I don't know where this blog is going

I told Ms. Vu on Friday that I intend on maintaining this blog. I do this often though. Tell myself I plan to keep up with journal entries and a general logging of my thoughts, so we shall see. I would like to establish a type of theme, something that is more focused than some of my previous writing. My original idea was to discuss mundane or not so mundane events of my life and some way look at a larger lesson I could take from each occurrence. I also wrestle with the idea of discussing a journey of personal discovery.

I constantly feel like I am on unsteady ground, with no firm grasp on anything around me. I know I can not be the only one out there to feel this way. I might be able to find other people who feel this same way.

Although I previously wrote that I no longer wanted to dedicate any entries to my love life, I feel now that maybe it would be more valuable for me to share. I can work through my emotions and thoughts in a more organized manner.

I don't know where this blog is going, I just know it was helpful to me. I enjoy writing most days, as I notice it both improves my writing as well as it allows me to work through all the thoughts that fly through my head. There are too many things to handle at the moment, I can not pin one down for observation or analysis. So for now, I plan to bask in the unknown.

testing

Fortune Sides With She Who Dares

Fortune sides with she who dares . I stumbled upon this saying at work one day. I think at some point I would like to have it tatooed. For some reason it holds a lot of significance for me. It reminds me to dream, to be brave, to take risks, because there is no point in living life if we don't take risks. Risks seem to pay off more often than playing it safe or being ordinary. Ordinary seems boring, daring is more adventurous and I think in the long run bares more rewards. This saying also reminds me of "well behaved women rarely make history." I do not strive to be well behaved. Maybe it's silly, but in some way I want my daring efforts to make history one day. Whatever those daring efforts might one day be.

Reflection

How much of our life is spent taking advantage of the little moments? That's all life really is, an assortment and collection of little moments that all make it significant. I wished I remembered more of the little moments of everday life. I think it is easy to forget why each day is precious. Each day is precious. As corny as that sounds. I think most often times i get caught up in the day to day events and forget to just take time to appreciate the little things. Sometimes when i am riding the bus in the morning to school or work i remember. The sun rise reminds me, or a friendly interaction with another passenger, usually a rare occasion. At one point there was a musician who would always play his flute in the bus tunnel. For a month or so in the summer time I would see him. Every encounter was pleasant and something about his cheerful hello or upbeat tune would make my day. I miss those days. I miss the days where I remembered to appreciate. I hope this reflection causes them to return soon.

How much of our communication is non verbal?

Recently I am constantly reminded of how much of human communication is non verbal. When you really think about that, it means that somehow we possess the great ability to communicate things with others without saying a single word. I am reminded of all the ways it is possible to do this, through our body language, eye contact, gestures, maybe there are other ways I can not seem to think of. Have you ever met a person where there body language seems to communicate nothing, or they are impossible to read? I wonder if that is a skill you can acquire, the skill to read other people through the way they carry themselves. I would like to think I am somewhat knowledgeable in this area, for how much people watching I do. Sometimes, when i people watch, I will make eye contact with someone and there seems to be a moment where our eyes say something to one another, but it is very hard to decipher what that message is.


My favorite time to communicate with other people non verbally is in crowded social situations. Instances when I can lock eyes with a friend of family member and we somehow know what the other is saying.


This ability to say so much by saying so little is an odd concept. I would one day like to go an entire day without a word and see if others and I were still able to communicate

I am slightly sickened

by all my journal entries that involve the topic of the opposite sex. I am especially sickened by the obvious fact that most of the entries discuss the same member of the opposite sex. I am additionally sickened to discover that over a time span of three years, I seem to have come to no new revelations in any of the entries, but instead repeatedly follow the same pattern and come to the same epiphanies. By definition then they do not qualify as epiphanies because the same sudden realizations are not new, just refreshed every few months. The best way to describe is to say I follow the same pattern, realize I am following the pattern, stop the pattern after having a so-called epiphany and then unconsciously fall back in to the pattern as the cycle persists.

Although the most recent entry about him spans at least 8 months back, I can not even bring myself to post a single one because of my deep feelings of embarrassment. Embarrassed for continually making the same mistakes and tricking myself in to thinking they were different. Embarrassed for wasting so much time and energy obsessing and pining over someone who probably never really cared. How could I have spent my time instead? How would my life be different now if from the first warning sign I just stopped? In some weird way I am following the same pattern again. Another entry devoted to the same member of the opposite sex. The same guy that has multiple entries written in his honor from the past four years. Cheers to devoting my adolescent heart to someone who never gave a crap.

Lack of Control

I hate when things are out of your control. When you are unable to institute any kind of change in a particular circumstance and you just have to embrace the unknown and uncontrolable nature of the situation. Some people enjoy this aspect of life. They like not knowing where there life is headed and waiting for the surprise outcome of situations. I, on the other hand, am not one of those people. I like to know what is going to happen before it does, or being able to influence situations when I desire. So for me, it's scary and unsettling when I have to knowingly enter a situation where I possess no say. I do not enjoy the unknown, or maybe it's not that I do not enjoy it, but on top of liking to be in control I am extremely impatient. Extremely. I have peeked at birthday presents and loath the word "maybe" or the phrase "I don't know yet." HOW CAN YOU NOT KNOW YET??? WHAT does maybe even mean?? I like firm answers, black and white, clear cut. I do not value indeciseveness because I experience less stress when things are known and decided.



So the current situation, for which i do not feel comfortable citing specifics, contains many of the elements I find unnerving. There are too many maybes, too many unknowns, and too much waiting involved in this whole process. It is a serious excercise in restraint for me to not naturally revert to my normal reaction, which is to just become frustrated and shut down. Normally when I revert back into this behavior, I simultaneously shut out the people involved. I am doing my absolute best to not do that this time around, but it is proving to be very difficult. It's hard to correct behavior, even when you know that behavior does not best serve you. So, i guess at this present moment in time I will have to settle with having a lack of control over the present situation.

Waiting

I am probably one of the most impatient people on the planet earth. If I didn't know how to fall asleep in cars or occasionally exercise self restraint I would be the little kid in the car constantly asking, " are we there yet? are we there yet?!"

So here I sit waiting patiently, but not really. I will check my phone every five seconds to see if I have a missed called or text message, even though my phone has not left my side in the last three hours since we last spoke. What is soon? What does that word even mean? I am unsure, but it feels like frickin forever on this side of things.

As I sit here, trying to distract myself by writing this blog post I begin to set myself up for disappointment. This seems to be a habit of mine. As I grow older I have begun to realize that I almost always expect at this point to be let down. Yes, he said soon, but soon could mean tomorrow by his definition. It would not be the first time there was a miscommunication of this sort.

Soon, what is the definition? Within short period of time; promptly or quickly. Does nearly three hours qualify as soon? Maybe in the scheme of life it is a short period of time. In that time span I could have watched two disney movies, or gone to the gym, or finished half my homework by three hour definition of soon. This sure does feel like a long time.

My phone is still sitting in front of me with a black screen. Phone, will he call soon? Phone, will he call soon?

Mental Breaks Through Work

I work, all the time. When I am not working at one job, I am working at the other and it is beginning to feel overwhelming. I am one of those people that constantly needs to be busy though, otherwise I get too much in my own head and bury myself into a mental depression. I have a tendency to over think EVERYTHING and when I have too much time, I over think more than usual. I can not remember a time in my life when I did not do this, so I just have to accept it as a natural part of my personality. Those who know me well find this quality about me endearing, okay not endearing, but they tolerate it, and joke about it. I am drifting off onto a tangent. Anyway, work. Work distracts me from my thoughts and lets me slip into another mode of operation where my actions reflect the people and the company I work for. I appreciate this part about work because in a weird way it allows to become a person that's constantly cheery, upbeat, and helpful. I am not sure I would be this way ALL THE TIME with people if work did not encourage these traits within me. Work keeps me from slipping into my own thoughts because I can not afford to be distracted by anything other than the task at hand. So while work feels overwhelming at the moment, I guess my point is that I am thankful it saves me from my own thoughts when I desperately need the mental break.

hello

We Don't Get Along Because We Are Too Alike

I don't recall the first time I heard someone say to me, "Well, maybe you don't get along because you are too alike." I do remember thinking they were crazy because how could I not get along with someone who I had a lot in common with?

This is what I later came to realize. We may not get along with those who we have a lot in common with, because the parts we have in common are the bad "parts". We all have those bad parts. Okay, well they are not actual bad parts, but they are the parts of ourselves that we wish were not there. Our annoying habits, our compulsive behaviors, our short tempers, whatever we name them to be, we call them bad. When we are around people who just annoy us to the depths of our being, I've later discovered that it's because their personalities remind me too much of my bad parts.

to be continued

I need you to decide

I need you to decide
To make up your mind about where we are going and what we can be
About where you see you and if it includes me
If I can be a part of your future, I would just like to know

I need you to decide
So I can make the map for my life
Draw out my plans on paper in ink
If along the way our paths may intertwine

I need you to decide
So the pain within me can finally subside
The heartache and anxiety may finally come to an end
If you could just tell me if you want me

I need you to decide
Will you be with or without me

Back to the Days of Cheerleaders and Football Stars

Philosophy Intro to Logic homework. Summary for English 101 on a reading. Too many chapters of astronomy 100 to catch up on. Endless stream of popping soda cap sounds and a tangible sleepy silence. Rows of illuminated in flight tv screens and an unwelcome blast from the mini air vents above. Unfriendly stares from 14b for the irritation of my constant fidgeting and indecisiveness from what to pull from my bag. I could be focusing on all these minor or major (aka homework) distractions but I am more concerned with whom is in 10f. 6'1'' at least, perfect build, casually dressed, and armed with a charming smile that's been known for trouble.

He probably thinks I am creepy. Probably thinks I fantasized about him in high school. That I wished he would dump his petite 115 pound cheerleader girlfriend and tell me he fell for me when we shard the same film studies class. He probably thinks I find his cute little smile heart melting and that all I want is for him to request a seat change so we can share the next two hour and forty minutes plane ride together. He probably wonders why the hell I had to go and approach him when he was perfectly content with peeking glances at me and turning away. He probably thinks all of these things and for at those thoughts concerning me, he'd be spot on.

I hate to admit that when confronted with the awkward situation of running into people from high school, I immediately revert back to high school like behavior. It registered instantly who he was then, who i was then. Then, that's who I became. I stared, like I did in high school. My body temperature rose and put into a hypnotic state where I became incapable of forming sentences, a rare occurrence. Anyone who knows me, knows I am a talker. I felt us both trying to decided on the appropriate response to the situation.

Disregarding the others presence was not a feasible option after we made eye contact. Now the next question became, who will break the silence?

After standing in line, one man behind him for two minutes it was clear I'd be initiating operation awkward, "What have you been doing since high school?" small talk...

"Nick?" I whispered.

"Hey...," he slowly replied.

"Arianna," I said.

"Right, sorry. I thought that was it. Small world?"

"Yeah, headed back to Seattle?"

"Yep, yep. You, what about you?"

"Yeah, just down here visiting my dad."

"Your dad, that's cool. Yeah, I just went and saw Madeline at school."

"Oh nice, so you guys are still together. That's great."

side note: Madeline would be Nick's high school sweetheart. The 115 pound petite cheerleader he won't let go of. She should have left him long ago though, after the first time he cheated. But apparently you can cheat on someone countless times and still have them be the love of your life.

We continued with our small talk for a little while longer, before we both boarded the airplane and were separated by our seat assignments. Like I said, I secretly wanted him to request a seat change, but of course that did not happen. As I sit here, well not here, because now I am typing up this post, after the fact, I thought about why it mattered so much to me in high school what people like Nick thought of me. Why i secretly longed to be his crush, why i tied my self worth to a popular boys romantic interest in me. I especially wonder why all of those illogical feelings came racing forward the minute I spoke to him. Feeling like the awkward, outspoken seventeen year old I was my senior year of high school is never a sensation I like to re experience. I lived in that place for a year too long, and when it was gone, I did not miss it. So why did i let the feeling return? Why did I let such a stupid situation make feel like I was back in high school?

He didn't wait for me after he departed the plane. I thought for some reason he might, but he didn't. I did run into him again though, in the arriving flights pick up outside the airport. As he loaded his stuff into his rides car, we waved good bye and he drove off. Somehow running into Nick felt significant. In the year since I graduated high school I have somehow managed to avoid awkward run ins with previous classmates. This was the first one of its kind. Although I am embarrassed for the feelings the encounter sparked, I think it taught me compassion for the person I was then. I would rather feel compassion for that girl, the old me, than shame. But when Nick left, and I stood there waiting for my ride, I returned to my old new self, and was grateful that time of my life is now over.

California

My trip to California led me to realize why it is that people say we will one day turn into our parents. Since I live with my mom full time I am extremely aware of all the ways we are alike. We spend day in and day out together, less now than we did when I was a child, but still this has lead me to share many qualities with her. Because I grew up most of my life, without my dad around a majority of the time, on account of my parents were divorced, I never really got many opportunities to observe the qualities we did share. When i would spend summers in California, as a child, I was too young to be aware of things of that nature. Not to say that I was not an emotionally intelligent child, because I feel I was, but because more of my focus was spent on soaking up every moment with my dad.

Now that I am older, and my visits are infrequent in comparison to times in Elementary and middle school, I take in every detail of time with my dad. I try to enjoy our time together, as limited as it is, but also make every observation I didn't as a little girl. I watch my dad perform daily tasks and note his reaction and response to every situation. Not only do I then create some mental portfolio for who is he as person, but compare his own portfolio to mine and scan for similarities. Sometimes it is in our similar sense of humor, or how we freak out the second we misplace something, convinced it is gone forever. Our shared enjoyment in afternoon naps or our practical ways of thinking. I wonder if we would share more similarities than we do if he had raised me instead of my mom. Would I have acquired more of his endearing traits, or ones he wished were not inherent within him? Are we all doomed to turn out like our parents regardless of their amount of participation in our lives? And if we do, is it really such a bad thing?

I feel you

I stroked her hand. I stroked her hand and held back every urge to cry.

"Can you feel this?"

"Yeah, but you can't feel me. See, I can't hold your hand."

Looking down at her left hand, she raised it up and down with her right.

"I can't move it anymore."

She tried so hard to wiggle her arthritic hand; her crinkled and splotched immobile hand now useless.

My sadness swells in my throat, choking me. She feels it too. Her good eye sheds a tear, and another, and another. The eye which no longer opens, the right eye, is not leaking. This is usually not the case. If her eyes begin to leak, it's the right one, the one she can not open. Since it is the left, she is crying. Not the unexplainable result of her unexplainable closed right eye.

Squeezing her hand I reply, " I feel you."

Pick Up Lines

The worst decision a guy could possibly make is to hit on a girl when she is working. Not only that, but to hit on her when there are customers in the store and by opening the conversation with the question, "So, should i stick with faux hawk or transition to a mohawk?"

If you are a girl, then you have either experienced some version of this yourself, or understand the stupidity I speak of.

I understand it takes a lot of courage as a guy to approach a girl, but I don't think the best approach to "get my digits" is to ask the following succession of questions:

1. Should I stick with the faux hawk or transition to a mohawk?

2. You look Italian. Are you Italian? Do you speak Italian? That'd be cool if you did.

3. What languages do you speak? Say something to me.

4. Do you dance? You look like you dance. Do you salsa?

5. Are you the boss lady? You look like you're bossy. Do you like being bossy?

6. You look smart. Are you in school?

7. What do you want to be when you grow up?

8. What's your name?

9. Can I borrow your pen?

My responses:

1. Stick with the faux hawk.

2. Yes, I am Italian. I don't speak Italian.

3. I took spanish in high school. I have not spoken Spanish in a while.

4. No, I do not dance. Yes, I have learned the salsa.

5. No, I am not the boss lady. ( I was silent to question if I enjoyed being bossy.)

6. Yes, I am in school.

7. I do not know what i want to be when i grow up.

8. Arianna.

9. Sure.

I fail to see how interrogating me will cause me to swoon and fawn over a complete stranger. Maybe I fail to see the format's purpose because it is completley uneffective.

Word of advice: I'd prefer the line, "Is that a library card in your pocket? Because I am checking you out, " then a mess of unimpressive questions which ultimately lead to nothing but embaressment.

Freedom

I believe freedom is a state of mind. We are only as free as our thoughts. Our thoughts limit us and prison us from pure freedom. Freedom take form most often in children. When we reminisce about childhood it's common to express a longing to return to that state of unhindered expression. As i have grown older, i have discovered that what mainly changed from age five to nineteen was not the circumstances, but the way they grew to be perceived. I became aware of judgement, social acceptance, other's beliefs, and any social ideas that hsaped the way i viewed myself.

as i allowed all these things to influence my way of thinking, my way of behavior shifted as a direct result. i allowed outside factors to effect my inner expression. the views which over the years pierced my awareness, continued through to puncture inner pure freedom, freedom of a child. i do not speak of naivety, because awareness and knowledge of the world around us is a great skill. However, it is one thing to be knowledgeable and another to allow that knowledge to limit you from pure expression. Knowledge can lead to perceptions and perceptions can limit our sense of freedom.

I believe the ultimate goal in life is to reacquire that pure state of freedom. To hold awareness of ideas and perceptions but not allow them to stifle our inherent state of being, a state of freedom.

Food

Food is a large part of our culture. It is greatly influenced by our society and other factors. For my philosophy topic I am writing about food. Specifically, processed food. I did not realize until i began to work on the process for my paper how much of what we consume is processed. how much of what we eat comes in ready made packages. I wonder how hard it would be to go even an entire week without consuming any kind of packaged foods. I do not realize how little I actually have to prepare when it comes to meals. I think after writing this paper I will have a new found appreciation for home cooked meals. I may at some point decide to try and go without any type of packaged products, making everything from scratch. Are there people out there who actually successfully do that? Only eat raw food or things they make themselves. What if everyone produced their own food? how different would our world be? I wonder...

Is Age Really Just A Number?

I do not believe it is possible to treat someone completely separate from their age. While you may find similar interests as someone who is either younger or older than you, their age is never not a factor in your perception of them. This is just my belief.

While it may slip your mind during interactions with them, I think there is always some scenario in which the difference in age becomes apparent. For me it always occurs in scenarios involving the reference of a topic. A topic I can not understand or am unfamiliar with due to my age. Then, there it is, the moment where it becomes apparent that while I may hold similar interests or tastes as the other person, does not erase the gap in age, whether they be younger or older than me.

I am speaking of significant age differences between two people, because that is when the saying "age is just a number," is most often heard. In my personal observation, this saying most often presents itself in cases relating to a person's romantic interest. The point then being age is irrelevant in matters of the heart, just a number. I believe it impossible for age to be JUST a number.

The saying should more illogical natures of your heart. Your heart does not know numbers, it just know what it feels. If a person was making that point, then yes, age is just a number. In speaking of relationships, however, age can potentially present many differences and challenges. Your feelings for another person do not undo what is fact: their age.

I do believe it is possible for people with a significant age gap to be in successful relationships. I have yet to experience one, but I digress. My point is that no matter how much you love or care for another person, it does not undo that to some extent, you will never fully see them as just a person for their beliefs. A person's age determines their level of experience, their level of maturity. As we grow older, our ideas shape and shift, it's impossible to ignore these shapes and shifts. Age whether or not we chose to recognize it, in large part shapes who we are. Age is not JUST a number, because it will always play a role in our life. If two people are together and there is a large age difference between them, it is impractical to ignore how that time span may separate the two individuals. No matter how much you may love the other person, it is unrealistic to believe your love will fill all gaps. It won't. I say embrace the fact that in matters of the heart, age is not just a number. Be with someone if you love them, but don't be naive to think your love will conquer reality.

Fix You

This portion of lyrics from "Fix You" felt appropriate for reflection.

And high up above or down below
When you're too in love to let it go
But if you never try you'll never know
Just what you're worth

I look at those words and my heart hurts from knowing their meaning too well.

"You're better than this."

"You don't have to stay with him."

"Just let him go, the pain is not worth the company."

When you start to feel alone and miss those lazy love days, everlasting embraces, and whisper words it seems unfortunate the bond is broken.

Then, a scrambled montage of the relationship reality plays and a painful sadness burns deep within your body.

Missing some fantasy and what was there lie in separate realities.

Being lonely does not seem a freeing opportunity to discover your inner value which was once locked away by the blinding love binding you.

For now these are just some assortment of scrambled thoughts which arose when I read those words.

Star Stuff

is what we are made of. From this beautiful collection of dust and hydrogen and helium we were born. It's hard to believe that we came from those twinkling dots light years away.

The material present when the big bang occurred nearly 14 billion years ago made us. Astronomy has a way of igniting a childhood fascination within me.

Just look at that, does any of it seem conceivable?

We are part of some vast universe which can not begin to be constrained or defined within the limits of science. The universe is a great reminder of how little we really are in the scheme of our own life and infinite unknown around.

Here are some facts my astronomy teacher shared with our class:

1. Stars are light years away. Light years are a distance and not a measure of time. Light year is the distance in which light travels to reach us. Although light years represent distance they do signify the period of time an objects light takes to reach us. When we look at a star that is eight light years away we are looking at that star eight years ago because it takes that long for the light to reach us. We have the ability to look in the past.

2. There could be galaxies older than 14 billion years away, but we have not seen them yet because the universe has not been around long enough for that light to reach us. There is so much undiscovered.

3. While the universe is expanding, galaxies are pulled together by gravity.

4. Our milky way galaxy contains more than 100 billion stars

5. The stars are racing across our sky but we can not see it because of the vast distance.

We are all just star stuff, little bits of dust that were born from some exploding star that scattered the elements into space.

Maybe you'll gaze up in the sky now, like I do, and take a moment to appreciate those twinkling lights that made us all.

Counting M&M's

What happened to the days of counting M&M's?

To the days where little boys wanted to be astronauts and firefighters and little girls ballerinas and veterinarians?

When everything was possible, the sky was the limit, and adulthood was an eternity away?

I feel as though I am five again and people are asking me what I want to be when I grow up. Only now "when I grow up" is fast approaching and a firmer answer is expected. I can not change it every year from artist to writer to world traveler; I must pick one.

Can't I just slam my door shut, let the tears tumble, and scream through my door, " I DON'T KNOW!"

Life is so uncertain and we don't really know what turn of events will or may change our life. To say what we want to be or make some definite plan seems pointless.

I do believe in goals and dreams because I think without them we would all wander aimlessly. However, wandering to some extent is good.

My friend had a tattoo that said, "Not all who wander are lost."

I think for now I will go with that.

Plugged In and Tuned Out

Ipods, cellphones, game players, laptops, and everything in between with a battery, a signal, or a power button. Everyone is plugged into their own little world. Don't want to hear the chatter on the bus? Plug in your head phones. Want to pass time instead of develop patience? Check your phone. Looking to tune out the present? Look no further than the latest technological advances.

As soon as I start my day, I see nothing but Ipods, cellphones, or game players. It is a rare situation to see two strangers having a conversation and more common to observe people on their cellphones interacting with friends or family, people they are already familiar with. I think it is more common to meet people through websites or chat rooms than to just approach a person and start a conversation. Have we lost all ability to just communicate with one another in the old way of just sparking up a conversation? Good old fashioned conversation now appears to be a lost art. What would happen i wonder if one day everyone woke up to find, there were no computers, phones, or any technological device that could distract them? Would people talk to the others around them without looking for a distraction, or would there still be a burdensome silence?

When I imagine this scenario, my bus stop in the morning comes to mind. I wonder if the commuters with familiar faces would be brave enough to say hello or if we'd still continue to ignore one another. I suppose we do not ignore each other, we just avoid conversation. But I wonder about them, where they work, what they like to do, so do they wonder the same things about me? Even if they don't, a friendly hello or good morning may brighten both our days. I guess we have become more accustomed to tuning into our own little world, than introducing ourselves into another.

I introduced myself to strangers when I was little. What happened? I used to stand by the entrance of the grocery store, and greet everyone that came in. Just stand there and say hi to every person that came in. I smile at the thought of this. It seems so silly to wish I was more like that now, but I do. Although I rarely carry my ipod, and often prefer to people watch than be on my cellphone, I wish I said hi to strangers. Met people in life through a random introduction. It would feel more natural to act in that way if everyone else felt the same. I think people do enjoy the seclusion they create by shutting others out with cellphones or music players. I do not think I am the only that wishes it was the norm to interact with others, but I know there are many out there who certainly hope they never wake up to find the world missing of all technology.

Transported

I still can not listen to "heartbreak warfare" without feeling the sudden to urge to cry. If I listen to a song in some memorable moment, every time thereafter I am whirled right into that place once again. People may say time travel does not exist, but that unexplainable sense of experiencing a moment again would suggest otherwise. This song is not the only one which transports me to another time.

When I hear Phil Collins, I am five and dancing in fitful movements around my living room. If I hear Sir Mix A lot, I am ten and shaking my butt with my two girl friends on the kitchen table. My associations for the most part are positive ones, but there are just some songs that make my body warm , eyes water, and heart open .

He and I were close, deeply experiencing that sought after sensation of being one. It was an event of connectedness that only makes sense when you've felt it. Time was irrelevant and words unnecessary. The communication which took place could not be translated, heard, or felt by any other person the two of us. We moved closer and closer as if the goal was to erase any sense of space. And then, we just were. I am unsure of how long I laid there. I just remember gently whispering the lyrics, "if you want more love, then why don't you say so" in his ear as I ran my fingers through his hair. He turned to me, stroked the edge of my face and rested his hand in that tender spot on my neck. My heart softened.

For the two months after that moment, the song brought me nothing but joy. And really that is the reason I cry. I cry not because the relationship ended, or I miss him. I cry because when i hear John Mayer's soulful voice I am overcome with love. I think it is safe to assume that we've all felt moments of "I was just so happy that I cried."A tender chord is struck and then I am laying there.

After we broke up, I fought the feelings that arose when I heard "hearbreak warfare." I didn't want to be transported because I was too angry and hurt. Confusion was more present than any other emotion because I failed to understand how someone who once made me feel so loved, in the end caused me so much heartache. There was a time about a month after when I was driving to my friends house, that it started to play on the radio. At first, I fought back, just like every other time. Then it came to the lyrics which I'd once whispered, and suddenly there he appeared, pulling me closer. Flooded with emotion, I burst into tears. After that moment I came to understand the many times I'd seen people cry in their cars.

Even though I let myself go back to that place, it was not until recently that I started playing the song by choice. I still cry, but not because I miss him or feel sadness. I cry because I am reminded of what it feels to become vulnerable and let another person into your heart. For reasons such as that, I am appreciative of the way music transports me.

Trade-sies

I never had a lunch worth trading. My mom was a believer in well balanced meals, which was not appreciated at the prime trading time of my life. NO smart child would trade a banana for mnm's or a string cheese for Trix yogurt with sprinkles. So if my sack lunch would not suffice for trading than neither would the cafeteria food. I would have been the laughing stock of the 2nd grade lunch table if I thought ants-on-a-log was appropriate bargaining material.

There was one girl though who knew how to get the best swap. Always well equipped with pb&j on white bread, an apple juice box, go-gurt ( or another fake form of yogurt), potato chips, and some variety of sweet. She'd place her brown bag lunch on the table, unroll the top, and start to unload that day's sought after contents. The bidding would begin.

"I'll give you my popcorn for your Doritos!!"

"I'll trade you my Root-beer for your cookies!!"

Most times she would wait for all the kids to place their bids before making a final decision. Even after choosing her top pick, she found always found a way to sweeten her end of the deal.

"I'll give you ONE cookie if I get your Root-beer AND 10 chips..."

"Done!"

Irresistible, kids could never deny her deals even if they were a complete rip-off.

I imagine in following years she perfected her bargaining skills and was able to acquire more than some poor saps sack lunch.


I was never able to break into the trading circle, even at Halloween when my chances would appear to greatly increase with the introduction of candy into my meal. My only conclusion is that I lacked the confident and savvy nature the top traders possessed.

At the end of the day my only choice is to look at the situation for the positive. I most likely have a wider palate than those children now and I haven't become chubby on Cheetos.

So I guess a big thanks should go to my mom for teaching me the value of a well balanced meal, even if I did miss out on the prime trading time of MY LIFE.

________ wants to be your friend

I know this friend request is only for the sake of stalking me. Okay, maybe stalk is a strong word. He is going to browse through all my new photos, scroll down my old wall posts, click on links to my friends who've said silly things like, "hey gurlfren, where you at?", and take mental note of the various guys tagged in my profile pictures, the second I hit "accept". The notification, "____ wants to be your friend" has been staring at me for three days. I hesitate to press ignore, because I will surely encounter a sarcastic response like, "oh, so we aren't friends? Well then have a great life!" However, accepting presents its own colorful array of consequences. So, for the moment I have resolved to just let it sit there until...

Are we friends? Were we friends? And how much have people's definition of friendship changed because of social networking sights like Facebook? 177 friends, definitely unrealistic. Adding one more seems insignificant then at this point. It might be time to reevaluate my friendships.

A-Z, it's impossible that more than 50 percent of these people know more about me than my name, birthday, and possibly my favorite kind of food, or how many pets I have, which is three. Even if more than 50 percent do know these trivial small talk facts, it is only because I have provided them with the information in my "about me" or "interests" section. And those over 50 percent of my 177 are what I like to call "facebook friends."

Facebook friends are those people you bumped into once in your high school's hallway and received a friend request from the next day because, oh look, there was your your face in their "people you may know" column. Facebook friends are the people you've shaken hands with at a party who know a friend of a friend, or those classmates you've never spoken one word to, but just know your name. Facebook friends are those whose glamorous lives you want to stalk or those who want to stalk yours. Facebook friends are face value friends. Most do not know anything beyond our surface level pictures, wall posts, and status updates. We are all our own glorified celebrities, tracking each other's every action and thought, or at least the ones we make public. Facebook is the TMZ of everyday people. We are not friends, we are followers, paparazzi, and fans.

Are you sure you wish to delete ____ from your friends list? Yes. Are you sure you wish to delete ____ from your friends list? Hell, yes. One after the other, after the other, til I am down to the last page. With each name, asking myself, "Do I consider this person my friend? Have they ever been there for me after a rough day? Do they know my secrets, my passions, my struggles? Do they want to know?" With each deletion there is a slight twinge of guilt and then a sense of release as I weed out my friends from the followers.

Then, there is the request, plastered to my screen. I attempt to apply the same series of questions in making my decision. My mouse instinctively moves over to the word "ignore" and then, it vanishes. No more fans, followers, or paparazzi, just friends from here on.

Boys on the Bench

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zFWGOKuFyjk

If you have ever watched the movie "When Harry met Sally" then you are well acquainted with the famous point that men and women can not be friends. Billy Crystal's cynical and forward character explains to Meg Ryan's innocent and naive character that it is proven fact that men and women are incapable of being friends because the sex part always gets in the way. He goes on to say that whether or not the attraction or desire is mutual has no influence on the simple fact that it still effects the relationship. The man is just waiting for his chance to pounce, regardless of the woman's interest in her supposed friend. In simple terms, putting a man in the "friend zone" does not undo his feelings or make him a friend.

I think the best name for this situation is "boys on the bench." They're simply waiting until they are called into the game for their chance to play.

I have struggled with this theory because I felt it invalidated all of my male friendships. Are they really my friends if secretly or not so secretly, they are waiting to be with me? Do they value my company or just spend our time together fantasizing? And, if they aren't just my friend, or my partner, what are they?

After mulling over those questions I have come to the following conclusion. Men and women can not be friends. Put aside the possibilities of sexual orientation because I am purely speaking about a heterosexual male and female. We were made to procreate, to experience chemistry and connection and not for the sake of just feeling it, but to do something about it. So applying this idea that underneath it all we are driven by attraction and feeling, men and women are not friends because that part is still a component of the relationship, whether it is apparent or not.

As I have grown older that underlying voice of desire has become increasingly louder in my male counterparts. I have always felt I had an easier time befriending boys than girls, but am questioning those friendships more and more. My "friends" are becoming more honest, and while I typically value honesty, in this circumstance I lack appreciation. Like the moment your parents tell you Santa isn't real, all you want to do is yell, "No, you're wrong! I don't believe you," and then you burst into tears because you've known for awhile and are upset because you are not little and stupid anymore. Well, with that as my comparison, I'm angry that I can no longer be little and stupid and want to yell "No, Billy Crystal, you're wrong!"

I remember watching, "When Harry met Sally" with my ex boyfriend and we paused after the point where Billy Crystal shatters Meg Ryan's idealistic view of female/male friendships. For a moment we just sat there in silence, because we realized I was Meg Ryan and my ex boyfriend was Billy Crystal. The days prior to watching to this movie he had tried for a tiresome ten minutes to convince me that my male friends were not really my friends. I of course, in my strong will, argued my hardest, partly knowing he was right. But sitting there in that moment with him just made me give in. I replayed those times when my "friends" stopped talking to me once I had a boyfriend, but re initiated contact after the relationship ended. Or the hurt looks on their face when I would mention another guy. Oh yes, I just waved my little white flag and turned to my ex with an expression that read, "Please forgive me, I was little and stupid." He pressed replay and we finished the movie without another pause.

Since that first viewing of "When Harry Met Sally" I have posed the question "Can men and women be friends?" to many people. I ask mostly women and 90 percent of the time they're initially hesitant to answer. But after being given a few minutes, they gently shake their heads and reply with a simple "no". With that "No" we kill our inner Meg Ryan, but realize it is the right answer when we hear those yelling boys on the bench.