genny the brave

"Hold Out For The Ones You Know Will Love You" or "Tear Down The House That I Grew Up In, I'll Never Be The Same Again"

2009-05-26T10:45:00.003-05:00

Wait.

What's happening?

I don't know that this feeling is.

It's like blankets in winter, or the first time you use the fireplace, or christmas lights for no reason, or using lamps instead of overhead light so everything gets that warm glow and photographs turn out more personal and deep.

It's a little like feeling full, or being resolved, or maybe even the feeling you get when you've been driving aimlessly and lost for a really long time and you finally recognize your surroundings and you know you're safe.

I feel......

peace.

Time to get a new blog.

<3gen

"Your Love Will Be Safe With Me" or "I Love You For Your Little, Startled, Thoughtless Ways"

2009-05-15T01:50:00.007-05:00

I think this is one of those grown-up lessons.

I'm slowly discovering the real depths of how self-involved and self-centered I can be sometimes. I care about other people immensely, and love to make them happy. You guys know this about me, I hope. But I'm not a very good listener, because much of the time I only act as if I'm waiting for my chance to speak. And I'm seeing more. I'm seeing that I very rarely consider the effects of my actions on other people aside from how I will feel about it, or how it will affect me.

I have had no problem seeing multiple people at once, dating a few guys, a few girls, and talking about it honestly (oh honesty, how often you lead me into trouble). But when I am seeing someone and they talk about other people they have feelings for, it makes me feel bad, I feel hurt. I have just been assuming all these years that they couldn't possibly feel the same way. They didn't care about me, since they didn't say it out loud every six seconds, so I can talk about whatever I want and it won't hurt them. How stupid is that?

I need to start really working on my listening skills and how perceptive I am. For so long I've thought I knew people really well, I listened, I was a good friend and always there for people. I'm seeing now that I should be better at it. I have got to start paying attention to other people, really start listening and taking it in and not just considering what's happening in relation to me or when I get the next bit of attention.

And as far as my habits with boys, well, we all know that I've been learning those lessons for years now. But it's always been all about me, right? I was subservient and dependent for so long, that I went headlong into being thoughtless and careless with people and that's not balance, it's just the inverse. What I need is balance. What I need is a way to understand my own feelings and pay attention to what I'm saying and how it would make me feel. And maybe if someone else says the same things I do, I need to remember that.

These seem like easy lessons, obvious even, but if there's anything that I've been wrong about for the longest time, it's love and relationships.

So hey, I'm listening this time. I'll figure this out. I'm gaining strength every day. I'm growing up.

And then I fell for a boy with blue eyes who I've known less than a week.

There is reason in everything.

<3gen

I love you
For your little,startled,thoughtless ways,
For your ponderings,like soft dark birds,
And when you speak ‘tis a sudden sunlight.

I love you
For your wide child eyes,and fluttering hands,
For the little divinities your wrists,
And the beautiful mysteries your fingers.

I love you.
Does the blossom study her day of life?
Is the butterfly vexed with an hour of soul?
I had rather a rose than live forever.

--ee cummings

"We Were Only Freshmen" or "Like A Story Told In The Faultlines of the Soil"

2009-05-10T13:38:00.003-05:00

What I've been thinking about the most were those moments when I really thought I couldn't make it.

Nights when I had two projects due in less than 3 hours and I hadn't slept in 46 hours. Those nights when I was running on nothing but espresso, text messages, spellcheck, and cigarettes.

Mornings when the hangover was so bad I was sure it was cancer, brain cancer, a tumor the size of a grapefruit. They were going to have to saw my head open and let my brain expand. Mornings when I woke up much too close to the toilet for my comfort.

Days when I had $35 in my checking account, and the cable bill was $46.50, and I knew I'd wasted my money on lattes, toys, and thrift stores. Days when I had saltines and pickles for dinner.

Nights after breakups, after falling in love, after ruining myself over so many boys because I was just so. in. love. And I was just so. fucked. up.

I used to text Lindsey late at night, "Can we just drop out of college and move to Mexico?" Several times she said "Yes. Be there in 10 minutes."

But here I am at the end of it. Even the most devastating things, even the moments that made me wish I were dead or back home or wishing I were blind so I never had to see the world again, I made it through them all. I'm here, on the other side of the giant tunnel of youth, from preschool to graduation, and I came out of it alive.

It is actually physically jarring how different you are when you start college and when you end it. I am absolutely delighted with the person that I have turned out to be.

I have strength I didn't know I had, friends I never knew existed, power that only God can give. And how I start this new chapter, with a 9-5 job and a regular paycheck. I pay my own bills, I have my own health insurance, I'll do my laundry. This is what it's all been building up to. This is the moment. Right. Now.

Tomorrow I start my full time job. Last night I met a nice boy with soft hands and a sweet smile and I'm comfortable. My sister is about to be a senior in high school. Lindsey and Linn leave for Kenya in less than a week.

My next goal is to read everything Kurt Vonnegut ever wrote.

Let's do this.

<3gen

"Beauty Exists Only In Struggle" or "3 Voicemail Boxes, 2 Bright Pants, and 1 Pair of Heart-Shaped Sunglasses"

2009-04-30T03:55:00.003-05:00

OH. DEAR. GOD.

I am, officially, 9 days away from graduating college. I am 9 days away from the following signs of grown-up-titude:
--My own health insurance
--A land-line home phone
--A work phone number
--Operating a fax machine
--Business cards with the word "administrator" on them
--Alcohol intended to last more than one evening

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?

I remember sitting in Mrs. Amamoo's kindergarten class, practicing writing my name, becoming increasingly frustrated with how many E's were in my name. I could see into the Mrs. Cain's first grade classroom (I can't believe I still remember her name). And I remember, so distinctly, looking into that room and thinking to myself

"I am never, EVER, going to make it to first grade."

How did I get here?

How did I get from rolling myself over, to walking on two legs, to tying my shoes, to spelling my name, to fingerpainting, to riding a tricycle, to playing dress-up, to getting a little sister, to picking out my own clothes, to stop getting toys for christmas, to wearing makeup, to getting allowance, to getting boyfriends, to getting kisses, to being rebellious, to learning to drive, to reading literature, to graduating high school, to drinking my way through sophomore year, to being in love, to losing it all, to gaining the world, to figuring myself out, to being THIS FUCKING CLOSE to being a REAL ADULT.

You just don't plan your life this far in advance, you can't. Even now, being 9 days away from the real, live world, I'm having trouble picturing it. Every age and year until 22 has a milestone, has memories, has a clear picture. After this? Things get blurry. What does the world after school look like?

If you had told me when I came to college that in 4 years I would be in love with a class of four year-olds, outwardly bisexual, without a boyfriend and LOVING IT, living with my male best friend, and have a job as a church secretary, I would have gotten offended, climbed in bed with my boyfriend, and snuggled blissfully into crazytown.

The craziest thing?

Everyone was right.
About everything.

And I had it all so very wrong.

Thank God.

<3gen

p.s. I'll probably get a tumblr soon. Further bulletins as events warrant.

"Will You Still Need Me, Will You Still Feed Me, When I'm Sixty-Four?" or "The New Top Five"

2009-04-05T13:41:00.006-05:00

1. So, my hair is brown.

I'm not entirely ok with it just yet, but I'll get there I guess. I feel sort of ordinary all of a sudden, and kids don't smile at me like they used to, and there are people who don't talk to me so easily. But last night my friend Daniel said to me, "What about all the people who didn't talk to you because of the hair? You'll have to find a way to be bright and have that energy without being pink anymore."

I suppose that's good advice.

2. I got the job at Canterbury, which is absolutely amazing. It pays great, it has health insurance, and I get to organize things and make things efficient all day, talk to people, act as a voice and a face for the church. It's a fantastic job, and I'll have the money to spend the next few years getting a Masters of Education with night classes. It's exactly what I needed, and I still get to keep my job with my class at church.

3. I am having senior-itis like I did not know existed, and I can't even motivate myself to write a three-page paper that's nothing but opinion on the Beatles. I had to write THREE PAGES on nothing but OPINION on MUSIC and I couldn't do it. That's insulting to my English Degree that awaits me at the end of this tunnel. But at this point, studying and producing assignments is equivalent to pulling an angry cat through a keyhole. Not only impossible, but clawing.

4. In my personal/emotional/sexual/relationship life, things are balanced. I feel at peace, in control, and comfortable exactly where I am and with exactly what I'm doing. I don't know how long this feeling will last, or how many nights I'll feel great before I get right back to writing metaphors about tears in my notebook. But for right now, I feel just right.

5. I am incredibly ready to be a grown-up, done with college, with a real job and a real salary. I am also terrified that, in reality, I am overwhelmingly unprepared.

Then again, isn't everyone?

<3gen

"Peculiar Travel Suggestions" or "Finding Niagara"

2009-03-20T16:37:00.003-05:00

So I read Cat's Cradle in one night, and came upon a superb quote the night before I embarked on a completely spontaneous, totally unplanned, fantastically unpredictable adventure with one Lindsey Mullen:

"Peculiar travel suggestions are dance lessons from God."

So we had a mantra. Then we had plane tickets, then we had two seats on a plane to the Buffalo/Niagara airport, and then we had a destination. And then we had the adventure.

If you want a play-by-play, there's twitter. If you want the highlights, there were friends we met on the bus that were always helpful, there were tiny birds that ate out of our hands about 10 yards from one of the most marvelous natural occurrences on planet earth, and there was a seriously beautiful stroke of divine intervention that led us to a positively fantastic hotel. Dearest thanks to Hotwire.com, your friendly neighborhood Buffalo airport security guard who also might be a drug dealer, and public libraries.

Buffalo and subsequently Niagara were, respectively, ghost-towns, but as Lindsey and I traveled the streets and public transit, we learned to appreciate it. It was quiet, chilly, and plenty of room to breathe. The houses in Buffalo have some of the most delightful-looking architecture I've ever seen, and we stumbled into a used book store full of hippies and a whole section of home-made zines. Sometimes whole streets would smell like garlic, and we danced to music playing from an outdoors store, and survived on nothing but crackers and clif bars. Then a doe-eyed little cheerleader from the church of Scientology gave us a free DVD.

The whole trip cost less than $300, including plane fare, hotel, food, and transportation. We only ate one real meal while we were there, and I think that the best way to appreciate food is to live on vending machine fare for a few days, then eat anything warm and soft. It'll be so good you'll insist it's manna from God himself, given only to you out of love.

It was a fantastic trip, and I didn't panic when we didn't have a place to stay, or when our friend Germaine tried to get us to stay in a hotel/front for human trafficking operation/crack house, or when Niagara was a town of abandoned buildings and closed Mediterranean food trailers.

My head was completely clear. It wasn't that I was making an effort not to think of my ex-boyfriend new happy-and-drug-free relationship, the work I have to get done for Apwonjo and graduation, papers and midterms, college sophomores who have still stolen my heart, my messy room, or my still foggy job prospects, but the thoughts weren't even there. I thought of nothing but Niagara falls, warm coats, Lindsey's smile, meeting new people, seeing new things, and appreciating how lucky I really am.

We only took video, no photos, so we'll take still shots from that later, and make a little travelogue. But for now, verbal description will have to suffice.

"There Is No Home Like The One You've Got, Cause That Home Belongs To You"

2009-03-06T15:45:00.005-06:00

I need to go outside more. It just makes me feel good.

So yeah, I pretty much failed a midterm in one of my favorite classes. And yes, I got what can only be described as "royally rejected" from the guy that I've been gettin' weak in the knees for since November. And I've been worried about what to do after graduation, having no plans and no income, and every try in the job market collapsing like a flan in a cupboard.

But I have GOT to start remembering what I do have. Thanks, Tegan&Sara, for pumping all the sad girl lyrics you could through my speakers and into my veins, but let's take a break. It's a beautiful day outside, and tonight I go home to see my family and my dogs, and tomorrow I get to see Rutsky. I should be happy that I am starting to mend a friendship that I had no business breaking in the first place. I should be happy that I've got great friends and a good family and a nice computer and cowboy boots and a great job- even if it doesn't pay that well.

It's time to make spring break plans with my dream girl, and make some art to hang on people's walls, and cook lasagna and watch good movies and read Kurt Vonnegut and just go outside more.

<3<3<3gen

"I Just Want Back In Your Head" or "I Feel You In My Heart And I Don't Even Know You"

2009-03-04T21:11:00.006-06:00

There are these two girls. They wrote a song about me,
and then they sent it to me. Now they live in my head.

"You Wouldn't Like Me", by Tegan and Sara

There's a war inside of me
Do I cause new heartbreak to write
A new broken song?
Do I push it down?
Or let it run me right into the ground?

Oh I, I feel like
I wouldn't like me if I met me

Well I can't stop talking for fear
Of listening to unwelcome sound
And you haven't called me in weeks and
Honestly, it's bringing me down

Oh, I, I feel like I wouldn't like me if I met me
I, I feel like you wouldn't like me if you met me

And don't you worry, there's still time
Don’t you worry, there’s still time

There’s nothing to live for
When I'm sleeping alone
And I wash the windows outside in
Hopes that the glare will bring you around

I, I feel like I wouldn't like me if I met me
I, I feel like you wouldn't like me if you met me

So you don’t you worry there’s still time
Don’t you worry there’s still time
So you don’t you worry there’s still time
Don’t you worry there’s still time
So you don’t you worry there’s still time
Don’t you worry there’s still time

Sunshine is days away
I won't be saved, I know all the words
I can't say that I'll love you forever
Sunshine is days away
I won't be saved, I know all the words
I won't say that I'll love you forever

"Whatever The Mess You Are, You're Mine, Ok" or "It's Not Easy To Be Human"

2009-02-26T16:17:00.004-06:00

I have so many things to update about, and yet all that's on my mind is that if my back upper back were also a man, I have clearly slept with his wife and killed his dog.

I carry a laptop in a horribly inefficient messenger bag absolutely everywhere I go, for fear of leaving the still unpaid for computer anywhere but by my side. I am sleeping on various people's couches 3 nights a week, which lack in both back support and sufficient pillows. I spend inordinate amounts of time on my laptop, needing it for school and work and play and to update my facebook 24567 times a day. I regularly hoist up 40-50 pound toddlers up onto my hips and sometimes shoulders, carrying them around and sometimes whirling them around behind my back. Not to mention the pair of very beautiful, but also very heavy 36DDD boobs that I've got to keep afloat with nothing but pretty ribbon and what is likely coat-hanger wire.

Seems I may have developed some back problems.

I am, by all accounts, a muddled-up mass of injury at this point.

I still have a little limp on my left leg and now what appears to be a FUCKING STAB WOUND from the blue party last week, so the left leg is out of commission. My right leg is essentially fine, but it's pickin' up lefty's slack and it ain't happy about it. My hips, try as they might to avoid it, are bumped by my messenger bag, car doors, and door frames on such regular intervals that I've got two, half-moon shaped bruises atop each one. My right shoulder is the one that seems to be enacting the wrath of a drunken cuckold, and my uterus is in the process of punishing me inordinately for not bearing child this month. That last one, however, should always be regarded as a blessing. This all on top of the typical behaviour of little sleep, high caffeine levels, and pathetic eating schedule.

Wah, wah, wah, so on and so forth, poor me, poor me.

Anyway, I'm sorry to not write about visiting Graceland, Too with my friends in Holly Springs, MS at 1AM where I encountered the single most insane experience of my life. Add I don't have time to write about how I solved my boy problems, and even though there were tears and I'm still feeling a little rejected and in the process of licking my wounds, it's over, and that sure is better than having a "boyfriend"- blech. And I would post about how I was getting more and more scared of graduating, but once again the illustrious Miss Mullen of all things Glorious and Glitterous stepped in and eased my nerves.

But for now, laying on my bed and typing like this?
I THINK THIS IS HOW IT ALL STARTED, YOU MORON.

<3gen

"The Not-So-Good Leonora" or "My Analyst Warned Me, But You Were So Beautiful I Got Another Analyst"

2009-02-16T22:25:00.004-06:00

This is what I really wish this blog could be like.

But I'm afraid that my writing skills are not up to par, I am far too honest and far too personal, and it will always be apparent that this is yet another place I go for affirmation.

But you guys still like my way a little, right?

See, there it is. Right there.

<3gen

p.s. Preview for next post: Graceland Too in Holly Springs, MS, how I'd forgotten how truly glorious it is to be single, and how I am slowly becoming afraid to graduate school.

"But You Still Crumble At My Name" or "I'm Building Lonely Mixtapes All Night Long"

2009-02-13T21:23:00.004-06:00

Never wish that your life were more interesting. EVER.

<3gen

"Like He Was The Hat And Those Songs Were The Rabbit" or "The Earth Is Warmer When You Laugh"

2009-02-11T01:21:00.005-06:00

I am so tired of having to take care of this silly physical being. Why can't I just run around in cowboy boots without arch support, tense my shoulders over a computer for 6 hours a day, stress myself out,consume nothing but lattes and beer, and sleep two hours a night? Why is that so fucking bad for me? Come on, it's 2009, why haven't we figured this out?

Well, since it appears that the above scenario doesn't bode well for feeling very healthy, I certainly haven't. I've been hitting that stage where you meet people on the sidewalk and they say, "Oh hey, you look tired!" At which point you just want to say something like, "Well thanks," or punch them. I've begun craving the Victorian Era where it would be perfectly acceptable for me to walk into class, discover that my test in not in fact a week away but is today, and just faint onto a nearby couch. But nobody invests in fainting couches these days.

Inside all of this physical abuse my emotional center has turned into something resembling a poor little bruised peach. I just can't ever turn off these pesky little neurons that keep firing and re-firing, analyzing and over-analyzing, alternating between being convinced that my needy-little-self is what makes me so gosh-darned-lovable, and perpetual loathing of how that needy-little-self might be the thing standing between me and what I want. The other night I sat across from him while he talked about music, and wrote down every word he said. God, it's just as tiring to try and take care of this emotional peach as it is to take care of my vital organs.

More than an adequate fainting couch, I've been craving escape. I want to hide, disappear. Instead of work, school, friends, parties, I want to sit in my room and organize my music files, read all the books I've got but have never read, paint my desk, sew a dress. I just want to lock myself in my room for days and stay in bed under my big, white comforter and pretend I'm in the clouds.

My strange sleep schedule has lent itself to intense and frequent dreaming. Every time I wake up I'm so disappointed that there's this big, great, free adventure happening in my head, and I have to miss it so that I can do things like eat, work, and live.

<3gen

"Reasons To Love You" or "The Best People I Know"

2009-02-04T03:19:00.002-06:00

I'm tired of writing about myself. I want to write about you guys.

Yeah, you guys. All those glorious little humanoids that I love so much, and why I love ya, and why we're friends, and why I think you're just so gosh darned cool. This blog is such a monument to my self-indulgence and vanity, let's take a break. I just want to talk to you.

Dear Mom,

There are times when your absolute marvelousness crashes into me like waves on the California shore where you used to live and wanted a basketball for Christmas. You are the smartest person I know, the most level-headed person I know, and you make me feel better about absolutely everything. Sometimes I just don't know how you do it all, or how you manage to express love in such a healthy, beautiful, and balanced way. I hope and pray that I turn into my mother.

Dear Dad,

I tell you, there's just no love in the world like Daddy for his little girl. Things haven't always been easy for you and me, but only because we are so much the same. Chronic extroverts, loud in public, always want to make the whole room laugh. And you certainly do. If I can trust you to do anything, you can always make people smile. While mom is ready to push me out of the nest with my fully-grown wings, you hold on tightly and insist that I'm not yet ready to fly. I cling to you still, as I may well into adulthood, trying so desperately to stay the little girl I am inside. You show me remarkable wisdom every day, while also teaching me so many things about myself. Even when you frustrate me most, it teaches me more about love.

Dear Anna,

Heavens, has it all been said? So many times? We are the wands, we are the vikings. You are my heart and I am yours. You are everything I dreamed you would be the day that you were born, and I love you more every time I think about you. You have saved my life so many times and never known it, and when everything else has seemed collapsing and crumbling, there has always been you. If I knew anyone who deserved to be a Saint, it would be you. Just don't get lit on fire or anything, be the sort of saint who dies of old age while dancing fiercely in a storm of firecrackers and wild swans.

Dear Linn,

You make me feel a little less crazy, and a little more crazy, and you make me laugh like nobody else. You and I come from the same place, and our backpacks weigh as much as our hearts, and our brains never turn off, and we're always caffeinated and no one understands what we mean but us. You are the only friend I can study with effectively. Also, never stop telling me when I'm being a bitch, I need that.

Dear Lindsey,

I've said it a million times, and if anyone has been given love and credit on this blog, it's certainly you. I don't seem to be able to talk enough about how much I love you. You remind me to be spontaneous, that time is a construct, and that yes, we need a baby seal. You put up with me at my worst, and you are always honest with me, and you deal with me being stupid and mean gracefully and kindly. Also, never stop telling me that I'm being loud, I need that too.

Dear Ginny,

You remind me sometimes that I'm not alone. You make me feel less ridiculous, less silly, like I'm not the only one. There are some days where I feel like I haven't learned anything, and I feel silly for letting boy problems make my head spin, and everyone around me is agreeing with me that I'm much too mature to let relationship problems bog me down so much anymore. Then there you are, telling me that it's ok if I still get emotional sometimes, and maybe it isn't ridiculous, but maybe it's okay if I fall in love all the time. You make me feel okay about being in love with everyone.

Dear Alex,

On those nights when only the Christmas lights on your mantle are lit, or you strike a match in a dark room, or all the clocks in the whole house are wrong and you say, "Hey, can I read you something? It's really amazing," those are the nights that I want to remember forever and forever and forever. When you smile and dance around a room, or talk about one single song for thirteen minutes, or read a poem when no one in the room wants to hear it but you read it anyway because I want to hear it and I could have you read me stories all day, those are the best parts about you in the whole world. I wish I read as much as you do. I wish I had a smile like yours.

Dear Daniel H.,

There are certain friends that you have, and no matter how much time passes, or what you go through together, or how much time passes between phone calls, they are always there for you no matter what, and we're those kind of friends. I love that we have managed to stay close over the years, and nobody gets you like I do, and nobody gets me like you do. I like putting up with you. I like watching you get silly perturbed over little things. I like that I can be honest with you, and you with me. I like that we have learned each other so well. I like that we will always, always, be brother and sister.

Dear Cooper,

I say this with complete sincerity and no exaggeration: There is no one else in my life that I can be so completely myself with. I think this feeling is mutual for us. We've talked about it before, but you and I were just meant to be roommates. We know each other like mapmakers know the land, and we've surveyed and drawn borders and we could walk around with our eyes closed. There are nights when we both are saying nothing in particular, but we just laugh and we just get it. And it just works. I know you and all your quirks, and I love them. You know what to expect from me, and you always make me laugh. You and I can always have a silent conversation in a room full of people and that's perfect.

Dear Ben W,

I don't think I yell louder or smile bigger than when you walk through the door at a party. I know that we don't see each other very often, but I think that maybe that's how we're supposed to be. So every time I see you, I yell and get so excited my eyes start to water. I want to hug you more, though. And have coffee with you more, and jump on you more, and dance with you more. So maybe I lied, maybe we need to see each other much, much more often. And also, you're a brilliant writer.

Dear Ryan Spain,

I like that we are friends again, and that we have crossed so many bridges together- even while they were burning. We will always have strings stretching between our hearts, and we'll always have little secrets floating between us that make us best friends. We have been to the edge of the earth together, and we will always keep each other from that edge again. We are the lovers.

Dear Ryan Scruggs,

You and I are the same. We have the same heart, the same sigh when we feel lonely, and I think we will soon be at point where we can hear each other at night lamenting over the same lost things. You can always understand me, and you are always there for me and you always make me laugh. Over the years we've seen each other through so much, and we've always managed to laugh. You will always be a force of optimism and laughter in my life.

Dear Laura,

Goodness gracious you're cute. I love that you have come into my life, and into James's. Your laugh can light up a dark room and you are always up for an adventure. I've never met someone who seemed so at peace that they radiated peace from them- except James, of course. You're always ready to stay up another hour, cook something ridiculous late at night, and go on a big glorious trip for that crazy thing called love. You have a knack for making families everywhere you go.

Dear James,

Can enough be said about you, my dear? A source of strength, wisdom, and endless, endless late nights of ridiculous laughter and absurd stories that no one will understand years from now except the few of us who were there. You can make fun and beauty out of absolutely anything, and I will always be amazed by that. You are one of the most determined people I know, and the amount of knowledge and travel that you have accomplished over the years makes me so proud of you. You and I have been through the fire, and I love you so so so very much for the person that you are. If I could be like you in any way, I would love to be able to have the courage that you have to try new things. Oh, and be good at them. That would be nice, too.

Dear Ben R,

You and I will always be a beautiful thing. You will always play music late at night, and I will always call you while I walk through dark parking lots because I know that you want me to be safe. We will always be friends. One way or another, at one time or another, we will always be friends.

Dear Daniel M,

I smile just thinkin' about you. You can always make the world seem a little more manageable, a little less scary, and a little more musical. You have fun with absolutely everything and god knows we all need more of that in our lives. You live your life as a series of beautiful moments, and I want to be in more of them. Just to see the brightness of it all.

Dear Jeremy,

I wear your necklace for good luck. It means the world to me, still. As do you.

Dear Kat&Liz,

I include you two together because you both are my creative inspiration. Kat, you are my painted bird. Liz, you are my vintage pillbox hat. You are both the artists I wished I could always be but never had quite the skill or the passion, and it delights me to no end that you are both in the world. I miss you terribly and kick myself for not orchestrating trips to see you more often. Have no doubt, I will.

Dear boys: Logan, Morgan, Paker, &Michael

It is so wonderful that you kids haven't gotten tired of me yet, because goodness knows you're the most fun kids on the block. Logan, I'm never going to understand you and that's always going to make me happy and love you more. Your knowledge of music will always absolutely dumbfound me. Morgan, you're a great guitar teacher and I love how much you make me laugh. Half the time I don't understand your sense of humor which somehow, some way, makes it even funnier. Parker, I like that I can look at you from across the room and we shake our heads and think man these people are crazy, and that now I've found one other person that understands how great milk actually is. Michael, get a facebook.

Dear Jennifer C,

Thank you for being such a glorious mother, and such a good friend. I know I have told you again and again, but you have managed to raise two little kids so full of joy sometimes I think they're going to start lighting up from the inside. I always feel comfortable around you and I feel like I've gained a second family. You're one seriously awesome woman.

Dear William F,

Oh, you get it.

<3gen

"I Would Be In Love Anyway" or "You Gotta Love Livin' Baby, Cause Dyin' Is A Pain In The Ass"

2009-01-26T04:13:00.004-06:00

Frankie wrote this song for me. He and I, see, we're kindred spirits, and he knew it back then. He knew there would be a girl like me, who needed somebody to croon into her ear something that put her complicated, convoluted, fickle and difficult feelings into such simple little words that it would make her smile.

This song is my life story, and Frankie wrote it just for me.

"If I lived the past over
Saw today from yesterday
I would be in love
Anyway
If I knew that you'd leave me
If I knew you wouldn't stay
I would be in love
Anyway
Sometimes I think
Think about before
Sometime I think
If I knew then
What I know now
I don't believe I'd ever change
Somehow
Though you'll never be with me
And there are no words to say
I'll still be in love
Anyway
If I knew then
What I know now
I don't believe I'd ever change
Somehow
If I knew then
What I know now
I don't believe I'd ever change
Somehow

"The Smell Of Mustard Gas And Roses" or "Valentine's Day in Dresden"

2009-01-24T14:42:00.006-06:00

Don't we all have days like this, ladies?

Wrapped up in a down comforter on your couch, a batch of brownies on the coffee table, watching Sex&The City and contemplating what it is, exactly, that got us into this mess? And why, exactly, we can't seem to get ourselves out of it?

And somewhere between the middle of the brownies, episode four of single girls with lots of money and beautiful dating prospects, and whenever you start to think that you may need to venture into the world at some point, you start to wonder why you let relationship stuff matter enough to put you in this couch-and-comforter situation anyway?

Then you sigh, pick up another brownie, and settle in a little deeper.

Fuck you, Saturday.

<3gen

"Let Me Hold My Broken Parts" or "A Pretty Girl Is Like A Violent Crime, If You Do It Wrong You Could Do Time"

2009-01-22T12:45:00.009-06:00

Sometimes I feel two things at once.

1. I had the most miraculous birthday. I walked into Lindsey's house for the one millionth time, and it felt familiar. Linn and Whitney were next to me, friends were in the kitchen, everything felt comfortable and at peace. The kitchen door was closed, and the lights were off in the living room. I thought nothing of it. Lindsey's face glowed with that smile. I walked into the living room to have what sounded like a hundred people yelling SURPRISE, and a few loners saying ASTONISHMENT! Thanks, Will Thomas...

I looked around and saw the most friendly faces, faces of people that I loved, and I filled up to the brim with this desire to want to pull them all together in a big hug. We played music and danced all night and I even got a kiss from a boy I like. I felt whole and colorful and that things were just like they were supposed to be. Lindsey let me climb on her coffee table and sing Christmas songs, and then she was the best girl in the world. Everyone was the best everything in the world.

I was renewed.

2. Amidst all the renewal, in the days following my miracle birthday, I also became painfully aware that there seems to be little I can do about my habits with boys. It appears that I will never be able to look beyond "what feels good right now" and see "what will hurt later." I won't be able to hold myself back from "what my heart tells me it wants" and see "what the boy tells me he wants." I seem to be taking carpe diem to a dangerous level (both with my heart and with my liver), and it makes me feel pretty unwanted most of the time. At the same time, I'm behaving in a way that is ensuring I remain feeling as such for as long as I possibly can.

3. Feeling overwhelmingly loved and perpetually unwanted at the same time is very confusing. It makes me need more caffeine and my fingers hurt often. Like they're craving to reach out and hold something but I don't have the direction. Or like I'm in withdrawals.

<3gen

"It Was One Of The Beautiful Girls Who Woke Me Up" or "One Year Older, One Year Closer To It All"

2009-01-15T22:59:00.002-06:00

I think actually this time, the morning of my first day of being one year older, I actually felt a whole lot different than I had felt on my last day of being 21.

Unfortunately, I don't think I'm gonna know all the lessons I learned between 21 and 22 until I get to 23. Not to mention that there is a significant portion of blog-o-land taken up right below this entry of all sorts of delicious life stories that just scream of learning lessons and getting to know myself. It's just not necessary for the birthday, thanks for having me in January, mom.

However, there is one thing that is worth noting, and it has been noted several times on this blog, and every other corner of the internet where I go to be compulsively and chronically extroverted:

Lindsey Mullen can not be described in word that I have at my disposal. I have been praying to God, or some form of a God, since I was a child, younger than a child. I have prayed for everything any human being prays for: possessions, love, fixed problems, easier roads to travel, doom on others, ability to remember math problems. Never has a prayer been answered in such bright light, such ineffable wisdom that only comes from knowing all of creation, and with such powerful love as the answer that created, and delivered so undeservingly to me, the friend and miracle that is that girl.

<3gen

"Romanticism Has Never Been Properly Judged" or "Maybe I Was Born To Hold You"

2009-01-13T16:10:00.003-06:00

I hate that my birthday is so close to the new year, because I feel like maybe I'm supposed to learn a whole bunch of lessons between then and now.

But I think this time, I did.

22 tomorrow, kids.

<3gen

"God Loved You The Best" or "So This Is The New Year"

2009-01-03T17:57:00.007-06:00

Typically for these year-in-review blog entries that all good bloggers must inevitable create, I sift back through all the posts I've had, I read letters I wrote and didn't send, and I turn through the pages of what is usually a 10-inch-tall pile of notebooks so that I can remember what the last 12 months really felt like.

This time, it appears from January to April of 2008, I sailed off the edge of a very flat earth. There are no journal pages, I can't find so much as a scribble in the corner of some class notes about what those months were like. I mean, I remember what they were like: great masses of loss, dreams where I hugged God wearing roller skates, a hurricane of hands and glances that meant nothing to me and something to everyone else. They were a very dense, and very hollow few months.

In April I was a girl growing up in East Germany, until the wall came down and I had to figure out how to live in a country where the signs changed, the borders blurred, and I couldn't go to the grocery store without being reminded of what had disappeared, and what had been gained.

In May I was frustrated when disappointment moved in with something that still looked an awful lot like love, and when I held my ear to the wall they shared I only wished they would quiet so I could get some sleep. They fought every night and into the morning, stomping their feet on the floors and sometimes something that sounded like scratching on the walls.

In June I discovered God in a three year-old boy. I understood that I needed love in my life, but that I had been looking for it in all the wrong places. Because right in front of me, the whole time, was a little boy who thought I could make the whole world better, and I could always take care of him, and when he heard me come in the door he ran to me and jumped into my arms and there was no one else in the whole big wide world that loved me like that. In June, I met the best man I've ever loved.

In July, I became a book.

In August, I had a bubble fight in Lindsey's kitchen.

In September I dyed my hair pink.

In October I ignored everything I'd ever learned in Biology and started to ignore human functions necessary for life. I didn't eat enough, didn't sleep enough, drank too often, kissed too many people for very strange reasons. I slacked on school work, put too much effort into charity work, and lost ground on all of my self work. But I felt whole, and the heartache that the year had plagued me with started fading.

In November, Obama won the Presidency, I pulled off the biggest event for charity in Africa I had ever tried, went head-over-heels for a boy, and began clawing desperately at the end of the semester while trying not to fail out of college.

December was sleep, friends, and not looking back at the past at all.

So here's January, and it's raining, and I turn 22 years old in 11 days. This year was exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it.

<3gen

"The View I Woke Up To This Morning"

2008-12-30T10:16:00.004-06:00

"No One Thought We'd Survive This" or "I Haven't Felt This Whole In Years"

2008-12-29T16:32:00.002-06:00

The sun is just barely considering dropping behind the bright tin roof across the street. This whole room is bright gold and there's laughing leaking from the kitchen. I'm sinking into this overstuffed chaise lounge and I can hear the ocean outside this open window while the breeze crawls in like a child sneaking in after curfew.

If there were an over-the-counter cure for the blues, sunset in a big beautiful house on the beach with your best friends would be it. Montgomery turned out to be a bust when most of my family ended up sick or busy, and a mere 3 hours drive away was my kind of paradise. This three-story house might as well be made out of windows, and everywhere you look there's the ocean. All the furniture is pale beach colors and too big and too full and covered in pillows. Last night we made tons of pasta and ate together at a big table looking out at the stars and we drank wine and laughed and talked and were whole together.

Today there were no plans, just wandering. It was sixty degrees and the sky was so clear you could see the earth curving. We walked through the town and went into the bookstore, up to the record store. We drank cold coffee and looked out at the brightest sun you've ever seen in your whole damn life. We listened to good music and walked to the beach with beer and gelatto and we built pyramids in the sand with our hands. We ran into the ocean, as freezing cold as December would have it, and danced with each other.

Tonight? Who knows. Watching the stars on the beach right after we have wine at the cafe in town. We might have margaritas and eat expensive mexican food and hold hands for the whole night. Or we'll mix drinks in the kitchen and drink out on the porch where we can smell the sand and talk about what it was like when we were in highschool and everything seemed so important.

I'm not thinking about work I have to get done, or what boy is making me feel bad about myself now, or how I'm spending money I don't have. I'm just thinking about sunshine and my best friends. I'm thinking about God and love and snacks and being warm and sand and giggling and books and this amazing couch.

This was the best decision I've made in my life.

<3gen

"Ubiquitous Christmas Post" or "The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year"

2008-12-24T11:03:00.002-06:00

I would like to inform all of you that I have now officially done the dishes at least once.

CHECK!

I mean, the living room is full of the remnants of making my parents' Christmas presents, and I haven't taken the trash out yet, I need to take a shower and the whole house smells like tater tots, but hey, one thing at a time people.

In other news, it's taken until Christmas Eve but it finally feels like Christmas to me. I have to work tonight and seeing my kids at church and watching kid's Christmas movies and singing songs and talking about Santa is probably going to really up the holiday spirit.

I can't wait to spend a few hours with Ira and Flossie on Christmas eve, a fantastic present. They each gave me gifts that they picked out themselves. Ira gave me his Cars cup and a snowman dishtowel, and Flossie gave me pink nail polish and a stuffed santa clause. It was clearly just stuff that they had in their house, but it was so sweet that they had picked me out things that they had and wanted to give to me. They even wrapped them themselves! And they piled on top of me and jumped up and down and were so excited to watch me open the presents. It was wonderful. They are my best friends.

I'm ready to be home, and then I'm ready to be in Montgomery for longer than 24 hours. Now I have friends up there, and it occurs to me that even though I've spend so much time up there in my life I never leave my relatives' houses so I don't know anything to do in that damn town. So this time while I'm around seeing family I'll have other people to see and places to go. Not that I don't love spending all day on my aunt Jean's couch, I would spend a day like that no problem.

So I wish everyone a Merry Christmas with families or the people you consider families and be sure to call anyone who isn't with you and tell them you love them. On Christmas you can get away with it and not feel awkward. It's a good excuse holiday. You can't tell everyone you love them on Halloween, that's just weird.

I love you.

<3gen

"Chuck Versus the First Date" or "How's That To Do List Coming?"

2008-12-20T19:56:00.003-06:00

So, remember that completely attainable to-do list? Well, I have bad news. As of right now, I have accomplished the following:

1. Completely reversed my "sleep schedule" to the point where I have to put quotation marks around it. I literally have started staying up till 9 or 1oam, then sleeping till evening. This is going to make Christmas tomorrow with the family a little stressful.

2. Cleaned my room, only to then fill it again with about 36 different art projects I decided I needed to work on. None of which are the large piece I need to finish for the living room.

3. Gotten ridiculously inebriated with a dear friend of mine, at which point I send several instant messages and/or text messages to various other dear friends of mine, ensuring that at least one of them isn't speaking to me, or at least hasn't since then. Awesome.

4. Turned my very clean, very roommate-taken-care-of house into my very own brand of a mess. No, I have not done the dishes. Not once.

5. Made 4 boxes of macaroni and cheese, 2 pizzas, a package of frozen burritos, uncountable cups of coffee and one very large, very overflowing, batch of rice. The kitchen reflects these decisions.

6. Spent more time than I care to relate on facebook, netflix, hulu, and youtube. I have fallen in love with the show Chuck.

Maybe that would have been an easier to-do list?

Heavens to betsy, I gotta get out of this house.

<3gen

"Glowing" or "Fleshy Stories From The Borderline"

2008-12-16T21:57:00.001-06:00

For those of you who still read it, Carniverous Plants has been updated.

For those of you that have never read it, I am, in fact, aware that Carniverous is misspelled.

<3gen

"So Long To Devotion, You Taught Me Everything I Know" or "To Be Human Is To Procrastinate, Because There Are So Many Important Things"

2008-12-12T22:01:00.003-06:00

I first need to thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, the three wise men, and all that is good and holy that Finals Week is over. This has likely been the most heinous of my college career, as I clocked a meager 10 hours of sleep between waking up Monday morning and falling asleep last night. Remind me, kids, to never do that again. Senior year in college and I have learned precisely nothing regarding work ethic. Cheers.

Now I enter into that black-hole of directionless wandering known as "The Break."

Every time I have an extended break from school, I make the same silly mistake that college kids so often do. Hell, adults too, we all do it. We get a few weeks off and we tell ourselves, "Oh man! I have all this time! I'm gonna get so much done!" I feel like we do this in little bursts over each weekend, and if you're anything like me, you get to Sunday afternoon and you realize you haven't accomplished anything besides maybe finally accepting the fact that no matter how many times you open the fridge, a plate of onion rings and a six pack is just not showin' up. But maybe you should throw away that cheese...

My goals for Christmas Vacation/Spring Break/Summer Off usually looks something like this:

1. Lose weight/Go on a diet
2. Clean my room and keep it clean
3. Read some excessively long book list
4. Get a head start on reading for the semester ahead
5. Work and save money
6. Make great strides for my career
7. Start some zealous African charity single-handedly
8. Write letters
9. Write a novel
10. Paint a masterpiece/Sew an entire new wardrobe

These things, never, ever some to fruition. Lose weight? Seriously? Start reading early for school? This is ridiculous.

So for this break, I am going to make some very realistic goals. Things that I feel are still very important for me to accomplish, but maybe a little easier to reach. Let's remember who we're dealing with, people.

So here's my list for the days of December 12th-January 7th:

1. Get all of my shoes with their matches, and put them in one place. Maybe not neatly, but at least get to the point where I can wear two of the same shoe when I leave the house..
2. Finally finish the big piece of art for the living room.
3. Clean my room. But do not kid myself, it will not stay that way.
4. Clean out my email inbox. Clean out Apwonjo's.
5. Do the dishes at least one time.
6. Clean out the fridge. Throw away that cheese.
7. Watch so much Jon&Kate+8 to the point where it infiltrates my dreams.
8. Make my family some pathetic attempt at Christmas presents.
9. Hang out with new friends in Montgomery.
10. Dance.

Ok, now that I think I can handle.

Hahaha. Lose weight. Man, that kills me.

<3gen

"We Will Count Every Beautiful Thing That We See" or "Love for All"

2008-12-09T16:37:00.003-06:00

Maybe all we need is Love, and maybe that's enough.

Watch, and feel good inside.

<3gen

"Chromosome X Has 153 Million Base Pairs" or "Girl Need Attention, And Boys Need Us, So Let's Make Everybody Glad"

2008-12-06T17:13:00.003-06:00

I betcha that title made you think this post is about girls. It isn't.

I have recently been repeating Imogen Heap, Mates of State, Kate Nash, Meiko, Johnny Cash, Leonard Cohen, She&Him, and Rufus Wainwright on my computer. These choices have heavily influenced my mood over the last week or so.

It has come to my attention that my beautiful lamp, that I made, that I have had since 10th grade, is finally giving up its ghost. I'm about to go buy a new lamp, but I'm not happy about it.

SLindsey has this new game where she sputs the sletter "S" in front of srandom swords in her sentences. It started aout spretty sannoying. Now it's skinda sadorable.

I get kind of dramatic when I've had alcohol. I also sometimes break things. But overall, parties at Gribbin house are some of the most delightful experiences of my college career.

I made spaghetti today. I wish I made spaghetti more often.

In case you didn't already, scroll down and read the lyrics to "Sentimental Heart" by She&Him. Then go find the song and listen to it. It sums me up so, so well. And in such a nice, pretty box.

I've always wanted to fit into a nice pretty box.

That's the closest I'm gonna get.

Today I'm sorta sad.

<3gen

"La'hov"" or "Your Father Said You Never Looked That Alive"

2008-12-02T14:17:00.002-06:00

I recently had this talk with this friend of mine.

When you start the yellow-brick road from friend to close friend, there are landmarks you start to see. When you find out you both really like that one movie, but you don't really know why. When you realize you have had oddly similar high school experiences. Your conversations begin to evolve from music, Friday nights, and how you hate waking up early, into what you think was your greatest mistake, your relationship with your mother, and, the most inevitable of all the conversations, what exactly IS so wrong with you.

So we were knee-deep in the inevitable. You explain yourself. It has to do with my father, this one thing that happened when I was a kid, these memories, these dreams I've had, the way that I always feel like I walk on one foot more than the other. Maybe the reasons here aren't important.

But I was explaining that I have a real problem with giving myself a hard time. Everything is my fault, because I messed up. And it is likely because I'm ugly, neurotic, useless, overbearing, ridiculous, hyperemotional, and too damn loud. This list may sometimes also include, though is not limited to, laziness, procrastination, carelessness, thoughtlessness, getting too attached too fast, being too easily devastated, being too easily excited, and lacking what I feel is an integral feature of most effective human beings, a filter between your head and your mouth. That is what I covet the most.

As I let these things fall out of my mouth and skate across the floor like little glass marbles, he looked with earnest eyes and said, "Why? That's stupid. You should know what when you make a mistake, or when a boy doesn't like you back, it's not because you're ugly or not smart enough or not good enough. Shit just happens sometimes."

Not to say that I haven't heard it before, I have. But this was from the guy that "doesn't like me back", so I think that made me listen more.

Today when I got coffee at the Java City in the library, when I got my card handed back to me, there was a Christmas card with it. The lady behind the counter smiled, and didn't say anything. I said thank you, and smiled, and went to get my coffee. As I poured in cream and half of a splenda packet, I read the card:

"Dear Pinky,
Thank you for always making us smile, and always being so nice.

Merry Christmas,
Java City"

It is good to remember that sometimes you are making people happy and you don't even know it. And maybe the stuff I make myself feel awful about should never be as important as the stuff that I should make myself feel delighted about.

Also, I'm never dyeing this hard back. Not ever.

<3gen

"So What If I Like Pretty Things" or "The Ubiquitous List Of Gratitude"

2008-11-27T02:10:00.002-06:00

I am thankful for...

...The Mountain Goats
...being able to be there for my friends
...my sister
...James McDaniel
...StumbleUpon
...potluck dinners
...my parents
...Rilo Kiley
...protein synthesis
...Lindsey Mullen
...The Mates of State
...handwritten letters to Darfuri refugees
...Apwonjo
...libraries
...Linn Groft
...movies
...space heaters
...Disney
...kissing
...soft blankets
...winter
...Christmas
...NPR
...Faulkner
...poetry
...Ryan Scruggs
...soup
...cumulus clouds
...Laura Bradburn
...Iggy& The Stooges
...Jimmy Stewart
...lolcats
...Ira Colvin and my wonderful job
...Ryan Spain
...The Kendricks
...Lydia Atkins
...calendars
...notebooks
...pencils
...pillows
...Alex Cornett
...cameras
...thrift stores
...polka-dots
...my dogs
...Gribbin House
...birds
...Andy Griffith
...Ella Fitzgerald
...Logan Yates
...Walt Whitman
...Kat Wood
...Liz Mitchell
...holding hands
...picnics
...grandparents
...Montgomery
...Forrest Gump
...Barack Obama
...evolution
...mitochondria
...children
...play-dough
...crayons
...candles
...lightbulbs
...rain
...Ryan Cooper

<3gen

"I'm Starting To Think That Everything I Do Annoys You" or "Sentimental Heart, by She&Him"

2008-11-26T17:37:00.005-06:00

Cried all night 'til there was nothin' more
What use am I as a heap on the floor?
Heaving devotion but it's just no good
taking it hard just like you knew I would

O-o-old habits die hard when you got,
when you got a sentimental heart
Piece of the puzzle, you're my missing part
Oh what can you do with a sentimental heart?

Cried all night 'til there was nothin' more
What use am i as a heap on the floor
Heaving devotion but it's just no good
Taking it hard just like you knew I would

O-o-old habits die hard
When you got, when you got a sentimental heart
Piece of the puzzle, I'm your missing part
Oh what can you do with a sentimental heart?
Oh what can you do with a sentimental heart?
Oh what can you do with a sentimental heart?

"To Whom It May Concern" or "The Year Of Collapsed Lungs"

2008-11-21T10:59:00.002-06:00

Dear Genevieve,

It has recently come to our attention that the event that you have worked so diligently on has come to fruition. We hear that you were successful in educating your campus about the genocide in Darfur, and for that, we applaud you. However, due to your dedication to your cause, you have taken part in behaviors that are detrimental to your health. We here, in your insides, request that you cease and desist these activities immediately.

Two lattes and a burrito at 3AM does not constitute 3 meals a day. Nor does 2 hotpockets at 11AM qualify you to not eat again for the rest of the day. Coffee is not a fruit, vegetable, or protein, and we ask that when you do partake of it, you do not equate it with a healthy lunch option. Also, let us bring to your attention that ingesting 52grams of caffeine a day to compensate for lack of sleep is not, let us say, the proper answer to poor sleep patterns. We suggest that instead, you sleep more.

This brings us to our next point, that 2-4 hours of sleep per night is unacceptable. This has gone on far too long and we can no longer support you if you insist upon staying awake for completely inappropriate lengths of time. You should FOR NO REASON be awake at 4AM, especially if you have not yet gone to sleep. This goes also for 3AM, 5AM, and 6AM. The hours of sleep that you have been getting are by no one's standard adequate, and we will be forced to make you lose consciousness at very inconvenient times if you continue to behave in this manner.

We have been informed that you have the following to finish before December 12: French Oral Exam, French Final, English Paper, English Final, 2 Full-Size self-portraits, Final Blount Presentation, Political Science Final, and a Political Science Group Project. We understand that this is overwhelming and can, at time, make you not eat or sleep. However, we would like to assure you that if you do not receive proper nourishment or rest, these projects will still not be done well or be finished.

If you do not comply with these requests, we will be forced to take immediate action. We do not want to use our powers to take over the well-being of this body, but if we have to, by god, we'll throw you on the floor in art class and get you into a hospital bed by the end of the week.

Have a nice day.

Sincerely Yours,
Your Insides

"Man can be as big as he wants. No problem of human destiny is beyond the human being."

2008-11-03T20:53:00.004-06:00

I am writing this so that I may save it. So that I may say that I was there, the night before Election Day of 2008, the night before everything changed.

I won't take the time to write about politics, because that is over. I won't take the time to write about the candidates, the issues, or anything else that this campaign season is about. You're tired of hearing it, I'm tired of talking about it.

What I will say is that I am so incredibly excited to be on the edge of history. I am right in the middle of my country making a change, taking a different path, and transforming into the nation that I know we are. Where we take care of the sick and the needy, we educate our children, we provide an example of greatness to the world, and we can hold our heads high and say that we are a home for freedom and humanity at its finest.

I am ready to be proud of my country. I am ready to listen to believe in our dreams. I am ready to stop being angry and disappointed by the state of my home and my people. I am ready to be proud of my country.

Please, with all of my heart and my soul, I beg each and every one of you to take this final night, look at the issues and vote. I won't tell you who to vote for, but I say that you need to have a hand in this. This is a huge event in our history, and to pass up the chance to have a part in it is sure to be a great regret in the years to come.

Vote, and be proud of it.

I am ready to be proud.

See you guys tomorrow, on the victory lap.

<3gen

"All The Matter In The World Is How Much That I Like You" or "The Truth About Genny The Brave"

2008-11-01T20:34:00.004-05:00

These are the possible weaknesses of my personality profile, ENFP, from the Myers-Briggs Test. They are uncanny and unnerving in its accuracy. You learn something new every day- but didn't I already know all these things?

>May be what many would call a "sucker"; vulnerable to schemers and con artists.

>May get themselves into dangerous situations because they're too eager to push the envelope of their understanding, and not willing to apply judgment to anything.

>May feel intense anger towards people who criticize them of try to control them. But will be unable to express the anger. Left unexpressed, the anger may fester and become destructive.

>May blame their problems on other people, using logic and ration to defend themselves against the world.

>May develop strong negative judgments that are difficult to unseed against people who they perceive have been oppressive to them.

>May get involved with drugs, alcohol, pr promiscuity, and generally seek mindless experiences and sensations.

>May seem smothering in relationships due to their enthusiasm and intensity of feelings, and as they often ask how the other is doing and what they are feeling.

>May have extremely negative reactions to criticism and conflict.

>May have difficulty leaving a relationship long after it has turned bad.

>May need to be given affirmation and positive assurance in order to feel that they are doing things right and have not hurt others' feelings.

>May tend to feel emotions at a heightened sense compared to others, and can seem dramatic or easily affected. However, their feelings are genuine.

Oh goodness.

<3gen

"Working For The Clampdown" or "Your Heavy Kisses Don't Know My Worries"

2008-10-29T12:26:00.002-05:00

Once again, things are coming apart at the seams. Why do you bother reading here anymore? We know what it will say: "I'm overhwelmed blah blah blah boys blah blah schoolwork is too much blah blah my own fault blah blah tears blah blah boys again blah blah to- do list."

Well, I suppose today is to-do list day.

-Get advised, even though you're already a day behind
-Meet with French teacher about what you missed this morning due to alarm clock malfunction
-Get at least starting coat of compressed charcoal on drawing
-Physical therapy appointment at 3:30
-Math Test at 6:30 tomorrow, which you haven't studied for enough
-Engish Midterm tomorrow 9:30
-Read for Blount and have outline for project done [this feels impossible]
-Work tonight from 5-8:30
-Finish homecoming display by Friday
-Get ready for DC next week, and explain to your teachers how much class you have to miss
-Keep personal life personal
-Remember basic things: eat, sleep, cellular function

I have not been myself this semester. I have been a complete slacker, the worst procrastination I've been a part of in a long time. I am not taking care of myself, I am not taking care of business. I am so afraid I am going to fail. My personal life is in utter upheaval. That is, by no means, helping.

But I totally have time to blog about my problems. Yes, that make sense.

<3gen

"The Ways That God Speaks" or "The Clampdown"

2008-10-22T03:15:00.006-05:00

I have this weird psychic connection with music sometimes. There are these moments, these tiny little flecks of the universe that travel through my radio when I'm least expecting it and the universe talks to me. It reveals something. Tells me what I need to hear.

When I was in highschool, I was driving to the Barnes&Noble in my town that I knew this boy frequented often. I knew that he didn't like me, and I knew that the night he kissed me the week before prom was silly and he had been drunk and it hadn't meant anything. And yet I was skipping a movie date with friends, and avoiding homework to drive to the bookstore with the slight chance that he might be there. I was a silly 17 year-old. On the way there, as I waited at a traffic light, my car quieted down enough for me to hear the song playing off a Dashboard Confessional CD I had playing low. The lines "No one is waiting for you" repeated over and over again, and I turned off the music. It was right. He never showed, but my heart skipped a beat every time I saw headlights park out front.

Again, within this past year, yet another problem with the men in my life. This one I'd been going back and forth over, questioning myself and pulling back, moving forward, questioning judgment and changing my mind. I didn't know what I was doing or even how I felt, but I knew it wasn't good and I was unhappy. Again, I turned up the music at a redlight on the way to his house, and the radio played this time. The end of a song by "All American Rejects" where the line is repeated, "It ends tonight. It ends tonight." I listened, and it did.

And now, tonight. Several weeks of completely overwhelming activity. Schoolwork piling up, extra-curriculars filling to the brim and overflowing, my eyes welling up in the daytime with the sting of feeling like a failure. Not even to go into the emotional tightrope I've been walking recently with strange sorts of crushes, confusing kisses, phone calls from boys in Illinois, proposals, and sad boys who beg for me back, sometimes my heart has to remind me that I promised to leave it alone for a while. This week, albeit only Tuesday, it seems I'm caught in the trash compactor from Star Wars- my greatest fear growing up as a child. The walls close in on both sides and there's no where to go but dead. Tonight I finished French homework, only to be kept awake by the pain in my leg that I can not subdue with heavy painkillers because then I won't be able to wake up at 6AM to get to school early and finish my art project by 1PM. I start music playing, but mute it while I write in my planner, and I turn in back on to hear the Clash just yelling at me:

"The voices in your head are calling
Stop wasting your time, there's nothing coming
Only a fool would think someone could save you"

Now what am I supposed to make of that? Do I want to know?

I'm praying myself to sleep tonight.

<3gen

"The Ocean's Just A Wetter Version Of The Sky" or "My Paintful Afternoon"

2008-10-21T17:59:00.003-05:00

I'm not sure how many of you diligent, faithful readers have ever had to experience the true joy and rapture of physical therapy, but I have a new-found sympathy for you if you have. This afternoon was the most physically painful hour of my entire life, at least that I can remember, and I have to go through it twice a week. I don't know how I'll be able to.

This afternoon, while this perky little cheerleader-type named Christiana*COUGH*Mengele*COUGH* started sending electric shocks through my leg to contract the muscles, while I had to lift my knee in the air and hold it, I spent most of the hour in tears. She insisted that the girl next to me, who had almost identical stitches on her knee, was going through the exact same thing I was and she was fine. This other girl, who had injured her knee while running track, so had a little bit better muscles to begin with, is sitting over doing her exercises like she's in a day spa. By the end of the electro-therapy, I craved my life be snuffed out by a gracious and merciful God. Kindly Christina then proceeded to stretch and bend my poor, eroded tissue every way she could discover, no matter my protests. She kept saying I should have taken a Lortab beforehand which, yes, I should have, but I had to drive there and I had class all day and I couldnt' go around doped up all day. Also, I didn't realize I was going to spend this hour in a goddamned torture chamber, lady. Shut up.

The worst part about this situation is that it was one, silly second of poor judgment horsing around a friend, and now this injury is completely in control of my life. I can't even get to my apartment, and although the kind folks at Gribbin House have taken me in as they have so many times in the past, I know they're sick of me. I am shirking responsibilities left and right, without the ability to walk more than a few yards at a time, I'm late for all my classes, can't help with Obama, can't make it to my Apwonjo commitments, and I can't go to work. And God knows with gas driving more since I can't walk, and copays and prescription refills I need the money and I can't go. I'm not finishing work, I'm not making it at all.

I feel kind of alone in all this. Alone in someone else's house. A house that stays cold.

I really just wish this was over. I've never wanted to crawl in a hole and ignore the world for a month so bad in my life. I just want it to be over. Over. Over.

<3gen

"The Combined Genius Of The Wainwright Family" or "200 Emails In My Inbox Without A Place To Start" and "I Do Not Think I Have The Strength"

2008-10-20T20:03:00.004-05:00

The To-Do List I Don't Number Because Then It's Overwhelming:

-Email Apwonjo members schedule for this week [table schedule, pomping, chalking]
-Invisible Children on campus Thursday, screening at 7
-Reserve table in the Ferg the day after Darfur Screening to write letters to congress
-Try to get over the superb failure of my pet project, EQUALS, and accept defeat with honor
-Help build this giant Homecoming structure that will take an enormous time commitment that I just don't have [nor do I have the faith]
-Obama fundraiser tomorrow afternoon 5:30 [attendance contingent upon ability to walk]
-Chalking tomorrow night @7 [also contingent upon walking skill]
-Physical therapy @2PM at the Rec Center
-Inkwash drawing and beginning sketch due 5:30 tomorrow at art teacher's office [oh jesus]
-Chapter 1-3 on Consilience read by tomorrow at 11AM
-Reading Langston Hughes due at 9:30 for English class
-Email building rep for Foster hall about election night [he's british, rock on]
-Email Dr. Hornsby about loophole for facepainting [but first ask Lindsey if you're supposed to]
-Register Lydia to vote before Friday
-Turn in receipt from benefit concert to FAC for reimbursement
-14 pages of homework for French 202, composition on 'relationships' [which I can't even write about coherently in my mother tongue, kiddos], and 2 vocab lists and 2 verb pages
-Deposit check from Honey so I don't bounce any checks [if you don't read the sheer panic in this one, trust me, it's there]
-STOP THINKING ABOUT MY SILLY BOY PROBLEMS, SERIOUSLY, COME ON
-Do some semblance of laundry, as soon as I can climb the stairs to my apartment
-Deal with the fact that I will be in no shape to attend Daniel Marbury's 21st on Thursday, as much as I want to
-Physical therapy exercises twice a day, ice knee twice a day [when do I have time for this?]
-Finish/Start research on Blount project, including find scientific articles, send out questionaires, compile research, write 15 page paper [you know, the project that's like, 80% of our grade? Yeah, that one.]
-Convince my fellow officers in Apwonjo to let me use our screen for minimal charge
-Try not to feel bad that I accidentally roped my parents into a contract when I bought this new phone
-SERIOUSLY, BOY PROBLEMS, DROP THEM
-Finish writing the list and get started, knowing that no one, not even I, will read through this damn thing

"So What If I Like Pretty Things" or "Oh How I'll Feel Like A Beautiful Child Again"

2008-10-19T01:17:00.003-05:00

Sometimes I think that Rufus Wainwright found a way to crawl in through all the cracks and holes, crawl into me and sift through all the ugly things and find these great, beautiful things and write songs about them. I just know that he has to know me to write things that I'm supposed to listen to.

I also think that since my good friend Rufus knows me so well, he should know that his songs this late at night, after long days of alternating pain with sleep with overthinking with pain again, he should know that his songs on nights like this make me cry. He should know this.

Maybe he does. I bet he thinks it's okay for me to feel.

<3gen

It's just been a rough time recently kids, no worries. Everybody gets like this sometimes.

"Love Is The Tired Symphony You Hum When You're Awake" or "Yes, Lenny, The Rabbits. The Rabbits."

2008-10-13T17:31:00.005-05:00

I really wish I wrote more. I used to fill notebooks from margin to binding, full of poetry I had faith in, fiction that I wrote myself into, and nonfiction that I tried my best to write myself out of. I found security and safety in the sea of a blank page, those light blue lines shaking on the paper in anticipation of words and allusions, literary devices, metaphors about highways and track marks and boys with calloused fingers from guitar strings and holding too much weight.

I have shelves and boxes of notebooks. Full of the days where I couldn't get you out of my head, where I couldn't get you out of my veins, back when I thought about nothing else. Notebooks about school, notebooks about poems and people without souls and songs that I heard and loved and teachers that I learned from. I have notebooks full of my sister, full of instant messages, text messages, emails, taped together photographs and pictures from magazines that I stuck between the pages with glue sticks because the girl in the ad had the most amazing eyes. I can't fit all of my notebooks on one bookshelf. Kat Wood understands this.

These days my writing lives in email boxes, microsoft word compositions, my cell phone's outbox. I haven't turned out pages upon pages of beautiful simplicity when I've been reading too much Hemingway, flowery stream-of-consciousness after 56 pages of Faulkner, wistful songs about blonde hair when I've got Fitzgerald in my head. I haven't been writing short, heavy sentences about war when I've had O'Brien echoing in my lungs, or conversations full of innuendo when I've had Bukowski on my table and a beer in my hand. Writing full of tears after a night of Steinbeck, tattoos after a night of Fitch, long legs and snowstorms after Atwood, train tracks and fires after Bradbury. I need more nights where I spend my hours with authors, and not my own head. My own head is not providing inspiration.

My hands itch with my addiction to words, and it's about time I found some kid in a back alley with a couple of good, fresh grams of poetry that wakes you up at night, a bag of sentences that make you close your eyes and hold it there for a minute, and maybe just one dose of words Shakespeare invented and don't get used enough.

That sounds like a beautiful night.

"Fitzgerald's green light is haunting me,
Hemingway's bullet I hear,
and Faulkner is handing me Jim Bean on ice,
and I can't turn a deaf ear.

If writer's mistakes were meant for them,
if that's what made them good,
then I'll take a break, and make every mistake,
every writer should."

<3gen

"This Is The First Day Of My Life" or "It's The Tattood Broken Promise That I Hide Beneath My Sleeve"

2008-10-10T11:48:00.003-05:00

I know that I recently posted about priorities, ad how 'boyfriend' had fallen completely off that list. Know that this is still true, and this post is about feelings, not about boyfriends:

I don't think I'm ever going to outgrow the part of me that loves to be loved, or the part of me that craves contact and being able to be close enough to another person to actually see their heart beating in their throat. I don't think the addict in me is ever going to stop getting the shakes around the stuff, and I don't think my relationship track marks are ever going to stop aching every time there's someone near me who says they care, or holds my shoulders, or makes me weak.

That's not ever going to go away.

However, many people in my life, including myself, would choose to believe that I'm just not all the way "grown up" or "grown out" until this part of me is gone. I think that now I can handle someone saying "No Genevieve, it isn't like that." and I can walk away from it without tears, without feeling broken, and without writing in a notebook for hours with metaphors about car accidents and drug addictions. I can also walk away from someone who says the opposite, who wants me, who loves me, and who will do anything to get me close again. I can walk away from it, hold my head up, and know that I'm fine without all that.

That doesn't mean I'm ever going to stop wanting it, and I never want to stop wanting it. For so, so, so long I have thought that the craving in me, the part that loves love, the part that loves touch, is bad and bruised and it meant something in me wasn't all together. But I hope that whatever it is inside me that flutters when a boy wraps his arms around me never, ever goes away. I hope I always get excited when I think someone likes me. I hope that I am always eager to love, to be in love, and to be loved. I hope that those feelings never goes away. It's painful to walk away from the opportunity for love, and it's more painful to walk away from someone who gives you butterflies and they don't feel the same, but all of that is just a finger prick compared to the pain when you don't feel anything anymore.

All this time I wanted to change, but now I want nothing more than to stay the same.

<3gen

"We Intend To Sing The Love Of Danger, The Habit Of Energy and Fearlessness" or "Modernist Manifestos"

2008-10-02T15:22:00.003-05:00

We read manifestos in English class today. In between feeling the normal disdain that I feel so strongly toward my arrogant teacher and trying to define completely useless vocabulary, I thought about what my modern manifesto would look like. I thought about what it would include, my goals in life, strange things about me, the things that I love. What does a manifesto look like? Is it a promise?

So if you read this blog but you never comment, or you never really know what to say when I write about my parents or my many other overwhelming problems, here's your chance. Tell me what goes in my manifesto. Tell me what about me needs to go in it, how it should read, or what yours would look like. That's what I need from all of you.

"Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry." -- F. T. Marinetti
[I know he was a fascist, but he was also a beautiful writer]

<3gen

"Miracles" or "Brought Into Breathing"

2008-09-30T00:04:00.004-05:00

I think that this year is the year that God said, "Genevieve, your priorities have gone wonky. You need to wake up." Then he woke me up. It was a painful rousing, like a child emerging from the womb terrified and crying and being slapped into breath, but I looked around and saw a completely different world. It was like I'd been blind for the last 20 years.

The minister at my church has taken in two children who have nowhere else to go. They both have special needs, and he has asked me to help him take care of them this week. To see this man step into their lives and take them in when he by no means has to, but just out of the goodness in him, is uplifting. And today I saw two kids who are fun and laugh all the time, and do their work and love to show off everything that they love. They dance and laugh and ask a million questions, and are always smiling.

Before this year, my priorities consisted of:
1. boyfriend
2. boyfriend
3. school
4. boyfriend
5. money
6. friends
7. family
8. art
9. being as childish and cute as I could manage
10. African charity

After everything this year, some things have shifted. And despite still being the same girl, things have certainly changed. When I broke up with my one true love this year, I told him that my priorities had changed and that was true. That sort of love fell off the list and I had a new set of rules:

1. Family
2. Children
3. Love
4. Quiet
5. Prayer
6. Belief
7. Taking care of each other
8. Appreciating every single thing in the world
9. School
10. Dreams

I have been very stressed with working for the Obama campaign, doing what is required of me for Apwonjo, keeping my grades up through the struggles, and my to-do list keeps going on page after page. And last night when helping taking care of these kids was added to the list, I felt overwhelmed and unable to take it. I stayed up too late and drank a little too much and had a headache in the morning and thought that maybe I was going to stay in bed all day and ignore everything I felt that was required of me.

But it was too pretty outside.

I'm still pretty worried about the economy, though.

<3gen

"The Day That Great Liberty Sulks On Her Stand" or "The Towers Were Not The Only Thing That Fell"

2008-09-26T12:15:00.005-05:00

How long was it before they started calling it The Great Depression?

When the people were standing on the edge of it, or when they were a few months or years into it, did they look around and think "We are about to enter the Great Depression?"

How long was it before they called it the 7 Years War? What about WWII? When disasters are on the horizon, rushing onto us like a hurricane onto a coast, how long until you give it a name, you know what it is, or know what it was?

What are they going to call this?

I have an overwhelming feeling that we, right now, at this exact moment, are on the edge of something big. There is a great shift happening right under us and around us and I wonder if they'll look back on this day or this year or these 8 years and ask themselves, "Did they see it coming? How could they not see it coming?"

We are on the verge of completely consuming our natural resources where we're talking in decades and not in centuries. We possess less than 5% of the global population and yet we use over 25% of every natural resource that our planet provides. The climate change is creating the most severe weather across the planet that we have seen, and the air in our lungs turn to smoke while Polar Bears die homeless. The foreclosure rates in our country climb as families end up on the streets, and more and more moms and dad walk home with their head in their hands without jobs that they planned to retire with. The largest mortgage financing and insurance companies are dropping off Wall Street's Marquees like dried bugs from spider's webs. The President of the United States is begging for help. We are borrowing 20% of every dollar we spend from other countries who are bigger and smarter than us and our national debt reached 9 Trillion this month. We have spent 7 years across the world fighting[losing] a war that was poorly planned, poorly executed, and poorly intended. Our losses have topped 3000 lives, and God only knows how many Iraqis we have killed. Iraqi children have mother and fathers just as our children here do, and do not mourn them one second less than you mourn ours.

What is happening to my country?

As I watched the Presidential Address late last night, all I could hear from President Bush was "Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. What have we done? What have I done? What are we going to do? "

We are failing. The country with streets made of gold, with the greatest opportunities for success and changing lives, with our beautiful green lady who stands on our coastline and welcomes all who have no where else to go, I can hear her turning her head and her lowering her torch and begging forgiveness from her huddled masses as she trudges through the dirty bay water where she will surely crumble.

All this time we've been afraid of 1984 or Farenheight 451. We have feared mind control, censorship, discrimination and thoughtcrime. But have we been afraid of the wrong sort of dystopias? I think it's time to realize that the real world problems are far worse than the worlds that Orwell and Bradbury imagined. At least the ThoughtPolice had jobs.

I can not shake the foreboding cloud that I feel is upon us. I thought that one day my children would ask "Mom, weren't you in college when the first black president was elected?"

But now..."Mom, how old were you during the Great Disaster of 2008?"

"Where were you when China bought Montana?"

"Mommy, when did you move to France from America?"

"A long time ago, sweetheart. When it was a very, very different place."

Avant il est mort....

--Genevieve

"Are We Growing Backwards With Time?" or "I Can't Believe My Parents Haven't Tried To Return Me Yet"

2008-09-14T14:59:00.006-05:00

This blog entry is not typical.

At least not for me.

For the past, oh, forever, my dozens of blogs all over the internet have been devoted, at least in part, to despising my parents. Go back to a post from high school, middle school, even the start of college, and probably 1/3 of every word I wrote was how my parents were jerks, they didn't know what the hell they were doing, and they made me madder than a George Bush's fifth grade teacher when she graded his spelling tests. I was a good teenager.

Everyone says you love your parents more as you get older. I have always loved my parents, but good golly you start to see how much they do for you. I'm not saying that it justifies every pissy thing your mom said or every time your dad yelled at you for something silly, but it makes you understand that they're people, and people get frustrated and people make mistakes and people are people.

These people also spend egregious amounts of money on you that you in no way deserve or have even the slightest idea how to spend properly. And yet, they place in your hand, along with sage advice that they know you won't heed, and a faith in you that can only compare to the faith that God puts in you to make good decisions.

When I'm making plans, my dad calls way too often, and it drives me crazy. But if he didn't, I probably would never be as safe, or as informed, or as taken care of without his calls. On Saturday my car battery died without provocation. I was frustrated and mad and cranky, and my dad not only stayed on the phone with me through all my rants and raves, but also paid to have my car batter replaced and have the air conditioner fixed. And my mother, when I called in tears from the parking lot of the radiology clinic where of course the ONLY appointment they had for an MRI was 8am, she kindly and with the soothing voice that only a mother can have got the AAA card from her desk, read me the numbers 2 times, and reassured me that everything was going to be fine.

And although the appreciation and insurmountable love of a 21 year-old daughter does not necessarily justify every whiney speech your daughter gave you, or every time she made some really stupid decisions with tennis balls and boys she liked and lighter fluid, maybe it shows a mom and dad that she's human, and that sometimes people make mistakes, and sometimes people get frustrated, and sometimes people don't spend money wisely no matter how many times you say it.

They'll understand when they're older I guess.

My parents rule.

<3gen

"Don't Stop Believin" or "I Can Sometimes Hear My Brain Melting"

2008-09-12T10:37:00.004-05:00

You know, for a while, I was doing a really good job of keeping my stress level down. I always managed to take a moment and breathe, and think "Everything is ok, Genevieve, just take a few breaths, it's not the end of the world." Then I would think about the children in Africa that I fight for, and how they are worrying about where they will get their next meal, and if their parents are dead, and if they'll ever feel safe, and I think my problems aren't worth the stress I waste on them.

I haven't been remembering that very well this week.

I've been so stressed out my head hurts and I'm tired all the time. I hope that this weekend will soften the blow, but today alone is so hectic I can't possibly fit everything in. I have to miss half of my art class to go this stupid orthopedist appointment that I don't even need, I have to help a friend at 6, lingerie shower at 7, James is coming into town and I have a movie night with Bud later tonight. All of this on top of the drawing project I am nowhere NEAR completing, what is essentially two weeks of French homework that I have let backup because every time I sit down to do it I feel so stupid and useless that I give up, another 2 weeks of math homework that I ahve an identical reaction to, half of a novel to read in an English class that makes me want to gouge my teacher's eyes out, and trying to raise money for an orphanage in Tanzania although the University I attend will do all that it can to prevent me from doing so.

All I want is for all of this to go away, and I can fly to Europe and watch the ballet for eternity.

Oh, did I mention I still ahve about 30 hours of work on the church murals?

AAAGGGHHH.....

<3gen

"I Never Loved My Smile Until I Knew You" or "The Divine Providence of Cancelled Class"

2008-09-09T09:05:00.003-05:00

So, this morning i got up at 7 and ran myself ragged all over town to get the textbook for my English class. My teacher gave us a full 2 months early notice to buy the book, and I'm well into September and still without it. I knew that today she was finally going to look at me in the front of the class, my pink hair blazing, and slap me.

She seems like that kind of lady.

However, after 3 stores and 30 minutes in the library, I've got nothing. We're reading My Antonia, so I've got the knowledge of the text no problem, but I know that the slap is coming. I check my email before I walk on to my doom:

"Hi Class--I am canceling today's class because I am sick. When we reconvene on Thursday we will cover the reading for today, so if you have already done it, that's all you have to do. I'll adjust the syllabus accordingly and get you all revised copies.

Thanks, HW"

Um.... awesome.

This is also handy because I can't find my syllabus, so thank goodness for today. Go karma.

In other news, I have been busier the last few days than I've been since last year. I am now doing the Sunday School lessons and Wednesday night lessons for church, and my kids are semi-cognoscente now so I have to actually try. And as far as Apwonjo, well, yesterday i spent 4 hours sending out 6 batches of emails, creating a facebook event, updating the website, reserving rooms and tables, talking to Corey about writing an article, writing up two excel files, cross-referencing them, and typing up minutes.

Oh, but I did spare 2 hours in the evening to curl my hair and take pretty pictures of my face.

Hey, I've got priorities.

And a nice smile.

<3gen

"Click Here For Pink Hair Photo" or "She's A Bitch, But I Love Her Anyway"

2008-09-02T13:36:00.003-05:00

If you ever dislocate your knee while you're play-fighting with your friend in someone's kitchen, and the same weekend you end up with a broken down car that has to be towed to your home about 50 miles away, and you end up at that home with your family and you can't walk and your cable is out and you don't know what to do, you should probably dye your hair pink.

I'm just saying, it certainly makes you feel better.

More news to come, just too busy this week.

<3gen

p.s. Have I mentioned lately how overwhelmingly much I admire my mom? Or how indescribably proud I am of my father? Or exactly how greatly and immensely I love both of my parents? Well, just in case I didn't, I do.

"This Is The year" or "I Never Understood A Single Word He Said, But I Helped Him Drink His Wine"

2008-08-26T09:11:00.005-05:00

Yesterday = Best Day of my Life.

Let's continue. If you would like to move to the best part, please direct your attention to VI.

I. I went to class yesterday, despite all of the rain and the gloom, because I thought how much I preach about how important education is, and if you don't care about your education than you don't care about yourself, and that I've told stories of the children in Uganda walking 10 or 20 miles in horrible weather without even the guarantee that school will be there when they reach the end of the road, but they go anyway because school is what matters to them. And I thought that I had better count my blessings and enjoy the rain and enjoy being in college.

II. I painted palm trees and monkeys at church.

III. I received a glorious and beautiful phone call from Ira and Flossie, begging me to come over to their house today and visit because they missed me. They both said "I love you" many times on the phone, and had asked their mom if they could call me because they missed me so much. I don't think I've smiled that much since I first felt love.

IV. I cooked Thai coconut soup for the kids at Gribbin House [Lindsey, Lydia, and Alex] and although the recipe did not turn out as planned, the environment was delightful and sprung into still delicious soup and great conversation.

V. Went to a free wine tasting at 8, and although we were late and had quite the road trip getting there [we picked up Alonso on the way, my spiritual journey kindred], we met some very fascinating people and had even more great conversation and learned about wine and secret histories.

VI. After we got home, Lydia and I apparently forgot how a dishwasher works and added dish soap instead of dishwashing liquid. This provided a great I-Love-Lucy-Esque situation where bubbles covered the floor. However, after we opened the dishwasher to find it filled to the brim with bubbles, we decided the only appropriate thing to do was have a giant bubble fight in the kitchen, with loud music playing and singing along, dancing with brooms as we threw soapy rivers out the front door, and skating along in the bubble river that covered the kitchen. It was glorious.

VII. Then more soup, more good conversation, and a great night's sleep.

This is the year, kids. This is the year.

<3gen

"Semestre Tres Belle" or "Are We Growing Backwards With Time?"

2008-08-21T09:48:00.004-05:00

This semester might just rock after all.

My Political Science class, which I dreaded as a "bill becomes a law" bore-fest where I would have to sit through all the 3-branch-flash-cards that my parents have been teaching me at the dinner table since I was two. But actually, our teacher not only implied but actually stated that he's going to assume that we took civics or government or poli sci in high school, or that if we are in his class we must know something about politics, so he's going to teach the class as if we know the basics. He says he wants to get into the nitty gritty stuff, all of the atypical situations. He said rather that going over what government's real job is, and what politics actually means, we're going to talk about what STOPS government from doing its job, what we think its job should or should not be, and rather than what politics IS, what politics DOES. I'm stoked.

Also, in my English class, we are reading My Antonia and As I Lay Dying. These are, hands down, two of the best books ever written. No argument. I actually said out loud to the Gods of Good Books that I really hoped we would read Faulkner in this class [in fact I would probably drop it if we weren't and find a class that was] and then wished that it would be As I Lay Dying. I love the book so much, but the last time I read it was for my Faulkner class that I hated and could not be motivated for, and the times I read it before that are now far away. I am so excited to read it already, and My Antonia changed my life in high school. Oh hooray.

My math class isn't even that bad. I feel much less intimidated the second time around, and my teacher is very a sweet, very young man from China and I sort of love him a ton. He's here for two years to teach math, and doesn't speak much English, but he's clearly very smart and very determined to do well, and just exudes an aura of kindness. I said "thank you" in Chinese to him [the only phrase I know besides "your cat is on fire", which I decided was a bad idea] and his eyes lit up. I'm going to have to ask James more things to say. I like living vicariously through James's experiences with China. I haven't been there, but I sure know a lot about it!

French also might not give me brain cancer. Our teacher is nice, and on the first day I was actually speaking pretty well and I think I have more of it stashed in my brain than I thought. Our teacher is also not a native speaker, and only took French for two semesters, but then spent 2 years [I think?] in France and learned that way. This I much prefer, and he has a very creative way of teaching. I actually understand almost everything he said yesterday, and it was all in French, so I guess that's a good sign.

The only class I have yet to go to is my final Blount seminar, which of course I'm not worried about. I could sneeze in class, color a picture, and write a poem and pass that class. It's with one of my favorite teachers, it's a class with complete creative freedom, and it's Blount. I hope I'm not jinxing it with all of this, but a Blount class simply can not dissapoint.

[knock on wood]

But that class isn't until 11 and I left my cell phone at home, so now I don't have anything to do until then. Well, post to blog: CHECK.

<3gen

p.s. Cooper almost has his perfect desk finished! It's so glorious!

"New And Clean" or "It Isn't Raining Rain You Know, It's Raining Violets"

2008-08-19T22:48:00.004-05:00

I feel.....different.

I have kept my room clean ever since I moved in. It's been almost a month, and I don't think my room has ever been clean that long at one time- ever. I had a guy over to my apartment last night, and I showed him my room and I didn't have to joke about what color the carpet was or tell him to watch where he stepped. I was proud, even, of how nice it looked. I almost wanted to show him that all my clothes in my dresser were folded, open my file cabinet and show my alphabetized records, or even that my closet was organized. I didn't, but I could. I actually clean my room now about once or twice a day, right when I wake up and right before I go to bed.

In other different news, last night I was at a party before this whole scenario, and I actually didn't have to be connected to Lindsey the entire time. Actually, I have been to two camp parties before then [the Camp McDowell crew that I always attach myself to Lindsey when I'm around because I feel so left out most of the time] and I managed to hold my own. I know that's really nice for Lindsey, too, as I'm sure she notices that I never leave her side when we go out together. A few nights ago, too, I actually left a group of friends because I just sort of wanted to go home and hang out by myself. I know this sounds fairly normal, but for me I would never leave a group of friends to go home and be alone. The very thought was repulsive, as too much time alone at my house would inevitably result in tears, my belief that no one loved me and I have no friends, and listening to the Avett Brothers until I felt completely abandoned. But now? I love the time I have to myself, without obligation, without plans, just by myself. Tonight I left Lindsey's house and came home, made myself dinner [after desperately trying to defrost our frozen fridge], and sewed my new papasan chair cover. Now I'm listening to my girl Judy, and sitting all alone, and really loving it.

Is this being grown up?

Whatever it is, it's different.
Different is good.

<3gen

"Do You Still Want To Play In The Grass Outside? " or "The Age Where Friends Get Married"

2008-08-09T14:25:00.003-05:00

I suppose I have finally reached the age where my friends are getting married. I have reached the early twenties where things like weddings, having babies, getting STD's, and buying car insurance are all possible. These have always been the sorts of things I read about and knew that grown-ups dealt with, being arrested, sent to prison, having drug problems, filing for bankruptcy. Is 21 really when these problems become real?

Not that getting married is a problem. It was a lovely ceremony, good food at the reception, country music and christian songs were playing. There were matching bridesmaid dresses, a chocolate fondue fountain, and even the Electric Slide. But I feel leaps and bounds behind this girl, who is a few months my junior and has only freshly reached the ripe old age of 21. Even the thought of myself being married seems ludicrous, and the idea of having money for a wedding, and buying a house, and getting onto someone else's health insurance. I am nowhere NEAR entertaining the possibility of these things, and it's hard to fathom that there are people my age who are.

I'm not entirely immature, I would say. I make my own money, I pay my own bills, I have a job and car and utilities and I do my own laundry. But many of these things still feel like far-off issues I'll deal with, they still seem on the other side of forever. I don't know what's keeping me in denial. My sister is two years away from graduating, something that I can't even deal with because I can't accept that she's not five years old anymore. My parents are thinking about moving, my cat of 15 years just died, I have a loan and a credit card to pay off and my best friend from 6th grade just got married. Why do I still feel like a kid wearing a grown-up costume?

It probably has something to do with the Hello Kitty toaster in my kitchen, the My Little Pony Snowcone machine in my closet, and the 12 Dora the Explorere episodes on my computer.

Whatever.

<3gen

"August In Alabama" or "Poetry Is Dead In This Town, And So Are The Rest Of Us"

2008-08-06T10:00:00.005-05:00

It is August in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, and this is the time of year where you begin to believe that winter never existed. You begin to doubt seasons at all, that maybe the earth doesn't turn anymore because you're so busy being so HOT. It could have snowed two feet back in December, you still catch yourself saying "Winter this year was so short! We barely have winter here anymore! And fall? SPRING? Are you kidding? We have 2 days of anything below 80 and then here we were living inside a quesadilla."

Your body revolts. I believe there is an event horizon with temperature, that once you hit 100, it could be 101 or 112 and you stop feeling a difference. Your body becomes too busy trying to maintain basic cellular function and stops wasting energy on sending nerve impulses to your brain so that you can recognize a temperature gradient. It's too busy being pissed off. Your brain pictures the end of days, you contemplate death. You can see the steam rising off your skin when you walk outside, your glasses fog up, your breath starts to hang in your mouth because the moisture is so heavy outside you can't process oxygen fast enough. The sun hates you, it just plain hates you. You try putting on fewer clothes, when you know that you could be walking the campus streets naked and still feel like you were stuck inside a bath surrounded by fat Russians who just walked out of a pot of boiling water so they can steam off. You sweat in places you didn't know you sweat, your head pounds from the barrage of sunbeams pummeling your skull, everything starts to smell like asphalt.

This is August in Alabama.
I don't think winter ever existed.

"What People Eat on Shipwrecks" or "Is it Allright If I Organize The Fridge?"

2008-08-04T08:44:00.003-05:00

Well the boxes are all inside, so I guess that qualifies as me being moved in. None of these boxes have been opened or unpacked, except the few that I looked through this morning in a frantic search for my cell phone charger which came up empty, but I'm still technically moved in. Cooper has put on the slipcover, organized our pantry, and done a load of laundry. Now that's what I call a roommate.

More importantly than all of my moving in and my newfound ease with which I can get of bed in the morning, is the most wonderful way that my family members have come through for me in a moment of need. As if I didn't already know that I have the best family in the world, my mom and dad [and Anna yesterday] have driven up here not once, but three times, and have bought me a meal each night. I know this seems like something pretty typical, but for me this is phenomenal. Getting a nice meal 3 nights in a row, and having my mom and dad tote up what felt like ENDLESS heavy furniture, and having them buy me things like shower curtains and energy-saving lightbulbs, while all ON TOP of the fact that they're helping me out financially, I just can't describe my gratitude. It's the sort of thanks that I won't be able to really express until I get my mom her own garden and my dad the kind of cable where he can't even PICK which sports channel to watch first. Oh, and TIVO. That man needs a TIVO.

In addition to my parents being the best parents a girl could dream of, my aunts, uncles, and grandparents have also come through and will be helping me with money this semester. I wish, once again, that there was a way to show my gratitude to each of them besides just saying it and sending a thank you card. But I just can't explain what this has done for me. The stress over money these last months/year have been overwhelming, and I always felt like I wasn't ready to be on my own like that yet. Not to mention the incredible guilt I felt for having to quit working at Target, only to realize that without that awful place I wasn't going to be able to afford the new apartment I was so excited for. And while all that fear was teeming, God was waiting to send me blessings out of every crack in my life.

Goodness gracious, thank you. I can't say that enough.
[Mom if you read this, feel free to relay to your wondrous sisters and parents. I sent them thanks in email, but it never hurts to repeat]

I am the luckiest girl in the whole wide world.

<3gen

"We Are Not As Divided As Our Campaigns Suggest" or "Political Degradation in My Country"

2008-07-31T10:18:00.000-05:00

So today I'm roaming the interwebs in search of a nice quote from Barack Obama to put as my political views on Facebook. My religious views are a quote from CS Lewis, so I thought it appropriate. As I'm trolling around and looking for words like hope and believe, I reach the bottom on the page and I see this:

SERIOUSLY? The fact that political campaigning has even gotten to this level of pandering is just outrageous. How stupid, exactly, do campaign managers believe Americans to be? I am genuinely offended by this, assuming that I will see Ahmadinejad and think, "Well, he kills people for fun and hates Jews, and Obama wants to give him cookies! Obama is just a Muslim-loving Communist Terrorist!" No thank you McCain, how about you assume I'm a little better than that. What makes me the most afraid and the saddest is that I know that there are people out there, looking to do research on a candidate, the minimal research requires of course, only to run into this ad looking just like the sort of advertisements for free Ipod deals and whether or not Lindsay Lohan's books are real. And they believe it, because they watch Fox news and they are victims of poor education or mercury in the water or whatever it is that made them such idiots and they think exactly the joke that I made up there. But they really, really believe it.

And it isn't about whether or not Obama is better than McCain, or who you should vote for, I won't tell you that. What I believe is that things like this distract from issues, and no one cares the differences between candidates economic ideas, healthcare plans, foreign policies, educational reform, unemployment rates or soldier strategies. No, we want a fast-food campaign, we want something bite-size. We want clips and blurbs and something that's dumbed down. I want to pick my candidate based on a 5-minute scan across a Google Search and a YouTube video. People just don't care anymore. They want it easy, they want it fed to them, and they want it in color, deep-fried, and with blinking lights.

Tactics like this prey on the type of people who are easily influenced and who don't care enough to educate themselves and John McCain's camp knows it. He is insulting us. Accuse Obama of being elitist? He's not elitist, he's just assuming that our IQ's are higher than our shoe sizes. He is treating us like adults and he gets marked as arrogant, while McCain treats us like imbeciles and gets called "our kinda guy." I'm ashamed that we want to be that kind of guy. I'm ashamed that we view intelligence as something that divides us, that because Obama is an eloquent man he doesn't understand the plight of the underlings. Why do we think ourselves underlings, anyway? Obama is not telling you that you're stupid, he is telling you to stop telling yourself that you are.

McCain, you are a better man than this, I know that. I don't want you to be president, but I know that you are a better man than that.

And WE are better than this, America, come on. We are better than this.

With Indignation,
Genevieve

"I've Already Had 2 Cups of Coffee" or "I Don't Wanna Go Home Because That Means More Packing" and "I Miss Lindsey, Come Home Damnit"

2008-07-30T10:09:00.001-05:00

This week has been a transitional week. Between summer and the upcoming semester, between apartments, between being poor and getting help, between Lindsey being gone again and Lindsey being home again, between a semi-childish life and a semi-adult life. It's also between a shared bathroom and my own bathroom, of which I am most excited.

Cooper and I are beyond excited about moving into our new place. We have been planning together for a long time, and now we're so close we can barely contain ourselves. He and I are so alike, we are both looking forward to the simplest aspects the most. Things like being able to decide what goes on our new built-in bookcases, what we'll put in closets, which paintings will go on what walls. We're excited about having a refrigerator all to ourselves, of having a pantry, of putting a calendar in the kitchen we can put our schedules on and keep up with each other. We're excited about eating pizza off our unpacked boxes next Monday night, about buying a slipcover, about having a dining room table. We are two very easy to please people. I haven't met anyone else before who got as happy about the tiniest domestic habits as I do. We're already looking forward to Christmas together. We're just adorable.

In other news, my family has, yet again, come through for me. My aunt Greta is sending me money, thank Jesus, and my mother is offering to help me financially at least with set-up costs for my utilities. She can always give me just enough rope to be on my own, but also enough to keep a hold on me and help me when I need it. I only hope that when I have children I can find such the balance between cutting the cord and being so supportive as my mother has. She has no idea how she astounds me daily- or how incredibly grateful I am for the help.

My whole week is just class, babysitting, and packing. I have a paper due on Friday, then moving Friday and Saturday, work on Sunday, class again next week until Wednesday, then more unpacking and moving while we wait for the cable guys to come, Lambert's wedding on Friday the 8th, shopping in Birmingham with Cooper on the 9th, and then time to get back to my new apartment and revel in just a few days rest before classes start and I get to painting murals. I think this semester will be off to a great start.

This week doesn't count.

<3gen

"The Truth About Genevieve" or "Living A Life On The Edge, Never The Middle"

2008-07-24T10:00:00.000-05:00

Truth About Genevieve #34: Genevieve shall never reside in between. Genevieve shall rest on one extreme or the other, and may trespass the gray areas only to investigate, never to stay.

After years of dating, falling in love, and being ready to marry nothing but slackers, failures, and men that can only be described as the reason that no one trusts this generation to get anything done, I have traversed the great between again and come to rest on the opposite man that I now find myself attracted to.

There is a man in my English class who I can actually call a man and not feel like I have to correct myself. He is very tall, very muscular, and is in the Marines. He has been to Iraq twice. He is probably an avid republican. He looks like he works out 2 hours a day. He has a shaved head. He has a massive cross tattooed on his left arm. I find him the sexiest man I have seen in a very, very long time.

I have never, ever been attracted to this type of guy, in fact actually repulsed by them. But now? After being surrounded by immaturity, irresponsibility, indecisiveness, and petty actions, a military man just exudes determination. He not only commands respect, but has a great amount of respect for authority and other people. He is committed to discipline, consistency, and his beliefs. From the way that he speaks, you can tell that he is very smart, practical, but understanding and tolerant. His laugh fills up a room. He knows what he likes, knows what he wants, and he goes and gets it. He is self-reliant, self-motivated, and did I mention he was self-gorgeous? Oh and what a smile...

I don't even know his name in case you wanted to ask. I have only heard him speak in class- in a voice that only Sean Connery could match in power and brevity- speak to some of his friends in class, and I have seen his handwriting. He doesn't doodle, he probably has never listened to silly music and danced in a kitchen, he probably doesn't like kittens or the movie Brokeback Mountain or RENT, he probably thinks blogging is stupid. But damn, I see him in class and I have to look straight at the teacher or my notes to keep myself from jumping the poor man.

I won't, by the way, actually jump him. But it never hurts to have eye candy.

<3gen

"What To Do Now That Lindsey's Back" or "Abigail the Rescue Dog"

2008-07-23T09:30:00.000-05:00

As many of you already know, very well perhaps, I tend to get a little stressed. Usually over things not worth stressing about. This is why my phone is constantly speed-dialing Lindsey, my mom, or my sister, to find someone who can talk me down and assure me that no, the sky is not falling, calm the hell down.

Last night as I finally arrived back in Tuscaloosa from braving a terrifying, albeit short, rendezvous with a giant storm on my way home from Sheffield, I found my syllabus to start reading for class. Much to my chagrin, this revealed that my midterm was the next day, not Friday as I thought it was, and this led to a panicked search for my textbook which came up empty[I think I may have left it in Sheffield, can you look Lindsey?].

Immediately I'm in a frenzy. My notes are good, but many of them are actually in the pages of my book, not to mention that our syllabus refers to page numbers, not titles, so there is no way for me to look up titles of pieces that I missed class for. I was relying on reading the titles that I had missed classes on as my studying, seeing as how the class barely touched on the texts anyway, and now I had nothing for those days I had missed. No notes, no titles.

My first instinct is to tell my teacher I have cancer. No, bad idea. I then throw myself into a full-on pity party that is full of tears of frustration and me convincing myself that I am going to get a sure C on the paper I turned in because I know it sucked and was thrown together, I should just drop the class, maybe I should skip tomorrow, and then I get back to the cancer thing. Car accident? My gramma died?

I am all ready-at-the-helm to write a completely fabricated e-mail to get myself out of this mess when I think, "No, this is ridiculous. You're an adult, Genevieve, and you deal with this like one. You messed up, it happens. Study as much as you possibly can tonight, go to class early tomorrow, and suck it up."

So I did, and this morning I actually only had 2 questions on the midterm that I didn't know the answer to [and this was a hell of a midterm, too, 20 questions, all short answer ID's of author, piece, and historical context]. Then I get my paper back, A-. I apparently forgot that I'm an English major, I'm smart, and my shittiest papers still get A's. Sheesh.

So, all in all, I'm proud of myself for pulling out of this myself. Not even a tearful call to my mother at midnight! I also think that things happen for a reason, and if I had stayed at Lindsey's for even the 5 extra minutes to search for the book, I probably would have had a much nastier meeting with that storm last night than the one I had, and the one I had I hope to never have again. So I think this all turned out fine.

What gave me the idea that I even knew HOW to fail an English course?

<3gen

"Just Because Everything's Changing Doesn't Mean It's Never Been That Way Before" or "Tomorrow I Am Quitting My Job"

2008-07-17T23:43:00.000-05:00

Lindsey, if you were here, there would be no way that you would have let me stay miserable at this job this long. But I stuck it out, like my mom said I should, and I tried my absolute best. And you know me, I am incapable of phoning it in, I can't just not try. But I also know when lemons won't turn into lemonade anymore, and that time is over. The best thing I can do right now is quit Target. It is a toxic environment, and Jennifer has offered to help me get more hours at the church. The people there really care about and love me and are proud of me and I need to take advantage of that ready-made team of helpers. I forget how surrounded I am by blessings.

Tomorrow I am walking into Target and quitting, no two-weeks notice, no nothing. I will give them the respect they have given me. Won't that look bad on a reference? I have a current job where I have been given a secret raise, and been offered my boss's position before she was asked to take it, my previous job keeps me on the payroll just in case I want to put in a few hours on a Saturday because they love me that much, and they gave me 2 raises in the time I was there. Target, I don't need your reference.

I also have a paper to write tonight, so let's get started. I hope to channel some of your marvelous last-minute paper powers tonight Mullen, although I wish I was with you in OB with some coffee, music playing, and laughing.

Footnote: I had a dream yesterday afternoon that I was driving past Canterbury and I saw you in the bushes outside trying to catch Stumpy. I stopped the car and jumped out and ran to you and gave you the biggest hug that exists in the whole big world, and I was crying I was so happy you were home. You said I could go ahead where I was going, because you were home now and I could come back later and we would sit on the floor and talk. I got back in the car and started driving and then I woke up. I was so disappointed that you weren't really home, I tried to fall back to sleep so that I could turn the car around.

If you showed up at my door right now, it wouldn't be soon enough.

This is my late, late Thursday night.
Flossie turns 5 on Saturday.
I miss you so much.

<3gen

"Thank You" or "The Power of Prayer and Scrambled Eggs"

2008-07-10T11:57:00.000-05:00

Oh Lindsey today has been so glorious!! One of the things that has been weighing on me so heavily lately is getting our leases taken over for this year. I have done all I feel I can to try and find people, posting ads and flyers everywhere, all to no avail. I felt completely out of ideas. Then today, I get this voicemail:

"Hello Genevieve, this is Monique from Campus Way to let you know that we have an opportunity today for you to get out of your lease without paying the $350 fee. Please come into the office before 1pm today to sign the papers or we will make the offer to someone else. Thank you."

PRAISE THE LORD JESUS CHRIST.

I have the biggest weight off my shoulders I don't even care about how difficult it's gonna be to move out of this place! Cooper is on his way home to sign the papers and we'll be free! I am absolutely ecstatic right now. heavens to Betsy.

This is my positively outstanding Thursday morning.
I wish you were here so I could hug you!
I love you.

<3gen

"The Technology of the Invisible" or "Have Adventures At Dawn, What The Universe Says"

2008-07-08T10:34:00.001-05:00

Every day I am reminded why I am going to be a teacher, and today's realization came with how happy I felt to be in school again. I was dreading class beginning, simply because I have been sleeping in most days due to the rigorous schedule at Target, and I was not too keen on having class every day at 8 am. Luckily, my teacher is lively and fantastic and I was reminded of how much I love school, how much I love English, and how much I really love learning. Awesome.

I'm also embarking on some new adventures. This blog started out as a "Genny goes on a new adventure every day" sort of deal, so after you get back, my darling, it will probably turn into that. I can't very well write letters to Lindsey when I will go right back to speaking to you 6 times a day. So here are a few of the new adventures I've started on:

-- I have been offered a graphic/web design job for Capture Cafe
-- I will soon begin painting murals at First United in the nursery
-- I have now been appointed ira's official new playdate, and will be spending at least 2 days a week at his house [this is majority unpaid work, however, it something I desperately need for my soul]
-- I have started a new diet/exercise plan, and hope to get over the initial hump to fitness as I got over the initial hump to single-tude [i am also still troubled that exercise is not spelled excercise]
-- I now vow to complete 1-2 paintings a week, and get this damn website up. I've only had the frickin thing for 3 years now, let's stop making mommy pay for something that doesn't exist, shall me?

So yes, that's what we've started on. I'm on my way home now to paint, do some photoshop work on the old laptop, and [GASP] workout after eating a healthy lunch. Last night they had free pizza for us at Target, and I forwent the pizza and had my soup instead, be proud of me!!

I am now missing you more than ever, Mullen, and I can barely stand the days I am forced to wait for you to return. I know I'm learning about myself spending this first summer alone, but I can only get to know myself so well before I annoy myself.

This is my adventurous Tuesday morning.
Hurry home, my love.

<3gen

"Hummus for Dinner" or "The Trials and Tribulations of A Star That's Stuck"

2008-07-03T14:20:00.000-05:00

There was a post here before that took 8 very flowery paragraphs to relate, "I got a flat tire this morning, but I made it to work anyway, and I realized it was well worth it when Ira told me all his stories from Disney World." Why on earth I felt the need to write that in novella form, the world may never know.

Today I needed to pick up my paycheck from the church, but the lovely angel church ladies decided they could leave early because tomorrow is a holiday. Thank you First United Church Bitches, I owe you for that one.

In other news, I feel a little stagnant. The two deals that we have in the works for people to take over our leases are both taking a while to get back to us, which means we [and when I say we, I mean me, because I'm taking care of it all] are hanging in the middle waiting for people to make decisions. I'm also waiting for class to start next week, waiting to get paid at Target, waiting for this guy to come talk to me at work about getting a job, and in general waiting for he school year to start again and Lindsey to get home and Apwonjo to get up and running so my life can be busy again. I don't like having a week off and returning to things being still. I need movement.

Also, Lindsey has not updated/checked facebook/called/revealed herself since June 27th and I am now in the middle stages of worry, preceding panic. You better do something soon, Mullen, or I'm gonna have to crash the embassy in full Rambo gear ready to wisk you away in a potato sack. You damn well know I'll do it, and you damn well know you'll fit.

This is my Thursday afternoon.
I miss you, please make contact.
I love you.

<3gen

"The Sun Is Rising" or "How Much You Miss Your Parents Is Directly Proportional To Your Age"

2008-06-21T05:26:00.001-05:00

Oh goodness the things you have been missing while your gone! There have been so many opportunities for late-night talks and advice that we've missed! However, I have come to the belief that sometimes I need to make the wrong decisions, decisions that you would tell me not to make, and maybe I would listen.

Decisions, let's say, like going drinking with your ex boyfriend, becoming inebriated past the safe zone that exists between exes and alcohol, and getting into a no-holds-barred, nothing-off-limits scream-fest where you both yell at the top of your lungs at each other in brutal and wounding honesty about everything you were ever too afraid to say.

Yes, probably a mistake. However, after this exchange, and a slightly hungover talk the following morning, we can now be friends. It took an hour-and-a-half fight to get everything out on the table, to leave nothing unsaid, and I yelled and he yelled back for once and we quit caring about awkwardness and boundaries and hurting each other's feelings and we just said every damn thing we've ever not said for fear. I think it's the healthiest things we ever did for our relationship.

Now we can be around each other, talk about things, see each other. And there's nothing under the surface, no questions, no burning desire to yell the things you still want to say because you never did, no wondering what the other person has been going through without you, we know exactly how we feel. It was painful, and there were tears and everything else that goes along with trauma and grief, but we are further than we've ever been, and I feel like I have overcome one of the greatest obstacles of my present life.

In other news, I'm in Birmingham and in a few short hours I am going yard-saling with Ryan and James. I took a long nap tonight on my couch, a glorious post-cheesecake nap with a movie on the TV and my dogs on the floor beside me. So now, of course, I am brightly awake.

I wish you were here, but I also feel like I am learning a whole new kind of independence that I not only didn't know I didn't have, but I didn't know I needed at all! Now I'm discovering an independence from Lindsey. I am now not talking to you before every decision I make, talking every decision through after I made it, sharing every feeling I ever have with you exactly the moment or many moments I feel it. Now I've got to think things through myself, make decisions and just figure it out as I go along. In reality, it's helping me give up a little more control in my life, as we all know I tend to be a control freak, at least compared to my gloriously free-spirited best friend.

Who knew that the scariest thing in my life, being alone, would also teach me things I didn't even know I needed to learn?

Has this sort of life been out there all along?

Have people always been able to accomplish things completely alone?

This is freakin nuts, man.

This is my very early Saturday morning.
I am ecstatic to be home.
I miss you greatly.

<3gen

P.S. Just so you know, don't think this will last. Once you're home, I'm going back to being dependent on your spirit to float me through the chaotic spaces. But you know, for now, I'm Miss Independence, 2008.

"20 Minutes Away From Work" or "Too Long Away From Going Home" or "A New Way of Titling Posts"

2008-06-16T14:08:00.001-05:00

I am completely plagiarizing titling style from my new favorite book, Eat Love Pray, from the lovely lady to whom this blog is always addressed. To you, my friend, who have brought me so much joy, and continue to bring to me even with miles and oceans between us.

I am in Barnes&Noble [put an S at the end of that if you think like my father], because the internet is out all over Tuscaloosa except this place, which is why there are so many people here clogging the bandwidth that it's taken me a while to make it through my daily internet-checking and get to this blog. I wanted to post the quote that I read in the last few pages of Eat Love Pray that spoke to me so loudly and powerfully that I was brought to tears, but the book is at home, as I didn't bring it with me since I stayed up all night to finish it.

Next please, Mullen?

Anyhow, I go home in 4 days and I am beyond ready for it. I want to do nothing but read. How long has it been since I read a book, dove into it and rested inside of it for so long? I realized how desperately I missed reading, and as you can also tell from reading I'm sure, I also missed writing. This book has woken me up in so many ways, for what I miss, for what I was missing, for what I don't want to miss. Going home to my family and my dogs will be my Ashram in India [I think I already wrote that previously, but it bears repeating].

Mom: I want you to read this book as fast as you can. Faster than you read Harry Potter. I want to talk about it with you so badly. I think with you being with me for 21 years, plus reading this book, no one in the world will know be better than you. Not anyone.

So I'm done with my coffee and must ride off to Target. I get cashier trained today, so that should be fun. Right before I have the week off, so I have just enough time to forget all of it by the time I get back. I don't even care, Lalalalalalala!

This is my early Monday afternoon.
I miss you, my Mullen.
[Me and Cooper keep planning these parties we're having in our new place, and we realized last night that the only person we keep talking about inviting is you. We can't wait]
I love you.

<3gen

"The Quiet Girl In the Back of the Temple" or "How I Was Never Intended"

2008-06-15T03:15:00.000-05:00

I've been away from this for a while, 1)because I have been working 6-8 hours at Target every single day for about 2 weeks, 2) our internet at the apartment all of a sudden came to the conclusion that it had a password, when in fact it did not and 3) I have been reading Eat, Pray, Love every chance I get.

How did you know, LindseyLou? How did you know that this book was written by me in my sleep, and that the character narrating is living my life, having my crises, experiencing my challenges? This book is changing my life, in ways that I do not have the time nor the character space to reveal in one post, but I will be soon. I want to talk to you about this book so much. I crave nothing more than coming over to your house, sitting on your kitchen floor, eating hummus and tortillas, and pointing out every passage and what it taught me. I want it so badly right now.

Actually, there is one thing that I crave greater even then your presence at this moment, and that is the very soon possibility of going home. Spending this Thursday through next Sunday at my home will be my way of going to an Ashram in India. This last month, it occurs to me, has been nothing but work, lack of sleep, and time alone. I spend so much more time alone than I ever have, and it has been greatly therapeutic, but I need a break from myself. And God knows I need a break from Target. I can't wait to go home, talk to me mom all day long, see Ryan Spain and see James, go to the Buddhist center and have some quiet time, maybe see a movie with Laura and James. I want to go visit Smiths, stay up late talking to my sister and having her read over the story I'm writing.

I want to spend 8 days where I don't think about Target, Daniel, Ben, food, money, gas, air conditioning, the new apartment, my messy room, how much I miss Ira every day, my broken CD player, my own lack of sleep, or how badly I need a shower. I will stay at home, take a bubble bath every day, play with my dogs and tell my mother everything. God just thinking about it is euphoric.

I did have a bit of peace last night. I took an hour-long, hot bath, complete with candles and piano music. I also ate a bowl of chocolate ice cream sitting right there in the tub, because I could. And I had no one who was waiting on me to call, no one who was telling me I had to sleep, nor reason to get up early in the morning. It was glorious.

Being single rocks.
Being me rocks.
[Oh what this book has done for me, you will never hear the end of it. How you have blessed my life amazes me every new day. But how it makes me miss you!]

This is my very very early Sunday morning.
Thank you endlessly for giving me this book.
I miss you, but peacefully.

<3gen

"Pillows and Naps" or "Maybe That's All A Family Really Is, A Group Of People Who Miss The Same Imaginary Place"

2008-06-09T23:28:00.000-05:00

If you come home, and I have gone into hiding because I kidnapped Ira and I can never go out into the world again, don't be too surprised.

Today we had the beanbag and these big pillows on th ground so that the kids could have a little rest time [we had been playing outside for about 20 minutes and that was enough to put them all on the verge of passing out] and watch Toy Story. Ellis likes to call it Buzz Lightyear Saves Woody, but I think that really misses the point of the film.

Anyway, Ira was getting really tired, as were most of the kids who had been there almost 4 hours, and he was kind of whiny. I heard him crying and motioned him over to me where I was sitting at one of our little tables, me and Brandi and Roni were gluing their craft project to orange construction paper. He walked up next to me and had tears on his face and sat in my lap.

"What's a matter, Ira? Tell me."
"Mary Cate has her feet on my pillow."
"Well we can share the pillows, we can fit two friends on each pillow, so can we try to share?"
"But you are stupposed to sweep on my piwwow."
"I have to finish gluing your fish to the paper so that you can give it to your mommy!"
"But you'wre too fawr away."

So I went and laid down on the pillow next to Ira and he fell asleep on my arm. When his mommy came, I woke him up and he got so excited and ran to his mommy and yelled "I missed you mommy!!" and handed her the fish. I walked out into the hallway when he left, because he was the last one to leave, and he saw me and said, "Wait mommy I didn't hug Miss Genny!" and he ran from down the hall into my arms and hugged me and said he loved me.

Why did I think I ever needed(sodesparately) the kind of love I had(orthoughtIalwayshad), when there was that kind of love(unconditionalperfect) in the world for me?

This is my Monday night.
VBS was really fun.
I really wish you were here.

<3gen

"It All Goes Downhill After the Wedding, 1941" or "We'll Count Every Beautiful Thing That We See"

2008-06-09T02:28:00.000-05:00

Tonight I'm having trouble sleeping.

I've almost finished Everything Is Illuminated, and I'm waiting to find that passage that you told me about, the one that talks about everything beautiful being jewish, and I want to send it to Rutsky and hope that he isn't mad at me anymore. I don't know why he is mad at me in the first place, but whatever the reason, I hope that it makes him love me again.

Ryan Spain is in Disneyworld and I am so jealous of him. I have missed him lately.

Cooper and I are going on some more apartment hunting tomorrow, after vacation bible school. I have tomorrow and Wednesday off, which will be wonderful. I have been absolutely run ragged lately. I feel like Target is eating my life. Some days are better than others. Yesterday was very hard and difficult, today was fairly nice and fun. It should get easier with time, most things do.

As soon as I get past my 90-day trial period, when they can fire you for any reason, I'm going to dye my hair pink. I suppose so that they can fire me with a reason. But i don't care, my hair needs to be pink and it needs to be pink very soon.

I miss you. I miss just knowing you're around, just the energy you give me. Some days are easier than others, to live this new life I'm living. Ben asked Cooper if he would ask me if I wanted to get back together, and the mere thought of it just made me sigh with anticipation of the effort of feeling emotion again. Feelings feel so heavy now, like I'm dragging the ground. I haven't thought of heartbreak in so long, of need, of affection. Now those feelings are nothing but chores.

Is that what I wanted?

This is my early Monday morning.
I can see Ira soon.
My true love.

<3gen

"Miss Genny always makes me happy when I'm sad." --Ira

2008-06-07T13:55:00.000-05:00

Oh how badly Cooper and I wished you were here last night!

After finding out that Cooper was still a bar-virgin since his 21st in January, we decided to go out last night and deflower him right away. We had both been working all week and it was the first night we both had off together. We only went two places, Little Willies and the Downtown Pub, and they were both really low key and relatively uncrowded. Little Willie's is still my favorite place, and we have to hang out there.

Anyway, after spending about a month with just each other in the house, we managed to have a night out together and still talk and have a great time laughing and enjoying each other's company. I've complained before that Cooper will never be a real friend for me because we can never talk about emotional stuff, but I'm beginning to think that might be a good thing. I can get way too emotional about everything, and sometimes all I talk about are relationships and emo problems. With Cooper, I talk about other things, funny things, and I can be shill and comfortable and maybe it's a good thing that I have a friend in my life who I don't talk about relationships with. I think in reality he's helping me get past that part of me that I'm trying to leave behind this lonely summer. I can't wait to live with him next semester.

In that vein, I might have found a friend whose brother and friends can take over our leases. If so, a weight would be lifted off my shoulders so great I may float.

This morning I made cococut coffee [I got amaretto for you when you come home] and watched my favorite episode of the backyardigans. I was a little hungover, and I'm kind of sad about Max and Miles leaving, but yesterday I got to play with them and Ira and Flossie, and it was a perfect goodbye. I get so attached to my babies....

That is my Saturday morning.
I miss you terribly.
Everytime I drive past your house.

Come home soon.

<3gen

"We Are Not As Divided As Our Politics Suggest" or "Something EPIC In America"

2008-06-03T21:37:00.000-05:00

What do I wish I could to tell you today?

Well, I wanted to tell you about spending all morning with Max and Miles, building rocket ships and eating egg sandwiches and watching endless episodes of Dora the explorer.

And then I wanted to tell you about coming home and feeling financially secure for the first time in forever, and then how I sat on the couch and drank simply limeade and read everything is illuminated and felt content

But instead, I ended up taking a nap until 9:34, and woke up to history that I can tell my kids about.

Barack Obama secured the Democratic nomination tonight, and gave a speech about paying teachers more and creating a brilliant new healthcare plan and his big, beautiful smile talked about starting over and trying to make america more like the ideals and dreams we were really founded on.

I am now telling you that I can not wait until my kids come home from school, and they say, "mom, weren't you incollege hen we elected the first black president?" or my grandkids come to visit and one of them says, "I'm doing a project on famous African American achievements, and i got Barack Obama! Everyone wanted him! Can you tell me about it?" Even though a first female president would have been as groundbreaking, that history making with a candidate that I believe would make no changes would not have been worth it. This is about more than my candidate winning, which is hopeful in ways you can't understand because I don't think you've ever had the ideal of America that I have had. And it's more than Hillary losing, no matter how awesome that is. And it's not even about being able to work in the campaign office in the fall, even though it is all you're going to hear about until, and likely after, november.

What it's about is electing a leader who can speak in complete sentences- poetic ones at that. It's about having the possibility and hope for change in this country so ruined and wrought with fear from 8 years of mismanagement, cruelty, and stupidity. It is about choosing hope over fear, and treating our constitution as a basis for taking care of people, not a weapon against thought, the less fortunate, and minorities.

It is about this:

But it's a little about Hillary losing.

That is my tuesday.
I miss you darling.

<3gen

"If We Can Write Our Own Vows" or "Love Is Icky"

2008-06-02T03:48:00.001-05:00

I wish I could tell you about going out tonight with my friend from work, and seeing the Sex and the City movie. I wish I could drive to your house, and eat leftovers on the floor, and talk about that the movie was good and showed me something about myself. That I got to the end, and it was romantic and lovely and just what it should have been in every way [not in the ridiculous P.S. I Love You way], and I didn't feel sad. I didn't stare at the screen and want a boyfriend or wish I was in love, I didn't look to each of those leading men and pray that I would find one like him and wish that I had one to go home too.

In fact, I was delighted that those characters on the big screen got such lovely men in their lives, and I was comforted that I had gotten just as lovely ones in my life before. And for once I didn't dwell on the heartbreak, and I didn't want it back, but rather took joy in that I once had it, and it was beautiful and bright, and the kisses were real and the romance was there and that was what mattered. Because remember, you don't have to possess it forever to make it count. Beauty doesn't have to be protected, you don't have to prove it to anyone, what matters is that you had it, not that it is eternal. Beauty shouldn't be eternal, maybe love shouldn't be either.

I would also like to tell you that I watched Amelie and thought of you, and that I wrote my essay for Colin's class and thought of you, and that I read my old journals to Ryan and we talked like best friends do and I told him you and I have a tradition of eating on the floor together and that I hope we always do that forever and ever.

I also want to tell you that Ryan donated old toys of his to my nursery, and that I had a wonderful morning with Ira today. I want to tell you that I have decided Ira is my new love, even if that might sound creepy to people who don't care to understand, but because that cheerful little boy knows nothing about my past or my faults, and even if he did he would love me. Because I could do anything and Ira wouldn't care, but he would still run to me when he cried, and he would still laugh at me when I call him a silly goose, and he would still tell me he loved me when he went to sleep no matter if I failed my math class or got in a car wreck or didn't make enough money. Ira will always, always be head-over-heels for me, and that counts for more than any other love I have ever had. You can't trust anything quite like you can trust a 3 year-old.

That is my Sunday.
Goodnight.

Sincerely Yours,
Genevieve