to more exciting news....

This Thursday past Ben, Shawn, and I have the pleasure of seeing Tool in concert in Huntington, WV. Before I get to the description of the performance let me just say that I will never again purchase tickets on the floor. I had never before been so tightly pressed against a bunch of sweaty strangers as I was that night. The guys who were standing in front of me enjoyed it, I'm sure...with my breasts constantly grazing their backs. And Shawn and Ben tell me that some girls behind them were giving them similar treatment...except that these girls were dancing and rubbing their boobs and bellys and what not all up against Shawn and Ben's backs. I wondered why Shawn had that shit-eating grin on his face most of the night. :) It was pretty wild, though. People kept pushing through the crowd trying to get closer to the stage, and people were moshing, and fighting, and smoking pot. Some guys behind me came close to burning me a couple of times with the big fat doobie that they were passing around. And whenever anyone would move through the crowd, you had to struggle to keep you footing, otherwise you'd be knocked over. And the moshing...GRRRRR...the moshing distracted me throughout Sober and Aenima...I had to concentrate on not being knocked over. Stressful. On the whole, I didn't get to enjoy the concert as much as I would have, had I been sitting like the very wise Wayne, Cheryl, and Rose (my brother, sister-in-law, and sister).

The first backdrop was of some sort of ancient stone carved face, and when the lights would shine on it, it would turn a variety of colors. To either side of the stage, hanging from the ceiling of the arena, were two large screens onto which a variety of odd and somewhat distrubing images were projected throughout the show. A few of these images: a flying dove made out of eyeballs; an eye being held open with some metal device...blood and muscle surrounding the eye...and some white fluid was being injected into it; a circle of blacked-eyed white-bodied creatures that were shaped like Herschy's Kisses...they had no arms or legs...and they were each sucking on the pointy tip of the head of the creature in front of them...all in a circle feeding on each other; white-bodied naked swimmers, a multi-colored flace with an eye placed vertically in the center. The second backdrop was a spiral pattern made up of eyes and a large pentagram was hanging down from the ceiling, placing it in the middle of the spiral.

The guitarist was positioned front stage-right, the basist was front stage-left, the drummer was behind the basist and a bit toward the center of the stage, and Maynard was behind the guitartist a few feet and more to the center of the stage (but not directly centered). He was clad totatlly in black leather...black leather pants, black leather jacket/shirt...and he was sporting either a short mohawk with a black stripe painted down the center of his face or a black stripe painted on his head and down the center of his face.:) He never once turned around to face the crowd...but every now and then we'd get to see his profile. He sang every song in his place there on stage, with his back to the audience, dancing some strange slow dance...every now and then turning his right leg out to the side and stomping to the beat of the drums. He never once spoke to us. But he sang and oh, how he sang. And a couple of times he also played guitar, and Danny drummed, and Justin played his bass, and Adam played his guitar. And it was Tool in concert. And I was there!

They opened with Sober and closed with Lateralus, and from there I can't really recall the order. Aenima was played, along with Stinkfist, H., Schism, and Parabola. They did two songs that I didn't recognize, one with an incredibly long build up. One of these songs I think was Reflection, because I remember the phrase "It's calling me" being repeated over and over. There was a 20 minute long jam session before they did Lateralus, where they brought some guy on stange with some other drums. That rocked. :) I really wanted to hear them perform Eulogy and Forty-Six and 2, but oh well. Maybe next time!:)

One thing that strikes me as I think about the placement of everyone on stage and of Maynard's behavior...they appeared as a band...as Tool...not as Maynard and his guitarist, bass player, and drummer. This placed the focus on the music. All there was was the music and the images.

The night of the concert, I was a bit disappointed that Maynard didn't speak to the audience. I was and still am curious to hear the perspectives and perceptions of the man who writes such brilliant lyrics. I wanted to hear his "positive energy" speech that I've read about. All we got was "Thank you for sharing this moment with us." right after the jam session, and I think that was said by Adam. I thought, at the time, that maybe he didn't speak because he was slightly pissed off at the crowd for how they received the opening act.

You see, not only was the music of Tomahawk (the opening act) pure shit, but the lead singer was an asshole. He kept insulting West Virginia and West Virginians. He said, "Come on people! Get loud! You're supposed to have more energy than that! You're supposed to be the most fucked up Hillbillies around!" Well that wasn't too bad...most of the people cheered at that one. (idiots) "What are you guys drinking tonight? Everclear isn't it? Grain alcohol? You guys are fed that in your bottled down here!" Stupid thing to say. A few people cheered, but most flipped him off. One thing he didn't realize is that even though he was in West Virginia, he was in one of the largest urban centers in West Virginia. These people may speak with an accent but the majority of them are not rednecks...and even your serious redneck takes childrearig seriously. This was an insult to the intelligence of our parents and their ability to take care of their children. Some people started flipping him off. Then he went into another shit song, during which he mostly screamed and made stupid noised into the microphone. The crowd wasn't into it. Not much cheering or dancing. Just watching. He said, "I think maybe you guys are just eager for Tool." Cheering. And then he did a mocking impression of Sober. Then said, "Or maybe you just want to hear some music that's familiar to you. (asking the guitarist) Do you know any banjo music? Here's one I think you guys know...you can hum along." And then proceeded to hum the opening of Wildwood Flower. Pissed off audience. Many middle fingers flying up, including mine. Then he said, "Man you guys are tough. Damn, this girl up here in the front row looks so pissed off! What's the matter honey, haven't you ever had any dick lately? Have you ever had any Yankee dick? I'll be you've had Daddy's though." Many boos and middle fingers flying. Chants of "fuck you, fuck you" rising from all over the arena. I was among those chanting and extending my finger. They finally gave up and left the stage. Stupid cocksuckers.

Anyway, if Maynard was annoyed at our reaction to Tool's opener, well...I'm sorry but you don't go around insulitng people and expect to be well-received. All in all, I enjoyed the concert and I most definately plan to see Tool again...this time with seats.:)

ooopsie!

You know you've had a long day when you turn on some music and lean back in your computer chair to listen...and then find yourself waking up 5 minutes later with a pain in your neck from how it was propped against the chair. :)

I need sleep!!!!!

I intended to post this on Saturday night, but for some reason Blogger didn't like my mother's computer and decided not to work properly. At any rate...here it is. :)

Friday Night Buddhist

I went to hear Buddhist monk, Bhante Gunarantana, speak at University of Charleston last night. Bhante G., as most at the gathering referred to him, is a 74-year-old Theravadan monk from Sri Lanka who teaches meditation worldwide and is the author of “Mindfulness in Plain English” and “Eight Mindful Steps to Happiness”.

I had the awkward pleasure of riding up in the elevator with the evening’s speaker. I arrived early (for once) and was trying to find my way to the third floor room, but wasn’t having much luck. So I decided to wait and follow the next people that were looking for it. The next people happened to be Bhante G. and a professor. I don’t really know the proper greeting one should give to a Buddhist monk, but I bowed my head to him and held the elevator door open for him and allowed him to get on before me. We found the sign pointing the way to the room hanging inside the elevator and laughed together at the error in judgment on the part of the student who had hung the signs. :)

It was a very intimate gathering held in a small room on the third floor of the UC Student Union. Bhante G. was seated on a cushion on a small couch and was sitting cross-legged. He was about 5’3”, with dark brown skin, a shaved little head, and he was dressed in the orange robes of a Buddhist monk. There were two lamps on end tables on either side of the couch that served as the only lighting in the room. About 8 rows of folding chairs were set out facing the couch, I was on the second row.

His talk was on the subject of loving friendliness or what he called mehta. (Uncertain on spelling) First, he led us in a mehta meditation, which was so relaxing! He rang this little bell three times and then asked us to close our eyes, pay attention to our breathing: to the feel of our chest cavity expanding and shrinking as the air came in and out of our bodies, and to really contemplate the words that he would be speaking. And then he began, in his very soft, singsong voice, to say something a bit like this:

May no harm come to me
May no suffering come to me
May I be happy, healthy, and peaceful
May I be successful
May I find strength and courage to face the inevitable troubles, problems, and difficulties I find along life’s path.
Etc.

He went on to wish all of these things for our teachers, our families, our friends, our enemies, unfriendly people, and eventually, all people.

Whenever an outside thought of what I had to do tomorrow or if I had to do laundry or wash dishes later that night came into my mind, I immediately pushed it away and concentrated on the sound of his voice and the meaning of his words. After a few minutes I found it was no effort to focus on his words…I was deep in wishing well my fellow human beings, those who are friendly to me and those who are unfriendly. I was exuding complete goodwill. And was it ever relaxing! I felt totally content after the meditation was over…totally at peace. Like I’d just received a full body massage. And I thought, “I’ve got to do this more often! I wonder if I can take him home with me?”

With everyone feeling relaxed and peaceful, Bhante G. began his talk on mehta. Basically the principle of mehta is exactly the same as that of our Golden Rule. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Have love and compassion and kindness for everyone, regardless of how they behave to you. If people are angry, rude, if they swear at you, you should not respond with anger, rudeness, and equal swearing. Nope. You should have compassion for them. Why? Because those people are not normal people. Something has happened to those people to hurt them and make them put up defenses of anger, etc. Their lives have not been happy and peaceful…they have not had normal lives. So we should have compassion for them.

Sounds simple enough and very much like what I’ve heard mentioned in church all of my life. However, it’s the most difficult thing in the world to actually practice. On a good day, sure, it’s easy. But when someone stresses you out…makes you angry…it’s hard to just feel compassion. It’s hard not to yell obscenities at them. :) At least for me.

He mentioned how it is human nature for us all to make comparisons of ourselves with others so that we may understand our places in society and ourselves. He noted that most of us make negative comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are different. He says that he and his fellow monks teach that we should make positive comparisons of ourselves with others…how we are similar. It is much easier to be compassionate with someone if you feel that they are like you. :) True, true, true.

Bhante G. went on to say that we should send feelings of friendship, compassion, and love to everyone, regardless of how they treat us, not only for their sake, but also for our own. Compassion and friendliness toward others is the first step toward happiness. After all, can you be angry when you’re helping someone? No, not really. Because you’re not thinking about yourself at that moment when you’re engaged in the helping action. So being friendly brings us closer to happiness and it spreads happiness to others. This can be true even if other people are unaware of the goodwill that you're sending them or the good action that you're doing.

He illustrated this point by telling a story of a man who lived in Washington D.C. near the Washington beltway. For many years this man got up early every morning and waved to all of the people driving their cars along the beltway to work. Most people never noticed him. He was so hard to see and they were all speeding by so quickly and preoccupied by the thoughts of their days ahead of them. But someone saw him…and wondered what he was doing and why he was waving every morning. Eventually Dan Rather got wind of the story and went to interview the man. He asked the man what he was doing, waving to all of these people like that. The man replied that he was wishing them all a good morning…wishing them a safe journey to work and a happy day. Dan Rather said, “But they can’t hear you…and most of them don’t see you or just think you’re crazy if they do see you.” “It doesn’t matter”, replied the man. “I don’t want them to see me. I do this for my own satisfaction. I believe that if I am sincere in wishing them a safe journey, that my goodwill has a chance to effect the course of their lives.” That story got a huge response in the Washington area. And the people became aware that someone out there was wishing them happiness and safety. They were made happy by the goodwill and friendliness of this man and he was made happy by wishing them safety and happiness. Not only they were affected, but even when Bhante G. told this story, it made me smile and made me feel that I wanted to do similar actions of goodwill toward my fellow man. :) And perhaps it will make you feel the same when you read it. :)

He also spoke of how people truly can sense others emotions. Even if you don’t actually say anything to express your goodwill and love, others can feel it. This, he said, is usually more evident in children because they communicate more simply than adults. Adults have learned more complex forms of communication…mainly verbal…and their understanding of the world is more intellectual. Also they are often too preoccupied by their busy lives to focus on the feelings exuding from others. Children, however, are more tuned in to emotes because their understanding of the world is a more emotional understanding…their communication is not as verbally focused as that of adults. However, it still remains that adults can sense others emotions…they will just not be as aware of it as children. It will be a subconscious sensation. If adults make a conscious effort to quiet their minds, of course, they can become aware of sensing these feelings from others.

To illustrate how people can sense others emotions, especially children, he told a story of something that happened to him while in an airport in London. He was flying from London to Madrid, Spain where he was going to teach a meditation retreat. His flight was delayed several hours so he decided to use the time to do some mehta meditation. He sat cross-legged on a bench and began his meditation…sending thoughts of goodwill and safe journeys out to all of the people in the airport, etc. And after sitting there for about 30 minutes he felt someone sit down on the bench beside him. He kept meditating and did not open his eyes. A few minutes later he felt the person get up from the bench and then he felt two little arms wrap around his neck. At this point he opened his eyes and found an adorable little four year old, blonde haired, blue-eyed girl holding on to him. He had remembered seeing her earlier, walking along with her mother. Apparently she had become lost and when she couldn’t find her mother, she made her way to him. Bhante G. found it very pleasing that she came to him, but wondered why, of all people, she came to him. He said that he was probably the most strange looking individual in the whole airport. A little brown man in orange robes, sitting cross-legged, engaged in meditation on a bench. But he felt that she could sense the feelings of goodwill and love that he was sending out and came to him, knowing that he was friendly and could help her. When they finally found her mother, she had become so attached to him that she didn’t want to leave his side. He had to tell her to go with her mother before she would actually leave. :)

He told a few more interesting stories…he was very clever and was an entertaining story teller. I learned a little more about Buddhism that I didn’t know…like how Bhante believes that the feelings and thoughts that you have during the last moments of your life will effect your next life. If you are accepting and at peace with dying, you will have a peaceful next life and vice versa. The idea of accepting death, if it is obviously inevitable, makes sense to me. I’d rather have my last moments be a peaceful reflection of all of the beauty that I’ve experienced than a confused and angry struggle. As for the next life thing…well I truly don’t know what I believe about what happens after death. I was raised with the Christian belief of heaven and hell…but who knows? Lately I’ve been thinking that maybe there’s nothing…or maybe we come back. Who knows?

He also mentioned another reason for the little girl in the airport being drawn to him that I found interesting. He said that she could have been drawn to him because possibly he had had some attachment to her in a past life. The whole idea of past lives and future lives intrigues me…and I find fascinating the possibility that our connections to people in one lifetime can bleed over into another. I know that I’ve met some people in my life that I feel so familiar with, even though I’ve never met them before…or anyone like them. There have been people whose souls I feel that I recognize…and I couldn’t explain why I felt that way…and I was so inexplicably drawn to these people. So who knows, maybe it’s true?

I thoroughly enjoyed myself and I’m interested in reading his books to learn more about meditation. If I could reach that feeling of peacefulness that I did last night at least once a day, I think I might be a happier person on the whole. :) And maybe I should start waving at people on their way to work in Charleston too. :)

Seriously, I am interesting in learning more about meditation. Bhante and some other monks established a monastery in Hampshire County, WV and they hold meditation retreats. I think it would be great to go to one of these. Here’s the web address if you’re interesting in learning more:

www.bhavanasociety.org

Let me know if any of you are interested in going to a retreat with me! :)

There are certain moments in a person’s life when everything seems so beautiful and you’re not afraid to believe.

Lying in the arms of the one that you love is such a moment.

I don’t know what’s coming next, but it really doesn’t matter. All that I want and need is to be here in this moment with my love, our limbs tangled together like heavy roots.

All that I need: the feel of his skin against mine, strong arms wrapped around me, his eyes, so intense and alight with passion. My heart is tight from the beauty of this moment and my soul cries, “He’s so alive! And I am truly alive! Burning and burning…and I’ve found someone who burns the way that I do! This is what life is…everything else is an illusion.”

In a moment such as this, words are unnecessary. They are too hard and will only shatter the beauty and bring reality and time crashing back into my world. And so I soak up the bliss and sweet silence as long as I can. But not all is silent. For occasionally my love or I will whisper and murmur, each vocally caressing the other: “my love”…“so beautiful”…“my love, my love”

And once again I believe in fate and destiny. I believe in truth and beauty. And I believe in love.

But words eventually must come. And with them comes reality, storming in to take possession of my world once more. And with reality comes time. And with time comes responsibility. Until I end up back here…the place where my only record of that moment of beauty and life is memory…and all I can do is wait for the next one.


"We barely remember who or what came before this precious moment,
We are choosing to be here right now. Hold on, stay inside
This holy reality, this holy experience.
Choosing to be here in
This body. This body holding me.
Be my reminder here that I am not alone in
This body, this body holding me.
Feeling eternal
All this pain is an illusion."

~ Tool from Parabola on their Lateralus CD

Well, I resisted the seductive lure of Mitsubishi’s current marketing campaign. They’re currently advertising that you can get a car with no interest (ever) and no payments for a year. This is a fucking spectacular deal!!! However, you must buy a new car for the deal to apply.

As all of my friends know, I need a new car. Hell, I need a car period. I had a car once…it was an Easter Egg Blue Chevy Citation…but it decided to develop a serious oil leak and die two weeks into my freshman year at college. I got the damn thing home to my parent’s driveway and there it’s been ever since. So, on and off for the past 5 years of my college career I’ve been driving my mother’s Chevy Corsica (which has been a wonderful car with tons of power…Vrooom.! Vrooom!) or my boyfriend’s Plymouth Acclaim. I’ve been bumming for the past 5 years and honestly, I’m tired of it. My poor Mother, hasn’t had her car at all for the last 2 years and that’s just awful! She doesn’t mind…in fact, she has never complained…and my dad is there to take her wherever she needs to go, so it’s not like she’s totally stuck. But I still feel horrible and grateful all at the same time.

The point is that I’ve been thinking that I need a car of my own and this deal was just so tempting. However, after careful analysis of my projected financial state for the next 5 years, I decided that a new car…even one with no fucking interest and no fucking payments for a year…is a bad idea. I simply can’t afford it and go to college too. I’d need a full-time job just to nail the payment, let alone the cost of insurance.

The sad thing is that Mitsubishi almost nailed my ass…they almost got me. And I would’ve had a sweet car but no M.A…and I would be working a job with no chance for advancement or pay increase.

It’s amazing and scary at how strong the lure of possessions can be. We convince ourselves and corporations convince us that we need possessions. If you just had this new car, then you’d be cool…if we just had this new stereo system, then we could feel good about ourselves. And once we meet that first compulsion, it becomes easier to give in the next time. So we buy bigger, better, and more expensive merchandise. We become good little consumers.

It’s truly fucking scary. Because the reality is that all of our possessions are going to be worth nothing one day. We can’t take them with us when we die…what’s valuable to us will not necessarily be valuable to our children…and owning certain things simply doesn’t make any difference in your worth or the type of person that you are. They are just things.

Another facet of reality is that, in today’s society, some of these things (like cars) we do actually need to function effectively. If I didn’t have a car, I would have to walk several miles to a bus stop so that I could get to work. So that my life runs more efficiently, I need a car. So that I don’t feel so horrible over having my mother’s car, I need to give her car back to her and buy one of my own. However, I would be happy to settle for a nice $3000 number…something that will serve its function, nothing more and nothing less. And that way I can still afford to go to grad school and everybody’s happy.

Yay! Don't you feel better for having read this? :)

Afraid of Women

Women totally baffle me. And the fact that I am one makes this very strange, I know. But I’m recognizing the fact that I’m very wary of other women. A bit frightened by them, in fact.

Whenever I meet new females I’m instantly on my guard. In a social situation around new females I usually just sit back and observe. I’m cordial…I make pleasant conversation…but I never have the desire to pursue the relationship.

So, I ask myself why am I so fucking edgy around other ladies?

The first answer that comes to mind is, “I don’t trust them”. Don’t trust them in respect to what? Do I feel that these females threaten my relationship with Ben? No…not really. I’m pretty secure there.

So what don’t I trust them with? My secrets…my thoughts…my heart. Women can be extremely vicious creatures…downright malevolent. A woman will do wrong to another woman that which a man would never even dream of doing to another man. So I suppose I’m afraid to get close to one…afraid she’ll hurt me because she got angry with me for some petty reason. And honestly any relationship with a typical woman takes so much effort…effort that I simply don’t have time to give. God, and the conversations that most women want to have are simply gossip or about love relationships. Over and over and over again they’ll rip apart the last meetings with their crush, analyzing every little detail to fucking death. It’s tiring. And gossip just makes me want to vomit. Don't get me wrong, I still have the occasional need to
pour out my heart to someone uninvolved concerning a relationship issue. We all need someone to talk to at sometime. It's great to have a soundingboard. But to have that be your only conversation each and every time? Jesus!

Men, however, I understand. Men are so much easier. They (usually) won’t divulge anything you tell them in confidence just for a bit of juicy conversation (like a woman will). They don’t take a ton of effort either. You can go without seeing one of you guy friends for a month or more and when you are reunited, you will be pretty much on the same note that you were the last time you saw them. With a chick it can be this way…but it usually isn’t. And men don’t (usually) gossip…and they will ask your opinion on a love relationship once and once you give your opinion, they let it go. Lovely. No stress. Plus men like to DO things. And their conversation will involve things outside of love relationships and gossip, like books, movies, music, etc.

The one close girl friend that I had was very much like me. Her name is Nikki. We usually got along better with men…and we were a bit surprised when we found each other. She was a sister…a kindred spirit…and I loved her very much. I still love her, but I miss her.

I moved to Huntington to go to Marshall and she stayed home and went to a community college. The first couple of years, we still managed to stay in touch. I would drive down to visit my family on the weekends and would go and see her while I was there. And we would email. (She was never very good at replying.) And I would call her. Her parents were very controlling, unreasonable people who felt that I was a bad influence on her because I told her to stand up to them more than she did. They treated her like a child and she was their little whipping girl. I remember her mother making her clean the bathroom and kitchen before she could come and stay the night with me. These were more than normal chores that she was given. They were deterrents. Her parents thought that if they put enough obstacles in our way, we’d just give up on being friends. But they were wrong. She’d do what was required and sometimes I’d drive down and help her clean and then we’d go back to my house.

(I used to get so upset with her parents, but I realize that they were doing what they thought was best for her at the time. And perhaps it was. Perhaps I was a bad influence. I know they didn’t want her to end up like me, psychotic and living in sin.)

I could be myself with her. That’s one thing that I never had with any of the other shallow friendships that I had before her. To be as fucking goofy as I wanted to be. To have moments of stupidity and air headedness and she accepted me in spite of it. To be serious and contemplate life and it’s meaning. To think aloud and express my desires. I didn’t have to be a magazine…I could be real. And that was so refreshing. I can’t tell you how much I miss that.

The third and fourth years I was at school our communications dropped off drastically. I was working a lot and my course work increased in difficulty…so I honestly didn’t have the time to go home as often. I probably made it home about once every 2 or 3 months…and that time I spent with the family, of course.
I would call when I was home, but she was working a lot then too so it was hard to get hold of her. Sometimes I would be successful and we’d talk for a bit…or I’d go visit her at work.

She worked at Wal-Mart in Beckley as one of those people that puts misplaced merchandise back in the proper place. She handled the Health and Beauty section. Her shift was from 4pm or 5pm to midnight or beyond, depending on how quickly she finished. I used to go up to Wal-Mart and help her restock and straighten the shelves in her department, just so she could get out and we could spend some time together.

We’d spend the night with each other or we’d go somewhere and grab some food and chat. Once we got two bottles of Arbor Mist and got drunk at the bottom of my hill. We had parked just off the road in a well-known make-out location. People kept driving by and honking or yelling, “Get some!!” We thought it was so fucking hilarious.

When at school I emailed, but I had less time to do that. In addition to work and school, I was also in a depression the third and forth years. The depression factor made me less motivated to do anything…so everything was a struggle. I don’t know how I did it really. I don’t think I was consciously aware of being depressed then…I just kept saying that I was tired and stressed out. The one thing that motivated me was that I knew Ben was depressed and I was part of the reason that he was in depression…and I had a responsibility to see him well and on his feet again. To mend what had been broken. And so I pushed and pushed and pushed. By the forth year, poor Nikki was lost in all of my emotional muck and mire. And I was too emotionally crazy and exhausted at this time to realize that I missed her. I was just trying to survive tomorrow.

And last year was pretty much the same. It was pretty stressful as far as school and finances were concerned…but Ben was doing better. And I was starting to realize that I had been depressed…that I was, in fact, still in a bit of a depression. By this time, I never heard from Nikki. The last couple of times I had any contact with her was after Ben’s father passed away…she sent me an email letting me know how sorry she was…. and she sent me pictures of her brother’s new baby girl.

During our times of silence her grandmother passed away and I wasn’t able to go to the funeral or be there for her. We had a couple of phone conversations and I tried to comfort her as she had comforted me just a few months earlier when my grandmother had died. But I wasn’t able to be there…I was too busy, busy, busy…and I feel like I failed her. I’m so sorry, Nikki.

I’ve always known that we grow up and as we grow up leave things from out past behind us. That’s part of life. I just really wasn’t prepared to leave Nikki behind. She’s the only woman, besides my sister, that I’ve ever trusted. And I miss her.