the dream that turned into a short story

I don't usually share my fictional stories I write. I talk about them, but I don't share them. This started out as a dream, and turned into a story I made up, a little too easily ;o)

I awoke from a dream. I had moved to California or I was there visiting, I wasn’t sure which. I was at some kind of rally or speech or event that Amy Poehler and Tina Fey were speaking at, and when it was over, the people I had come with, all piled in the car to leave and there was no room for me so I said that I would walk. I didn’t know where I was going, I wandered the streets, tons of people all around but I never asked any one of them for directions. Then I came across Fred Armisen and Carrie Brownstein (the masterminds behind the show Portlandia) and they were sitting in an old timey car. It had no roof. And they were talking to the driver about where they wanted to go. I went up to ask for directions. I think this was when I woke up. But I always like to carry on the dream further. Take it to where I wanted it to go. I played it cool but I knew who they were. I said I was new to the area and lost. She told me I looked familiar. I shrugged it off, because how would she know me? Except I had written that book. The one I’ve written about the teen girls who fall in love. In reality I hadn’t even decided yet on a title for the book, but in this case, it was called “There’s something about girls.” She asked what I was doing in L.A. and I said I was visiting because there were talks about making my book into a movie. And that’s when it hit Carrie, “I know you! I remember your picture from the back of your book! You wrote ‘There’s something about girls!!’” I nodded and smiled sheepishly. I hadn’t been recognized by anyone yet and the first person to recognize me was a famous person?? That was insane. “I love your book! Fred! This is the author of that book I was telling you about!” She said as she turned to Fred and slapped him playfully on the shoulder to make sure he was paying attention. He smiled and nodded and offered his hand. “Nice to meet you” he said. I returned the gesture. “I’m Carrie,” she said as she offered her hand too. I chuckled. “I know who y’all are. I love Portlandia. I’ve watched it since the very beginning. And I just loved you as Syd on Transparent” I grinned, blushing. “Thank you Christie, that means a lot. I love playing her,” she added.  I continued, “That show is one of my favorites. It’s written SO well. I just love everything about it. I love the rawness and the honesty. That’s how I write.” “Well yeah you do!” Carrie interrupted. “Your book is written from such an honest place. I love how it goes into your teenage mind and describes every feeling, every experience. It’s SO detailed. Didn’t I tell you that, Fred?” Carrie said turning to Fred again, pushing on him again. Fred just nodded and smiled. I could tell that he liked to watch the transition that was going between us, and he didn’t seem to be bothered by being left out of the conversation. I thought I noticed a tiny smile creep up on the side of his face. Like he knew something. Like he was watching magic happen. Like he was happy to be witnessing our “meet cute.” I looked at him questioningly for a split second and then back to Carrie. She was staring at me smiling and no one said anything. “Get in get in” she suddenly said, quickly and excitedly, as she scooted towards Fred in the backseat while the driver sat in the front. I came over to the side by Carrie as she pushed open the door for me, leaning far to make sure it was open all the way, which for some reason felt very “courtship-like” to me, and I blushed even more. I climbed in. It was a tight fit. Carrie and Fred were used to spending a lot of time together, so them squishing together was no big deal, but for me and Carrie… when my leg pushed up against hers, I swear I felt electricity. I even jumped a little bit. “Where to?” the driver asked. Fred and Carrie both looked at me and I suddenly forgot the name of the hotel I was staying in. “Umm…” I said staring blankly. Luckily Fred didn’t let me “umm” for too long, and said some name of some street I had never heard of. Carrie turned and grinned at Fred. She clearly knew where they were going. “We’re going to take you somewhere every tourist has to go to.” I blurted out, “I hope it’s not the Hollywood Walk of Fame, because I was already taken there against my will, and it was so crowded, I about suffocated.” They both chuckled at me. “No, you don’t have to worry about THAT where we are going,” Fred said. It was quiet for a second and then Carrie spoke up, she looked a little nervous at what she was about to say. I didn’t know why. Why would she be nervous to talk to me? It should be the other way around. “Umm..” she started. “Can I ask you something?” “Sure,” I answered back slowly. “So I read in an article that when you wrote the book, even though the main girl is you, it’s a fictional story about your life and in fact you hadn’t even been with a woman or even kissed one, at that point.” She stopped and looked at me. I glanced around at Fred who was texting on his phone but still smiling. “Umm…yeah, that’s true” I replied back. I could tell what Carrie wanted to ask me but she was scared to. “You can ask me what you’re going to ask me.” I said slyly, a smile creeping up on my face. “So, my question is…has that changed at all?” she looked at me hopeful. But I wasn’t sure which side she was hopeful for. That I had kissed a girl and liked it or that I hadn’t and had been waiting for the right girl? For her. I stared at her trying to read her face, not responding yet. She got self-conscious and suddenly withdrew her statement. “If that’s too personal, you don’t have to answer. I’m sorry. That was way too invading.” She said as she shook her head and pretended to erase what she had just asked with her hands. “No. No it’s not that,” I said quickly. “You’ve read my book. I’m not afraid to be too personal. The way I wrote Christie, that was me, my personality, my shy awkward ways. That’s all me. That wasn’t my exact family and I didn’t grow up in Pennsylvania and of course there’s the fact that I didn’t know that I was gay at age 15. Although I wish I had…” I drifted off. “I’ll be honest with you, even if it isn’t what you want to hear.” She nodded back. Even Fred stopped texting to look up. “Umm, well no actually. I still haven’t…” I said quietly, drifting off. “Not because I don’t want to,” I added quickly and loudly. “Once the book came out, like with anyone who has had a taste of ‘being famous’ or whatever,” I said with air quotes. “Not that I really was or am, I just mean my book got some coverage. I got to be on Ellen, which was one of the highlights, like very very high up there on the list of my life. But yeah people came out of the woodworks and yeah suddenly I was visible…to women…and even some men, who thought they could switch me.” All 3 of us laughed. “For years before the book I had tried to meet women, I tried to connect with someone, but it just was never there. And then suddenly women wanted me for the first time in my life. I wasn’t the invisible girl I always was…but it never felt right with any of them. I felt like they only wanted to talk to me so they could talk to someone who was ‘famous’ or something. They wanted to be ‘my first,’ and I didn’t like the feeling I got from that. I wanted it to be the right person. And special…” I drifted off again and looked up for the first time, realizing I hadn’t been looking at either one of them as I spoke. Fred was still smiling and looking as happy as ever. And Carrie looked hopeful, but I still asked shyly, “Is that what you wanted to hear?” Carrie didn’t answer so Fred did for her, “Yes!” he said emphatically, as he gestured with his hands in a very Fred-like way. Carrie playfully nudged him with her arm and gave him a look like don’t embarrass me. Suddenly I looked out and saw where we were. We pulled into a parking lot at the base of a large hill, or mountain, not sure which. “Wait. Are we where I think we are?” I asked excitedly as I got out of the car. “Yep! The Hollywood sign” Carrie said as she followed me out of the car. “Awesome!” I said excitedly. “How did you know I wanted to see this?” Carrie answered back, “Well, I mean everyone does, but I had a feeling you were the type that liked to be away from the crowds and I knew you liked the outdoors and mountains, well the you in your book did, which I figured was the real you.” “Oh totally,” I started to say as Fred went around to talk to the driver and Carrie and I started to walk towards the entrance to the hill. “I lived in Colorado for a couple of years,” I added. “Really?” Carrie asked, very much interested in my life. “Yeah, and I actually considered moving to Portland at one point,” I said chuckling. She laughed back. “Yeah we really surged their population,” she said half-jokingly. “Well I was more considering Seattle or somewhere outside of the city. I wanted to be by mountains and the ocean. Portland doesn’t really have mountains.” “Well here you go,” Carrie said as she motioned out with her hands. “Cali has mountains and the ocean.” “Yeah I don’t know if I could ever live in L.A.” “Really? Why not?” “Well…” I started. But she finished it for me. “Is it ‘cause it’s fake and materialistic and everyone looks like they either had plastic surgery or will at some point?” She grinned and I chuckled back. “Yeah something like that.” “Well Fred and I are only here to meet up with some friends this week. You know I’m from Seattle, right?” She added. “Really?” I asked. “I had no idea.” “Yep born and raised.” We were talking about how great mountains were and comparing places we’ve lived, when Fred walked up. “I got the blanket and the hot tea” he said as he held it up for me to see. “It’s not THAT cold” I joked. “Oh just wait till we get to the top and the sun has gone down. You’ll be wanting it then,” he added. As we walked up the hill, the 3 of us gabbed on about life and movies and music. “Sorry I haven’t heard your band, Carrie” I said apologetically. “No no no, don’t worry about it. I like it better when I meet someone who doesn’t know everything about me. It keeps the mystery alive. Plus I don’t need a groupie.” “You wish you had a groupie” Fred joked with her. “You guys are really best friends aren’t you?” I said admiring them and a little jealous. “Yep,” Fred replied quickly. “Well…” Carrie started playfully. “I didn’t tell you this, but I’ve been cheating on you with this other guy Mike…” “Mike? Mike who? Little Mikey from the cereal box?” he teased back. They joked back and forth for another minute or 2 while I laughed and watched them. “Wow.” I said as I stopped. “Look at that sunset.” They stopped as well and we all admired the sunset over the city of Los Angeles. “The city of angels…” Fred said in fake awe, as if he was adding something big and meaningful in the moment. “You’re such a dork,” Carrie added as she walked away, motioning with her hand for me to join her. I cracked up at them and followed her, while Fred just stared at the sunset, oblivious to Carrie’s statement. I could tell they had a great relationship. We sat down for a break, our feet dangling over the edge. Not a complete drop, just where there was a rock to sit on and the side of a hill to tumble down...but hopefully not. “Hey I wanted to say something about what you said earlier in the car,” Carrie spoke up. My heart started beating out of my chest. Why was it doing that? Was I expecting her to say something good or bad? “I think it’s really cool of you to wait till you meet the right person. Someone you truly connect with and who likes you for you and not for what you could do for them. Like you’re some kind of link to that world or something. The world of ‘famous people.’” She did the air quotes as well. “Thanks” I said with a grin as I reverted back to my shy, quiet state that I’m in a lot of the time. “But also, you should not be afraid to get out there and to go for it, when it feels right with someone. Sometimes you just gotta leap.” This time I was watching her speak the whole time. I didn’t take my eyes off her. It felt so surreal. Her talking to me, this whole day in fact. I’ve been having a lot of that over the past 6 months, but this felt different than all that stuff with the book. I stared into her eyes and she stared back. I think she liked me. Like really liked me. I was totally into her, but I wasn’t going to make the first move. She looked down at my hand and took it in hers. “Is this ok?” she asked. I nodded back emphatically. She brought it to her mouth and gave it a quick peck. I lightly gasped, but not in a shocked way. It was more of a shudder. It felt so right. All this felt right. We were both silent as she held my hand in hers and we continued to stare at each other until we heard Fred’s voice. “Hey girls can we keep it moving so we can get to the top before it gets dark?” I leapt up and Carrie got up and brushed the dirt from her pants. Then she stuck her hand out next to me. “Ready to get to the top?” I smiled and nodded as I took the hand that she offered. We walked hand in hand back to Fred as he “Awww-ed” at us like we were adorable puppies. Carrie said deadpan “Shut up” as we kept walking. I looked over at her. I could tell that was just her humor. I somehow knew that’s just who she was. “You guys are so cute!” Fred continued to push it, as he called out from behind us. Carrie used her free hand to give him the finger, which he got a nice look at, walking behind us. I chuckled at them. I loved their playful banter and wanted to be a part of whatever this was. They had years on me though. This was just the beginning. Well at least I hoped it was the beginning of something. We made it to the top quickly after that. It was blocked off from getting too close to the letters. “We can’t go up to the letters?” I asked disappointed. “No, not unless you’re filming a movie” Fred responded. “Poop” I said, disappointed. Carrie laughed at my silly PG cussing. “But it looks neat, though” I added, as I smiled at them both. “Thank you so much for bringing me here.” By this point the sun was really down and it was getting chilly. I shivered and Fred threw the blanket at Carrie as she caught it. “Here, let’s go sit down” she said as she wrapped it around me and I felt her hands rub up and down the sides of my arms. I shivered again, but not because I was cold, but because I felt something stir inside. I looked up to see if I could see a star to wish on tonight…but saw nothing. Too many city lights. So I made the wish in my head…that tonight would be the night I would finally get kissed. We sat down overlooking the city. It was getting darker and the lights were noticeable on all the buildings in the city. It was a large blanket so we all 3 squished together under it, Carrie in the middle of course. We passed the one cup of hot tea in the thermos they brought, back and forth till it was gone. I glanced over at Carrie, almost too scared to look at her, since she was so close to me and ended up blurting out, “You’re so beautiful.” I quickly looked back out at the light covered city below, wishing I hadn’t said that. It was silent for probably 2 seconds, which felt like a full minute when Fred added, “Eh…I’ve seen better.” I burst out laughing and looked over at them as Carrie shoved him with her shoulder so hard that he fell out of the blanket we were wrapped in. He got up and said something about seeing a man about a tree, which I assumed meant he needed to pee…or he just wanted to give us some privacy. He was such a sweet friend. Carrie looked at me and replied, “You’re beautiful too.” My instinct was to shake my head no, which I started to do but decided to turn that into a “Thanks, Carrie.” I looked into her eyes. There was still enough light that I could see her face and her, mine. I hoped that her eyes saw my eyes begging and pleading with her to make a move, because I was too scared to. Her hand went to brush the hair out of my face and then she brought my face into hers, guiding my chin with her hands and started to kiss me! My first kiss! Her eyes were closed so I quickly followed suite. At first I let her do all the work but then instinct and memory from far too many years ago to mention, kicked in and I kissed her back. I kissed her good and hard. I even snuck in a little tongue, once I got braved enough, which she thankfully reciprocated. When we pulled apart, presumably to catch our breaths, we looked into each other’s eyes. Like I was in some damn romance movie, I felt a single tear roll down my cheek. I was hoping she didn’t see it, but she did. She grinned at me and wiped it away from my face with her thumb. There was silence and I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to thank her, but that sounded too weird to say out loud, so I waited for her to speak up. “You’re really good at kissing girls. You sure you’ve never done that before?” she teased. I broke out into a big smile and shook my head. “Nope. You’re my first." “Good,” she answered back, as she went in for more.

And that’s the story of what could’ve happened…if my dream had been allowed to finish itself.

The Hotel

I have no jets and I dropped my phone in the tub... there are worse things than this, but it's where I am right now. My body feels lethargic and depression has seeped in. The Secret Life of Walter Mitty was on my free HBO on my hotel 47 inch flat screen TV, one of two in this suite (there's one in the separate living room as well), but his "grab life by the balls" attitude was making me more depressed so I went outside to one of my 2 balconies. Yes. There are 2. I better snap out of it quick before my night slips away from me and I have to leave this beautiful Italian Renaissance decorated hotel suite. I'm looking at a freaking sunset over a large lake. A panoramic view, on the very top floor of this hotel. I've never been so high up. I've never had towels in the shape of swans. I've never had a 2 room suite before. There's actually doors to the bedroom and a half-bath off the living room and a freaking humongous walk-in shower with not one but 2 showerheads... and all I can focus on is how I really came here for those freaking jets in the whirlpool and I can't even have that one thing. I don't know why I thought this night would be any different than the others I've spent in hotels all around over the years. I've been in a couple that have an actual hot tub in the room but all I could focus on was the fact that I didn't have anyone in it to share it with me. And even when I decided jets be gone, I'll still soak in the tub...I put my phone on this holder thing that looked impossible for it to slide off of, but sure enough it did. And down to the bottom of the tub it went. The song kept playing after I retrieved it as quick as I could, but slowly but surely a black spot at the far right emerged and then I couldn't push any of the apps on the phone, so I turned it off. Hoping it can dry out and work again later, but I won't hold my breath. And now the cigar smoke I'm smelling wafting in from someone's balcony or maybe even the cigar shop (which is one of only 4 shops in what I thought was a little shopping center), is going to drive me back indoors. The boat is leaving. It looks to be carrying either the wedding party that's staying here or the 50th high school reunion. Man. 50 years. I didn't go to my 10th. I won't go to my 20th, if I'm still alone. Snap out of it Christie. This is your end of the year treat, your half-birthday/Christmas present to yourself. You've made it another year. You did it! You're still alive and you still are hanging in there. 9 years of singleness be damned. You are still here and breathing. No one ever died from loneliness. Well maybe; I haven't done the research. As I sit in this random ergonomical desk chair, my feet up on the table...I almost expect for my slipper to jump off my foot and fall through the bars of the balcony. I mean why not? I'd probably find it though. It would be just fine I'm sure... unlike my phone... and the jets I can't enjoy. Oh well. I tried. Maybe I can get a free breakfast out of this.
I feel nothing, as I stare out at the orange-ish pink sunset over the large lake before me. Hopefully that will change as the hours continue until tomorrow at noon when I have to check-out. I'll do my best to try. I'm not perfect. I'm not magical. I'm not able to flip a switch and say it's ok! It doesn't matter. I mean I can say that, but I won't mean it. Of course it matters. It matters to me. I just wanted something fun and different and special and fancy and it's not like I have someone that's going to do that for me. All I have is myself. All I have is me to do special things for myself. Maybe someday I'll mean something more to someone than just a text, but for now I have just me. I wish Mollie was here with me. I wish she could be like a dog this one time and be here in the hotel room with me. I miss her. I always do. I'll see her tomorrow. And since my hands are frozen and the sun is setting, I bid adieu for the night. I'll see what other trouble I can get into ;o)

Dream Brain

You know that moment between sleep and waking up? That's the greatest moment. You're still halfway in the land of dreams, where anything is possible, but you are aware of your thoughts at this point, unlike when you were asleep. That moment is so precious. I feel like so much happens in those few moments. For one: I'm basking in the world that I was living in. The world where I was friends with Ellen DeGeneres and she was going to help me meet someone. Even those couple minutes afterwards, while you lay in bed, the idea of writing her show and asking for help to meet a girl, tell her my story, tell her I'm 34 and I've been finally aware of who I am for over 3 years now and nothing's happened, no matter how hard I try or no matter how hard I don't try, but just let things be; seems like the most realistic thing in the world to do. It makes so much sense to write her and it could be like this great human interest piece she does on her show, like a nicer and less sluty "Bachelorette," but for lesbians. But as the day wears on, that idea makes less and less sense. Reality sets in and you realize how stupid it sounds.
I love my dreams. I don't always remember all of them or everything that happens, but I do remember one thing- I feel so loved and so happy, in my dreams. I have friends around me, people that love me. I feel it, I see it. They are there. I often live in some beautiful mansion in the country or something like that. I love the way it feels. I totally get the movie Inception, and understand why people would want to live in a dream world. Especially when their reality is far from it.
I even tried to convince myself that since I've dreamt about this old friend from high school/college SO many times over the years, that it's a sign I should reach out to her. Just maybe see if we could reconnect as friends. But as the day wore on and I remind myself that she's a mother of 3 who married her high school sweetheart, and even though she'd probably still be nice to me, I would feel too inferior, too much of a loser, to ACTUALLY hang out with her in person. I talked myself out of it because I thought "what would be the point?" "How would it improve my life or hers in any way?" Our lives are just too far apart, too different. We aren't even in the same universe, even though technically she lives probably about 45 minutes away. Why would she make time for me? So I nix another dream idea and move on.
I love those moments though, when anything is possible. Every idea sounds amazing, like it could work. It's funny because it came from our brain. That idea. That "dream" idea. It came from the SAME brain that minutes or hours later tells you that it was a stupid idea. That says it would never work. Nothing good would come from it. It convinces you, the very opposite of what your dream brain told you. But it's the SAME EXACT brain. One wasn't your brain and the other's, your mothers. They both belong to you. So why don't you listen to it? Fear. Fear drives most responses. Fear of failure. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being wrong.
Hope is a funny thing. We couldn't live without it. Literally. If we had no hope, we would give up and not live anymore. Hope is what drives us. But hope also has a dark side. When we find a sliver of hope and we go for it (whatever it is that we were "hoping" for) but instead of obtaining it, we just fall flat on our face or find disappointment... well that's a heavy burden to hold. Depending on how much we were hoping for it, measures the weight or amount of time that disappointment feels or lasts. Like if you were hoping to marry someone you were with for 10 years and that doesn't end up happening; well that smashed hope weight weighs the amount of a carnival cruise ship and the amount of time can be years. But thankfully we don't go through big hope loss every day. I don't think we could survive if we did. I had a moment where I was thinking about this girl I knew in school. We were really only friends in 4th grade. We went to the same school all the way through high school, but she was far too popular for me by then. She was never mean. I was mostly ignored or was invisible in high school, thankfully I wasn't bullied. Except for this one kid who would taunt me with the name "Kristi Yamaguchi" the Olympic gold medalist ice skater, like being called someone that talented, was a bad thing. He sure made it sound like it was, but luckily it didn't last long and I wasn't too much bothered by it. I preferred to be invisible, than made fun of. That's for sure. I wouldn't have been able to stand up for myself back then. But this girl. I was thinking about her. I had no idea what happened to her after High School, and I thought, maybe I could reconnect with her. She played softball and I didn't remember her dating any guys in high school, so I thought just maybe... But by the power vested in Facebook, I discovered she's married (to a guy), and has two kids. So that was that. After that revelation, I felt that heaviness. That little bit of hope smashed again. I felt the weight, it was heavy and weighed me down. I dragged it around, but thankfully it didn't last very long. A few minutes only. It wasn't a dream I had for years or anything. It was something I had thought of just recently. Those bigger dreams, the ones I have of being a writer, or finding someone that wants to see me everyday and spend their life with me and marry me and start a family with me... those dreams, well the hope I have for those are far too great. I don't know what would happen if those dreams were in the definite "NO" pile. I don't know that we definitely have a "definite no" pile. There's always hope... until you're no longer here, but you won't know it because you literal won't be here to live with that "no," so it won't matter anyway. I think I've started to let go of the kids thing. I think it would be awesome and great if it happened, but I'm ok if it doesn't. If I grow too old to bear a child and adoption just doesn't work out for whatever reason, then that's fine. And I mean that in a real "that's fine," not an "I'm fine" which clearly means you aren't. Kids are hard, to say the least. It's a thankless job. I mean maybe you get a child that is at least kind and loving, but that's not going to be all the time. Hate to break it to you. Even if by some miracle the terrible 2's never really hit and he's an obedient child... just wait to the teen years. Something's bound to happen there. I don't think anyone gets off Scott-free. They are a lot of work and a lot of money and lot of time and a lot of your own blood sweat and tears. I guess I spend too much time with behavior-ridden 2 year olds and maybe I'm getting a little jaded, but it's something that's been a long time coming, for me. I thought for sure I'd have 3 or 4 kids. I always wanted a big family. And then as I got older, that number went down to 1. And then I realized I was gay and then that "idea" of a child half-me and half-the love of my life, went out the window. If by some grand scheme I meet a girl who has a brother she's really close to, and not weirded out by us using his baby-making stuff to create a little turkey-baster baby, then that would be the closest thing I could have, to a baby that is part of her. It seems really complicated though, and it would be a miracle if it worked out like that without any issues. And maybe I don't even want to carry a child. I don't know if I could. The idea of pushing a baby outta there seems barbaric and torturous. I literally don't know if I could do it, physically. I know billions of women do, but I don't know that I could. So even with that dream out of the way, that hope not necessarily gone but dissipated, or not this "must-have of the season," there's still the dream of spending my life with someone I love and care for and who loves me back. Who doesn't love me just as a friend, or a best friend. Doesn't love me twice a year in person and in text and the extremely rare almost extinct phone call. But someone who loves me physically and with all their heart. Who wants my body, my mind and my heart. Wants it every day, wants it for the rest of her life. Someone I connect with on the deepest of levels. THAT hope, I won't give up on. Thankfully that hope could never be smashed beyond repair. As long as there is still pieces, or even just dust left from the smashing, there will always be some hope left.
Now the writing thing, is another story entirely. I feel like I could be crushed many times, if I really tried to make my writings into book form. I could be crushed by publishers, by critics, by the masses. A writer's worst nightmare is to not sell their book or end up in the 99cent bin. I would never give up writing, but I would give up trying to publish another book or just the first one, if I was endlessly rejected. I am human. Maybe some people are stronger than I am. That's fine. Good for them. I guess one of the good things is that I don't write on political or religious matters. I couldn't possibly offend people or enrage them. I never say "this is what you should do." I only write about my experiences and my thoughts and feelings. People can take or not take what they want from my writings. My book however, is the story of 2 young girls who fall in love, the main character of which, is discovering her true self for the first time. It would definitely turn some heads and those moms who are offended by everything, even Disney movies, would have a lot to say about it. But I wouldn't be forcing it down anyone's throats. I wouldn't be asking it to be placed on the high schools reading list. I don't think I'll give up hope for quite some time, on the book front. I definitely won't ever stop writing. I hope when I'm old and gray, I can re-read my writings and it will help me to remember this time in my life. It'll help me re-connect with myself. My words are my life. I'm thankful I have them. And my dreams. Without dreams there would just be boring life. I am glad that even though a lot of life is boring, at least I have my imagination- my dream world, both in sleep and awake. And of course in those moments in between sleep and awake... the best moments. Those I cherish above all. They may be "out there," but they are probably the "realest" (or is it 'most real?') moments you'll ever have. When your brain isn't afraid to think the unbelievable. To it, it is the most sane thing in the world. We could all stand to listen to our "dream brain" every once in awhile. Who knows what might come from it...

The time I met Jennifer Knapp

You know those moments that are the "best moments of your life?" Well, if those moments came all the time, they'd just be "another moment in time." You wouldn't even distinguish them as the best, if every moment was awesome. So, I think it's ok that when I say I haven't had many amazing moments that I would rank as THE BEST. And I certainly haven't had one in a very long time, like years. Until last night. But let me give some background first. And also to note: when things go better in your head than you could've imagined them going... well THAT is what puts a moment over the top and into the category of "best moments ever."
So Jennifer Knapp is this artist, musician, writer, singer, whatever you want to call her: all of the above. She started out in the category of Contemporary Christian Music. This was back in 1998. Or at least that's when her first album came out titled Kansas (which is where she's from). But anyway, I won't do a whole bio on her, you can read her amazing book  Facing the Music and learn all about her. So I distinctly remember mere weeks before I left for college, picking up her album in the Family Christian Bookstore. It would've been August 1999. I knew who she was from the local Christian radio station where I had hear her for the first time. (Yes back then EVERYTHING in my life revolved around the church. The Church was my life, for a long long time. I won't go into it here, as to how I felt I was "repaid" for my loyalty, by both the Church and God, but anyway...) I had grown up listening to two types of music Oldies and Christian. Oldies were what my parents played in our car, so I knew more than my fair share of 50's and 60s songs. I still love them. They are simplistic and catchy. Of course I was also a child of the 80s, so I know a ton of those too. But when I could choose my own music, since I was in youth group and a good little Christian girl, I listened to exclusively Christian music. I don't think it was forced upon me, but I did love it for a really long time. Everyone from Amy Grant, to Michael W. Smith, Point of Grace, Rich Mullins, DC Talk (which was the more edgier of groups), all the way up to Jennifer Knapp. She was the first female solo artist who had a rawness to her voice. A realness to her lyrics. They came out of pain and longing to understand God and longing to understand how he could love us. She was the first person I felt truly said it how it really was. She wasn't a syrupy sweet "God loves you" artist. She got down to the root, to the dirt and the mud and the muck. I also loved her look. Back then you would only know what an artist looked like by what was in the CD cover and what they wore in concert. Internet wasn't this big thing you could search endless pictures on. I remember her long straight hair on her Lay it Down album, and how she wore big black combat boots in concert and didn't look like your average Christian female artist. And I liked that. I liked it a lot. She quickly became my favorite. I took her first album with me to college and soon others came out, while I was still in college, 2 more actually. I swear she got me through those years. When I was in a dark place after my first shot at love was ripped from me like a baby from a womb (sorry for the intense picture, but it really was that intense to me at the time) I would lay in bed and listen to her prayers to God that were crying out in desperation and I would cry out both literally and figuratively for God to help me as well. When I became a leader in a Baptist Student Ministry group, I used her song Faithful to Me in a teaching lesson, when I had to do the unthinkable and stand up before a large group of Freshman and teach a Bible lesson. I was a Sophomore and I couldn't tell you what I said, but I definitely remember using that song. That song, like many more, also proved as a comfort in times of great need and great despair; as a way of calling out to God to rescue me or love me or whatever I needed. I remember crying in my dorm room bed as I sang out these words from Refine Me: " Lord, come with your fire, burn my desires, refine me. Lord, my will has deceived me, please come and free me, come rescue this child, for I long to be reconciled to you." These "desires" I spoke of, were the desires of most college-age girls: to be loved by a guy. To be loved in a physical and intimate way. I didn't like being the only 18 year old who hadn't even been kissed yet. All my friends had and I felt like a loser. But I also knew that those desires were getting in the way of me fully knowing and honoring God and all that jazz. Stuff I cared about back then. I just wanted to be like everyone else. I wanted a boyfriend. And then when that boyfriend came summer after freshman year and then was gone by the summer after sophomore year, that song still rang true, but even more deeply. I had had a taste of that love that dare not speak it's name and I was in mourning for it's loss and wanted it burned away because it wasn't doing anything but punishing me and making me feel like I couldn't live without it. (Just as a side note, we were still good Christian kids who were both raised on the "True love waits" bandwagon, that was a part of every youth group in Texas in the 1990s, so we didn't have actual intercourse and we'll just leave it at that). I don't even know what Jennifer Knapp was referencing in that line about desires, but that's what it was for me. I loved every one of her songs, I couldn't get enough. A group of us in college went and saw her with Third Day in concert in Austin. She was the coolest of the cool. At least she was to me. She was like the Joan Jett of Christian music. She was definitely my favorite artist. And then just like that she was gone. I saw her many times in college, the last one being my Senior year in 2003, at a concert in Belton, Texas at Mary Hardin-Baylor. She seemed off that night. She seemed sad. It wasn't too long after that, that she was gone. Dropped off the face of the Earth. I remember reading a rumor that she was a lesbian and that's why she left Christian music, but to me that was neither here nor there. That didn't matter to me at all. I was years from my own revelation and I knew absolutely 0 lesbians. I had hear that Ellen DeGeneres had come out on her TV show, but that was literally my experience with lesbians and this was all the way through college and even for a few years after before I had even met or known for a fact that someone was a lesbian. I was too busy trying desperately to play catch up with all my friends, while one-by-one they were being picked off, as if getting married was the equivalent of being taken out by a sharp shooter. It kind of felt that way to me. I felt alone, like I was the only single girl left on the planet. I was so tunnel vision, that I didn't truly know the real me and what I wanted. I just knew I wanted whatever all my friends had. I wanted to be normal. I didn't want to be the only one left without a husband, while they all bypassed me already on lap 20 while I was on lap 2. (lap 20 being on child number 3 or 4). Well all that happened anyway, there's no stopping life. I've already told my coming out story back in the blog titled "This is Me" back in February of 2013, so I won't go through it again. Things had started rolling that previous May, but that's when I finally revealed it to the internet world and to anyone who read my blog (who I am discovering is more people than I ever thought would possibly read it). When Jennifer came back and came out, it didn't really affect me. Her coming out didn't "matter" to me at the time. It wasn't that I didn't care. It was more like to me, it was a non-issue. Love is love and that's how I've always thought of it. I wasn't taught anything on the subject, something like that would've never been discussed at my house and I don't remember my church having an opinion on it, but then again I was usually writing on the sides of the church bulletin and not listening all that well to the Pastor. I had just decided it for myself. That it wasn't wrong or bad. Love is love. I was just glad she had come out of hiding to sing again. I had missed her. She played a little show at the end of 2009 at the House of Blues in Dallas. I remember standing front and center, totally mesmerized and on cloud 9 because I couldn't believe she was actually back and standing in front of me, singing again. She wasn't out to the world yet at that particular moment. Not long after that show I heard she had come out in an interview with Larry King. I thought she was incredibly brave. I knew the Christian music world would not welcome her back with open arms, but I knew that she would have plenty of fans still. I don't think she knew it at the time, but there were a lot of closeted lesbians in the church world that had grown up going to her concerts and loving her music. I think we felt a connection to her, before we even knew what that connection was. I guess I can't speak for everyone, but I do know for a fact it wasn't just me. She was out in 2010 and I was still 2 years away from my own self-discovery and trip down the coming-out lane. Her album Letting Go was worth the 7 year hiatus. It was incredible. The cover picture alone says it all. A wild-haired Jen, just letting it all go, arms out, yelling to the skies. I love it. To hear her honest words about herself and the journey she's been on all those years, it's a rare treat to the ears, to hear raw emotions and truth. But yet it wasn't done in a "mad at the world" kind of way. It was done right. I remember going back to the album a few years later, when I was going through my own self-discovery and honesty truths. It gave me the courage to Dive in, as the first song on the album says. "I'm so tired of standing on the edge of myself. You know I'm longing for it, to dive in, dive in." I needed to dive in to my own life, and not the life that I thought I was supposed to have, because it was what everyone I knew had and what the church told me was the life I should have. I was ready to dive in to my own life and I did. I won't say I drowned, but I treaded water as long as I could and now I'm currently out of the pool only dipping my toes in. But I've been in the toddler's wading area and I've been in the part where the water's up to your mid-section, so I'm doing the best I can. You can only stay in the water for so long before you get all wrinkly and need to get out and be wrapped in a warm towel and take some me-time, alone time, to gather up your thoughts and plans for your next swimming outing. Hope everyone followed that metaphor. I think it started out as diving into your life and ended up diving into the world of dating. One I was terrible at with the guys and am pretty awful at with the girls as well. Oh well. It is what it is.
Back on track now. So enough backstory. So, JK (you can figure that out) had a new album to be released called Set me Free. And she got the help from her fans to buy different things like VIP meet and greets and merchandise and even her very own boots. The money went to help fund her newest album. So this was like over a year ago because her album came out in 2014. I bought a VIP Ticket, and I finally got to use it last night when she was in town. I thought I would get to shake her hand, snap a pic and be on my way. I mean this is what I know of how most artists meet their fans. This is how I met Joshua Radin (my favorite male artist) and Kristin Chenoweth (my favorite person in the world). They were still amazing moments and definitely hold high spots for "best moments ever," but Jen moved right up in there, last night.
After I found her tour manager, she whisked me inside like I was some rich and powerful woman who dare not wait in lines. Within seconds, I was in the back room of Poor David's Pub, where the artists hang out before a show. And there she was- Jennifer freaking Knapp. I felt like I reverted back to that 18 year old girl, shy and not quite sure how to speak to people. The room was like something out of a movie. Like when they have bands touring these clubs and the room has a really old couch that has seen better days and just a collage of randomness on every inch of the wall; other artists pictures, that kind of think. Jen joked that at least this room didn't have penises drawn on the wall, and I laughed and took a breath. First off she was a lot shorter than I thought she was. It's funny when you see someone on stage so many times, but you have no comparison as to how tall they really are. She was very friendly and personable. She made me feel at ease, which says a lot about her. My favorite moment was when she asked if I was an introvert or extrovert and when I said introvert, she said excitedly- me too! And high-fived me. That was the moment that took this amazing moment and put it into the "best moments ever" category. Just the fact that she really talked to me and didn't just take a picture with me and send me on my way, meant the world to me. I started to talk about how much her music meant to me and gave her a card with which I had written on both sides of and even somewhat awkwardly showed her my mountain tattoo and mentioned living in Colorado. She had to go for a sound check but promised we'd meet back up after the show, which I couldn't believe she would take more of her time to talk to me. I was in heaven. I didn't realize until I sat down in the front and center seat of that tiny little pub, that I had forgotten to get a picture with her, which would've been a selfie since we were the only ones in the room, so I was glad that we were going to get to talk a little more afterwards. After the show (which was of course amazing; just Jen and her guitar and her mighty mighty voice) I was whisked back again. This time her tour manager was back there handling the money with some old guy with a really long white beard that ran the place. She still tried to talk to me, while getting ready to go back out and meet some fans who were gathering around the merchandise table waiting for an autograph. Me being the weirdo I am, felt too awkward to say what I really wanted to say, not in front of other people. I am a one-on-one gal and that's all there is to it. They weren't even paying attention to us, but still. I wanted to shout out- "I'm a lesbian too Jen!" But I couldn't. It didn't make sense for me to just say that out of the blue. But later on I laughed at myself, because Jennifer had told a story during the concert that night about how some famous musician was staying in her hotel and how she was too afraid to go up to him and how she never does with artists she admires. She was like what would I say?? "I play guitar too!" So yeah. Jen gets it. If she reads my card, she'll know about me. I didn't spell it out, but it was definitely made obvious.
So that's the tale of when another "best moment of my life" was added to the already pretty short list. I did get that picture with her, which I'm sure I will put in a picture frame. Not that I will ever forget it. You don't forget those "best moments." You carry them around like treasures you've picked up along the way. You pull them out and you look at them with pride and joy and happiness and you remind yourself that, see?? These moments happened! And they can still happen! You never know when the next 'best moment' will happen. It might be years away, but it is definitely worth the wait.            

Oy with the feelings already!

I'm feeling very belittled. Like my experiences don't count, they don't have any weight to them. Like what I have to offer doesn't really matter in the end. So, instead of continuing to feel this way today, I'm going to write it out. Today I was talking with a friend who was going through a break up. And another friend came in to join the conversation...whenever someone says "don't be offended by this," I think you're almost always offended by it. I think if that part wasn't added, I might've even not given it so much thought. What else can you do when someone is going through a break-up other than offer encouragement and give examples from your own life? I talked about my 2 break-ups and how it took me a long time to get over them, but it takes as long as it takes, there is no time-line. But because those 2 relationships were with guys and I discovered that who I really want to be with and am attracted to, is women, she made me feel like those experiences don't count anymore. Getting over that heart break from the greatest loves of my life don't mean diddle squat because I'm not "straight"anymore. That's at least how the other friend made me feel. I just heard the words "don't be offended" and "because you've realized who you are now." And that made me feel like I had nothing to offer the friend who needed help and encouragement. I know that's not true, but it kinda knocked me down for the rest of the afternoon. I've been trying to figure out if there are other reasons as to why I'm mad and hurt over what she said, other than what I've just mentioned. I guess I also feel stuck in limbo. I feel like I'm neither straight nor gay. I don't even know why I need a label. I don't. But what I need, or needed, was to have met a woman and fallen in love and THEN realized I was gay and we'd get married and have a kid together (of course). But even if we had instead, broken up, at least I would've had PROOF that I was a lesbian. I read recently in Lena Dunham's book, Not that kind of girl, about her younger sister who is gay. How in the beginning when she came out (or Lena in fact kind of forced her hand) that Grace told her that she had a romance with a girl on a summer program in Florence. But years later she admitted that she had made it up. She had said it as a "means of proving to anyone who questioned her that she was really gay." I get that. I'm not that talented at making up lies about my life and pass them as truths, but if I could I most certainly would. I feel like you can feel one way inside but actions are really what makes change happen. So I'm partly mad at myself, because I haven't gotten to act on the realized feelings and attractions and longing and desires and pulling of my heart and body, that only came to the surface, to my attention- 3 and a half years ago. But also it hasn't been "ONLY" 3 1/2 years. That makes it sound like it has been no time at all. It feels like a lifetime and I've lived far too many lifetimes now. Lifetimes of loneliness. Lifetimes of isolation. Lifetimes of discovering myself and finding myself, for what? So I can remain alone until the day I die? Then what was the point? I would've rather stayed in the closet that I never knew I was in, than only to come out and be alone for the rest of my life. Now I get to be rejected by both sexes.

I told this friend going through the break-up that there's other fish in the sea (I didn't use those words), but I did say, because she is so beautiful, she will have guys lining up to date her, and that's the truth. She'll have no problem. She'll have too many guys to choose from. Granted, a lot could be jerks, but at least she has choices. I feel like I'm drifting out to sea like Tom Hanks in Castaway. Mollie is my "Wilson." She's my volleyball. She's all I have, and while she's great and all to talk to, like Wilson, she isn't going to talk back to me or hold me in bed or kiss me goodnight. (I do most of the kissing in this relationship. She does lick me on occasion, but that doesn't feel like it counts). But the point is I feel as lost and alone as whatever Tom Hanks character's name was in that movie. But at least he literal had no choices. I have choices...I just don't like any of them. But more on that later.

Back to the matter at hand. I don't think the other girl said in these exact words "your opinion or your experiences don't count," but that's how it was implied. Even though I've said I'm "glad I never married those guys," it wasn't necessarily because they were "guys," it was because they weren't meant to be. They are both married now, at least one has a kid, the other probably does too, I don't know I don't keep up with them. So obviously I wasn't the one, but besides that, they weren't right for me, and that has nothing to do with their gender. I don't know that I would've clued in that I was attracted to women, if I had been married to a guy since I was 22 and had presumably had 3 or 4 children by now. I honestly can't tell you. I don't have a clue. Anything's possible. I just know the life I would've had and I would have been in Women's bible study groups, if I had married either one of those guys. I would've been very active in church. I would've been very focused on my children's lives and schooling and caring for them, I wouldn't have even thought about my own needs, not in that way. I don't know what the sex would've been like, we never had sex. But I'm guessing I would've gotten used to it, hopefully. And since all those women in that bible study would've had husbands too, I seriously doubt anyone would've emerged from that setting. I mean I guess anything's possible, but it sounds more like a plot to a movie, than real life. I mean I spent the first 30 years of my life thinking that I was going to marry a nice Christian boy like all my friends from childhood through college. Unless a woman had specifically come into my life and shook things up, purposefully and directly, I think I would've remained clueless, at least until the kids were in college. And while there would've been a lot of hurt still, I'm sure, done to my entire family, it wouldn't be like I was doing it on purpose. I literally did not know I was gay until what's-her-face came along. It's not like I'm going to go out NOW and find me a husband, only to have children and then leave him when a woman finally comes along. I'm not insane. And I'm not cruel. I may be alone for the rest of my life, but I know what I want and what I want is what I've written in my novel, my screenplay, my story of my life in another universe, and countless journal entries. I've even started a young teen Sci-Fi novel that would have a little taste of young love... and those are ALL girl-meets-girl. Actually even the main girl is named Christie.... in all of my stories. I mean why the hell not? Did anyone ever notice that the comedienne Amy Schumer always gives the main character (played by herself) in every skit on her TV show and in her movie, the name Amy? I never copied her on this, I just realized that when I started getting into her stuff. So if she can, I can.
To tag on to what I said earlier about "choices." I'm not saying I have literal women knocking on my door begging to date me and I'm refusing them all. I'm mostly saying that there are choices out there in the world, meaning there are single women out there in the world. Women that are around my age, have a good job, college-educated, nice, funny, blah blah blah... but I feel like I've lost the ability to find them/bring them to me. I'm told, "you have to try and put yourself out there." I say- "I do! I have a TON. Here are some examples..." And then immediately the same person turns around and says- "it'll come when you're not trying." And I'm like what the fuck do you want from me?? To try, or to NOT try? Make up your mind. You can't have it both ways. I have done both, by the way, but that's beside the point, apparently. I feel like girls that are married and have been since their early 20s, get NO say in telling me what I should do, when it comes to meeting someone. You clearly were lucky. You didn't even try. You didn't even NOT try. It just happened and you were alone for like a day (compared to my 9 years) so you don't get to act like you have all the answers. If the tables were turned, I bet 100% of those women would be like, "What am I doing wrong? What's wrong with me? Why haven't I met someone yet? My baby making years are drawing to a close!!"  yeah. So shut your trap, married people. I will only listen to a married woman if she was in her 40s when she finally found someone, but more so if she was alone for at least 10 years prior. I think those women just barely exist. They're about as extinct as the Dodo bird.

So, I'm sure there are wonderful women out there, I just feel like I either can't connect with a single one, or I'm not attracted to them. I'm mostly attracted to the unattainable, so that's not great. But even if I go in with an open mind, and open heart, I'm almost immediately shut down, shut out or shut off. I don't want to blame Facebook or internet dating or the internet in general, but either I've turned into someone who can't relate and connect to people anymore, or I just haven't met that "someone" I can, with...yet. I hope it's the second one. I feel like I use up all my social skills in my job; constantly changing and adjusting to the type of mother I am interacting with at any given moment. Trying to connect with her so that I can help her child with whatever developmental milestone he or she needs help accomplishing. That's a lot of change I go through in a single day. I can talk one way, with a mother who is well-educated and has already done her own research on the issue at hand. And then a few minutes later I'm struggling just to get a mother involved in her child's therapy session, desperately trying to empower her and to make her not just feel like she can help, but WANT to help. I'm emotionally exhausted most days. I don't know that I could have my own child and work with all these others, at the same time. Someone would be getting less than my 100%. I probably won't ever have to find that out, but I'll cross that bridge if I come to it. So when it comes to trying to connect with someone I could be in a relationship with, it feels like I'm starting with scratch, each time, which I guess is all relationships. But I don't know if I can do it. I don't know if I want to. I mean I have, but I'm so tired of trying, only to be discarded, forgotten, cast away (if you will). It's discouraging, to say the least. Sometimes I feel like I have to care so much about the mothers that I work with (at least do my best to convey that when I'm with them), that caring for someone else outside of that situation, is just overload. If I was in a real relationship with them, you better believe they'd be the most important person in the world to me and I would care till the cows came home. But caring about everyone I meet that could be a potential friend or girlfriend...I just am not filled up with enough caring power of my own (poured into me) to care for every single person I meet. Call me selfish, I don't care. I've been alone a really really long time. I'm going to be selfish. I haven't been given the chance not to be.

So, I'm tired. My fingers are tired from typing on this little attachable keyboard on my tablet. And my brain is tired from thinking and "feeling" everything. Enough feeling. I'd love to be knocked down one day, by a beautiful girl who steals my heart and makes me believe in love again. Makes me care, again. I'd love to believe that woman exists on this planet. I'd love to believe she was made just for me. But I think the heart is hardest to convince. The brain can know facts and accept them, even if they make no sense. But the heart. The heart needs convincing. It needs to feel something, and to experience feelings that the brain can't put words to. It needs to feel love, not just be told it.

Living in a TV world

Is there anything more relaxing than the sound of rain falling outside your window? And I mean real rain. I've downloaded some fake rain sounds channel before and I don't buy it. It sounds like fake rain to me. Even if they use actual rain, it's not REAL rain. Live rain is not a recording. Just like listening to a song live by an artist you love, is different than listening to them on the radio. The quality is different. It's raw and real. I love raw and real. If I could find someone who wanted to live that way, with me, that would be awesome. I don't need perfect. Perfect is fake. I don't need you to act like you don't have prejudices of any kind, because every does, even if you won't admit it out loud. I hate meeting new people, I truly do. Because in the beginning, the conversation is about what you "do for a living" and what part of town you live in and boring stuff like that. It's not that I don't want to know those things; it's just that you could just give them to me on a notecard or casually mention it and then move on to your favorite song and why it's your favorite. What memory do you associate it with? These are the hard-hitting questions I care about. My job does fascinate people and they always say "it must be so rewarding," and it is at times, but mostly it's like any other job- the bosses just care about your productivity and making money. That's just the way the world works. In my free time I like to talk about the things I love, which mostly are: TV shows, book/movie franchises, music that moves me and why it moves me, what band or artist I'm going to see next, my cat Mollie, places I've traveled to and where I want to go next, and my godsons. These are all my most favorite things and what I talk about the most; firstly being (due to it's importance) my TV shows. Sure I watch a lot of shows. I used to be embarrassed by that, because it made me sound like I have no life, and maybe I don't, but that's not because I watch too many TV shows. There's a whole other reasons why that is the case and none of them have to do with TV. I don't do reality shows... like at all. If I wanted to watch a show with "real" people, I'd go down to the DMV... or honestly it's my every day life through my job. I get enough of that. Even though reality shows are like 75% fake nowadays, it's still the real world and I prefer my escape to be in the magical/fantasy/apocalyptic/crazy insanity world. One beyond the world of reality. I was thinking about what all the shows I watch have in common and everything I watch falls into one of these categories: 1. Quirky 2. Fantasy/magical 3. Apocalyptic 4. Superhero 5. Dark or Dark Comedy. Grey's Anatomy doesn't fall into any of these categories, but it's just awesome and I've watched it since the first day it came on TV and if I haven't stopped watching after they've killed every character I like, then I'll never stop watching. And Homeland doesn't fall into these categories and that's not usually the type of show I watch, but Claire Danes is absolutely mesmerizing and you just can't look away as she breaks down and ugly cries and spins out of control... so that's more of a "watching it for her" situation. Don't know why I felt the need to break that all down, but there you go. I like escaping into worlds I would never want to live in to begin with. I would literally not last a day in the world of The Walking Dead. Some worlds like that of The Last Man on Earth seem too good to be true. Pretty much everyone is dead, yet all the stores are in tact, there's no garbage or rotting bodies anywhere. It makes absolutely no sense, but to be able to take what you want from museums and shoes and live in the fanciest house by the beach if you wanted, seems pretty dang great. However you'd be stuck with whoever's left on Earth and they could all be jerks, which is how it's looking right now on the show (minus Carol).
I was having a hard week this week. The only time I was truly happy was when I was watching one of my favorite shows. Laughing at whatever crazy thing Sheldon said on The Big Bang Theory, took my mind off of how lonely I am all the time; despite the fact that this guy with social problems has more friends that want to spend time with him on a regular basis, than I do, and I would never say the socially appropriate things he says, which gets him in trouble every episode. They always forgive him and move on. I don't really buy it, but it's a show and it makes me laugh, so there ya go. I love getting lost in a show, or a book, when I find a really good one, which I don't most of the time. I'm extremely picky as an adult. I used to read everything as a kid, but now, it's harder to engage me. But the thing with me and my shows is that I fully invest in them and engage in them. I don't zone out and not pay attention. I could tell you everything that happened in one of my favorite shows. I used to do that for my best friend. She didn't like watching shows, but she wanted me to explain them to her. She told me it I explained it so well, it was like she had watched it, but she didn't have to. She always wanted to know what happened on Glee. I happily told her. That show combined my 2 favorite things- TV and music. Musicals are the best of both worlds. Plus my Dad loves TV shows as much as I do, and getting to talk to him about what crazy thing happened on The Leftovers and what our theories are as to what's really going on, is literally one of my favorite things to do. I love having someone as enthusiastic as I am about my favorite TV shows. Most people are too busy with their kids and lives to watch a lot of shows, and don't really care about them anyway. I even have a friend that doesn't own a TV. I can't even imagine. But with my Dad, we literally watch all the same things. We love to talk about them and I never have to feel like I'm bothering him or boring him, with talk of my shows, like I would my other friends. My Mom is another story. Sometimes I feel embarrassed talking about them in front of my Mom, it's better if she's in another room and it's just my Dad and I, or I'm talking to him on the phone about it. I can tell she doesn't care that much about them, despite the face that she too watches a lot of TV. I always got the impression that she thought I was just "wasting my time" or that she felt sorry for me that my this is as exciting as my life gets... talking about what happened on a TV show. I know what she truly wants for me. What she's always wanted- for me to be married and have kids. But that's not looking like that's going to happen. I've felt many many times that going out and meeting people only to fail at it or it being a total bust, that THAT "wasting my time." But binge watching all 4 seasons of Game of Thrones a month before the 5th season came out, never for a second felt like a "waste of my time." It felt like the most amazing time ever. I got to experience magic and dragons and an escape from a reality I didn't choose and don't seem to be able to change anyway, no matter how hard I've tried. But most of all, it makes me happy. I finally found my favorite TV character of all time in Daenerys, the silver-blonde haired mother of dragons beauty. Besides her beauty, it's her strength, kindness, confidence and leadership that I find the most attractive. Especially since she started out weak and controlled by her ass of a brother in the beginning of the series. Bo's Lost Girl previously held the role of my favorite character, and she's still in 2nd place, maybe a close 2nd...she's pretty kick-ass too. See? You can learn a lot from a strong woman, even as a fictional character. They inspire me and I fall in love with them... maybe a little too much, like with a certain girl in another Canadian girl-power show called Bomb Girls. But in the end, I separate reality from fiction and I know where I truly live. But don't all writers live in a fictional world anyway? Unless they only write boring Biographies. If I could, I would dedicate my days to writing. Who knows what I could truly do. But it doesn't pay the bills, and until I win the lottery or sell that first book I've written, of the untitled series with the placement title "1995;"  I'll have to settle for writing whenever I can... in between watching my favorite inspiring TV shows, of course. I'll conclude with my newest TV gem-find. It's a little Australian show called Please Like Me. The main guy and his roommate are actually best friends in real-life, which adds to the "realness" feel of the show. Despite dealing with tough issues like his mother's depression, the show still manages to have a lightness to it, that can only be true of a show written, directed and starred in by the main character. You can tell he puts everything into it, and what comes out is a really "real" show that doesn't make you feel stupid, it doesn't talk down to you, it doesn't "make" you laugh, it just "is." It's funny in a real-life sort of way. When a show is effortless and doesn't feel forced or like they are "acting;" that's a trust testament of a really well-made show. Plus it has an awesome theme-song: "I'll Be Fine" by Clairy Brown and the Bangin' Rackettes which the main character dances and sings along to in a different scenario at the beginning of each episode. Josh may be 21 and learning to navigate his newfound sexuality and figure out what he's supposed to do with his life, but in the end I am just like him. I just want someone to Please Like Me, too.

waterfalls

I'm sitting here watching a beautiful little waterfall in a small park hidden away in the neighborhoods of the town I grew up in. Never knew it existed till today.
This waterfall reminds me of something I had in my room when I lived in Colorado. It looked almost exactly like this but on a much smaller scale. I loved listening to that little fountain trickle water in my room, as I laid on the floor on the mattress I slept on. I moved there without a bed and someone gave me a mattress and box spring, but that was it. It never occurred to me to buy a frame. My room was this little oasis. Friends would come over and just felt at peace in there. I had purple lights strung up, and the low lighting and trickling water fountain created this very peaceful setting. Throw in opening the window to let in the cool Colorado breeze, and you got yourself a party. At least the kind of parties I enjoy.
A part of me truly loves all the Me time I get to have. Outside of work, my life is filled with calm, peaceful moments like this, a lot of the time. I think if I grew up in the woods, not like Nell, but an educated Nell, with even just a Dad to teach me to read and write and survive on my own; well I think I would be happy ALL of the time. If he never told me stories of princesses meeting princes or falling in love and getting married and having kids, would I even know to expect that? Or desire that? Would I even feel like I'm missing out? When he eventually died and I was left all alone in the woods, would I feel like I needed someone else? I wouldn't have Facebook or even know what that is, to tell me that, as a 34 year old woman, I should be married with kids by now. I think I would be completely fulfilled, with the animals as my friends, all around me, like Snow White but without all those little people to take care of and certainly without that Prince that I think "someday will come."
It's not even Facebook that's the problem. To be honest I've hidden from my newsfeed pretty much any friend who is married with kids, so about 99.9% of them. It's more the reminder when I'm around them with their significant other and other couples. I'm ok if it's just the 2 of us, because then I can kind of pretend it's 7 years ago, back when we were both single. All my friends start out that way, but for some unknown reason, I am the only one that doesn't move forward with them. I get to stay stuck year after year incapable of meeting any of the milestones they meet: seriously dating, engagement, marriage, buying a house, having a baby. Instead I just remain in the same status I'm always in: single.  I'm always alone, which is fine for the mops part because I love having time to write and watch my shows and decompress without having to take care of someone else or meet someone else's needs all the time. When I'm by myself and haven't been around people much for a long while, that's actually better. I get used to it. I can forget about wanting someone, because it's not being thrown in my face by friends who were once just like me. I can just live in my bubble of awesome me-time, just as long as no one comes along to pop it by simply moving forward with their life and meeting milestones every other 30 something seems to make. The only person I want to come and pop my me-bubble is another single girl, one who actually wants to get to know me, one who is interested in making connections with other human beings, and not just living a fake life on the Internet.
A friend of a friend (who also had her significant-other at this park where I wandered over and found the waterfall at) asked me what was new. And I literally did not even answer her. I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to say nothing, but it's always nothing. Nothing is new with me. I have no one, I'm still alone, I'm not moving forward in my life. Nothing is happening. It is better than bad things happening to me, so I'll take it over that. I literally couldn't think of anything to say. I didn't really want to talk about my trip to Niagara Falls in May, because for one thing it's not that recent anymore,  but another reason is I just didn't want to hear the faked interest of someone when they say "oh that's cool," but really they mean, "you went alone? The story doesn't even involved another person? That sounds depressing and sad. You're life isn't very exciting. I need a wedding or a baby or even just the talk of 'when will y'all get engaged', to excite me. To have something real to talk about. What else is there besides love and babies? That's right, the answer is nothing. Building families is what life's about. At least according to most of the population and what most advertisers appeal to, along with what most movies are about. Finding love. I remember when I was 16 I saw My Best friend's Wedding. What I most got out of that movie was that Julia Roberts was alone at the end of the movie. She didn't get the guy, the "best friend." Even though that seemed pretty obvious that was going to happen, I was 16, I don't know what I thought would happen, I just knew that the majority of the movies I had seen up until then and ALL the Disney movies I was raised on, told me that in the end, the girl always got the guy. So when she was alone eating her cake and she didn't even meet a potential boyfriend, there was just her guy friend (who was gay); I was like wow! It's ending with her all alone! That is so cool. When had that ever happened in a movie? It impressed me and quickly became one of my favorite movies of all time. I watched it a million times after that, quoting "you're never gonna be jello" and other lines endlessly with my best friend at the time. I had no idea at the time that I would be "Jules" one day. She was turning 30 and they had made a pack that they'd get married if they were ever to still be single at the very old age of 30!! That cracks me up now. 30 sounded old back then. But I appreciated so much, that a movie ended with the girl not getting the guy, for once. Even at 16, I caught that that was a big deal, and it meant something to me. I never thought I'd surpass 30 and still be alone, but here I am, 34. I feel like it's never going to happen. I just can't imagine connecting with someone in a deep way again. It just seems foreign to me now. I guess it's been too long, I just can't even remember how to do it or what it feels like. I mean 9 years is a hell of a long time. Meeting someone that I'm both attracted to physically and personality-wise, that to me feels like winning the lottery. Sure you would love if it happens, you'd feel like the luckiest girl in the world, but the odds are way stacked against you and it doesn't seem likely to ever happen, at least not to you.

Saw this on Facebook this evening- it was a cartoon of a girl riding a rainbow and it said: "a great future doesn't require a great past." My past consists of dating only 2 guys, both of whom wanted to marry me... until they didn't, so actually that's better than someone who say has dated 20 people none of which ever considered them to be marriage material. But my past doesn't determine my future. Having 9 years of nobody remotely considering me to be someone they wanted to seriously date AND me reciprocating that, because that is the key; doesn't mean my future doesn't hold that ONE person that wants to spend every day of their life with me, and vice versa. Ya never know for sure, I guess.
I never knew that waterfall existed until today. But just because I didn't know it did, doesn't mean it didn't exist before today. It's always been there. It just took me living here most of my life to find it. The same logic can be applied to almost anything. Just because I don't think anyone out there exists for me, doesn't mean they don't exist. It just means I haven't met her yet. It just means she hasn't found me yet. Hopefully one day I'll find my perfect waterfall... because damn...I love me a good waterfall.

"Lava"

"A long long time ago, there was a volcano, living all alone in the middle of the sea. He sat above his bay watching all the couples play and wishing that he had someone too. And from his lava came this song of hope that he sang out loud, everyday for years and years. (Chorus): I have a dream I hope will come true that you're here with me and I'm here with you. I wish that the earth, sea, the sky up above, will send me someone to lava. Years of singing all alone, turned his lava into stone, until he was on the brink of extinction. But little did he know that living in the sea below, another volcano was listening to his song. Everyday she heard his tune, her lava grew and grew because she believed his song was meant for her. Now she was so ready to meet him above the sea as he sang his song of hope for the last time. (Chorus repeats) Rising from the sea below stood a lovely volcano looking all around but she could not see him. He tried to sing to let her know that she was not there alone but with no lava his song was all gone. He filled the sea with his tears and watched his dreams disappear, as she remembers what his song meant to her. (Chorus repeats). Oh they were so happy to finally meet above the sea. All together now their lava grew and grew. No longer are they all alone with aloha as their new home. And when you visit them this is what they sing- I have a dream I hope will come true that you'll grow old with me and I'll grow old with you. We thank the earth, sea, the sky we thank too. I lava you. I lava you. I lava you."

If you have a child 12 and under or like me, you are childless but went anyway to see the Disney Pixar movie Inside Out; then you saw this Pixar short right before the movie, titled Lava. For me, it was even better than the movie itself. The movie hadn't even started yet and I was already wiping tears from my face. Luckily I was sitting on a couch in a small theater and no one was right next to me, so I could easily hide it. I've listened to the song at least a dozen times, since it showed up on a radio station on my Spotify. I play it for everyone, with 2 year olds that need help calming down, being the song's biggest fans. I love it because of the message it brings. The kids love it because of the calming ukulele strumming repetitively and this lulling them to sleep. I included the lyrics at the beginning, so you know what I'm talking about, but you really need to go to YouTube and at least watch the lyrics video and hear it for the full effect. You'll get the gist of it, even though it's not the actual video, those rights haven't been released yet, since the movie is still in theaters. But I love it so much because I am that volcano. I'm the dude, the big one in the beginning of the song. I've sang my song for years and years and I've watched friend after friend pair off and go off playing together as a couple, while I stay planted in that one spot. Nothing ever changes for me. The only constant in my life is my loneliness. I've sunken down like he did, my heart turning to stone and causing me to plummet into the depths of the ocean, where no one can hear my song anymore, where I feel like I am on the brink of extinction. "But little did he know." I love the message that love can be right under your nose, like it literally was in this song. She was right there under the water listening to his song and knowing that he was singing it for her, but he couldn't see her or knew she existed. And what seemed like 2 paths crossing in the night and just missing each other by seconds, actually turned out to just be a role reversal, in that the lady volcano sang the same song he had been singing out loud to no one, only she was singing it to him this time, hoping he'd hear. And he did, he was under the water and even though I believe it would theoretically take thousands of years for a volcano to emerge from the ocean and live above the sea spewing lava, it's a nice thought that it happened right when she sang it for the first time. Even though the lifespan of a human is not anywhere near as long as the lifespan of a volcano which is more like millions of years, still I understand the lesson on waiting. 9 human years is probably equivalent to at least a few thousand in volcano years. I'm pretty sure that this Pixar short was geared to the parents and adults that are watching it, and not the children. But I'm sure there are some smart kiddos out there that got the meaning of it. Timing is everything. Patience is a virtue a lot of people have trouble with. Hope is what saves you. It's all you need. As long as you have hope, you can make it through. Just keep singing that song. You never know who is right around the corner. You never know what's in store for your tomorrow, or the next day, or the next month or the next year. Don't let 9 years of nothing tell you that it will be a lifetime of nothing. Maybe it still will be, but you don't know that for sure. All it takes is one moment, and your life can be changed for ever. I like to dream, one that I hope comes true, that I'll find you and you'll find me. And one day I'll be able to say to someone with absolute certainty that they'll say it back and mean it- I lava you. But for now I'll take saying it to Mollie my cat, who just stares at me, but who at least looks at me when I say it. And I'll definitely take with great pleasure, my godsons saying "I love you," which I got to hear them say all of their own doing, many times last weekend when I saw them. That is simply the best. To be loved by another human being, especially a child, who you have to bond with to get that kind of love, well that means everything. Absolutely everything.

Inside a Starbucks

There’s an old man sitting cattycorner to me in the leather chairs at Starbucks. He’s falling asleep. He looks like a perfect candidate to be drawn, if I knew how to draw. He has the white gotee and the white thinning hair, but long enough to be scraggly and reminds me of most old man characters on TV shows. I half expected him to have a cane and yell about “kids today.” Looking at him I wonder if he’s alone. He doesn’t have a ring on. He’s here alone. Did he have a love once but lost her? he’s gotten up just now and I discovered that his hair is not what I thought it was. It’s in a long matted ponytail almost like dreds, despite being a white guy. He left the shop carrying a few dollars, leaving his things behind. I realize now that it’s not just coffee and newspapers, it’s a rolling suitcase and a couple of grocery bags. Is that all his belongings? Does he carry it around with him? Everyone has a story. You can’t make it through life without one. Even if you’re a vegetable unable to live your life, your story carries on. The people that care for you are your story. The things they learn from you, without you even knowing it, are a part of your story. He’s back, the old man. He got a cookie from the Subway next door. He looks clean enough to not be homeless, but whose to say? I wonder if he’s lonely or if he’s accepted his loneliness, that it doesn’t even register with him anymore? He’s easily in his late 70s or 80s, maybe older. How long has he been alone? I don’t want to live till I’m in my 80s, if I’m still alone then. I can’t imagine adding old age and a decaying body to that. I don’t want that life. At least now I can do things I love to do like go to Niagara Falls, Canada or hike around the mountains of Colorado. If I’m too old to do that and STILL have no one to share life with…I just can’t bear it. I can’t even imagine. According to his cup his name is Jim. According to mine, it’s Christy. No one ever spells my name right, I’m used to it. I do always applaud someone and verbally recognize it when they spell my name right. They deserve that credit. He kind of reminds me of this old guy I remember who would always feed the birds at the pond by my old apartment complex. He always wore a wool hat, even in the summer. He always had his Walkman on his belt. An old school cassette Walkman. I used to smile and wave at him as I watched him feed the birds the bread or crackers he brought. I’d be sitting there on the grass writing or listening to music, looking out at the water hoping to catch the elusive beavers that I saw lived there for awhile. He’d smile and wave back. He also seemed alone. You could tell who was alone and who wasn’t, at least I thought I could tell. The walkers and joggers of that pond area in the Village who were not walking with someone had a look about them if they were truly alone. They didn’t need to walk too fast to get home to someone. They weren’t talking to someone on the phone while they walked. They had no ring on. They had all the time in the world to sit and look out at the water and ponder life as I did so much when I lived there for several years, both before and after Colorado, when I was in my 20s. Apparently Jim here does have a buddy. A fellow old guy sat down across from him in the brown leather chair next to me and they clearly know each other, in the way they are talking. Glad he has someone. Even if it’s just a friend. Sometimes I feel like I don’t even have that. Sure theoretically I have friends. They exist in some virtual world via internet or in text form when they can respond, but they don’t exist in face to face form. I can’t see and touch them. I can’t be sure that I’m truly being heard by them, because their presence isn’t known. When or where they read my words said to them in unknown. I can’t even be sure that they really heard me. In person at least I can ask them. I can read their face, I can get a hug from them. I sometimes feel like a friendless friend. I try less and less to maintain friendships based on how many times they’ve been unable to hang out with me when I've asked them to, even with reasonable reasons, which they always are. It just gets too hard. It's been too many years since college, since friendships were taken for granted at how abundant and readily available they were. I think the greatest gift the universe has to give is to be connected to one person. At least one. To share your life with them, even if it isn’t your whole life. I look around the Starbucks, guy/girl couples all around. But there are a couple women like me (and one guy), on their computer, on the internet somewhere. I don’t think they are writing, as they aren’t typing very often and I am feverishly typing. With the soft piano music playing in my ears, I can still hear the whir of the machines making those lattes or cappuccinos. There’s also the light chatter of those who are not alone today. I’m just grateful it’s Saturday and I’m off work today. That I get to spend the day in Starbucks writing, is a gift in and of itself. I get to enjoy this Trenta sweetened iced green tea. That’s enough for today. Now to get back to the story I’ve been writing since December. Book 1 of the trilogy “yet to be named” (that’s not what it’s called it’s just ‘yet to be named’). Its current title is "1995" as that is when it takes place. It’s 159 pages and counting. Another thing to be grateful for. My writing. My imagination. My ability to give a voice to characters and a voice to myself, even if I’m not the best at it, out loud.

 

reading and writing but never arithmetic

 

I'm kind of ashamed to admit I don't read much as an adult. I think if you call yourself a writer, you really should be reading other people's writings as well. You should be an avid reader. It's almost like you should be training yourself as to "how to write appropriately" (as if following the way someone else writes, is the way to go). But I read so many books as a kid, that maybe it makes up for it somehow. I used to win "lunch with a teacher" at school (which I don't think would be that much of a prize to kids nowadays, they'd probably rather win "Tablet time" or something electronic-based) for reading the most books in class. I remember my name being on the chalkboard a lot, at the top. I much rather read than talk about whatever kids were into at my age. I was shy too, so there was that. I don't really see myself as shy today, but more so averse to socially interacting with most adults I come across. It's not that I see myself as "better" than someone else, please don't think that. I just don't connect. I don't like small talk. I like to talk about things most people have no interest in talking about, or they would find it to be kinda sad that I cared so much about it to begin with; that I clearly have no life if THAT is what I want to talk about.  But reading was my escape as a kid. I could live in a world that was magical and wonderful. I could even live in a world that was sad and challenging. It didn't matter what the world; I didn't have to talk in it and that was a relief. I continued to read into college, but it lessened greatly due to the fact that I had so much more to read that was required of me and involved entire textbooks. I don’t remember reading anything in college that I enjoyed, at least class-wise. In my personal time I remember reading an amazing book called Redeeming Love. I don’t know what I would think of it if I were to read it now, but at the time, it was the best book I had ever read. Then the Harry Potter series came out and my boyfriend at the time got me hooked on those and that carried me past college along with other books like The Secret Life of Bees and The Lovely Bones, both chilling and sad but beautifully well written. I’m sure there are so many more out there, but it takes a lot to interest me to even crack open the book to read the first page and even more to keep me reading till the end of the book. The Hunger Game Series was the last to do that for me. That series, to me, was even better than Harry Potter, and I thought I’d never say that. So I was surprised when I found myself wandering the book section at Target last night and even more surprised that I took home a book. The title jumped at me, though. The Opposite of Loneliness. It’s a collection of essays and stories, written by a Yale college student, who died tragically 5 days after graduation. That last part is sad, but not why I wanted to read it. I haven’t read much of it yet, but I can tell she writes honestly and with unabashed truth, and that’s exactly how I like it. And how I write too. In the long run, I don’t know how much about what she writes, I will relate to, since I’m not 21 but I always appreciate women who write the truth and not what they think you want to hear. The writer, Marina opens with “We don’t have a word for the opposite of loneliness, but if we did, I could say that’s what I want in life.” She’s writing this essay as she is leaving college to go out into the world and she’s scared of losing “this elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness.” Which she is referring to as college life. I completely get that. Like 100%. There will never be a time in my life again where I will have 30 friends or however many I had at the time. There will never again be a time where everyone else is in the exact same stage of life as I am, the same age as I am, and live about 5 feet from where I live. College is an amazing once-in-a-lifetime, time. She also speaks to her fellow students reminding them “…that we can still do anything. We can change our minds. We can start over. Get a post-bac or try writing for the first time. The notion that it’s too late to do anything is comical. It’s hilarious. We’re graduating from college. We’re so young. We can’t, we MUST not lose this sense of possibility because in the end, it’s all we have.” Although what I find comical is that college students need a pep-talk to remind them “it’s not too late,” because c’mon, they’re 21. They have so much time to figure it out…except sadly some, like the author, did not. But it seems to me she figured it out a lot sooner than most. But generally speaking, 21-year olds have so much time. They have time to figure out what they want to do, who they are going to be. They have time to try new things and live wherever they want. They aren’t tied down to a family yet, and they don’t need to be truly responsible adults quite yet (at least not completely). You can make mistakes and everyone will be like, “Eh, you’re young.” I see her message as more for someone much older than herself and her Yale peers. At any age you can change your mind, start over, try something new. It’s a lot harder the older you are, logistically, financially, time-wise, energy-wise. You have responsibilities and a sense of settling down, which may hinder this process, but it doesn’t have to kill it. Hard work and determination are the 2 key elements to anything you want to accomplish. Most people, correction- ALL people struggle with both of those at some point in their lives. In school I had both of those qualities because let’s face it, you had no choice. At least I didn’t, in my mind. I couldn’t be a 20-year-old still trying to graduate high school, or spend more than 4 years in college because the cost is astronomical and I was the one that would have to pay it all back. 4 years was plenty. I switched degrees half-way through and lost a lot of credits but I worked hard and had full schedules and still graduated in 4 years. And even with an equivalent to an “A” in my degree (but not overall thanks to those early classes that no longer counted). Of course grades don’t matter in the real world, only the degree does. You have to work hard and be determined in the job which pays you to live on your own and enjoy the little things in life. But without all those pressures I just mentioned, it is definitely difficult to accomplish anything else. If I was paying 20k a year and had 4-years to find a spouse, would I work a little harder at finding someone? Or worse, settle for just anyone? If I was being paid a salary to write a book or I’d get fired, would it push me to finish it quicker? Or would it be sub-par because I felt rushed and pressured to make it perfect? I know I move slow-paced, but I’m kind of okay with that. I can waste entire days all by myself watching a brilliantly written TV show but it doesn’t feel wasted to me. And I always throw in other stuff too, like laundry, cleaning, as well as other creative outlets like writing or scrapbooking. It’s rarely just ONE thing. And of course I also spend time giving Mollie lots of love and attention, whether she wants it or not. I often don’t even realize I haven’t talked to anyone, or seen anyone. It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just that I know they can’t or don’t have time for me, so why even bother? And trying to seek out new friends and make new connections is so daunting it makes me want to faint with boredom. But I suppose the day will come again when I give it the ‘ol college try. And then another year will pass and everything will remain exactly the same as it is in this very moment…as it always does.

I am grateful though, that my words can haunt the internet. So many others do as well, so it’s not to say that it is actually an honor to do so, but I know that more than one person reads my blog, and that’s enough for me…for now. Maybe one day I will see my words on the pages of a book on the shelf of Barnes and Nobles, or maybe spoken by an actress on the big screen. But if neither of those things happen, I will survive. I will continue to write. I’ll never give up writing just because it’s not reaching the multitudes. I will continue to write raw and real. I will continue to call myself a writer. I think the best writers are those who aren’t ashamed to write how they feel. They aren’t ashamed to reveal themselves personally because there is always someone else out there that feels the same exact way and thinks they are alone in feeling so, but they aren’t. I write for myself, but I also write for you too. Here’s to you…and to me.