Why I've always hated you...

[my music: Flinch ~ Alanis Morissette]

I just wanted you to know that I fucking got better again after I cried over your weight. Again, I made myself believe everything could be fine because you told me it could be. Now I find myself crying myself to sleep.

All because of that question you asked...

Maybe it's because deep down I'm scared about ever seeing you again. I'm afraid to see you and, like I've done so many times before, feel nothing. I'm afraid that I'll still be willing to give up everything for you and you won't accept it.

Maybe it's because deep down I just want to run away from everything the last year did to me. I've always been the stupid girl who wishes she never laughed just so she didn't have to cry. Man it takes a silly girl to lie about the dreams she has. Lord it takes a lonely one to wish that she had never dreamt at all.

Maybe it's because the last year managed to make me believe that I had been lying for so long to so many people about so many things. I believed that before a year ago I wasn't alive. Even worse was that I told you I could live without you. I've said that before. The truth is, I could live, but the life without you is definitely different. Diminished.

Then again, maybe it's just this stupid book I discovered at work: "Post-Secret." Its filled with postcards people have sent to friends and family with their secrets on them. Pretty much they all make you feel horrible because there's always a personal secret of your's on any one of the pages. Then again, maybe it's just me who feels that way.

Either way, you're still the reason why I don't sleep.

We only influenced each other totally

We only bruised each other even more so

What are you, my blood?

Musical Break: Alanis Morissette

That Particular Time

my foundation was rocked my tried and true way to deal was to vanish

my departures were old I stood in the room shaking in my boots

at that particular time love had challenged me to stay

at that particular moment I knew not run away again

that particular month I was ready to investigate with you

at that particular time

we thought a break would be good for four months we sat and vacillated

we thought a small time apart would clear up the doubts that were abounding

at that particular time love encouraged me to wait

at that particular moment it helped me to be patient

that particular month we needed time to marinate in what "us" meant

I've always wanted for you what you've wanted for yourself

and yet I wanted to save us high water or hell

and I kept on ignoring the ambivalence you felt

and in the meantime I lost myselfin the meantime I lost myself

I'm sorry I lost myself

i am

you knew you needed more time time spent alone with no distraction

you felt you needed to fly solo and high to define what you wanted

at that particular time love encouraged me to leave

at that particular moment I knew staying with you meant deserting me

that particular month was harder than you'd believe but I still left

at that particular time

The Long Kiss Goodbye...

I talked so much
I'm sure I didn't realize I'd gone crazy
Didn't catch my bloody nose
Or that my heart tried to explode
I still live with my High School QUINNIPIAC friends
Some people never change at all
We're still the same impulsive drunks
We were when we were small
maybe we were made for each other
So before we end and then begin
We'll drink a toast to how it's been
A few more hours to be complete
A few more nights on satin sheets
A few more times that I can say
I've loved these days
This is the time to remember
Cause it will not last forever
These are the days
To hold on to
Cause we won't
Although we'll want to
This is the time
But time is gonna change

This is not simply the story of my college career ending and attempting to come to terms with the idea of not being around the people who started as friends and became the biggest part of my life (despite the bickering, gossiping and fighting); this is the story of a girl who was forced to grow up like she's never had to even consider before.

In 2004, Quinnipiac was not the place I wanted to be. Between the nasty girls I lived with first, and having a boyfriend in another school, UMass Amherst was actually where I wanted to be. Had I done that, I am not sure if I could even be close to the point that I am in life where I can see things reasonably clear. Perhaps I would have cried less. Perhaps I would have loved differently. Either way, I wouldn't know My Girls or The Boys; the people that make me believe I'm one of the lucky ones at Quinnipiac, I found real people: the smiles of the pictures that made the last 4 years of my life worth living. I'm a sap, but everyone already knows that.

Irma<3Troup<3Hill<3Aspen Glen.
It really was the best 4 years of my life.

Now the growing up that comes with graduating college and moving on is not the only brand of growing up that I'm dealing with right now. Breaking up, especially when you believed that person had what it takes to love forever, is never easy. My darling heart though is not the only person to leave my life at this point though; there's always that security blanket. The boy who was the first one to truly break my heart, the one everyone remembers being that I cried everytime liquor touched my lips because of him. After coming to terms with not being together but always having a love for each other, we saw each other, without fail, every single time I came home from Quinnipiac. It was so much easier than staying away, especially when some unfortunate college relationship came to its inevitable end. We knew we would never get back together, but always talked about the emotional attachment that would surely never fade. He never really dated, I did. But now he's not here. Yes, of course, when the most incredible relationship I've ever experienced is no longer, he moves to Israel. Yes, Israel. Even though it's only for the summer, I feel strange not having him to pick me up in the middle of the night to go for a drive or find some dunkin donuts. My security blanket is gone, and now I have to deal with a break-up truly on my own. It sounds stupid and it sounds weak, but I know and I hope that people acknowledge that I am not the only one who has experienced having this kind of security blanket.

My Quinnipiac experience is over.
My English love affair is over.
My dependency on a former love is over.

And somehow I think I'll be just fine.

New Year's Eve, Four Months Later

The stemware was fragile; unusually fragile for usage on New Year's Eve. The sensually fragrant and deep red contents sit warm, and as my fingers dance around the smooth wide base I am more aware of the deep red contents ripping through my veins. Beyond my existence with the glass, there is a beautiful man sitting only inches from my right side. His hands are smooth, thin; the left one lies on my right knee and bears a shallow scar on its back just below his middle finger and stretches to the crest between his thumb and index finger. I look down at it, rub it with my thumb and realize that I have no idea where it is from. Did he fight someone? Never. My mind sifts through the impossible options like that one, and then realize, knowing him, it was probably some inexcusable cooking accident. A smile finds its way to my cheek muscles.

Another sip from my glass is stolen, and I meet eyes with my love. His eyes are large, dark, and glistening just like the day we met back in a grungy student house in Hamden. Perfectly formed lips that he inherited from his mother morph into a crooked smile and he diverts his eyes down to my seemingly tiny hand that rests at home on his hand with the tips of three fingers tucked gently around then under his finger. I divert my eyes and take in the rest of the scene that has wonderfully framed the romance and love that swells in my chest. The light emanates from small rust-colored glass-sconces around the restaurant on faux-stucco walls and creates a warm and rich atmosphere. The chatter and laughter of the room filled with twenty- and thirty-somethings provides the ideal soundtrack for ringing in 2008. The room is not overly crowded and the cool breeze drifts in from the busy London street above. Bartenders, including our own Bruno, rush back and forth, one end of the bar to the other, fetching drinks for waiting patrons clad mostly in black and gray, and even sending drinks in a small "drink elevator" to the parched patrons on the second floor.

It is now 11:45. My love and I sip the last tempting drops of wine, grasp hands, and head for the street.

The cobblestone stood empty and untouched in front of us. A line of "Bobbies" clad in highlighter yellow stand like an impenetrable wall to our left with a sea of intoxicated Londoners crashing against them. The same wall to our right, with only a dozen or so people of the same nature dripping against it. As those patrons stumbled back up the street, my love called out: "Excuse me, are they letting people down that way?" The man responded with an uneven shaking of his head and lifted his left hand, confused at the police's blockade. His right hand occupied with the bony fingers of his leggy girlfriend. We walked around in the 100 yards of space between the two walls of police, trying to find a break between the buildings where we could just maybe see the fireworks over Big Ben that are the signature of New Year's in London. No luck.

We make our way up the street, break through the police wall, and holding that hand that I love so much, pressed through the dense crowd. It is now 11:50.

Now, I reflect and discover that the separation from my love has been a reliving of that night over and over again. Simple love and happiness behind us, walls and barriers around us, and obstacles that we can only get through by holding on to each other.

We weave through men, women and children like a high-speed video game; I, only able to see the back of my love's head, of his grey jacket, and his strong yet gentle hand, crash into the arms and torsos of strangers; much like the way, since the moment my plane left the soil of England, my shoulders have battled unrelentingly with paranoia, conniving females, misunderstandings and the misery of 3,500 miles. The crowd seems neverending, much like the misery.

Eventually we did find the end of the crowd. My love turns to see if I've made it through still holding on to him; he smiles at the sight of me. Our grasp remains firm, remembering the test of the crowd. Four months after I left that town, that night, that feeling, I find myself in this exact moment: the night sky dark with bright speckles of hope, the streets glisten and reflect the neon lights of the bustling city, and my love standing in front of me with his picture perfect smile and a perpetual hold on my hand and my heart. The fighting has finally ceased and the clarity of existing singularly and peacefully in the middle of such an insane evening is finally mine.

It is now midnight.

The crowd is unaware of the time, and the only signal we have is the fireworks over Big Ben. Over the tops of the aged buildings, we can see the flickers of celebratory explosions. The crowd has disappeared. The sounds have ceased. My love moves me in front of him, my back pressed up against his chest, as he wraps his arms around my waist and asks me if I can see the fireworks. I don't see anything. I don't hear anything but him. Tears build up in my eyes and pour out at the realization of what I had been pushing out of my mind for so long; I love him.

Now, as I sit alone in my luxurious yet cold apartment, I realize there are new thoughts and emotions that I have tried to supress and deny, but actually are the deepest truths of my existence. Again, in the company of hysterical-deafness and watery eyes.

Musical Break: Coldplay

Til Kingdom Come Lyrics

Steal my heart and hold my tongue
I feel my time, my time has come
Let me in, unlock the door
I've never felt this way before

And the wheels just keep on turning
The drummer begins to drum
I don't know which way I'm going
I don't know which way I've come

Hold my head inside your hands
I need someone who understands
I need someone, someone who hears
For you, I've waited all these years

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come
Until my day, my day is done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me

In your tears and in your blood
In your fire and in your flood
I hear you laugh, I heard you sing
I wouldn't change a single thing

And the wheels just keep on turning
The drummers begin to drum
I don't know which way I'm going
I don't know what I'll become

For you I'd wait 'til kingdom come
Until my days, my days are done
And say you'll come and set me free
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me.

Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me.
Just say you'll wait, you'll wait for me.

you know this is for you<3

The Dancing Star

The low lights cast dark and strategically placed shadows that hide the salt water streaming from my bloodshot eyes as I selfishly clench your "Broken Knowledge". The edges of the pages are curled and creased like the suit jacket you wore when I saw you last. I hold the book as though by some miracle you can feel the warmth of my wretched fingers. But you can't. Everyone sitting at that table with me was yearning to hold you but settled for cold leather bound books of your written words. Wherever you may have gone, we now wonder if you ever realized how many people you truly touched.

We read your written words to a room full of people, most of which knew that you had passed, knew that you were a great man and a great professor; but knew little beyond that. I read your poem "If Not The Wind" to the understanding crowd that sat attentively, eager to hear the words of the man that so many people are grieving. It was so difficult for me to do it, but I knew that I had to. I had to tuck my fears in to my back pocket and read it for you; for your honor, for the lessons you have taught me, the journeys that we've shared, for the memories we've made, and for the tears that we've cried. You did not fear the wind in the poem, and I know that you did not fear the wind in the end.

On the way back to my car, I whispered into the night wind my truest emotions for you. And I knew that I was being selfish in thinking that you heard me, that you were watching over me. I hope that you do drop in once in a while and take notice of how you have truly left a heavy thumbprint on my life.

To me, you are that dancing star. Even though it never danced, the man it was branded on was a bright light in a dark place. You were that hope and guidance for me, the girls, and every other student you've had. As I am sure, your fellow professors and scholars felt that you were the same for them.

You are loved.
You will be sorely missed,
but we will always have London.

Rest In Peace
Mark Evan Johnston
August 22, 1945 - November 27, 2007

Thanks so much...

[my music: Big Casino ~ Jimmy Eat World]

So it seems that my last Thanksgiving break ever has come and is fleeting into the frigid night. It was a truly special week, with many events, many new friends, and many chances to sit and reflect. Thanksgiving day was great; sitting around discussing random happenings in separate but still connected lives. Talks of a wedding in exotic locations remained sprinkled throughout the day, with nothing short of excited responses and ideas. Toward the end of the night the women found themselves gathered around a table that continues to be occupied by pumpkin spice mini bundts, rice crispy treats, brownies, raspberry cream chocolate cookies, tea cups, and about a million Thanksgiving themed tiny paper napkins; as we still discussed things that make us smile, and laugh, and pretty much things that make us Chan women. All of this, while daddy and MJ rested in preparation for their father/future son-in-law fishing trip. Overall, it was an extraordinary day. And I must add that I am so happy for Andrea and MJ on their engagement, and despite the lack of importance of material objects in a loving relationship, her ring is absolutely exquisite.

Besides the day itself, so many things made me smile this week. A day reserved for me and my mother at the beginning of my break for shopping, book browsing at barnes & noble, making dinner, movie watching and a Bailey's cheesecake, made the day quite enjoyable. My mother is the best.

Then of course, hitting up Brux with Lisa & Courtney on Thanksgiving Eve was enjoyable to say the least. Dancing in the boom-boom room, just chatting, running into Beau (my faveee) and Monika, and so much more reminded me why I haven't completely given up on the possibility of the existence of quality life forms in Rockland. Plus, scarfing down McD's with Lisa at 3 am is always a plus in my book.

In the midst of all the happiness and life-loving, there was that depressing reminder that sometimes people change beyond recognition over the course of college. Also, sometimes when long-term relationships end, the parties involved immediately return to the age at which they started the relationship. It's a bummer when you witness it first hand, and get kinda screwed over in the process, but hopefully that certain someone will come to realize how life changes and we have to stay strong and not just give in to your childish urges. Also, sometimes the nice guys turn into complete assholes in college. BUT, somewhere tucked in the one downer night, was flashback central. George, Mark, Alap & Harsha made the most unexpected appearance, or should I say reappearance, in my life. And it was interesting, but delightful nonetheless. In addition, I'd have to say that a certain someone came through for me that night when I really needed someone. And that person has no dedication to me anymore and the fact that he still came through meant a lot to me. So thank you.

My last full day in rockland started off with such creative force in my soul, so I made a few christmas cards that came out beautifully (yes, i am a card-making nerd!). Then of course 2 hours on the phone with my favorite boy was enough to make me smile for the rest of the day. I could never get sick of that voice :D. Then my last day at Aber was pretty decent, i mean working with Lisa, Megan, Alicia, Decker, and Susan (and some newbies) is always a good time. Closing down women's 1 with Alicia & Decker was HYSTERICAL *Foofy/Pookie wants to dance!* After work, having to yell to communicate with Decker & Alicia in Decker's vibrator on wheels was quite hilarious, as was Decker and I yelling while walking down to the 189 in the voice of a 1980's housewife from Brooklyn at our imaginary husband Harry because he's disgusting. The fun slipped for a minute or two when we arrived, but the night ended on a very high note.

And as per usual, the week at A&F was great. People may judge those that work there, making claims like they're fake, snobby, bitchy, materialistic, shallow, and whatever other negative garbage people want to sling at them; however, in my experience, there are amazing people that work there. I will admit though that there are better people in the Palisade's Aber, than in the Connecticut Post (sorry guys). You know what? We are judgemental at times, harsh and bitchy. But we're awesome together and have a great time no matter what. I'm gonna miss them over these next few weeks, and I'm stoked for our winter break reunion.

Even outside this week, life has been lovely, depressing, joyous, and infuriating. But that's the way life is, and coming to terms with it and rolling with the punches is all we can do. And I feel as though I'm rolling quite well and that's why I am so incredibly happy now. Also, with events in my life, I've come to realize when my years of pain, mediocrity, and happiness begin and end, and I think that I am in my rightfully earned year of happiness. It's been a while since I've been this positive with my outlook on anything. It's also been a while that I've been asking for a year of pease, serenity, and honest happiness. Finally, I think it's here.

My life is fantastic right now, and that is what I am thankful for.

Sometimes that slight twinge of pain lets us know we're alive

[my music: From Where You Are ~ Lifehouse]

So over the course of this semester thus far, I have realized and come to embrace the multifaceted nature of everything in this life. From the minuscule to the immense, everything has more than one side from which people may view it. Which is why, as explained in my previous posts, that I believe my views and beliefs to be realistic while others see them as the bitter rantings of an unromantic atheist. Actually, the more that I read up on various belief systems, the more I tend to believe the pagan beliefs than anything else. But that's a whole other post!

Anyway, the point of this post is in the realization I came to the other day I was writing a message to the guy that's very dear to me, but very far. The concept of missing a person is often regarded as such a negative thing. It's a state of deprivation. A state of unhappiness with the absence of another. But that day I realized that I don't feel deprived or unhappy. I feel content in the idea that I have someone to miss. So many people at this age are searching for that someone to mean something, and I have it. It doesn't matter that he's in another country, it doesn't matter that I have to go months without him. I'm so happy with the idea of missing him because it lets me know that I have someone that I care about. And the fact that he misses me, lets me know that my feelings and emotions are not in vain.

Essentially, I would much rather care and feel this slight twinge of pain, than never have known what it feels like to care about him at all.

There's a difference between negative and realistic

[my music: Something ~ The Beatles]

So the other day I was at a party and this girl came up to me in her drunken excitement, and was thrilled to see someone from her philosophy class. She proceeded to tell me my name followed by "you're the really negative girl" . . . wow. As if that wasn't enough, she then inquired as to why i was so negative and asked if I had a horrible life.

I happen to feel that I don't view things in a negative manner, but more so a realistic manner. Perhaps it's also my attempt at self preservation, because with these viewpoints, I cannot be disappointed when I encounter love that was referred to as "unconditional" or when I die and don't find myself with Saint Peter up at the pearly gates of heaven.

I also happen to feel that my life is awesome right now. Only a lucky few can find themselves in my shoes. It's 2007, and I find myself a 21 year old healthy individual getting ready to graduate from a University that I love and at which have spent the last 4 years with friends that have shaped my life. Friends that I've made at Quinni and the ones that i still have from home are my life. My family is an incredible force in my life of 5 individuals who are strong and supportive. Further still I have an amazing guy in my life who is so dedicated to me and keeps me happy unlike any other guy i've ever been with, and he does it all from 3500 miles away. I maintain a steady level of happiness and satisfaction these days. So my views shared with my class are in no way, shape, or form a result of any "negative" life.

Oh, that reminds me, today is first official day of something amazing. :D

I Love You Unconditionally?

[my music: 1234 ~ Feist]

So yesterday I realized that the entire student population in my Philosophy of Life and Life After Death has come to a consensus that I am a negative person.

First I told the class that I don't believe in Heaven or Hell. I would much rather believe that the spirits of the departed remain among here, weaving in and out of the worlds of living individuals; as opposed to believing that if we commit adultery, or take the Lord's name in vain, then we are doomed to a fiery eternity of pain and torture. Or on the opposing end, I think an eternal existence among happy, cubby cherubs chilling in clouds, would become rather banal.

Then in a discussion regarding near death experiences, I expressed that i don't believe that the tunnel vision and the hearing of voices is anything significantly spiritual and religous. People across cultural and religious boundaries expereience the same things, and I believe that this can be explained by the simple connection that we are all human beings with the same general anatomy and body functions. When the body is shutting down and coming that close to actual death, I feel as though what people see and hear are simple the results of a the few sparks still going off in the mind of the individual. And the reason why some experience this and others don't is nearly similar to why some individuals recall dreams as positive or negative, while others don't recall their dreams at all. There are arguments that people having these experiences come back to life with a much different outlook on the rest of their earthly existence and resulting from a deeply religious awakening. Once again, I disagree with this statement. I think that people who come so close to losing their life simple come back with a different regard for the life which they lead. They now understand the frailty of life and the limits of time on such, which therefore will change the way they conduct the remainder of their days. It's only natural for someone to have a changed outlook and manner of handling things when they realize that it is actually limited.

Then last night, the discussion revolved around love. My professor wrote a book "The Loving Person," in which he explores the nature of loving, styles, concepts, then different parts of loving interactions: sex, marriage, friendship and death. Well there is an argument made by a philosopher by the name of Erich Fromm, that women love their children unconditionally because of the obviously physical contact between mother and child; while the father loves the child conditionally because the child needs to fulfill certain expectations of the father's, in order to receive his love.

I do believe that parents love their children differently, however I do not think it is fair to say that the mother's physical carrying of the child during those first 9 months is grounds to claim a closer connection. In some situations, the father can be closer to the child for any number of reasons (including postpartum depressions, work/occupation arrangements), and can then claim to love the child more than the mother does.

However, I do not believe in the existence of unconditional love. Unconditional by its very definition is: "not conditional; not contingent; not determined or influenced by someone or something else" (dictionary.com). Another aspect of unconditional love, not stated in this definition is that it would be witout compromise. To me, I do not see how someone could love anyone without certain conditions or compromise. In every loving situations, regardless of if it may be between mother and child, between lovers, friends, or family, you will have to compromise and maintain certain boundaries which are essentially conditions that love simply cannot pass. Many will claim to loving family members and even lovers unconditionally, but I feel that the claim is only because the boundaries were never breached and compromises never broken. I am not saying that the feeling of unconditional love cannot exists. I do feel however, that it is an illusion.

Maybe I am negative. Maybe I am mildly cynical. But I have reasons for believing these things, and I can argue my points just as easily as a relgious fanatic. And the way I think makes me who I am.