Savannah: The Abridged Version

I started writing a post that detailed all the stupid that happened surrounding the trip to Savannah, and then I decided that that was a waste of time. So, here's the abridged version. One friend had terrible allergies, as did everyone else in Savannah, and the other got a terrible sunburn.

On the drive down: Not everyone is going to like all of the music played on this car ride, so you need to chill the fuck out.

Post-Arrival: Complaining to me is not going to improve service at this shitty restaurant.

Day Two: You not bringing a swimsuit, towel, or sunblock is not my fault. Neither is your sunburn. And pointing out every fat person in a stupid t-shirt is unnecessary, as is moaning in pain regarding your burn. Suck it up.

Day Three: You're probably not going to want to walk around in the heat with that burn...can we go get me more allergy medicine?

Day Four, post-drive back: Did I offend your friend? She seems really annoyed with me.

This was at dinner after a bottle of cocktail sauce exploded. I smelled delicious.

And the good, because despite all the stupid, I did have a great time.

Day One: We stayed about two blocks from the beach on Tybee Island, about fifteen miles outside of Savannah. This was fantastic. I could not have been happier with where we stayed. After dinner we were able to hang out with my friend Sam. Savannah is incredible at night, my introduction to the "to-go" cup was probably my new most favorite thing. The ability to just pour your adult beverage into a plastic cup and leave is great. If you've been there, you probably already know this, or if you aren't a drinker, I guess you can't really appreciate it, but it's so convenient. We went to several bars that were loud, and relatively dancey before I asked him why he kept taking us to these places and he goes, "because that's what girls like, or at least girls here." But we weren't really looking for that atmosphere so he took us somewhere more low-key.

After the bars had closed we walked down to the river and up to a couple of haunted houses. I have no idea what neighborhood I was in, but Sam kept telling us about how haunted Savannah is, which I knew, but I scare easy and the entire city is a graveyard and I was freaked out. I was very happy to get back to the hotel that evening.

Day Two: This was the beach day. We encountered jellyfish, and thankfully none of us were stung (that would have been a fiasco). I parted ways after the previously mentioned debaucle to calm myself down and went to the lighthouse and museum on the island. I am really afraid of heights, but I have this stupid thing where I feel the need to conquer my fears all the time, so I walked to the top of the lighthouse (this took a lot longer than it should have) and while the view was gorgeous, I was quick to collect my breath and head  for solid ground. The history of Tybee Island was interesting as well, apparently there's an active atomic bomb somewhere off the coast that's been there since WWII and during the colonial era, it was a haven for pirates.

That night I went out with Sam by myself. It was Sunday and downtown was mostly desolate, which was nice for us. It's strange, we've known each other since high school because of a mutual friend, but he and I didn't really become friends until we both moved away from Northern Virginia.

Day Three: This can be summed up quickly - Paula Deen's Lady and Sons is as delicious as you would hope it to be. I highly recommend going for lunch and asking to sit in the bar on the top floor, you won't have to wait and the service was fantastic. This was followed by spending too much money on cute things, all of which I have used, eaten or worn, except for this gun shaped ice tray, this I gave to my brother-in-law, and he uses it every day.

That evening we got the car packed up so that leaving the next morning would be a snap. It was, and the drive back was much more pleasant and faster than the drive down.


They say you don't really know someone until you travel or live with them, that's mostly true. I consider myself a fairly cynical, sarcastic person, but I also like to have a good time, and when in Rome, or Savannah, or Tybee Island, do as the locals do. Thankfully, people and cities aren't all the same, and I'm curious enough to be patient with what I don't like to make room for and anticipate the things that I will like.

Savannah: The Prologue

A couple months ago my friend, E, suggested that we go to Savannah, Georgia because she was born in Georgia and wanted to go back one more time before she goes abroad for grad school - because she has no intention (mostly) of ever coming back to the United States. I'm down for most things, so I agreed to go. Her summer plans are still up in the air, she doesn't know where she'll be interning yet, so we decided it had to be in April. We went this past Saturday and got back on Tuesday.

My friend, K, lives with a bunch of my friends in DC. She's from the Pacific Northwest and had never been south of Richmond before this trip. I don't think she was fully aware of what she was getting herself into.

Jesus Waffles

I grew up in Norhtern Virginia, but I spent all of my childhood family vacations visiting family members. My mom's family is from East North Carolina, she grew up specifically in Kinston (it's off 41, close to Goldsboro, yeah...). My dad was born in Memphis and grew up between there and Phoenix. We're Southern. I have been to pig pickings. I can drop "y'all" without noticing. I am fine walking around in jorts without shoes on. There is a part of me that is instinctually Southern. I can't shake it. I used to hate it, but I know my family's history, and there's a lot to be embarassed about, but I understand it, and I can't change it, so I accept it and love it anyway.

I've also written about Fat People here before. And I enjoy making fun of people as much as everyone else, or maybe more than most, but I am unphased by the South. I have seen Confederate flags worn and displayed unironically, proudly. I know that there are still people that refer to the Civil War as the War Between the States, and that those people don't think that race had anything to do with it, it was, to them, a Big Government infringing upon states' rights. My personal opinons aside, I get it.

People are fat, and sometimes people wear shirts with Tweety Bird on them, or relatively offensive racial or sexist slurs, or something five sizes too small - that's a typical Southern beach town. All of that aside, they just don't care. No one can accuse them of being uptight, they're happy with who they are and they own it.

Bad Influence

When my friend, E moved to DC a couple months ago she kept talking about meeting new people because she had "burned so many bridges" in Richmond. E and I have known each other since high school, but were equally annoyed by each other then. It wasn't until I moved to Richmond to attend VCU that she and I became friends. After a bunch of haphazard encounters we finally started hanging out on purpose.

A few weeks ago we were exchanging stories of our childhoods. She told me about how making friends was a game to her as a child, she would go places determined to make as many friends as she could and fully aware that she would never see these other children again. It didn't bother her, she just figured she'd make new friends later.

I was the exact opposite. I had a few very good friends at any one time. My kindergarten best friend was a girl named Kimberly who would get upset with me daily, usually at lunch or recess, and tell me that we weren't friends anymore. And every day as we stepped on the bus she would ask if we could be friends again. Of course we could, I had never considered us not to be friends anyway. I'm still this way. I could list the number of people I've had legitaimate falling-outs with on one hand.

E doesn't disregard her friends, quite the opposite, and I think this is why we're friends, she just doesn't allow herself to deal with other people's problems and projections. That's not to say that she isn't there for her friends in their time of need, she is, but she also isn't going to let you go on about things that don't matter for weeks on end. It's healthier.

I have only recently been okay with letting go of relationships. I don't do it well, and I tend to hold on for far too long. My, now ex-best friend, and I had not had a decent conversation for months. The last of which she had told me about the possibility of her getting engaged. Then I was supposed to visit her and things fell through, and then I saw her briefly at church of Christmas but she insisted that she was busy the entire time she was home, and it wasn't until after New Year's when we finally had it out, via G-Chat. Seriously.

The Ex-bff is still a practicing Mormon. She has never been particularly good at communicating her feelings, she's always taken the passive route whereas I take everything head on. We grew up together. We sang duets almost annually at church Christmas parties and planned youth activities together because we didn't trust (like) anyone else's judgment in where the balloons should be placed for youth dances, or what songs should be put in the Mormon-camp song book. We never had that much in common, but we complimented each other well and enjoyed making fun on the same people. She was really the only reason I went to church in high school, and she was fully aware of that.

It wasn't until we had this G-Chat conversation that I realized how much she disapproved of my life. It came out of nowhere, we hadn't talked, what did she know? She explained that she had tried to be subtle before, I had no recollection of this. She said that I was "self-destructive" and "let people walk all over me." She was the first one I told after I had sex for the first time, but I never expected her to go out and do the same. I never expected her to do any of the things I did.

She recently got engaged. He was, is, her first kiss. And from what my mother has told me, she has quite grad school. I haven't talked to her about it. She made it very clear that she had no interest in having me be a part of her life anymore, which hurt, a lot - I cried all day that day, and then it was over. I haven't talked to her about the engagement, but part of me can't help but think about all of her ambition. I don't think it just went away, I just can't believe that she gave up going to the best school in the country for her program to get married. But then, we don't really know each other anymore. Apparently she's changed just as much as I have.

E had a similar experience around the same time and we both decided that we were part of people's resolutions to rid their lives of "negative" influences. Good riddance. Thankfully E and I negatively influence each other regularly.

Birds have it made.

Last night I had dinner with a friend. We had Thai. I never get Thai food. It was delicious. So, I'm having it again tomorrow for a different friend's birthday - her choice. He was telling me all about all the things in his life that are currently bothersome, and I of course did the same.

He told me that I had to stop feeling guilty about things, which is true. For example, right now, I could be writing for school or a publication, but I'm not because right now I need to do this. And later I'll probably write some really terrible poetry and attempt to play the piano and become frustrated because I'm not nearly as good as I used to be.

I saw my parents this past weekend. It was only for an hour or so, and I needed my dad to sign some stuff so that I can hopefully move into my own place. So, my mother was sitting there with us and started going on about how her children don't like her. This isn't true. We do like her, but as with my father, we prefer small doses. I suppose this may seem mean or ungrateful. I can only be around them for so long before I start feel like a terrible person. My mother will first ask me about school and why I'm not done yet. Then she will tell me about some people at church that I don't know or care about and how they're getting married or having children, two things I am in now rush to do. And then she'll ask me about my job and tell me about how another person is making so much money doing something different. This will all lead to politics, something that we will never agree on.

I finally told my mother that it's not her that I don't like, it's the fact that she constantly puts herself down and then blames her children and compares us to everyone else. Life is hard. We're just trying to make it. I'm young, I have the rest of my life ahead of me and who knows what that means. I can only listen to what a disappointment I am so many times.

Going to a community college and getting an associates degree in court reporting in the sixties is hardly comparable to going to the largest university in the state and then flunking out. I feel terrible about all that wasted money and time, but at the end of the day I know that I'm much better on in Richmond than I would have been had I stayed in Lake Ridge. Anyway, I get like this after having those kinds of conversations with my parents.

I'm trying to get myself situated enough so that I can save up and after I finish my own associates degree in Liberal Arts, I can go somewhere for a year. And between now and then I'll hopefully find a way to get over all my qualms regarding writing. I mean, I just wrote all of this. I'm sure that were my parents to see it they wouldn't exactly be happy, though it's not my job to make them happy. I have the beginnings of things written that ideally one day will be published that I would like to spend more time on. And I'd like to spend more time writing music, and maybe attempt to get over my stage fright; grow up. Growing up seems an impossible thing to do.

Summervention - Tubing Edition

Two weekends ago I drove from Richmond to DC to go dancing and make out with strangers at my friend's party - which totally didn't happen this time (sad face). Then I drove to Baltimore the next day for dinner, and then I had planned to drive back to Richmond. But I ended up drinking and dancing in the rain in Columbia Heights where it was decided that we, the people currently there, were going to go tubing the following Sunday. I didn't actually think it was going to happen, though since going on the Fourth I've wanted a re-do.

Tuesday rolled around and plans were underway and what started as a drunken suggestion was coming to fruition. (note: Fruition is really fun to say.) Then Saturday morning I got a text message that started "Pt. 1 of 2..." explaining all of the details for the trip. You probably don't care about these details, but these small details are huge. You see, I am a planner. I like planning things. I have always had to be the person to plan anything that I've ever wanted to do. I mean, seriously I have planned every single birthday party I have ever had except for my 18th birthday where my mom attempted to give me a surprise party that turned into a roast, "write down something you've always wanted to say to Amanda, it doesn't have to be a compliment..." THANKS, MOM! Anyway, I have given up on birthdays and generally other people planning things because other people are lazy and prefer to wait around for someone else to do all the work. I got to be one of those lazy people this time. AND included in the plans was a driver and a van "so that everyone can drink." Yes. YES!

So yesterday I picked up a chick and we headed to the van! And the van not-so-quickly filled up with people and soon Brite - that's "beer plus Sprite" (actually Bud Light Lime), was being consumed and Powerade bottles were being emptied as to be filled with mixed drinks later. So everyone got their electrolytes and was fairly hydrated before we hit the river.

Once on the river we managed to not make it to the far, less rocky side like you're supposed to, but we too occupied with making sure that we were close to the coolers. And each rock we came to then became a "bar." Pretty soon we were divided and people had floated away but I fortunately (or unfortunately) was tied to the person tied to a cooler. This made going over and around rocks all the more fun, and as we caught up with people more attached themselves thanks to the rope and knife our Planner had brought.

When the rain came, and the tornado sirens were going off and it was raining harder, we stayed in the river and watched the lightening and finished our bottles of various fun things. It was at some point during the rain that we untied our "crafts" and the cooler tube got away before we were able to close the cooler. The cooler was saved as was an actual Sprite bottle full of vodka. And after that it's mostly a blur, a really fun, messy, painful blur.

I lost my tube at some point and somehow, thankfully, but not really helpfully, the Planner found it and returned it. Because he got back way before me. I'm pretty sure it was the lack of tube that resulted in all of the scrapes and bruises on my body. Except for my feet, they are perfect because I wore these.

Last night when we probably should have showered and sprayed our bodies down with bactine, we didn't. But if we had, our bodies may have felt slightly better this morning. I haven't seen all the spots on my body, but every time I move I feel something new that I didn't know could hurt before. It's all fine, I can deal, except for the gash on the left side of my left middle finger. For all you right handed people, the idea of this happening probably isn't very distressing, but for me I can't properly hold things and my handwriting has been reduced to third-grader scrawl.

The exchanges today have been along the lines of "my body hurts" and the reactions have been "what the hell happened to you?" But the best reaction was my sister who explained to her husband that I looked like "someone locked me in a cage with a rabid cat."

Storytime

Yesterday evening I met up with a friend with whom I have not seen a couple weeks. She is carless, so I picked her up and we went to our favorite burger place.

Me: Here we got these samples at work, but we just stopped carrying this line. Their great, but I don't need the moisture one, so I thought I'd give it to you.
Her: Thanks, and way to turn that into an insult.

She has curly hair and it's pretty, but it could be prettier.

Later we're sitting at a table on the patio of the restaurant and I see this guy with whom mutual friends tried to set me up with last year. He's cute and according to the mutual friends "looks just like Ian Curtis." We met up for dinner once and walked through Oregon Hill and then back to Broad Street for ice cream one evening last year. I'm pretty sure we haven't talked since then. He apparently has a girlfriend, she's probably an art student, he's getting his graduate degree in something art related. Anyway, so he and his assumed girlfriend end up sitting two tables over from me and my friend. Neither he nor I say anything to acknowledge the other.

I fill my friend in on all the ridiculous happening in my life, as per usual. My life cannot get cut a break, ever. I suppose it's better this way, otherwise I would be so bored.

Our food arrives and I have ordered onion rings. I love onion rings, but I had forgotten how large the order was.

Me: Do you want any?
Her: No, I don't like onion rings.
Me: Really?
Her: I've always hated them.

about half an hour goes by...

Her: Actually, can I have one?
Me: Sure, but I thought you didn't like them.
Her: Actually, I've never tried them...(takes bite)...these are delicious!

We then proceed to walk around Carytown looking for hiring signs because she is looking for a new job. We see that a barbecue place is hiring so she goes in and fills out an application, I sit by an ice cream store down the way.

A woman and her two children come out of the ice cream shop. The little boy called Jack-Jack asks if he can sit by me (I'm in one of four chairs) an as I say yes his sisters sits in it, so he sits in the next one over. A man with a motorcycle helmet is sitting on the other side of him and becomes distracted by the helmet and drops his ice cream. While he is screaming, his sister tells me all about Robin Hood which happens to be playing at the dollar theater across the street, and their mother gives the boy her cone. She picks up her son's cone and sees that it can be salvaged. She takes a napkin out of her purse and wipes it clean and then trades her son. "You got a decent bargain, two flavors instead of one," say the man with the helmet. The boy settles down and my friend comes out and we continue on our way.

Today I had English. My "Image Analysis" was due today, it required me to find a print add in a magazine and criticize it. I chose a Skinny Cow add in Glamour magazine. I usually don't pay attention to add that aren't fashion related, but I have found that all the non-fashion related adds in women's magazines are incredibly insulting compared to the adds in men 's magazines. Ugh.

Anyway, we were told before our break to meet in the library after the break. I got there with a buch of my classmates and we all sat in a circle of loveseats and chairs. There was a little girl sitting on one of the loveseats and we all started talking to her and asking her about her books. Okay, not everyone, but me and the guy that I flirt with in this class (you have to have someone to flirt with in all of your classes, duh). Anyway, she was telling me all about her books when she left for a moment. When she came back she asked me to read her a story... I hesitated before asking her to pick one. She chose The Mitten, the story about a boy who loses his white mitten in the snow and a bunch of animals make room in it to keep warm before it gives and they are put out and then he finds his very stretched out mitten. The end. Anyway, I didn't make it though the entire story because my class was meeting in one of the group study rooms, but the little girl didn't seem to mind and thanked me for reading as far as I did. She was probably about six, and very bored. I would have been too, it was just so sad to me. I suppose it shouldn't be, but I had no idea who her parents were, but I can infer from my fellow classmates that they were probably single and can't afford childcare, and probably don't have time between work and school for storytime. It's such a shame, because storytime is really the only thing that matters before the age of nine when most people are capable of reading fairly well on their own.

My dad was the storyteller when I was a child. If we weren't reading one of the books from the giant stack we brought home from the library, he was making one up. He is to blame for my overactive imagination, slight paranoia and love for reading. And I find it difficult when I realize that not everyone is as luck as I was to have someone read to them everyday. I may be making too much of this, perhaps that girl does get read to frequently and just has no problem asking strangers to read to her. That's would still be an incredibly different experience than what I had, and I hope that's the case. Even so, those few minutes were surprisingly enjoyable as I read to not just her, but that circle of people. It felt strange, but comfortable.

excuse the sappiness

I am an exceptionally social solitary creature. I love going out and I enjoy crowds, but I often go out by myself. It has developed from not appreciating the group experience. Growing up I had a fairly close group of friends at church, and we were mostly the leftovers from our older siblings group of friends plus some other miscellaneous misfits.

At school I was a wanderer. And over the years I have maintained friendships. I know people who's friends come through a revolving door, and I've never understood that brand of friendship. For me, if they don't stick around, they probably weren't very important to being with. Certainly people grow apart, that's understood, but despite your personal difference one would hope that you can maintain a level or respect and humility for the person that they become and the way the relationship evolves.

I don't cut ties frequently. There are only two people with whom I used to be close that I have absolutely no contact with now. One, I see occasionally, but we don't speak and it make me sad, but they made it quite clear that my friendship was smothering and they simply could not deal. And I do smother - I am decisive and persistent and I can be too much, impetuous even. I call into the double digits over and over to reach them, I text obnoxiously and send emails regularly. They know that I am interested in maintaining our relationship and even if we don't speak every day, or even each week, we know that when we do contact or see one another that we are there completely.

One friend once described my friendship as that of a crazed girlfriend because I don't stop, and I don't give up on someone that I feel I have invested emotionally until it is clear that they have no desire for me to be a part of their life. I have had falling-outs and I have had arguments, and they are resolved because we communicate. And we communicate effectively; it's an effort to understand how others operate, but we make that effort.

When Christina and I were fifteen (or maybe she had just turned sixteen, I may be taller, but she is older and she enjoys reminding me of this especially considering her recent 21st birthday - she doesn't even drink, what a waste!) there was a boy. She liked him, and he liked me, and I was stupid. I went out with him a few times, despite not being sixteen yet - that's the age when I was "allowed" to date. He drove a 1963 red Chevy Impala, and was a bishop's son, and I'm pretty sure that those were the only reason my dad let me go out with him. Anyway, this was the one time where Christina didn't talk to me. She was that upset with me. So I asked her to make a list of all the things that I did that upset her. That list was three bulleted, single spaced pages long. THREE PAGES! Of things that she didn't like about me. I swear she started from when we met at age five to then, and since then we have been able to resolve any dispute in a completely reasonable manner. Guys, she is my best friend, we have been for fifteen years. That's a long time. For anyone. And we are complete opposites about so many things, but we compliment each other perfectly.

Christina and I were talking recently about groups of people, and how we both prefer the type of relationship we - one the relies on those solitary moments together. We are very much one-on-one people. I may criticize everything from someones shirt and shoes to their tacky make up, but I will talk to them, and I will give them the benefit of a doubt. Everyone deserves at least one conversation to demonstrate their humanity - though it is incredible at how many people fail at maintaining the give and take a conversation needs. This is later reflected in their relationships.

I had brunch with my friend Maia today. We were unable to see each other while I was in San Francisco (she lives not too far from there) but she has been in town this week and were fortunate enough to see each other today. We have not seen each other since the inauguration, the day we met. We met while trying to leave the Mall, and we walked from the Capitol all the way back to the Lincoln Memorial, up 23rd street and then to Q and 14 for hot chocolate. We literally spent all day together. She is 4'11" and 48, and we come from entirely different backgrounds, nevermind the different life experiences. And today it was like no time had gone by at all. We fill each other in on our lives periodically, but not as regularly as I would like - I plan on working on this.

Back to Christina and I's conversation, we were discussing groups and how we were not really into them, and how this can be frustrating when one would like to have a gathering. I would love to have Maia and Christina together at dinner, but the likelihood of that happening is slim, as are most gatherings. The people that I call friends maintains to be a very small group. I used to think there was something wrong with this, but the relationships that I have near and far mean so much more to me than mingling. Not that there's anything wrong with going out and mingling, I love meeting new people, but not the way that I used to. I have become more concerned with keeping that friends that I have than with making new ones. It doesn't seem strange, but considering my age, I mean, I haven't met many people yet, relatively speaking. But those that have been kind enough to me, to talk and carry a conversation and dish it right back without restraint are those that I hope to know in another twenty years. For them, I am so thankful.

headless chicken

This past September my friend and I had the brilliant idea to go to South by Southwest, the HUGE music festival in Austin, Texas for my Spring Break/he-has-a-real-job-so-he's-taking-a-week-off. We kept talking about it and I kept waiting for my finances to be in order, and finally we bought out plane tickets and booked a hotel.


My friend, this dude, is 25. He prides himself on his ability to dress exactly like Jarvis Cocker of Pulp fame, except no one really knows or cares who Jarvis Cocker is in the United States, with the exception of like twenty people who frequent all twenty Brit-pop dance nights in DC. (Note that each of these people have their own night somewhere in the U-street cooridor.) We bonded over our mutual love of Frightened Rabbit in one of those "have you heard blank? no, have you heard blank. no, have you heard... conversations. For those that haven't listened to them, they write the absolute saddest, most pathetic, yet catch love songs that all come together to form two perfect I-just-went-though-a-horrible-break-up albums. He and I have spent way too much time listening to Poke:

267 Days

Yesterday, my brother and I took his wife to the airport and then drove back to my parents' house. He wanted me to go with him to a local bar and watch the rest of the Super Bowl. To me, going to this particular bar on a regular day is a horrible idea. It is infested with people I (we) went to high school with, they stayed in Lake Ridge and work out at Gold's Gym a lot because it is in the same shopping center as this bar and most of them think that they're the shit - despite the fact that they have done absofuckinglutely nothing with their lives. They still live in Lake Ridge for buddhasakes.

I love Joseph, and out of all my siblings we probably have the most in common, despite the fourteen (fifteen?) year age difference. But instead of being nice to him, I did something selfish, because nothing is worse than being stuck in the suburbs. Except for being surrounded by snow in the suburbs at my parents' house. So, I drove to DC because I had made plans with a friend. I then texted them to know when I was leaving, like I always do, but they didn't respond. Typical. Except they did respond. But during that drive my phone WOULD NOT WORK. It would not send text messages of make calls, despite having service. And so I arrived at said friend's place, or at least managed to find parking near by. And then I was flooded with text messages explaining how they had made other plans and could no longer meet me. Which is fine, except WHATTHEFUCK!?!?!

I contemplated just driving back to Richmond, but then my car got stuck, and I had left my shovel at my parents' and was stranded-ish. Awesome.

Thankfully, another friend was able to accommodate me. So I walked however far it is from Adam's Morgan to their house in Columbia Heights and watched the remainder of the Super Bowl there with a small group of people. Perfect.

Except for the Jameson. Ahh, whiskey. I can't resist, and after the previous hour of my life, I needed a drink. Or ten. Whatever.

Me: "I will be 21 in ten months..."

Grumpy Old Man: "Do you know how I know how young you are? You say things like that. Do you know how many days that is?"

Me: "No, I'm not that obsessed."

Third Party: "That's roughly three hundred days."

The remainder of the evening was spent doing the following:
Discussing the memory loss of our fathers
Discussing why Baltimore is a shit/awesome town
Discussing why Mark's house is better than Joel's house
Wondering how and why I'm friends with either of them
Almost knocking the glass top off the table, multiple times
High-fiving
Discussing my "Annapolis Lover"
Discussing the reasons why heroin is a bad idea
Encouraging my desire to not get married/have children before thirty
Making an ass of myself by "coming on too strong"
Texting things I should not have been texting
Listening to Jess' beautiful voice
Watching 'The Big Lebowski'
Falling asleep during 'The Big Lebowski'
etc.
I still have not really seen 'The Big Lebowski'. I need to see it.

Reading pt. 1

I like planning enough time to be able to write. It bothers me when I’m interrupted, and so I have not had sufficient time to write so far this year. That’s probably a lie. I have lots of free time, but it’s usually spent in a daze on my uncomfortable loveseat watching Family Guy re-runs or sleeping. Or making lists of things I need to do, but will never get done because Family Guy is just so good.

(Scott Russell, you probably don’t read my blog, but if you do, I’m sorry I used to roll my eyes at your Stewy impressions, I didn’t get it then. I do now. )

A goal that I have set for myself this year is to read 26 books. That’s one book every two weeks. This may surprise you (or not) but I am not a good reader. I mean, I’m capable, and I enjoy it, but I do not have the patience for it. So I suppose another goal I have set for myself is to become more patient. I would also like to write more and get out of my horrible writing habits, but I don’t think I’ve read enough to write well, or at least not at the level that I would like to be able to write at.

I have read two books this year, Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris and The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. The first because it’s easy reading, I needed something to get me back in the swing and that book had been in the trunk of my car for at least a year, it was time. I started reading The Lovely Bones years ago when I originally bought it, but I never finished it and so it’s been sitting on my shelf all that time and now with the movie, that despite bad ratings I want to see, I decided to read. It was written really well and I enjoyed it until the end. The end was not what I wanted in the least. If you have read it, I’d be interested to see what your take is.

Now I am reading Feast of Love by Charles Baxter. My friend Trevor and I saw the movie our senior year of high school and by the end of it I was in full panic-attack mode (there was one scene in particular that set me off that I don’t feel like relaying now). This was the first time he had seen me cry and unfortunately for him I drove, and I wasn’t ready to go home, so we drove from Springfield to Doswell and turned around in the Kings Dominion parking lot. I recall calling my sister April to see if we could stay at her house that night and she was adamant about me driving home as she knew our parents would be upset. We did, and by the time we got back I had calmed down and was really uncomfortable.

Trevor gave me the book for Christmas that year and wrote a note on a piece of brown paper bag and taped to the inside cover: “ Amanda, Happy Christmas! This has been a strange year, for sure (and you added to the strangeness) but it would have been very lonely without you. Thanks for being a laugh when I needed one, and an asshole when I don’t. Cheers! Love, T”

I also found my interim report card from that grading period and am using it as a bookmark. My mark for work habits in Literature was a U, for unsatisfactory – from a teacher whom I got on very well. My life has not moved very far from this in the years since.

Starting The Feast of Love was slow, but I have gotten into and may very well finish within the week. This is something small, but something nearer than all the plans I keep making for the future that is so uncertain. Something small that keeps me somewhat grounded, even if I’m using it as a measure of time, too. So many books that I have bought and started and never finished, I will finish them this year.

my friends are better than your friends

Between me and my roommate this morning:

Jessica: "That girl is coming to see the apartment again, really soon..."

Me: "Oh, does that mean I have to put pants on?"

Jessica: "Yeah, I did..."

Me: (putting on yesterday's clothes)

Jessica: "You don't have to put real clothes on."

Me: "I want to look somewhat presentable."

Jessica: "Well I've already met her, so I'm fine." (While wearing her jimjams)



I am going tubing on Sunday. I'm going with my gay friend, Markus. Usually I don't mention people's sexuality, race, etc, but...

Yesterday:

Me: "Who else is going?"

Markus: (lists a bunch of people I don't know, but all are male)

Me: "Are any of them attractive, straight and will make out with me and aren't put off by my being significantly younger than them?"

Markus: "Pretty much all of them. I don't hang out with the gays - they annoy me. I don't generally hang out with ugly people. I'm highly judgmental. Can't speak to age requirements, but those kinds of concerns generally fade with beer and lies."

Do you see why we're friends? And to think all it took was a lot of bourbon and crying over our deceased pets.

And all this chatting reminded me of a conversation we had a few weeks ago.

Me: "Do you like bananas?"

Markus: "I'm a gay man, that's a loaded question."


I have yet to make him a banana cake, but maybe I'll do that this weekend.

why my summer is going to be better than your summer

"Are you nervous?"

"Not yet, kinda?"

"Well you should be, it's the motherfucking Post."

That was the conversation I had with my roommate sometime on Monday, after dinner? Monday evening was kind of a blur.

Michelle and Elizabeth came down for the weekend and we had a very lovely time. We saw 'I love you, Man' at The Byrd, and bought fake "glitter-girl" tattoos at CVS, and then went to sleep. Kind of lame, but we were really tired, and I feel like I was tired from staying up late on Friday (because I took a friend to see St. Vincent for her birthday). So we slept and then thrifted for most of Sunday. But not before we covered our bodies in fake tattoos. I had them behind my ears, on the back of my neck, on my hips, on my back, on my ankle, writsts, and of course one on my chest. So hardcore. We almost passed for Richmond kids, almost. At Goodwill Michelle bought five pairs of shoes. Five pairs. The fact that they had five, cute pairs of shoes in her size amazes me.

Afterward we made our way to Charisse and Sterling's to eat their food and ended up staying a lot longer and playing Rock Band for a few hours. We left around ten, and ended up hanging out at my friend Malcolm's house until Elizabeth started to fall asleep. So I took them back to my apartment and then walked back to Malcolm's to finish watching 'Alien' -- I didn't make it. I fell asleep within an hour after I got there and woke up in his living room where one of his roommates was asleep on one of the other futons. This is what college is supposed to be, right? Waking up disoriented? Yes.

I eventually made it home and after a hearty brekfrist we went to Belle Isle. They left around three and I stayed and read and managed to not get sunburned. This is quite the feat. I mean, I'm not going to be tan, ever, but I hate getting sunburned and sunscreen has become part of my morning routine. Also, my freckles are coming out and I am so excited. God, I am so vain. But really, I love my freckles, and am okay with being a narcissist.

Jessica and I had a very healthy dinner of grilled cheese and smoothies over a not-so-friendly game of Scrabble. I won thanks to the word 'perky', I got a triple word score and a double letter score with the K. The score was 205 to 188? I don't remember exactly what Jessica's score was. After that was the blur. By the time Spencer got to my apartment I was gone. And thankfully Malcolm moved my car, and Jessica didn't take pictures of me hula hooping.

Spencer left really early the next morning and reminded me to get up in time to make it to my interview. So, I got up around seven, and by eight I wanted to puke my guts out, but it didn't happen, so I showered and got dressed and attempted to look like I had it together, which I am thankfully able to do. And I made it to my doctor's appointment, on time, and left for Arlington around eleven. At this point the hangover had subsided.

I don't know what was with people on 95, but everyone was cruising in the left lane and I wanted to punch them in the face, but I pictured myself in a monster truck crushing all of them instead. By the time I reached Dale City my gas light was on, and I decided to stop by my parents' house, get some food and get gas on my way back to 95. I still had 45 minutes to get to Arlington, and I would have been fifteen minutes early if I hadn't missed my exit. I had to call for directions after I crossed the Memorial Bridge. So, by the time I got to the building I parked, and then I put money in the meter and then the meter decided to FAIL-out of order. So I drove to the next meter and the same thing happened, and while I was scrounging around my bag for change I dropped my notebook, and the cover broke. And some nice man told me that my car would be fine so I finally made it into the building.

I didn't have to wait long, which was nice, seeing as I was sososo nervous and doing everything I could to keep from fidgeting. The editor of the Going Out Guide and I made our way to a small room. I thought I was more prepared, but everytime she asked me something I blurted out another favorite thing in DC and how that related to the question, and somehow this impressed her. She seemed to appreciate my enthusiasm despite my shaking her hand for too long...yeah, I had a couple of those moments.

But I got it, and that's all that matters. I got the official offer-email today and my first day will be June 10th. The jist is updating the guide. So, if you want to know what's happening in Ashburn on August 7th, I will have come up with something enticing to say about it. TA DA!

my light blue housecoat with clouds on it and my "i heart dorks" pants

I'm just going to throw this out there.

Marco and I broke up. He's going to be in Korea for two years instead of one and doesn't know if/and/or/when he'll be able to come to the states to visit. I found out last night via a facebook message. LAME! But understandable considering our schedules as of late.

We both still love and care for each other, but two years is a really long time to be away from someone, and people can change so much in that amount of time.

I didn't cry at first, which is strange for me. I didn't cry until I went to pay my deposit for Old Dominion University and my bank account did not say what it said yesterday morning - I tried to tell myself that I was crying because money is tight, and everything is hard right now, but who was I kidding? Really, Amanda?

I ended up sending some poor soul that works for BB&T a horribly mean message, with multiple F-bombs and empty threats. It was outrageous, and I sent an apology to that automated message robot this morning.

Marco and I typically talk at least every two days, we haven't talked in over a week, I knew that was bad. And then because I use my iPod as an eightball, I've been asking it questions about me and Marco's relationship (when it's on shuffle - Charlanne taught me this game) and it's been mostly negative. One of Marco's close friends and his gal pal of a long time just broke up, all of these are things I've been ignoring. To most people, most normal people, people that don't ask their iPod questions (hey, it said that I was going to Colorado, and it was kind of right, I mean I got accepted, I'm just poor and our country is in a recession, blahblahblah...), these are people who would not have seen this coming, but I did, and chose to ignore it.

Spencer and I had talked before I received said message about this possibility. Then he called me and gave me virtual hugs. Spencer understands my blubbery-red-monster-sobs as English, I'm not sure how, but this is one of the many reasons we are friends.

Spencer: Do you have that pink and purple pillow I gave you?
Me: No, I threw it away because it got gross.
S: Do you have any other pillow you can hug?
Me: Yes.
S: Okay, hug that pillow as hard as you can and pretend it's me, I'll be hugging the wall.

(I'm sorry if this embarrasses you Spencer, but I had to.)
seriously, can any of you think of anything sweeter than that? I didn't think so.

Now, this morning, because I'm still feeling shitty, I decided to make waffles. Waffles always cheer me up, there is no great breakfast food, except for the Swedish pancakes and hot chocolate at Ihop, but I was at home, so I had to settle.

THE WAFFLE IRON WAS BROKEN! MY WAFFLE IRON! THAT AUTUMN GAVE ME FOR CHRISTMAS THREE YEARS AGO! IT NO LONGER WORKS! I HAD TO SETTLE FOR BANANA AND CHOCOLATE CHIP PANCAKES, THEY ARE NOT WAFFLES, YOU CANNOT FILL THEM WHIT SYRUP! THEY DO NOT ABSORB SYRUP THE SAME WAY WAFFLES DO!

I'm not yelling at you, I was just in a state of panic this morning because waffles are just soooooooo good. I cried over this broken waffle iron. I am not well, and I did not and do not plan on going to school today.

Instead, I watched "Instant Beauty Pageant" on the Style Network, The Daily Show, and last night's Conan O'Brian, and now I'm listening/watching "Nine in the afternoon" by Panic at the Disco and writing this. I am pathetic, and making a much bigger deal of all of this than is necessary or healthy.

I wish summer would hurry up and come, I'll be working a ton, all my friends will be home, and everything will be better.

Senior "Activity"

It wasn't really a prank, so we called it an activity. Kathleen and I road her sister's tandem.


Me: Mrs. Smith, so you and your hubby used to use this?
Mrs. Smith: A couple times, we actually bought it for our daughter.
Me: ...?
Mrs. Smith: ...she didn't have any friends, we thought she'd have to find someone else to ride it with her.

Kathleen's sister apparently didn't have any friends, or so her parents thought. I'm not sure if I should feel bad or laugh at how hilarious it is that they thought a bike would help in some way.

Anyway, a lot of the Senior Class met up at Giant, on bike, scooter and rollerblades and then we rode down Old Bridge Road on them and had lots of cars/people honk at us with quizzical looks. It was awesome arriving at school this way. I wish I had pictures of the arrival, but steering a tandem is hard enough without taking pictures.

Those not involved did not appreciate it, a few of them were bitter, thought it was stupid, etc. They are lamelamelame - and obviously do not appreciate the fabulousity that is bombarding Doofy with bikes while he yells "BRAKE!" So cute. It also wasn't really a surprise a lot of faculty were waiting outside above the bus tunnel for our arrival.

Seniors '08 do it right.

Happy Endings

so i'm listening to Samson by regina spektor, and christina and i have talked about it before, but the more i listen to it, the more i think about how god has a plan for us, and while that may be true, what if we don't want it, what if we want something different? what if Samson didn't want the power he was given? what if he really loved delilah? what if he fell to the natural man, and knew it, and was okay with it? what's so wrong with the man god created anyway? i think i'm doing alright. and i'm okay with being "rebellious," and the bible not mentioning me, because right now, i have books in mind that i will be mentioned in that people will want to read. they may not be written by prophets, but whose to say that i'm not a prophet, making predictions based on my intuition, i'm very much a prophet of my life. and right now that's so important, because no one else can really be right about me if not me. and one day the world'll read about me and they'll realize that this, this ridiculous perception they have about what they're doing here, may be right if they believe it's right for them, and if they question it, then it's not, and that's okay. because in the end everything is okay, it's always okay, there's always an end, and even tragedies have happy endings.

samson - regina spektor

I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the sheets of paper lies my truth
I have to go, I have to go
Your hair was long when we first met

Samson went back to bed
Not much hair left on his head
He ate a slice of wonder bread and went right back to bed
And history books forgot about us and the bible didn't mention us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall
I loved you first, I loved you first
Beneath the stars came fallin' on our heads
But they're just old light, they're just old light
Your hair was long when we first met

[ Samson lyrics found on http://www.completealbumlyrics.com ]
Samson came to my bed
Told me that my hair was red
Told me I was beautiful and came into my bed
Oh I cut his hair myself one night
A pair of dull scissors in the yellow light
And he told me that I'd done alright
and kissed me 'til the mornin' light, the mornin' light
and he kissed me 'til the mornin' light

Samson went back to bed
not much hair left on his head
Ate a slice of wonderbread and went right back to bed
Oh, we couldn't bring the columns down
Yeah we couldn't destroy a single one
And history books forgot about us
And the bible didn't mention us, not even once

You are my sweetest downfall

top reasons why college sucks - spencer

spencer and i are an unlikely pair. we first met three, maybe four years ago because his brother was (still is) dating my friend linda. I, being the fourteen year old girl that i was, was more than smitten with spencer's good looks and his personality wasn't so bad either. this was of course at a mormon camp of sorts and i wasn't the only girl with my eye on him. a short, smiley, curley haired girl i'll call chipmunk, was also interested. she is chipmunk because if reincarnation is real, she'll surely come back as one. those three days were spent with he and i flirtatiously speaking to eachother in french and making googley eyes across the gym. we ended up exchanging email's and emailing eachother for about a few months after that. it was all very cute.

so from there we became a couple. we'd go to church dances for the most part, neither one of us could drive at the time, so that was about as good as it got. emails, long phone conversations every night, and on the weekends if we were lucky someone would be nice enough to drive us somewhere, usually a place that was largely inhabited by mormons. we had our first kiss on the dancefloor (during the song "a moment like this," spencer doesn't remember this, and we didn't like that being our song so we changed it to "yellow" which is still one of my all time favorites) where a chaperone quickley told us that we need to not dance so close together.

from there we broke up shortly before christmas, but because i was still friends with linda and his brother, i would still see him. this was very awkward, for a while, and neither of us were very good a communicating in a rational matter what we were upset about. we had an argument. shirley asked us both to be in her quiencinera (?) where we made up and our friendship was reborn (after he apologized for being a jerk and i continued to act like a bitch).

we have since disapproved/disliked most of the people the other has dated, and dated eachother more, and then decided that we're better off as good friends. which is true. he's my boy and i'm his girl. i am still more than slightly irritated by the mentioning of chipmunk.

he and i would not be friends if we were to have met for the first time yesterday; mostly because i come off as ditzy bitch the first time you meet me, and he's quiet and reserved or an asshole.

he took me to my first show at the blackcat (the new amsterdams), now my favorite place to be. he introduced me to the postal service, and so many other things.

(here's the sad part, brace yourself)

he leaves for smarties-ago-go land on saturday, (for those of you who haven't read the georgia nicholson series that would be UVA) and today was our last time together before he leaves. we went to ihop and hung out a my house for a bit. it was awkward, but we pretended it wasn't and we talked about how much we mean to eachother, etc. but when i came back in after walking him to his car, the tears started coming.

i know he's only a couple hours away, and we'll talk weekly, but my boy's all grown up now, and i'm still here; and next year i'll hopefully be at a school out of state and far away. this is the end of an era, one i'll reminisce about for the rest of my life. not high school, but that boy who meant (means) so much to me.