No Matter Where You Go, There You Are.

I periodically stop by CandyandPizza , which belongs to the talented writer Jeremy Glass , and I'm i nspired by the variety of blog posts, but particularly by his "Before I Forget (Last Night's Dream)" bits. One of them is about how he once dreamt that the late, deservedly famous Notorious B.I.G. was his uncle . Fun stuff. Disclaimer/Intro: Recently, my annoying neighbor, Mrs. A, got on my nerves at a party, and also, I've known for a few days now  that I would have to work today at 1:30pm, so my imagination had to have been  semi-conscious. In this morning's dream, I was in a room at my doctor's office while she held her clipboard to her chest and stood ramrod straight before me, saying in a quiet, calm tone, "You're pregnant" (which, in reality, I could not possibly be) . Seconds later, I was in my parents' home, talking with my mother, listening to a pair of small feet hurry up the basement stairs.

The hardest part of letting a longtime pal fall away has, for me, been the struggle to end my long obsession with the other person’s wrongdoings. If someone I really like and respect screws up badly enough, I’ll cut off all communication with them until I have processed recent events and compared them to very similar memories, which can take months or even years.  Young people s till have so much to learn that some kind of reaction is to be expected.   Usually, the person from whom I’m parting is needy ; maybe they’re a narcissist or deeply ashamed of themselves to the point of unintentional secrecy, or maybe they were transformed by a hard childhood into someone who didn’t want to get to know me so much as to give themselves a personification of things they felt they’d been cheated out of. I have a lot of embarrassing history of trying to be buddies with people whose favorite hobbies are their emotional issues. 

1.     Those lips. He’s so cute! I’d hold his face in my hands and look at those lips! I think life experience has made me develop a bias for a full mouth like that. To My Mom: You’re not reading this, but I want to address your opinion of my choice of actor. You told me his looks are “weird” and I hear you – he’s not classically handsome - but he’s at the top of my list of celebrity sexceptions and I stand by that. 2.   2009’s The Take . A dark miniseries that aired in the UK (also available for free on hulu), The Take features greed, violence, addiction and messed up families all played by very talented actors. Even the kid playing Hardy’s oldest son does a good job. This show is the first I’d ever truly binge-watched, and upon reaching the finale, I felt the loss of Tom Hardy’s character. Mind you, Freddy is fucking creepy with a charisma that makes me feel unclean; the very way he walks is repellent and foreboding. Every cocaine hub in Colo...

           You’re going to live in a city where you can start over, befriending new people at grad school with your literary know-it-all personality, meeting them for coffee at some hip, relaxed café, and you’ll be charming in a blue pea coat and red-orange scarf. Over time, as you work hard and meet people, some of them will be well-intentioned, romantically interested guys for whom you’ll set aside your negativity long enough to learn something new about dating and about yourself.           School is going to kick your ass, but the people whose very presences make life harder by triggering your anger and jealousy will be hundreds of miles away, including me.

Marry: I would want to get hitched to Mac! Could I still do that? Imagine the weird, weird ceremony with Mac in a leather jacket, Charlie as a groomsman and Dennis secretly acting as best man, which would make for a bachelor party that would last for two or three days and be all kinds of illegal. Mac would show up at the venue for our wedding, brushing dust from his jeans, playing with a cowlick, saying, “Don’t ask…Do you have any food?”

                           From the Vaults of My Old Blog:        T he room that Arthur has agreed to meet in is bordering on colonial opulence, as if it is the dream bedroom in a manic American Girl doll catalog. It is the only red and white themed room at the Potter Grace Bed and Breakfast, and it is the only room booked for a single occupant listed as Westley Familiaris. By the window in the corner, at the foot of an armchair, sits Arthur, dressed in white, breathing deeply, appearing so comfortable that it's almost zen-like. Outside, it's warm for a February afternoon in this part of the country, with fat blocks of yellow sunlight streaming through windows. Shannon is sitting on the bed at the other side of the room, running her fingers over stitches in the comforter.