The Last Hours of 2008

New Year's Eve has traditionally not been one of my favorite holidays; expectations wise, you could probably put it on par with Valentine's Day. Though I can't really remember a New Year's Eve that I absolutely loved (I can remember one Valentine's Day, though), I continue to attempt to celebrate it every year.

Plain and simple - the weather absolutely sucks in New York today. The roads are perilously covered in layers of water, black ice, snow and more ice. The temperature is in the 20s right now and is working its way down to single digits. The wind is blowing in circles (a la the Patriots-Bills game this past weekend) - uprights couldn't stand a chance outside my apartment right now. By morning, the wind chill will probably hit zero, according to the Weather Channel. Yet, I am doing what I do best - choosing an absolutely unseasonable outfit to wear out tonight in hopes of ringing in a better 2009. Nothing says I respect northern winter weather like a sleeveless dress with bare legs and open toed shoes ...

I've mentioned before that I'm mildly superstitious - one of those superstitions relates to New Year's Eve. I wish I could remember when or where I heard it and on days like today, I wish I never had. I once heard that how you spend New Year's Eve reflects what your coming year is going to be like. So being superstitious and already having the cards stacked against my NYE 2008, I am hoping to defeat the odds for 2009.

When I ring in 2009, he who should have been my NYE date will be working (if you're planning to drive after drinking tonight, stay out of East Rockaway ...) and I will be out with one of my best friends, braving the cold (in my oh-so-cute $19 party dress from Nordstrom) and enjoying a flute of champagne. Tomorrow morning starts a new year and Kristen's Facebook status says it best - "Kristen has decided to focus on what's going to make her happy in 2009 after spending the day at the happiest place on earth."

So raise a glass and toast to better times in 2009 - hoping that superstitions don't always come true.

Another top ten list

About ten years ago, MTV aired one of the greatest countdown specials ever - the top 25 lamest videos of all time. Supposedly, after showing the 25 videos, the reels would be destroyed, never to be shown again. If this is the case, future generations will certainly lose out. While many of the below videos are from that special, I have a few additional favorites.

In no particular order, I give you my top ten best videos of all time.



10. "Oh Sherrie" by Steve Perry
Note that "Sherrie" (his actual girlfriend at the time) is actually in this video, sporting a sexy white dress. Does anyone actually understand the point of the proposed medieval plotline? Be sure to pause right before he comes down the stairs - his jeans really need to be tighter. I also love when he uses a broom as a guitar. Epic.



9. "Rosanna" by Toto
I love her dramatic ponytail flip (~0:30) and the mug on the lead singer. He sings with so much emotion.



8. "Rock Me Tonite" by Billy Squier
Is it his Flashdance get-up? His flouncing in a pink leotard on the floor of his loft? His pole dancing? I do love the way he tosses his laundry about the room.

7. "Separate Ways" by Journey
This video cannot be embedded, but it can be linked. It absolutely must be included in this list. I love this woman, all decked out in her tight leather skirt and high heels, walking around in a lumberyard on a dock. I love Steve Perry's shirt from Chess King. I love the way their instruments materialize, as if from thin air. I love the way Journey materializes from thin air. No one sings with more emotion than Steve Perry - not the seven lead singers from Journey that have followed him or even that guy from Toto. No one.



6. "After the Rain" - by Nelson
I think I owned this cassingle. I always hope that when I get in a fight with my parents, that my bedside Nelson poster will come to life and save me. I also love the dramatic use of Native Americans, feathers and perms in this video.



5. "Escape" by Rupert Holmes
Everyone knows that I love this song. I may love Rupert Holmes even more after seeing this performance. So it's not a traditional "music video" ... but that doesn't make it any less fabulous.



4. "November Rain" by Guns n Roses
God, I loved this song and video when I was in junior high. I even thought that skanky wedding dress was pretty hot. Does anyone really know what really happened in this video? I just love the rain ... the cake ... Slash jamming on the guitar in front of the church.

3. "Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go" by Wham!
Another one that can't be embedded - so sad! Appreciate the "Choose Life" shirts, George Michael's short-shorts and fabulous gloves ... the lighting, the effects, his chunky back-up dancers. Excellent, all around.

2. "Mmm Mmm Mmm Mmm" by Crash Test Dummies
Another non-embed! I think this video was about child abuse, but I can't get past the creepy expressions on his face when he hums. I think they're Canadian, too. Is this what children's theater looks like in the land up North?



1. "Opposites Attract" by Paula Abdul
So I owned this cassette, too. I owned the trifecta at age nine(ish) - Debbie Gibson, Tiffany and Paula Abdul. Then I segued into hair bands. What is with this video? Was the animation supposed to be new and cool? Horrid.

Christmas Magic

"I wish I could just stop
I know another moment will break my heart
Too many tears
Too many times
Too many years
I've cried for you
It's always the same"
- "From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea"
The Cure

I wrote possibly the longest "apology" that I have ever written in my life today; the e-mail was actually 2,452 words. I can guess that only three paragraphs were devoted to the actual apology. I made that last night. The rest of it was everything I had wanted to say before, but either couldn't find the words for, or was to scared to say.

The sad thing is that the more friends I tell the story to, it turns out that I'm not exactly at fault. It's not to say that I didn't do something that was wrong - but I could be putting my efforts somewhere that they don't belong.

I once read that you should never shed tears for someone who you know won't cry over you. I wish my head could overrule my heart. I wish that I could go back 24 hours in time and not make the same mistake again. But I tell myself - people make mistakes. We're not meant to be perfect. The best I can do is apologize and hope to be forgiven.

Unfortunately, we can't control when things go bad. Yet somehow it seems harder to be dealing with fallout right before Christmas. Christmas seems like a time when everything should be perfect ... or as perfect as it could be.

Is it possible to still believe in Christmas magic, even when you're 29 years old?

"It was the hope of all we might have been
That filled me with the hope to wish impossible things
But now the sun shines cold
And all the sky is grey
The stars are dimmed by clouds and tears
And all I wish is gone away"
- "To Wish Impossible Things"
The Cure

Good Luck Jen

"My entire life, I've been nothing more than a stepping-stone to every relationship I've ever been in. There's always been a next guy who's better than me. For once in my life, I want to be that next guy." - Charlie, "Good Luck Chuck"

I probably would never have seen this movie had I not thought it was written about my life. The only solace I find is that someone else was in the exact same predicament as I am - you'd have to be, to come up with this plotline.

For those of you who haven't seen the movie, here's the IMDB synapsis: "In order to keep the woman of his dreams from falling for another guy, Charlie Logan has to break the curse that has made him wildly popular with single women: Sleep with Charlie once, and the next man you meet will be your true love." Basically substitute "date" for "sleep with," and you've got my life for the past ten years.

Everyone I date marries the girl he dates after me. At first I thought it was a coincidence. Then I chalked it up to growing older. Now I am starting to think it's a curse, as I discovered today that yet another guy I dated is getting married to the girl he began dating after me. For the most part, the guys have been pretty insignificant, and the ones who did matter, I was more or less over by the time I was notified of their pending nuptials.

Today's news came on the tail of a not-so-great week, which is why it may have bothered me more than it should. While I just got back last night from a great vacation out west which involved everything from hiking to drinking to snowboarding, my mind was battling something that was left wide open before I left - and to be honest, it still is.

Every vacation has a soundtrack, songs that you overplay that always remind you of a person and of a place. For this trip it was "The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot." Thanks a lot, XM, for introducing me to this song exactly when I didn't need it.

"I hope you find out what you want
I already know what I am"
- The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot
Brand New

"What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?" - "High Fidelity"

Happiest

"Today is the greatest day
I've ever known
Can't live for tomorrow
Tomorrow's much too long"
- "Today"
Smashing Pumpkins

I was in my car the other day thinking about the last time in my life that I was happiest - not to be confused with "happy" but truly "happiest." The funny thing about remembering your life in retrospect is that you know that life was never perfect. Yet you can remember certain phases of your life as seeming pretty close to it. When you're truly happy, life's ups and downs don't hit you as hard and things that would bother you on other days don't even seem to register.

I will always remember the spring of my sophomore year of college as being "The Greatest Time of My Life." I was 18-19 years old, in love for the first time, making the best grades I had ever made and the future seemed nothing but bright. It was a time of many firsts and I remember feeling like my entire world was ahead of me. It sounds cliche, but it was true. It felt like everything I had waited for in my life was finally there.

The last time in my life that I remember being truly happy for an extended period of time was in early 2004. I was living in Charleston and had just began a new job after a solid year of hunting. I was in the early stages of dating someone that I quickly fell unreasonably head over heels for (one of the moments when you know your heart clearly overruled your head). I was running almost daily and I felt full of energy. My days and nights were always full and life just seemed in its simplest form to be full and complete.

It was easy to see why it didn't stay that way as each of the positives took a turn for the negative. I went through a prolonged and confusing break-up with said boyfriend. The job turned out to be less than expected, leading me to resign at year's end. The next year, I moved back to New York.

It's not to say that I haven't been happy with my life since, or in New York in general. I have a wonderful job and I have good friends who are always fun to be with. Just the same, I look back with a sense of wistfulness for a time like that again.

As you get older, your expectations change. Even though there will be better and stronger loves in your life, there will never be a second "first love." There will never be another "first job out of college" or another 25th birthday. It becomes even harder to feel truly happy when the things you looked forward to about getting older don't seem to be happening - life seems to stand still.

If you have love you don't need to have anything else. If you don't have it it doesn't matter much what else you do have." - J.M. Barrie

Super Me

David Bailey: All or nothing. Tonight I'll be the super me.
Steve Dunne: What if the super you meets the super her and the super her rejects the super you?
David Bailey: Then it's no problem.
Steve Dunne: Uh-huh. Why?
David Bailey: Because it was never you, it was just an act. I live my life like a French movie, Steve.
- “Singles”

For anyone who knows me, it was a sign of the apocalypse. His criticism was that I don’t talk enough – words I have definitely never heard before. After a month and a half, he felt like he didn’t know me at all and that perhaps we didn’t “click” – we spent too much time in silence and that I didn’t seem to have any real opinions about anything. Basically, he could tell that, at times, there were things I wanted to say to him but that I was more or less looking at him with a “blank stare.”

In trying to be the super me, I had become my own worst enemy – a Stepford Wife: fawning, submissive, quiet and rather un-opinionated. And the super me was rejected.

I was trying too hard. I felt that by being quiet, unassuming, agreeable and interested, I was putting forth the perfect version of myself … except it wasn’t me. At what point do we become afraid to be ourselves - that who we are isn’t enough to offer someone?

I knew I was doing it, but I didn’t realize that it was having the completely wrong effect. I was wrongly trying to let someone who I really liked, get to know someone that wasn’t me at all. Don’t get me wrong – I wasn’t completely pretending to be someone I’m not. I honestly believe that I am a person who cares about others and feels rewarded in knowing that I make those around me happy.

But I’m not a doormat. I’m not quiet. I’m actually kind of obnoxiously talkative. I tend to tell people more about me than they need to know upfront. I have opinions on just about anything, even though I hate to argue. I’m rarely assertive, though, and it takes awhile for me to become truly comfortable being an honest version of myself with others.

Learning to communicate is one of the biggest obstacles that couples face. I regret that I didn’t feel confident enough to be myself – that I was scared it wasn’t enough. While I am hopeful that second chances can be had and that this can be given a viable shot, sometimes all you can gain is experience … and hope not to make a similar mistake in the future.

Siriusly?

Five days a week, I drive less than a mile per day - to and from the train station. The other days, I don't drive a whole lot more; I run errands, visit friends and occasionally take the trip to my parents' house. I could not live without my XM Radio, though.

When satellite radio first came out, I knew that I had to have it. Anyone who has ridden in the car with me can vouch that I am completely ADD when it comes to the radio. I will flip through my 30 preset stations in search of the perfect song and then do it all over again when the song ends. I love that satellite radio has very little talk, great variety of genres and often plays songs that you wouldn't otherwise hear. Satellite radio also keeps you from being punished by "whatever the local flavor is" - i.e. country and Christian rock in the south, Spanish music in Arizona ... I've been subjected to it all on road trips.

For the past year or so, there were rumblings of a Sirius/XM merger. Anyone who pays for each service adamantly believes s/he has the better satellite radio offering. Months rolled on and everyone wondered how the merger would take place - would one company overtake the other? I was happy with XM the way it was.

Then one morning a few weeks ago, I turned on my car to find that "Ethel" had been replaced with "Alt Nation." "Lucy" had been overtaken by "Lithium" and I suddenly had an entire station dedicated to the Grateful Dead. The companies silently merged the two station offerings, leaving the listener with Sirius/XM - a cornucopia of radio stations.

Presets were supposed to remain the same genre - in other words, Lucy played "alt-90s rock." Sirius' version, Lithium, theoretically plays the same thing. However, I've noticed one thing thus far - Sirius repeats songs. A lot. I didn't notice this as much with XM (with the exception of "Into the Night" by Benny Mendones, "Danny's Song" by Loggins & Messina and "September" by Earth, Wind and Fire). I feel as though I have heard "Wrong Way" by Sublime about 140 times in the last week.

Don't get me wrong - XM is not without its own share of problems. I was highly disappointed when, last month, they pre-empted the ska/hardcore/punk station with a 24-7 AC/DC station. Um, seriously? I didn't even think AC/DC had enough songs to fill a day's worth of programming, let alone an entire permanent station. Ew.

Another issue is in the XM hardware. I think I have one of the oldest radios that XM sold - it runs through the cassette deck in my car. When I inquired about putting in a new radio, they told me that the entire system would have to be rewired - you couldn't simply plug and play.

As of this morning, I think my XM has become possessed. I pressed the "memory" button and it started flipping through stations and refusing to stop on one to listen. Then, after I unplugged it in a moment of fury, it got stuck on Lithium and played the same song by Garbage three times in a row.

Siriusly - what gives?

The Word of the Day ...

... is meh.

Some days you just don't have it. You're not entirely sure how you want to spend your day and then you get caught up in the malaise, sulking.

I honestly believe that holidays make me anti-social - I'm not entirely sure why.

I woke up before 8 and an hour or so later went back to bed ... the second time I got up was at nearly 1 p.m. While I know I needed the sleep, I couldn't think exactly what I felt like getting out of bed for. It was just one of those days and I knew it. The kind of day where you wake up and you just feel listless and ... meh.

I dragged my butt to the couch to watch an episode of "Rob & Big" on the DVR -- add a fleet of remote control helicoptors to the list of things that show has made me want. I ate a bowl of cereal for breakfast (or can you call it brunch, even though you're in boxer shorts on the couch?) I talked to a friend on the phone, who I am visiting in less than two weeks. I put on my workout clothes and made myself go to the gym ... worked out for an hour and watched my beloved Dawgs destroy any respectable bowl game hopes.

And now I'm home ... still feeling meh and not entirely positive why.

"And why do we like to hurt, so much?
I can't decide what you get when you let your heart win.
That's what you get when you let your heart win.
I drowned out all my sense with the sound of its beating."
- "That's What You Get"
Paramore

If I Were a Boy

"If I were a boy ....
I'd put myself first
And make the rules as I go"
- "If I Were a Boy"
Beyonce

Between my addiction to early morning Vh1 and satellite radio, I often listen to songs that I wouldn't otherwise play or pay attention to - case in point, "If I Were a Boy" by Beyonce. I was driving home to my parents' house yesterday and heard this song while aimlessly wandering through my presets.

I have an uncanny talent to catch onto lyrics, to learn the words to songs after only hearing them once or twice. Lyrics especially seem to stick when they resonate with you - in other words, sometimes they write the song for you.

And that was my day ...

One is the Loneliest Number

I accidentally minored in sociology. While reviewing my transcript for the hundredth time with my advisor, she suggested that by taking a few additional classes, I would graduate with a sociology minor. I was wise enough to realize that while this was by no means a marketable degree, I enjoyed the classes enough to do it. Since then, I have always been a geek for statistics and cultural studies.

I read the cover article in New York this week - "The Loneliness Myth" - and was completely fascinated by it. The premise of the article is stated early on: "Manhattan is the capital of people living by themselves. But are New Yorkers lonelier? Far from it, say a new breed of loneliness researchers, who argue that urban alienation is largely a myth."

The article begins with a hard-hitting statistic - of all 3,141 counties in the United States, New York County is the unrivaled leader in single-individual households, at 50.6 percent. Translated from numbers to words, one in two people in New York City proper is living alone. Following, the next most interesting statistic shows that "in Manhattan, 25.6 percent of households are married, whereas the national average is 49.7." While discussing this with my mom, she raised an interesting point of dissension - many people leave the City upon marrying to raise a family in the suburbs.

However, the author uses this stat to prove a valid assumption ... and provides even more statistical ammunition to back it. Having a cadre of single friends (who serve as the urban version of family) kept her from mistakenly marrying young. She then points out that the variety of new experiences available in an urban environment just may be what makes city marriages better - New York State is tied for the fifth-lowest divorce rate in the nation. While one can also argue that (from what I've heard), it's not easy to get divorced in New York.

Regardless ...

The article makes some interesting assumptions, but also reminds me of something that I have long believed. People in urban areas (New York, especially) live differently than the norm - not necessarily better, but differently. Facebook has shown me that nearly every person I attended college with in Georgia owns a house and has a minimum of one child. The majority of similarly aged people I know in New York are unmarried, not home owners and childless.

We can't afford real estate here - it's as simple as that. While everyone in Georgia and South Carolina always argues that we earn more, it is by no means proportional. What I pay for my one bedroom apartment an hour outside of the City (with no temperature control), can basically pay someone's mortgage on a starter house in the south.

Essentially, you could be doomed to rent for the majority of your life, while you wait to purchase in New York. Starter houses, you're looking at what, $400,000 - at least. Two bedroom apartments in Manhattan - do you have a million dollars? So you're stuck renting in a place where all you want is to be able to turn the heat off when your indoor temperature rises above 90, or turn it on when the outdoors are below freezing.

People become "stuck" at 22 - nothing changes - life becomes "Groundhog Day." You go to work, pay rent on an exorbitantly priced apartment and go out at night to meet people. 30 is the new 22. Yet people in other regions of the country can look forward to starting a real life - saving for a house, getting married and starting a family. If you can't imagine ever being able to realistically own something, why think about moving forward.

And so we get stuck.

New Yorkers are forced to become single-minded and career focused. We're forced to work harder and longer hours in hopes of moving up and making enough money to get by. A functional relationship takes time and takes work, so people forgo them in favor of making more money ... and so the cycle continues.

People live together who have no plans to get married. Traditional relationships and the concept of dating to eventually meet someone to start a family with, falls by the wayside. I couldn't count if I tried, the number of people I have met who have no intention of ever marrying or starting a family.

So do we have it figured out here, the more modern way of looking at life and relationships ... or do we have it anything but?

Re-evaluation

"She’s going out to forget they were together
All that time he was taking her for granted
She wants to see if there’s more
Than he gave she’s looking for"
- "I Don't Wanna Be in Love"
Good Charlotte

Having given myself a four day weekend (I've been off since Saturday), I've had plenty of time to get things done that I simply haven't made time for in the past month. I've cleaned my apartment, got my car inspected (kind of neglected to realize that it expired during October ... oops), ran errands, finished the two movies I had been watching all month and finished one of the three books I was reading.

I love being off on random weekdays while the rest of the world is off doing their everyday things. While it has been relaxing to nap whenever I want (and I have randomly napped at some point each day I have been off), the time and the silence are deadening. I'm not used to not having plans and not having somewhere to be. The worst place for me to be is left alone with my thoughts.

Only two things can semi-successfully clear my head when it is overflowing - running and aimless driving. I went to the gym today and had a solid run. After finishing my run, I decided to stay in my car - roof open, windows down - to enjoy the beautiful weather and to figure out what the nagging voice in my head was saying.

I have always been a people-pleaser, to my own detriment. I've always been the person who puts everyone else's interests and happiness before my own, thinking that if the people around me are happy, I will be, too. Sometimes this is the case; sometimes it is not.

I feel like this is a lesson I should have learned before - that it isn't my responsibility to put everyone else first ... that sometimes I need to put myself first. But as I very well know ... I seem to suck at mastering certain lessons and this just may be another case of it.

What Will Be of 2009?

I am mid-Google-chat with my friend Elizabeth, who has just typed: "when are we moving to la? I think the warm air will do ri some good."

Most of my life I have dreamed of living in Southern California. While other people romanticized a life in New York City, I fantasized about warm weather Christmases.

My parents were both born and raised in New York. To be quite honest, I doubt they will ever leave. My brother was the first to go when he moved to North Carolina for college. Two years later, I followed suit and moved to Georgia for school at 17. I remember when my mailbox was filled with glossy college brochures which pictured magical lands out west - colleges on cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean. (Note: not only was I incapable of fathoming exactly what Pepperdine cost for a four-year education, I was also grossly unaware that it was a semi-crazy right-wing conservative campus. Nope, not for me.) Needless to say, at 17, my parents refused to let me go cross-country for school. Upon graduating, I wanted to go out to California, but my finances didn't allow for it. I moved to Charleston, to Massachusetts, back to Charleston, and then back to New York. But I never made it out to California.

I took a week-long trip to San Diego (Encinitas) and fell in love with La Jolla and Del Mar on my way to the campsite when I was 20 years old. I was sold on the dream. When I moved back to New York, I promised myself that I would give it a fair chance. Although I am far from the "I love New York" poster child that my brother is, I still felt that I owed it to myself to give New York a fighting shot. And so I did.

Last year, I made a pact with myself. I told myself that if nothing changed for better or for worse, I would transfer with my job to LA when my lease was up, in July, 2009. In order to make this happen, I figured that I would have to put my plan in action beginning in the new year. As 2009 creeped closer, I (predictably) felt that nothing was changing and I would be ready to go west. I even started to put the wheels in motion where work was concerned.

I spent a week out there last December and felt like I belonged there - that if I could have never come back to New York, that it would have all been okay. I checked out towns and neighborhoods, started to understand where the freeways went and accepted the fact that you have to valet your car at a $5 wing joint.

Lately, I've started to think about the option if something does change. How do you know if you're ready to leave it behind if there is a possibility of something better where you already are? And if it doesn't work, do you end up with a world of regret?

I tell myself that 2009 wasn't a drop dead date. It doesn't even make it in time to support the "before I'm 30" self-imposed deadline. I just wonder, as 2009 is less than two months away, exactly what I will be ready for.

If You See Something, Say Something

"If everything could ever feel this real forever

If anything could ever be this good again"

- "Everlong"

Foo Fighters

I've officially confirmed something that I have always suspected - I'm incredibly jaded. I used to think that I had become cynical but had still retained some (blind) optimism. Now I've come to realize that I truly am jaded.

It becomes difficult to enjoy being present when you are afraid of what awaits ten steps ahead of you. While optimism is key, hoping for the best possible outcome, past experience tells you not to get your hopes up. You can see all that is good in what you have but you are essentially terrified of losing it ... because that is what you have come to learn - the good ol' self fulfilling prophecy.

How do you get past what your mind and heart have been conditioned and let yourself believe that something good could actually be happening? And not just that it could be happening, but that it could still be even better the next day or the week after?

How do you tell yourself not to see something negative that isn't even there, just because you assume it has to be there? How do you regain the most fundamental feelings of not necessarily trust, but of having faith in people again?

I'm happy, but I'm scared ... and I've yet to figure out how exactly to reconcile the two.

Of Mad Men and My So Called Life

Everyone I work with talks about "Mad Men" - last season it was "Heroes" and "Lost" - which is why this article surprised me. It seems that while AMC's Emmy award-winning drama is loved by many, the ratings don't reflect that. What this tells me is that the television taste of people I know must represent a very small subsection of America.

My favorite show of all-time was on for just one short season when I was in the 10th grade, "My S0-Called Life." Much like "Mad Men," the program was critically acclaimed. In my opinion, no program before or since had so accurately captured my 10th grade angst. After just one season, ABC nixed the program, due to poor ratings, leaving viewers to wonder Angela Chase's fate. I often think that if the show was on now, it would have made it longer than a season. After all, shows that seem much worse seem to have much longer shelf lives. On the other hand, "MSCL" was unique - it captured a certain honesty about high school that probably wouldn't cut it in this day's lineup of "Gossip Girl" and the new "90210."

Another similarly critically acclaimed show which met a similar fate was "Freaks and Geeks" - another show that I loved. I didn't watch it when it was on television, but rather on DVD, years later.

Historically, I have always had one favorite show at a time, which usually comes out on top as another jumps the shark. "Saved by the Bell" was the original favorite - then they all went to the same college and it eventually went off the air. "MSCL" followed suit, giving me my favorite season of television ever. I don't recall loving another show until college, where a different one seemed to replace another each year - in rapid progression - "90210", "Party of Five" (until Bailey became an alcoholic and Charlie got cancer), and "Dawson's Creek." By the time "Dawson's Creek" ended and Katie Holmes married Tom Cruise, I had moved onto "The O.C." Once Mischa Barton died and Ryan was a cage-fighter, I had adopted "One Tree Hill."

There was "Laguna Beach" and "Newport Beach" - the second certainly less interesting than the first and later, "The Hills," which God knows why, I still watch. I just discovered, as a matter of fact, that my DVR records nothing in the top 20, which means all of my favorites are subject to cancellation: "One Tree Hill', "Gossip Girl", "Army Wives", "The Hills", "Entourage" and "Rescue Me."

Just don't take "Intervention" from me ...

Anyone have a stray cat?

"I'm 23. Remember how old 23 seemed when you were little? I thought people would be traveling in air locks and I'd have five kids. Here I am, 23. Things are...They're basically the same. I think time's running out to do something bizarre. Somewhere around 23 bizarre becomes immature." —Bridget Fonda as Janet Livermore in Cameron Crowe's Singles.

Today is my half year birthday. I am officially closer to 20-10 than I am to 29, and that thought is beginning to terrify me.

I should rewind and point out that I don't have this date marked on my calendar. Rather, it has always been my parents' tradition to celebrate our half-year birthdays with a cupcake and some small random gift.

On Friday, I went home for the weekend, as my brother got married. My mom handed me a small box and said, "I was afraid your half-year birthday would get lost in the shuffle this weekend." Appalling. How could they forget my half-year birthday on the weekend of their only son's wedding? Too funny.

Regardless, 30 seems that much closer and I feel as though I have much to accomplish in the next six months. I want something big to happen - something exciting and life changing. I dread getting to the age where it seems that I should have done it all already, that I should have gotten it all out of my system. When I once mentioned wanting to move cross-country, my brother commented that "people don't do that at 30, they do it at 22." So I missed my chance?

So the lesson is ... start filling out my social security forms. Begin collecting stray cats - dozens of them. Happy 29 and a half to me :)

Of Routines and Vh1 in the Morning

I am a creature of habit - I get ready for work in the exact same order every morning. I walk to work the exact same way each day. I love knowing that you can get the free song on iTunes every Tuesday morning (even when it sucks ... which it often/usually does).

Since college, I have listened to Vh1 in the morning. While I don't watch the videos unless something catches my eye for a particular reason, it serves as decent background noise. In 2003-2004, when I ran in the gym, I used to run to Vh1. For that reason, I will also associate "Hey Ya" with that period of my life.

I consider my taste in music varied and somewhat eclectic. While I am happy to come across a song that few people have heard of, I will just as often fall victim to a tune on iTunes that I heard on XM's 20 on 20 or Vh1, for that matter.

The problem, as of late, is that some of these songs are just terrible. I find myself distracted, listening to a song on Vh1, just thinking, "Who is this artist and why should I be forced to listen to this?" Much like word association, the first three which come to mind (and oh, these songs/artists are truly atrocious) are Chrisette Michel, Thriving Ivory and that Kid Rock song about "summer in Northern Michigan."

Just for fun, let's see what the public thinks is popular these days by checking out Vh1's Top 20 Countdown ...

20. Rihanna - Disturbia: Dear God, this song is awful and the video is downright creepy. It also seems to be the top ringtone in nail salons and malls.

19. Robin Thicke - Magic: Honestly, I don't think I know this one. I'm hoping I tuned it out. I remember his last song ... and that he is a R&B singer whose dad was on "Growing Pains."

18. Adele - Chasing Pavements: This song isn't terrible. HOWEVER, Vh1 hyped her as a "new artist" everytime they played this song and I can probably recite every word, verbatim, of her speech about London and this song.

17. Gavin Rossdale - Love Remains the Same: Actually, I like this one. I even bought it from iTunes.

16. Jennifer Hudson - Spotlight: Again, I don't think I know this specific song. I just don't like her, though. While she did a decent job in the "Sex and the City" movie, I abhor her singing.

15. Staind - Believe: I thought this band disappeared with Creed? No?

14. Little Jackie - The World Should Revolve Around Me: I can't decide if this song is catchy or if I hate it. The guy in the band is creepy looking, though. He's a little slackjawed lookin'.

13. Kid Rock - All Summer Long: Where to begin ... I hate Kid Rock, I hate Michigan, I hate that this video is filled with skanks on boats wearing Confederate flag string bikinis. This song actually has the ability to ruin my morning. I'm hoping that all the kids in Northern Michigan will stop buying it now that their summer is clearly over and it will fall off the charts. Then he can go back to doing what he does best - getting in fights in Waffle House.

12. Natasha Bedingfield - Angel: I liked her first song, way back when. Her next one aka the theme song to "The Hills" became the definition of overplayed. "Pocketful of Sunshine" drove me insane. This one, whatever. It's not as bad as her last one.

11. O.A.R. - Shattered: I was unaware that anyone other than frat boys really liked O.A.R. - but this song is also in the iTunes top 100. Shocking. It is almost as lyrically intense as "Hey Girl."

10. Pink - So What: Okay, Pink is obnoxious and also cheesy as hell. But the sentiment of the video appeals to me - basically she's just out to piss people off and some days, I can relate. Carry on.

9. 3 Doors Down - It's Not My Time: This song won't go away; I swear they've been playing it since January. The video is rather annoying, too.

8. Estelle - American Boy: Another song that I can't tell if I enjoy it or hate it. I think I was just excited when I mastered both parts of the song while sitting in traffic.

7. Lifehouse - Broken: Okay, the secret is out. I'm actually a closet Lifehouse fan. While I don't own any of their albums, I have bought a few on their songs on iTunes, this being one of them. Sadly enough, I think I heard it on "Laguna Beach" or maybe "Newport Beach." Also, Kiefer Sutherland directed this video - wonder how that came about. I just don't see them running in the same circles.

6. Jason Mraz - I'm Yours: Ah, another summertime guilty pleasure ... one of the few songs that actually makes me smile almost every time I hear it. Every other song he has ever written seems to consist of lyrics resembling "skeet bop doo wop skat" and this one keeps that babble to a minimum. Good job, Mraz.

5. Jordin Sparks - One Step at a Time: I despise Jordin Sparks' music. While I have never voted on "American Idol" (I take that back. I voted once last season AGAINST David Archuleta.), I have no idea how this girl became America's Idol with songs like these. This song is seriously one of the most irritating songs ever written. It needs to be in High School Musical or Degrassi High. That is the only place it has any hope.

4. New Kids on the Block - Single: Seriously? I wish I could explain this comeback phenomenon. I am only grateful that I was into hairbands and metal during the first coming of NKOTB.

3. Crush - David Archuleta: Speaking of the devil ... I was so grateful that this weirdo didn't win American Idol last season (although I saw a combined eight minutes of the season). This video actually makes me laugh. It shows him hanging out in a "High School Musical" esque outdoor cafeteria setting (where the athletes hang with the show choir kids) and he is the BMOC. I'm sorry to say, but I doubt anyone at his school was knocking down his door before he was on American Idol. But now, the whole world has a crush on him. Indeed.

2. Leona Lewis - Better in Time: This should be called "Better than My Last Song." I can't even remember what her debut song was, but it would get stuck in my head. Ah, yes, "Keep Bleeding." She's another "talent show" winner, except America isn't responsible for voting this one into stardom.

1. Daughtry - What About Now: This video is annoying. It's another one of those "let's inspire the masses through music video and make the world a better place" attempts. While he doesn't suck quite as much as the other Idol rejects (i.e. Archuleta, Sparks, Hudson, etc.), I can't dignify this song with a number one rating.

So what's good right now ...

• Helio Sequence - Lately
• The new Ben Folds album, "Way To Normal" - not his best but still fun, if you're a Ben fan
• The soundtrack to "Nick and Nora's Infinite Playlist", especially the We Are Scientists and Takka Takka songs
• The Fratellis - Shameless (total catchy goodness)
• Death Cab for Cutie - Cath ... (not new, but I love it this week

119 Cans of Red Bull

Well, the good news is that it would take a lot more caffeine that I thought to put me down -- 119.44 cans of Red Bull, to be exact.

I'm recovering from mono and to be quite honest, it really sucks.

I'm probably at about 60% back to normal and I would do anything for a daily afternoon nap, a la preschool. I've been trying my hardest to be cautious with my (lack of) energy, but some weeks such as this one, I can't win.

Tuesday night was the Ben Folds concert, which was totally amazing. Going to bed after 1 a.m. and getting up at 6:30 a.m. - not so much. Wednesday was Chef Gala - also fun and also, another six hours of sleep that night. Thursday was just long, stressful and exhaustive. I felt hungover yesterday - with the added bonus of having not drank anything.

I tried to compensate this week with copious amounts of caffeine - which really didn't work. The list was long and varied: Red Bull, Coke, yellow Vitamin Water, Starbucks, Starbucks and more Starbucks. I realized that I'd had too much when I was tapping my foot repeatedly during Chef Gala registration ... and when I thought "If I drink, I'll sleep tonight." I think I learned that from watching too much "Intervention" - only I don't think they were talking about caffeine.

Guilty Pleasure #34

Guilty pleasures, I have many. To name a few: television shows on the CW, Top 20 on 20 XM, Perez Hilton, iced caramel macchiatos, Sour Patch Kids ... and most recently, Missed Connections on Craigslist.

I, for many years, was a Craigslist rookie. I've never found an apartment on there, I've never (successfully) bought or sold a concert ticket from there and I've never looked for my future life partner in their Personals. I blame Jayme for introducing me to "Best of Craigslist," the section which highlights the most entertaining posts on the site, as nominated by readers. You could read this section for days and it will never get old - case in point: Seeking Adult Drunk Clown for 30th Birthday party.

My new addiction is Missed Connections. Here is the premise: you and I are riding the subway together. Perhaps we exchange some small talk; I get off at Union Square. Upon exiting, I think to myself, "I should have given him my number! I may have missed my chance." In hopes of finding said man from subway, I post a "Missed Connection" on Craigslist. Whether or not this has ever worked for anyone has yet to be seen.

Some of the posts bewilder me, like this one. Hello? Why don't you just go back, introduce yourself and ask her out. It shouldn't be that hard. Others make more sense, like this one. However, if he really did see her twice, he should have gone for it the second time. Some are truly entertaining - I love the last line in this one. Others are downright creepy (although this one is kinda funny ...)

Check it out for yourself - hey, maybe you're that girl who was in line at Whole Foods carrying the pink purse. You just never know.

5:30 a.m. on a Sunday

I woke up at 5:30 this morning to run. I admit, that is not a phrase I often utter. As a matter of fact, I don't like to get up at 5:30 a.m. for pretty much anything other than vacation ... when I get to sleep on a plane.

I ran in the 7th annual Firefighter Stephen Siller Tunnel to Towers Run/Walk, which begins in Red Hook and commences by Ground Zero.

Here's Stephen Siller's story: On September 11, 2001 Firefighter Stephen Siller had completed his tour and was heading home to his wife and 5 young children. When Stephen heard on his scanner what had happened, he turned his vehicle around and raced back to his firehouse in Brooklyn to get his gear. When, for security reasons he was prohibited from entering the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel, he got out of his vehicle, and, with his gear strapped to his back, he began his heroic run. He was last seen alive at the World Trade Center site where he and so many others gave their lives so that others might live.

To honor his memory and that of the other 342 firefighters who lost their lives on 9-11, his family started this annual run. Today, I ran the race with 16,000 people - it was astounding. The run begins in Red Hook and goes through the tunnel. Upon exiting the tunnel, firefighters hold up picture flags of all 343 fallen firefighters. It was one of the most poignant sights I have ever seen.

Waking up at 5:30 a.m. is never fun - but the run was worth every moment of it (even running most of it in the rain and being subjected to Neil Diamond's "America" more times than I can count). And for those who know me well, the scenery was quite enjoyable, too.

Do yourself a favor and participate next year. It's for a great cause and is an experience you won't ever forget.

Reading on the LIRR

In the mornings I sleep to pass the ride; on the commute home, I either make the most of my Netflix membership or I read. I have been alternately reading two books that are slowly becoming more overdue by the day (an expensive proposition, as far as the Long Beach Library is concerned) - Angela's Ashes and The Noonday Demon: An Atlas of Depression, the latter of which is both physically and content heavy. I eventually stopped bringing that book to work, favoring the McCourt paperback.

The Noonday Demon is definitely an interesting book, but at times it seems to lack emotion. It is simply to easy to drown in the science and statistics - to forget that it was written by a person who suffered numerous psychological breakdowns due to crippling depression and anxiety. It is remiss of feeling.

I was flipping through New York magazine today (Wednesday's commutes are generally reserved for the crossword in the back) and I stumbled upon this beautiful piece by Elizabeth Wurtzel. While I have never read anything by David Foster Wallace, her writing painted such a real picture of his struggle with depression.

I loved this part - not only because of its sentiment, but the eloquent way in which she conveyed her memories of him and her subsequent reflections:

"Looking back, I am just so very sorry he was not less fragile and I was not less crazy. Looking back, I’m not sure which philosophy of life is more sound: the person who is full of regret, or the one who says je ne regrette rien. I am even less sure which mode of thinking finally leads one to say enough is enough, which approach is at long last more tiring.

By appearances, it would have seemed to me that David was doing great, living in Southern California, writing terrific books and pieces, recently married, teaching at a prestigious college. I am not stupid enough to believe that depression does not afflict a person whose life is good, but if he could get by in a hovel in the middle of the Midwest, surely these elements of happy life—love, sunshine, stability—had to be a plus. These things are real, genuine, the stuff depression blocks you from even getting close to."

I don't have a simple or neat way to conclude this; I don't exactly know why Wurtzel's piece struck a chord with me today, especially since I knew nothing of Wallace before this past week. There was just something about it. I hope you'll read it and see in it the beauty that I did.

"Life is a train of moods like a string of beads, and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint the world their own hue, and each shows only what lies in its focus."- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Cutting the cord

"So I went from day to day
Though my life was in a rut
'Til I thought of what I'd say
Which connection I should cut"
- "Solsbury Hill"
Peter Gabriel

I knew all week that something had to be said, that things couldn't keep going in the direction they were headed. Confusion breeds more confusion ... eventually snowballing into complications that are difficult to back out of. I told myself that it was different - that there was more. But at the same time, I was only kidding myself. While there was indeed an undeniable connection and chemistry - all roads lead to the same place. It's a place I have been before and told myself not to go back.

It's hard to tell your mind what to do, and even harder to tell your heart what to do.

I have always had trouble removing people from my life, toxic or otherwise. It is almost harder to tell yourself to permanently let go, which infinitely keeps you from moving forward. As I convinced myself to let someone go, I had a random dream about an ex last night. While I know he is married and we have both more than definitely moved on, there was always a certain comfort in not fully letting go. I have been told that you can't move forward until you remove everyone from your past. Whether this means deleting all the numbers from your phone and taking the e-mails out of your address book or never letting a fleeting thought become more than that, I'm not sure.

Today is the day that I will let someone go because I know it's the right thing to do - for him, but more importantly for me.

Lessons Learned ... for September 12

While I intended to post this yesterday, the day got away from me. However, it actually may represent the sentiment more by not being posted on September 11.

One of my favorite books is Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman. One of his essays poses an interesting question about Americans’ take on patriotism, prior to September 11 occurring. He sent an e-mail to various acquaintances and offered them a choice: if given the choice to date two equally appealing people, with one described as “very patriotic,” who would you choose? Not surprisingly, the overwhelming majority of respondents viewed patriotism as a big negative. They associated it with a love for “Ted Nugent,” “Robin Williams’ movies” and a lack of intelligence. Only one person responded to the contrary – his point being that our generation is too focused on being cool, rather than being a generation that accomplishes anything worthwhile or important. In other words, patriotism isn’t viewed as “cool,” so people didn’t view it a positive attribute.

Patriotism certainly didn’t resonate with me at the time; to be honest, it just wasn’t something I thought much about. Rather it was something I took for granted. I, too, would have fallen into the first category. I can blame my years in the South for this stereotype, but the word “patriotism” automatically conjured images of fireworks shows soundtracked by Lee Greenwood and that “I’m proud to be an American” song. After 9-11, patriotism took on a whole new meaning for me.

We need to put aside our political and religious differences; we need to disregard our feelings about the war. We need to be grateful for the brave people who serve in our military, our police departments and our fire departments to protect us on a daily basis. Be as proud of your country, if not more so, than you are of your individual heritage. New Yorkers take so much staunch pride in being Irish, in being Italian, in being from New York – that we forget the big picture. Be proud that you are American and that despite all of our complaints and problems, we have it pretty good here. We have it pretty good, thanks to the people who make sacrifices for us.

While we can do our best to honor the people who chose to put their life on the line to save others on September 11, do not forget the people who signed on for nothing more than an ordinary day - businessmen, fathers, secretaries and janitors who expected nothing more than an average Tuesday. Think of the many people who left their homes without saying goodbye or “I love you” to their spouses and children. Life can be cut short in seconds; be sure to pursue what fulfills you and let people know they matter. Never leave angry; never leave without saying “I love you.”

After September 11, everyone was looking for a way to help. There weren’t enough places to keep the bottled water donations that were rolling in. Why did people stop helping? We are all guilty of falling back into normalcy. We forget how many people need our help on a daily basis. Donate money, or at the very least, give your time. Find something that matters to you and help make a difference in the world. Think of soldiers that are overseas and their families who are here in the States. Use your abundant resources to show them that they matter and you can make a small sacrifice for the one they are making for you.

September 11 is just one day out of the year. Make an effort to put aside your individual beliefs for the common good – it will make a difference. Show people why you’re proud to be an American (and not in the Lee Greenwood “I’m wearing an American flag windbreaker” way) and that we care about other people. Honor people who make sacrifices for your safety and freedom. Live your life in a way that fulfills you; you never know when it will be taken away. Show your grace by helping others who don’t have what you do. You never realize how good you have it until you see what others don’t have. Love and respect others; show your family and friends that they are important to you.

God bless America.

Long Beach Learns to Drive!

I've decided that it's time for me to run for Mayor of Long Beach. I will be a one-platform candidate, and if elected, I will fully fund a program called "Long Beach Learns to Drive." Unequivocally, Long Beach has the worst drivers of anywhere in the country - if you took a random sample of ten drivers ranging from poor to downright dangerous, nine of them are piloting autos on the streets of Long Beach.

I know what you're thinking - "Absolutely not! (Fill in the blank) has the worst drivers!" And yes, terrible drivers are not unique to Long Beach. Georgia drivers were infamous for leaving half-mile gaps between cars at exits. It's the only place I've ever seen a traffic back-up caused by eight cars. Charleston drivers (mostly tourists) seem to think their cars are akin to tour buses; they will slow down to a veritable crawl to see the sights. And God forbid you get behind a car behind a horse-drawn carriage - there's no such option as passing! Massachusetts - it's no secret why people refer to its drivers as "Massholes."

Red lights and stop signs cannot be taken for granted in Long Beach; their existence does not guarantee that cars will stop at intersections. We're not even talking pause and roll - drivers blatantly plow through them. The road I live on is one-way on each side, with parking spots lining the median on both sides. If you are essentially making a left hand U-turn (visualize it as going from west to east, or opposite), you are supposed to stop at double red lights. If you get lucky, people will stop at one, but rarely both - hence, the ubiquitous "Long Beach lefts." This becomes especially annoying when you see a parking spot on the opposite side of the street - while you know you are competing against the cars going in the opposite direction, the cars behind you shouldn't be able to nab your spot. Oh, but they do. While I wait (im)patiently at the red light, someone opts to take a Long Beach left and steals the parking spot I was eyeing.

Another great thing about my street is that there is a traffic light at every block. People decide that once they hit a red light, that is a green light to use their BlackBerry, make a phone call or fix their makeup. Then, of course, the light changes and there is a five second lag. It's just enough for that person to make the light, but long enough for you to miss that light and the subsequent fifteen lights.

I've never seen a traffic jam caused by people making a left hand turn until I drove to the train station in the morning. People invent lanes, with no rhyme or reason to make a left hand turn. Once they make the left, they are either going to (a) take a sharp right down a side street to park, (b) try to pull up in front of the train station, where there appears to be no open spaces for letting someone out, or (c) turn into the right lane, as they should, to go to the train station. This should be simple enough, but it is cause for a pile-up each and every morning. "I want to make a sharp right, so I'll invent a turning lane all the way to the left!"

"Long Beach Learns to Drive" would start with the basics - green lights mean "go" and not with a five second delay. Red lights and stop signs mean "stop" and they're not optional. Blinkers are on your car for a reason - use them. "No passing" on a one-lane road does not mean "passing is okay if there is a parking spot available" and use your blinker if you're looking for a parking spot. There is no need to arbitrarily slow down to five miles an hour with no obvious intention.

Long Beach - learn to drive!

Rotated tires give you a new lease on life

After numerous weeks of my dad begging me to get my tires rotated, I finally did it yesterday. Of course, I subsequently wasted half of a beautiful Sunday, without a car in Westbury.

How do you pass two hours without a car, when the only options within walking distance are the Costco your car is being held hostage at, a smallish-not-so-great mall and a Borders? I started off by returning phone calls and trying to catch up with friends who I haven't had time to talk to lately. However, the noise level in Costco quickly rendered that option as unlikely. I walked (slowly) over to The Source - but a mall is a terrible place to be when you're trying not to spend money. I started off with an inexpensive food court lunch at the Green Cactus, which passed about twenty minutes. After that, I ambled through Ann Taylor Loft, reasoning exactly why I didn't need any more cardigans for Fall. I knew better than to go in any other stores - it was time to leave the mall.

I headed back to Borders, assuming that I could find something worth reading (and not buying) to pass the next hour. I found myself sorting longingly through the required summer reading (which I certainly didn't appreciate when I was forced to read these books) and decided that I would re-read "The Awakening" by Kate Chopin. As I headed up the stairs, I passed a shelf of Oprah books and curiously picked up "The Secret."

I'm not going to say that I actually read it, but I did skim through it. Here the brief synapsis for those who are unfamiliar with it: the "Law of Attraction" principle posits that feelings and thoughts can attract events, from the workings of the cosmos to interactions among individuals in their physical, emotional, and professional affairs. While I don't disagree with this concept, (i.e. why you generate more romantic interest when you're in a relationship) parts of this book were just ridiculous. Evidently, by stressing over debt, I am breeding negative thoughts. But if I visualize wealth appearing, my mailbox will suddenly be chock-full of checks. Who is sending these checks? I can barely get my flex savings account to properly reimburse me these days.

Regardless, "reading" this book reminded me of something. Years ago, I was stuck in a rut; I was unhappy with my job and a short-lived but hopeful relationship had fallen through the cracks. One day I woke up and realized that I was tired of moping and that each day, I was going to think of three things that I was happy about. I told myself that no matter how trivial they seemed, I would find three things each day. Within weeks, my mood improved - I was focusing more on what made me happy and the optimistic parts of life, rather than the negative parts that made me feel down. I met someone new and started a new job.

While I don't believe that magical check fairies will be sending money my way, I'd like to see what happens next. Let the power of attraction begin.

Today's three:
1. It is absolutely beautiful outside today.
2. I bought a cute skirt that I am wearing today.
3. I'm not working late today and will be able to make dinner when I get home.

Give it a shot; see how it works for you.

When soul meets ... soul

“A soulmate is someone who has locks that fit our keys, and keys to fit our locks. When we feel safe enough to open the locks, our truest selves step out and we can be completely and honestly who we are; we can be loved for who we are and not for who we’re pretending to be. Each unveils the best part of the other. No matter what else goes wrong around us, with that one person we’re safe in our own paradise. Our soulmate is someone who shares our deepest longings, our sense of direction. When we’re two balloons, and together our direction is up, chances are we’ve found the right person. Our soulmate is the one who makes life come to life.” - Richard Bach

I was twenty-five when I met my soulmate - I didn’t realize at the time that this person was, indeed, what I would later come to view as such. We never dated, never kissed, and it’s hard to say if we even had a romantic connection. While I know that I loved him, I doubt I was in love with him. We spent countless hours together, nearly every day until I moved away and left him behind - my other half.

After spending time with him, my mom once commented that she had never met anyone so much like me ... but the funny part is, we were so different. We shared a common love of certain music, writing, and excessive introspect. Long e-mails, otherwise known as “missives” were our preferred method of communicating during those hours that we were apart. We overanalyzed everything about our friendship, our “relationship” and what it all meant - how a move in any direction could change it all, for better or for worse.

There are few people in the world that you can completely be yourself around - most of your closest friends don’t even fit the bill. He knew everything about me and learned things that I didn’t even tell him during the short time we spent together. I was always honest with him, because there were no repercussions to fear. Sometimes our honesty hurt each other. When we first met, we were both in love (more or less) with someone that we each ended a relationship with. That fragility led to a certain unspoken trust, as well as a confusion that took us months to iron out.

I always say that I strive to be the best version of myself. He saw the best in me, even when it wasn’t the part that the rest of the world saw. He always knew it was there, and reminded me when I easily forgot. We brought out the best in each other - and carried each other through the hardest of transitory times. As the quote said, while my world was crumbling around me, he made my world safe. He held me close in our paradise - a world that few outside understood.
I forget sometimes what it was like having him in my life. It often seems that although other friendships and relationships can have a “soulmate-like” feeling, I wonder if I will ever find again, what we shared. Everything changed quickly when I moved away. Our daily phone calls dwindled away; he got married and started a new life.

There are moments that remind me what having a soulmate was like - knowing that when I see a book and forget if I read it, he will know. When either of us hears “23” by Jimmy Eat World, or “Clark Gable” by The Postal Service, we’re both remembering the same thing. It’s sweet memories of watching television on the couch at the beach house, playing Scrabble on the front lawn, learning to throw a football, and most cliche, the laughter and the tears.

“Friendship marks a life even more deeply than love. Love risks degenerating into obsession, friendship is never anything but sharing.” - Elie Wiesel

The Hope in Impossible Dreaming

"The permanent temptation of life is to confuse dreams with reality. The permanent defeat of life comes when dreams are surrendered to reality." - James A. Michener

There are the impossible, unrealistic, far-reaching dreams. One such for me is to own a house overlooking the ocean, on a cliff in Laguna Beach. Nothing says that this is an impossible dream, but the likelihood of it happening is slim to none. It's so far on the "impossible" side of the continuum, that it barely crosses my mind as an eventual possibility. That, in itself, is what makes it a dream.

These types of impossible dreams are fun, as they give us something to strive for. Nonetheless, we do not find ourselves hurt, disappointed, or lacking when they are not a part of our reality.

Certain dreams are nearer to the middle of the spectrum – they are the possible ones, the ones which we can actually envision achieving. Hope further inspires us to make those dreams a reality.

Once a hopeless dream crosses the chasm to hope or even reality, it becomes harder to let go. When you thought you couldn't have it, it didn't register in reality. It was simply a dream. But when it's within possible reach, it becomes reality. You can see how fulfilled you could be and it becomes impossible to let it cross back over, thus inviting the potential for hurt, longing and loss.

Hopeless dreams give us something perfect and untouchable. Reality taints that perfection, especially when reality doesn't have space for the dream, and you have to tell yourself to let go, to put it back in the impossible dreams section. But can you do that once a dream enters the realm of reality?

"Though dreams can be deceiving, like faces are to hearts
They serve for sweet relieving, when fantasy and reality lie too far apart"
- "Slow Like Honey"
Fiona Apple

"Don't come around if you're lost
Until you consider what it will cost
You pull me then push me away
Chasing you's not any fun
Maybe I'm not what you want"
- "What You Want"
Ingram Hill

Wasting Away in Margaritaville

I have somewhat successfully half-assed my way through life.

That is not to say that I haven't put forth effort in any aspects of it; just that the parts of my life that I have truly expended effort in are the less tangible ones. Really, my friendships and my relationships.

My goal in life was to exist completely stress-free ... or as close to that as possible. Basically, I wanted to live life like a Jimmy Buffett song - somewhere sunny, warm, and completely relaxed.

My senior year of high school, we had two phrases to complete, which would accompany our yearbook photo for eternity. The first began with "Dreams of", the second, "Hopes to". While some people peppered their quote with mentions of marrying his/her high school sweetheart, others had clear and solid goals. Dreams of going to med school ... hopes to become a lawyer. I remember pondering long and hard about what it was that I truly "dreamed of" and "hoped to be".

Here is what I came up with:
"Dreams of using her $4.25 an hour Pacific Sunwear salary to follow the summer like Pat and Wingnut in 'Endless Summer II.' Hopes to get an oceanfront house, married, and two kids to name Summer and Dean."

There was no career objective in there, just a desire to live the life. Live married on the beach with two towheaded surfrat kids. It sounded about as stress-free as humanly possible.

In the twelve years that have passed since I wrote that, there is a major part of me that thinks that would be a pretty damn good life. It was all I thought I needed then, and probably could pass for all that I need now. I think at that point I vaguely thought I'd be writing novels in my beachfront home - I'm not so sure. All I know is that everything that seems so paramount now was not even on the tip of my thoughts. Career. Money. Relationships. And all of the stress that accompanies those major day-to-day realities.

I wish for a day when I didn't have to worry if my job can really be a lifelong career. I wish I didn't have to choose whether I should fill my car with gas, or buy groceries. I wish I didn't worry that maybe, just maybe, I may never end up married if I don't eventually make it work with the right person. And just the same ... I may never end up with those two surfrat kids (who have been renamed over the last 12 years) if all the other pieces don't fit. Thinking about all of these "what-ifs" makes my life more stressful than it should possibly be. Who would have thought that attaining the "perfect stress-free life" I envisioned could result in so much unease?

I try to stop to focus on the smaller things. Always looking at the big picture ten steps out makes absolutely nothing seem simple. Everything just feels impossible and out of focus. Then there are the moments when nothing has actually changed, but something so amazing is happening and everything else around me seems to melt away. When I come back down to reality, the bills are still waiting and the future is still questionable ... but for that moment, someone or something made everything seem purely blissful.

"Anyway, all I'm saying is that there was this time -- maybe it was a day, maybe two days, I can't remember now -- when everything seemed to have come together. And so obviously, it was time to go and screw it all up."- Slam by Nick Hornby