Fuck.

What a shitty day so far. Hopefully the last few minutes will make it all worthwhile.

My mother is insane.

I hate when I just barely touch my eyelid, and a contact comes loose.

My mom and my sister are not here right now. They decided it would be a good idea to go to the mall on the 23rd of December after the sun was gone. I wonder if I'll ever see them again??

Rich is working nights, so I can talk to him during the day instead of staying up late to talk to him. So far, he's gotten two of the four gifts I sent him, which surprised me. I didn't think he'd get his till after Christmas, the way military mail works. Leach also got his from me.

Rich got me a book called Loose and Easy (I forget the author's name, but that's the second book he's gotten me with a suggestive title; I forget the other one, I'll have to look it up) and a necklace with a ruby pendant that has devil horns coming out of the top. I LOVE IT.

Leach sent me this neat little kit that will help me steal DS games and read e-books, listen to mp3s, and watch videos on my DS. He then sent me a link to a custom download he made for me that included eight books in e-book format that were on my Amazon wishlist. (I still want the physical copies, though!!) It's the shit.

Nick got me a book called Invalids Home From Hot Climates by Tim Robbins. The description alone is fascinating.

So many books to read, so little time. And so many more presents to tear through, woot!!

Aaiieegh!!

Current temperature: 4 degrees.
Feels like: negative 9 degrees.

Negative. Fortunately, I am flying out this afternoon for a milder climate.
Current temperature: 22 degrees.
Feels like: 12 degrees.

Oh. Damnit.

Black Hockey Jesus.

I have been honored. Privileged. I will remember this day forever.

The infamous, witty, charming, brilliant, hilarious blogger of all bloggers, Black Hockey Jesus, commented. On my blog.

Excuse me, while I go float on a cloud for the rest of the day. Srsly, what could top that??

I don't wanna...

I have to leave in two minutes to go to PT. And I'm still in my PJs.

Ignore.

I could scream at the top of my lungs. And none of you would hear it.

Why does coming here always feel like a torment??

I stole it from Trish.

I usually don't...but why not?? Heck, I'll even TAG some people. Hm, who reads this often enough to be worth tagging?? Laggin...Nick...Rowan...

TEN things you wish you could say to TEN people right now.

1. If not for you, the sun wouldn’t rise to light up my world.
2. You wouldn’t have believed me ten years ago, but I miss your cooking.
3. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have this job, and I wouldn’t be the person I am today as a result.
4. You never cease to amaze me.
5. I miss my pancakes. And Dexter.
6. I’m glad we have no regrets.
7. It’s nice to have girlfriends. (Okay, I cheated, that for several people.)
8. Thank you for making her happy.
9. Keep the shit up, bitch, and I’ll make you regret the day you stabbed her in the back.
10. If you ever need a sitter again, I’ve got a nice roomy cage that needs to be used.

NINE things about yourself.
1. I miss him.
2. I will write till I die.
3. I am plagued by kitties.
4. I hate cleaning. So I do it once every two months.
5. I love this job.
6. I can’t wait to be a mommy.
7. I can never stop myself from buying books, no matter how broke I am.
8. I love food.
9. I love to give to people as much as I love to receive.

EIGHT ways to win your heart.

1. Sweet kisses.
2. Warm hugs.
3. Constant laughter.
4. Equal parts teaching and learning from each other.
5. Optimism.
6. Respect.
7. And open mind.
8. Affectionate gestures.

SEVEN things that cross your mind a lot.

1. Rich.
2. Work.
3. School.
4. Money.
5. Cats.
6. Food.
7. Rich. Ha ha.

SIX things you do before you fall asleep.

1. Watch TV or read.
2. Chat with Rich.
3. Scoop the catbox.
4. Double-check my alarm.
5. Play Spider Solitaire.
6. Brush my teeth.

FIVE people who mean a lot to you at the moment.

1. Rich.
2. Parents. (If Trish can cheat, so can I.)
3. Trish.
4. Cats. (Heh.)
5. Leach.

FOUR things you really enjoy doing.

1. Reading.
2. Writing.
3. Getting out and doing stuff with people.
4. Working.

THREE things you absolutely hate:

1. Cleaning the catbox.
2. Dealing with stupid people.3. Explaining, yet again, why I got a divorce.

TWO places you want to travel to that you've never been before.

1. United Kingdom. All of it.
2. Spain. (Italy, too, but I’m going there soon!!!!)

ONE confession.
1. I still have all of my Pokémon cards…and, once in a blue moon, I pull them out and look at them. And I still like the original Gameboy games, ha ha.

Thank God for IM.

But, goodness, how frustrating.

Today I am happy.

It was sunny out. Cold, but sunny. Every assessment went smoothly. Even the last one, which is the reason for the happiness. Because if JB and I had walked in there unhappy and it had gone badly, we would have been miserable for hours and hours afterward. But we walked in happy, and walked out happy, and got out of work early (?!) And I just woke up from a nap, and I'm talking to The Boyfriend, and wearing my new jewelry, and have already bought my ticket to see Twilight tonight. And it's the weekend, and I'm so relieved. I can sleep in tomorrow. Thank God.

My witty fourth-grader.

(Sorry if I threw you off with the last post. The current state of existence may not be ideal, it's fine with me. I like it when work keeps me busy, I feel productive. And with the workload being what it is, it was inevitable for it to intrude on the rest of my life. It's fine, it's just for this month.)

I showed up for tutoring a bit late, but Mary was waiting for me. The girl who joined us last time, Katie, joined us again. This girl is silly. And I don't mean silly like the way I am with friends or co-workers when we've had too much caffeine. I mean, silly as far as her mentality. I'm not sure this girl really takes anything too seriously. She always seemed more concerned with what was going on two table away then with what was going on with the worksheet in front of her. Mary doesn't seem fond of her at all, judging by this little interchange.

"Wait, I'm getting my stuff!" says Katie.

"Take your time," I respond.

"Yes, please," mutters Mary. Woah, Mary, where is this coming from??

From there, Mary continued to subtly but doggedly antagonize Katie, which I secretly found amusing between admonishments to play nice. Mary is even sarcastic!! I like this kid more and more.

Rich send me a beautiful jewelry set, matching necklace, ring, and earrings, opal set in silver. I love it!!

Math class was canceled tonight. So I will be social. And I will wear my new jewelry.

To live would be an awfully big adventure.

It has come to my attention that there are a handful of people who check my blog on a fairly regular basis. Some might even go as far as to label them "fans". Huh. So I figured, I haven't updated in a minute, and these "fans" may be wondering what's up.

Work.

There's your update. Work and school are those most productive things in my life at this time. I do not cook. I do not clean. I live on my couch. My social activities are limited. Very...very...limited.

Monday: Eleven-hour work day. Two-and-a-half hours of school.
Tuesday: Ten-and-a-half-hour work day. Two hours of school.
Wednesday: Eleven-hour work day. Two-and-a-half hours of school.

I get to work early to get ready for the day's inspections. I stay late to get ready for the next day's inspection. I go to school. I sit on my couch and think about nothing in particular, do nothing in particular. I get a few hours of sleep. And I start all over the next day.

I do not live. I merely exist.

Veterans galore.

My dad, my uncles, my aunt, my boyfriend...I'm surrounded!!

And damn proud of every one of them.

Do you have a veteran??

Confessions, Part VII.

I am madly in love with a man who lives thousands of miles away, a man I won't see for many, many months, a man I miss like the sun misses the flower in the depths of winter.

Confessions, Part VII, section b: I totally jacked that last bit from the Heath Ledger film, First Knight. Ha ha...but it totally applies!!

Speechless.

I just saw a commercial for a medical-type center. The commercial had a song. The song went like this...

"Midwest Hem-ah-roid Center / Don't suffer in silence."

I had an overwhelming urge to drive a pencil deep into my brain.

Davi's Magic Wall.

From my election night party. I made my very own Magic Wall.

Fourth graders are pretty goddamn smart.

I was tutoring the usual kid, a bad ass little girl that I shall call Mary. Today, a little girl I shall call Katie joined us, because her tutor totally bailed. I had brought some candy with, because Mary's parents believe Halloween is The Devil. The two girls bickered over the a piece of really hot gum, and Katie won it. So I promised Mary one, and she immediately began an epic argument about this piece of gum being similar to that one, or that piece of gum not being in the same family of gum. I told her the gum I would be giving her was chewing gum, as opposed to bubble gum, because it doesn't blow bubbles. And she said...

"Then make it make bubbles, add some dishwasher liquid."

Jesus H Christ, why didn't I ever think of that?!

Yes...we did.

I called it, with 353 electoral votes. I can't find the Missouri, Indiana, and North Carolina results for some reason, but the only state I called wrong was North Dakota.

What the fuck are you doing reading my blog?!

GO OUT AND FUCKING VOTE!!!!

Let's play catch up!!

What's new with me?? What's new with you??

Ugh, work assessments coming up in November. I'm gonna be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off trying to help other chickens find their heads...and remove them from their assholes. Heh. I think JB would agree with me on this, even if she wouldn't say it aloud.

Tutoring is more fun each time I go. I like the little girl, she's shy but nice. I've been trying to help her with her multiplication tables. I think we made a breakthrough today.

Halloween tomorrow, woot!! I need to go buy me a new sword for my pirate costume. The Brother may dress as Waldo and jump in on every photo opportunity. How hilarious is that gonna be??

On Tuesday night, while I was in class, someone stole my Obama-Biden car magnet. I was furious when I discovered the theft, but my dad chilled me out with this insightful thought: "They can steal your car magnet, but they can't steal your vote." Thanks, Dad.

And lastly, a message from my favorite Dirty Pirate:

Hi All,

During Movember (the month formerly known as November) I'm growing a Moustache. That's right I'm bringing the Mo back because I'm passionate about tackling men's health issues and being proactive in the fight against prostate cancer.

To donate to my Mo you can either:

Click this link https://www. movember. com/us/donate/donate-details. php?action=sponsorlink®o=1518841&country=us and donate online using your credit card or PayPal account, or
Write a check payable to the ‘Prostate Cancer Foundation', referencing my Registration Number 1518841 and mailing it to:
Prostate Cancer Foundation
Attn: Movember
1250 Fourth St
Santa Monica, CA, 90401

All donations are tax-deductible to the extent permitted by law.

The money
raised by Movember is donated directly to the Prostate Cancer Foundation which will use the funds for high-impact research to find better treatments and a cure for prostate cancer.

Did you know:

Prostate cancer is the most common non-skin cancer in the US with one in six American men developing the disease and more than 28,000 men dying of the disease every year.
African American men and those with a family history of prostate cancer are twice as likely to develop the disease and should have regular annual testing starting at 45. All other men should commence testing at 50.
Prostate cancer is 90% curable if detected and treated early.
For those
that have supported Movember in previous years you can be very proud of the impact it has had and can check out the details at:
[ Fund raising Outcomes ].

Movember culminates at the end of month Gala Partés. If you would like to be part of this great night you'll need to purchase a [ Gala Parté Ticket ].

Thanks for your support,

David Michael

*PLEASE FEEL FREE TO FORWARD TO ANYONE YOU THINK MIGHT WANT TO SUPPORT THIS CAUSE

*YOU CAN CHECK MY PROGRESS AND LOOK FOR UPDATES INCLUDING BLOGS AND PICTURES BELOW:

http://us. movember. com/mospace/1518841



More information is available at http://www. movember. com/.

Movember is proudly grown by Canadian Club and Philips Norelco.

Movember is proud to support the Prostate Cancer Foundation

Stop saying you're sorry.

Because I'm only sorry about the actual divorce part. I don't regret the rest of it. I don't regret meeting the Ex, or marrying him. I'm a better person today for knowing him. I learned a lot about myself and who I want to be. And we still keep in touch.

I am happier than I've ever been. If you must pity me, which I would detest, do so only when I am unhappy. And right now, the only unhappiness in my world is the long-term separation from the one I love best in the world. But we're in this together, and that makes me happy.

So please. Stop telling me you're sorry when I inform you that I have gone from Mrs to Ms. I like being a Ms...for now.

I want to live in a tiny house.

I wonder if I could talk Rich into it...I could get a Prius to tow it around, I could totally keep my cats and just let them run around outdoors when we're settled somewhere, and I'd save an assload of cash on utilities, rent and mortgage payments, etc. I'd have to buy the Prius, but if I'm only paying $15 a month on utilities and paying less than a grand total for the house, I could TOTALLY afford it. I would be so uber-green!!

Downsizing to 100 square feet of bliss is the way to go.

Guess what!?!?!

I JUST VOTED FOR THAT SOCIALIST MUSLIM TERRORIST, BARACK HUSSEIN OBAMA!!!!

Have you been watching the news??

Turn on the TV!! This is history in the making!!

How exciting is it that Colin Powell is now pulling for Obama?? Susan Eisenhower, granddaughter of Dwight Eisenhower, is also endorsing him, and she left the Republican Party back in August. She, like Mr Powell, has become disillusioned with the party in recent years. Julie Nixon Eisenhower, daughter of Richard Nixon and sister-in-law to Ms Eisenhower, is also endorsing our man.

If you haven't seen the endorsement, here it is in all its glory.

I have a request. Please don't laugh.

Barack Obama is gonna be at the Arch tomorrow, and I wanna go. I've never been to a political rally before, and I'm curious. I seriously considered going to Springfield when he announced Biden as his running mate, but I didn't feel like making the drive.

So my request is for someone to tag along.
Here's the info:

Change We Need Rally
with Barack Obama

Under the Gateway Arch
Jefferson National Expansion Memorial
Memorial Dr. and Market St.
St.Louis, MO

Saturday, October 18th
Gates Open: 10:15 a.m.
Program Begins: 12:00 p.m.

We could maybe do breakfast at IHOP before hand, and def grab some lunch downtime.
Let me know, 'kay??

Oh, and apparently my sister has dreams about Barack Obama seducing her. She thinks he's sexy.

Introducing: SoCo the Bar Cat.

It's 2:15 AM on the 26th of September, and Rich is showing me a tear on the seal in his trunk outside of one of his favorite bars, which kicked us (well, Rich) out a few minutes before. I am oblivious to the four-legged animal sniffing my shoes until Rich shouts, "Oh my God, a cat!!" I jump in the air in fright, irrationally believing that it was a raccoon (I still don't know why) at the same moment that the kitten jumps back, startled.

"Quick, grab it so we can take it home with us!!" says a very drunk Rich. Not in the mood to argue with a drunk that I'd spent most of the evening bickering with, I grab the stray and shove it at him before climbing into the driver's seat.

Rich is uncharacteristically excited about having his own cat for the next five minutes. Then suddenly reality comes crashing down, and he starts going off. "Oh my God, what are we doing?? Pull over, we're leaving this cat." I tell Rich in no uncertain terms that no, I will NOT pull over and leave this poor defenseless kitten stranded on the side of the highway for some car to run over. We had the cat at his insistence, and that was that. He quieted down, and got excited again, referring to the feline as a male and dubbing it Smoke.

We get home and I take is straight into the bathroom, where I clean its eyes and wipe it down with a wet cloth. I then pick it up for a quick gender confirmation.

"Rich?? It's a girl."

"What?! Are you sure."

I roll my eyes. "Yes."

"How do you know??" Hm.

The next twenty-four hours for Rich are spent in denial of the kitten's gender. He finally settles on the name SoCo for her, because she was found outside a bar. And she is a pretty little thing, dark grey with brown eyes and a tiny white patch under her neck and another on her belly.

And now Rich is gone to Afghanistan for a year while I raise his kitten. Aw, thanks honey.

Stole it from Laggin.

School update: Part II.

We had our first Algebra test almost two weeks ago, and I got an eighty-one on that. Our first Spanish test was last one, and I'm 99% confident that I aced it. Our first Business Math test is tomorrow night, and I'm feeling mildly confident about that one. I'm gonna do a little studying tonight, and maybe some tomorrow at work to make sure I understand the latest stuff she taught us.

Our next Algebra test is Thursday night, and I'm feeling pretty good about the material so far. We just started on Chapter Three tonight, and I'm keeping up.

I wish I could say the same for my online classes, though. Ugh. It's hard to keep up when you work full time, go to school four nights of the week, etc. I like cooking for Rich, so I try to do that as often as possible. And before he moved in, I wasn't too concerned with how my place looked, 'cause I was never here. But now that we're living together, I don't wanna be such a slob, but it's a struggle. The laundry seems endless (I don't know how, there's only two of us), and there's always dishes in the sink. Rich helps out here and there, but it's still...daunting. With all that, I tend to put my online classes on the back burner. My workload has increased at work, so I don't really have time then to get anything done.

Oh, well. I just need to get adjusted, is all.

Vanity plates: Update I.

They're hugely popular in my area. I have no idea why. But I see them EVERYWHERE, and I don't think I've ever seen so many in one place until I came to this area. Some of them I've seen so often that I don't even need to see the plates to know what they say. Sometimes I see as many as five cars in a row with vanity plates, or ten in one small area of a parking lot!! It's madness!!

I've decided to keep a list of all the different vanity plates I see. No makes or models, just plates. Feel free to send me random ones that you may spot. This post will be updated often.

Repeat offenders...er, sightings, are denoted by an asterisk. Updates are italicized.

COMREY 4*
ONLYU 94*
WEEONE*
BNELLY1
TRBOBXR*
4BLKBTY*
ID LOOK 2* (Actually, this is a buddy of Rich's.)
QUAHOG*
TAXI 2 4*
AMC AF 1*
GKBEM 4
EVGMAY 1
KES 1987
CRITLE 2
NIK 88
EAT PORK*
RTZ GRL 1
JADE 63
THRD I C
EMJS 61
GUDTMS 4
MCKID 58*
ANGSAM 5
GJB 8
JROCK 19
RABIES 9*
SYSTEK*
EL CID 85*
RJK JMK 1*
4 PI LTD
FUN SUN 6
STELRZ 4*
MEGIE 86*
MKJK83
MS SET JR*
JLSMAS 5
SOTNYK 4*
MIKA 33
DPH 880
RLB 2002
MARCHO 1 (sp??)
METS 17
BAN 13
RSVLT 2
ARNSNS 4
DEANO 4
REINEK 1
KMN TYM
RDG 813
ERICA 77
I SEE GOD
TAMATHA 1 (sp??)
SPORT WD
WRK TT 1
SANDIG 1*
STHLRD 3 (sp??)
RCCC 13
MR DADS 2
JR TR 1 MIGGS
CNULAF 2
CP VRD 1
ITZ KEL 2
2 QUAD
74 DUCK
TERRY 20
1 NWBRD
MIMI N PA
RICAT 2

*Note: Today's update would have been nearly twice as long. But many of these were spotted while I was driving or riding shotgun, and I just can't text that fast, and I'm not ballsy enough to try writing while driving.

Vanity plates.

They're hugely popular in my area. I have no idea why. But I see them EVERYWHERE, and I don't think I've ever seen so many in one place until I came to this area. Some of them I've seen so often that I don't even need to see the plates to know what they say. Sometimes I see as many as five cars in a row with vanity plates, or ten in one small area of a parking lot!! It's madness!!

I've decided to keep a list of all the different vanity plates I see. No makes or models, just plates. Feel free to send me random ones that you may spot. This post will be updated often.

Repeat offenders...er, sightings, are denoted by an asterisk.

COMREY 4
ONLYU 4
WEEONE*
BNELLY1
TRBOBXR*
4BLKBTY*
ID LOOK 2* (Actually, this is a buddy of Rich's.)
QUAHOG*
TAXI 2 4*
AMC AF 1*
GKBEM 4
EVGMAY 1
KES 1987
CRITLE 2
NIK 88
EAT PORK*
RTZ GRL 1
JADE 63
THRD I C
EMJS 61
GUDTMS 4
MCKID 58
ANGSAM 5
GJB 8
JROCK 19
RABIES 9*
SYSTEK*
EL CID 85
RJK MJK 1*

Quickies.

To infinity and beyond: A sparkling survival story.

Baby Millie Boyle answers phone call to help unconscious mother.

Oil prices slide on soft demand. So why am I back to paying $3.99?!

Palin: War with Russia may be needed. FYI, I don't like the cold. I mean, I REALLY don't like the cold. If it's not snowing, it doesn't need to be cold. Even if it's snowing, it doesn't need to be cold. So you can bet your ass that I am NOT jumping at the prospect of deploying to fucking RUSSIA.

Kanye West arrested after scuffle at airport. I don't like Kanye West. At all. So this headline brought a smile to my face.

WHY WOMEN SHOULD VOTE. I registered last month. I'm ready to "rock the vote".

McCain grilled on The View. This was so awesome. There are no words to describe the awesomeness.

This Week's Palin Primer From Alaska: Bristol and Levi, Earmarks, Troopergate, More. I feel really, really bad for Bristol Palin, if this is true. For both of them. They are going to miserable if this is what their relationship is really like.

Personal Finance For Crime Victims. Ugh.

After that, I feel the need to inject some cheesy humor into this post:

Why do melons have big weddings??

...

Because they cantaloupe!!

How did the frog cross the road??

...

He tied himself to a chicken!!

I got those off a Laffy Taffy wrapper. Srsly.

Confessions, Part VI.

Ignore what's been said, and focus on this:

You are the love of my life, hands down. You're it for me. There's no one else.

Confessions, Part V.

At times, I find you overbearing and intolerable.

I've become accustomed to having little or no happy thoughts.

Confessions, Part IV.

You infuriate me sometimes.

I want my happy thoughts back.

Five years in the military, September 11th, and FUN STUFF.

I meant to blog two days ago about my fifth anniversary of active military service, but it slipped my mind. I have 363 days of active service left. Less than a year.

OMG...THE FINAL STRETCH!!!! It's like the last lap of my mile-and-a-half run for my PT test (which six laps around the track)!! Hallelujah!!

I wanna blog about September 11th, which means I should blog about it today, but I don't feel like dragging up my memories of that day. Perhaps later today. Or even tomorrow. No...definitely later today. After class.

Some crazy links for your enlightenment:

Apparently, terrorist attacks are not the only things remembered on this day. There's a coup...oh, and important church stuff.

I wonder if the Community College of the Air Force would accept this class under electives...

Bible Quote of the Day!!

Please, Mrs Palin, continue to spout your half-truths. Do it for charity.

The tragic results of high oil prices.

Oh, noes. Poor P Diddy has to suffer the indignities of flying commercial, first class, instead of zipping around the world in his private jet. What is this world coming to??

Confessions, Part III.

No matter how upset I get with you, I can't stop loving you.

Is that good?? Is that bad??

"I can't quit you!!" A quote from Brokeback Mountain, I think. Not sure, so don't quote me on that. Ha ha, get it?? Quote?? Oh, stop.

Confessions, Part II.

I've never seen the movie My Best Friend's Wedding. I caught a few minutes of it last night, though. The scene at the karaoke bar really resonated with me. Not the part where Cameron Diaz sang horribly and was applauded. No, right before that. When Cameron was sitting there like a third wheel while her fiance, Dermot Mulroney, and his best friend, Julia Roberts, chatted it up, leaving her feeling excluded. On the outside. Her vain attempts to join in the conversation are ignored. And when Julia finally acknowledges her, she and Dermot give Cameron this look that plainly says, Oh, you're here?? We completely forgot about you.

So here's my confession:

I've been that third wheel. Ignored and forgotten.

School update: Part I.

The first night of Spanish was long and boring. I slept through about half-hour at some point, and throughout the entire four-hour long session, we only got one ten-minute break. We didn't have a session this past week, since the campus was closed for Labor Day. I've ordered my book for the class, but it has yet to make an appearance on my doorstep.

I'm able to keep up in Algebra so far. But I haven't bought the MathXL code yet to do homework (all online), because I'm broke from buying all my other school supplies. The campus bookstore sells the code, just the code, for forty fucking dollars. A classmate told us, though, that a university campus bookstore in the next county is selling it for fifteen dollars. Now if only I had the time - - and the gas - - to get over there and save a few bucks. Despite being genetically unable to grasp math most of the time, the class feels a slow. I feel as if I'm not being challenged enough. I'm sure it'll pick up soon, though, and then I'll be lost.

Business Math is proving to be a bit more complex. Being broke, I still haven't bought the calculator we're required to have. But I'm managing so far. I got my book today...but was furious to find that it was the teacher's edition. I was so upset, I had tears in my eyes. Nowhere in the online ad was it advertised as being a teacher's edition, and it doesn't even say it on the book. I only knew because next to every single problem, all the answers are highlighted in red. Believe it or not, I don't want the answers. Believe it or not, I want to figure the shit out myself. Ugh. But what am I gonna do?? So I just went ahead and did all my homework, attempting to cover the answers as I went along.

I'm planning on going to the campus bookstore on Monday during lunch to sell my Psychology and Speech books. They'll probably jip me, I have no doubt, but I should get enough to cover gas till pay day and get my the MathXL code that I need.

And thank God for my having a USAA bank account. My money from my paychecks is made available one whole business day before the official pay day everytime. So I'll have my money this coming Friday, instead of having to wait till the following Monday. Woot.

Confessions, Part I.

It's been over a week. I can't hold it in any longer.

My birthday sucked.

The end.

Michael Phelps was BORN to win.

Do you know when 9-11 happened??

A conversation was started the other night, before events went south, concerning 9-11. Nick relayed to myself and The Boyfriend a conversation between himself and potential bed partner. Here it is, as best as my memory can conjure it:

"When did 9-11 happen??"

"I think in August. Yeah, August 4th."

"So why do they call in 9-11??"

"Because that's the number for the emergency line."

Needless to say, he was turned off. So Rich recalled asking the same question of a girl he was sorta seeing before I came along and snatched him out of singlehood. Once again, here it is as best as my memory will allow me to 'member:

"Do you know when 9-11 happened."

"Yeah."

"When??"

"Two thousand-three."

Can you tell me when 9-11 happened?? And why it's called 9-11??

Physical fitness is such a pain.

I managed to pass my PT test. And I scored a decent run time, a mile-and-a-half in thirteen minutes and four seconds. My dumb ass didn't stretch before taking off, though, so guess who was doing a speedy version of the Keesler Shuffle towards the end?? (If you went to tech school in Mississippi, you know what I'm talkin' 'bout.)

I came back to the office in my sweaty workout gear, and when I had my back turn a birthday card and package of cookies appeared on my desk. (Thanks, DM.) Then ML and MG came back into the office with armfuls of sodas for everyone. I am smiling as I write this.

Birthday headlines.

Looks like I wasn't the only one pissed off at the pundits blocking speeches here and there at the Democratic National Convention. The speeches I did get to hear were very rousing, very inspirational. I just wish I'd been able to hear the other speeches. Guess I should watch C-SPAN tonight instead of my usual CNN. I also wish Rich hadn't walked in and changed the channel to a Jean Claude Van Dame movie. Gr.

And, yes, I will also be watching the Republican National Convention next week. If I can stomach it.

We should all be as ballsy as this gal. Her husband hired a hitman to kill her. So what did she do?? She killed the hitman. Susan, you are my hero.

Attacking children?? Yes. McCain went there.

I went to escort NM into the office, and as soon as I opened the door I said to him, "Ask me how old I am."

"How old are you??"

"I am twenty-three." It was the first time today I've said it aloud. I am twenty-three years old. One year older. One year wiser?? Meh. I feel the same as I did yesterday.

Shit that happened on my birthday.

Happy Birthday to me...Twenty-three years ago, I was born on an island that sits on top of a volcano. Here's other shit that happened on this day:

• In the year 410, the Visigoths ended their sack of Rome after three days.
• In the year 1776, Americans under General George Washington were defeated by British forces led by General William Howe at the Battle of Long Island in Brooklyn.
• In the year 1813, French Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte defeated a very large force of Austrians, Russians, and Prussians at the Battle of Dresden.
• In the year 1859, petroleum was discovered in Titusville, Pennsylvania. This was the world's first successful oil well. Ugh.
• In the year 1896, the world's shortest war, the Anglo-Zanzibar War, was fought between Great Britain and Zanzibar between nine o' clock and nine-forty-five. We could take a page out of their book.
  
• In the year 1916, Romania declared war against Austria-Hungary, entering World War I as one of the Allied nations.
• In the year 1928, sixty nations signed the Kellogg-Briand Pact, outlawing war. Hm.
• In the year 2003, Mars makes its closest approach to Earth in nearly 60,000 years.

Lyndon B Johnson and Mother Theresa share my birthday.

I don't know what class I'm going to tonight.

O Gray Saturn Station Wagon, why dost thy license plate read RABIES 9??

I like watching the news, but the voices of some of these people make me want to shove a pencil deep into each of my ears and smack said pencils with a hammer for good measure.

I want to marry the freecreditreport.com guy.

Aw, you shouldn't have.

A birthday card?? For me?? From the commander?? How lovely. And he addressed me by my nickname?? That couldn't possibly have ANYTHING to do with the e-mail sent last month asking for everyone with a birthday in August to submit a name they prefer to go by. And that's his real signature, not a photocopy.

Ha ha...It's kinda cool, actually. Previous commanders always sent them a month or two late. This one is actually a day early!! Oh, shit. I turn twenty-three tomorrow.

...

Oh, so that's how we're gonna play this game??

Hey, I have an idea. Let's just pretend it never happened. Better than coming to terms with it before happily moving on, right?? Alright. I'll play your game...for now. But when you least expect it, I will POUNCE, and the charade will end. 'Cause I say so. So sit back, relax as the days slip by in peace. And I will watch, and I will wait for an opening.

My coffee is making me a little silly.

I was let off work pretty damn early yesterday, and I literally ran out of my area like a kid released after a half-day of school. Of course, once I was out in the main area, I slowed to a more professional stroll. But I was in a pretty damn good mood. I decided to head right over to The Boyfriend's to help with moving. We manage to pack one large box before he strolled over to his computer and popped a squat in front of it.

"I haven't played Counter-Strike in forever!!"

"Yeah, not since Jay left." He opened it up and began scrolling through servers. "Don't you dare start playing, we have to move stuff!!"

"I'm gonna play, just watch!!"

"Don't you dare!!"

"Just sit down for ten minutes while I play." Goddamnit. I threw myself down on the chair next to him and crossed my arms. Then I became distracted by the little curls that were sticking out of the side of his head at that exact moment. I commented on them, because they looked so damn cute.

So I called my sister.

"Hello."

"Hey, Trish."

"Hey, what's up??"

"My boyfriend is so damn cute. He's growing his hair out, and there are random little curls sticking out the side of his head."

"... You called me to tell me about your boyfriend's hair??"

"Yes."

Rich ignored me the whole time. He had some counter-terrorists to kill, and the man was FOCUSED. I stopped gushing about the curls (Have you vomited yet?? No?? No, worries, I'll get you next time...), chatted a bit more with Trish, and then let her go so I could yell at Rich. He actually LISTENED TO ME (Holy shit!!) and stopped playing to load up the truck.

I finally saw pictures of poor Lola. She's missing her rear bumper. Oh, well. Shit happens.

I had my first Spanish class last night. What a fucking snooze fest...until she had us reading out of the book and spelling words in Spanish. Oh. My. God. You English speakers are HILARIOUS.

We did one exercise that involved filling in the names of a couple of celebrities with the missing vowels. A guy wearing a Pirates hat had no idea who Roberto Clemente was. He said he was more into basketball. Ah. I see. The hat is a fashion statement. LAME.

Thank Christ, we got out of there half-hour early. The next few weeks may be the death of me. Tonight, it's Algebra...I think.

Oh, and before I sign off, I will share with you the bullshit of all bullshit. Rich called that company to find out if they had a departure date for him yet. They have no openings for September. Unemployment, anyone??

Lost and confused...but slowly I am filled with hope.

My heart is a bit sore. The white flag is up. But negotiation terms have yet to be even touched upon. The words of a friend leave me confused and wondering.

A wicked combination released a Mr Hyde, and there was nothing I could do about it. I stitched up my wounds all by myself. When will they be acknowledged??

For a moment my world was turned upside down, and you were a stranger. You're back now, but my world has been left teetering on the brink. What am I to make of this??

If I were on the outside looking in, I know what my advice would be. However, I've never been good at taking my own advice and applying it to my life. But this is different. I'm on the inside looking around, and I have a different perspective from everyone else. I will not make excuses, but I can see the good and the bad. And I know on the deepest level that the good outweighs the bad in great numbers.

So I won't turn away. I'll stand my ground, and do what I can to shield you and those you love from the bad so that the good may prevail. I just hope you'll listen, I just hope you'll understand. I'm not here to change who you are. I'm not here to hold you back. Just sit right here next to me, let me take your hand in mine, and we'll work this out. Because nothing in this world means more to me than this. Nothing is worth fighting for more than this. I stumbled upon this by accident, and it was the best accident of my life.

We will talk, we will listen, we will get through this.

Abortion and wreckage in the eleventy-first.

I was at my place late yesterday doing some more cleaning. The focus was on my bedroom, since The Boyfriend had moved his bed and would start staying at my apartment.

Let's go ahead and focus on two of the three pillows I had on my bed.They're average pillows wearing pillow shams, decorative and whatnot. I moved them from the bed to the floor. From the floor to one of the couches. From that couch to the other couch. And finally back to my bed. And when I was placing them on my now bare bed, I noticed two fluffs of foam (the kinda foam you find in bedding or pillows), and without thinking reached out to pick them off.

One of those "fluffs" squished between my thumb and index finger. It was then I knew, yet I was in denial. I quickly moved on to the next task.

I went back into my room and short time later to examine the area on the floor where the "fluffs" had been tossed. I didn't see them, so I leaned over the pillows to examine them for more "fluff" when I spotted the fluff culprit and my suspicions were confirmed.

A SPIDER HAD BEEN LAYING EGGS ON MY PILLOWS.

I killed it, and left it at that.

Later, The Boyfriend and I set out to get clothes and a lamp from his place, with a detour to Jack-in-the-Box on the way back home. His phone rang, and he answered to speak with his friend Brandon. At first I heard him laughingly tell Brandon to cut it out with the jokes and what have you. But the more his friend spoke, the more grim my lover's face became. And even before I heard the words from Brandon's end, I knew: "...I hydroplaned...flipped over three times..." (Bear in mind I was in the passenger seat with the phone facing away from me two feet away. This may have been what I heard). All I could do was pray that he was talking about his bike, and not Lola, The Boyfriend's darling, his sexy Mitsubishi Escape. Of course, logic told me that if Brandon had hydroplaned on his bike and flipped it over three times, he would most likely not be in a position to call The Boyfriend to tell him about it.

I was dropped off and left alone with food for two, waiting and wondering what had happened. I saw Rich again briefly when he came to drop off my clothes for me, and he didn't seem too upset, which I took to mean he'd seen the damage and that it wasn't all bad. He told me that Brandon had lost control and hit the median, and then took off for the rest of the night to sort it out.

I took my sheets out of the dryer and went to fix my bed. As I reached into the back right corner to tuck the sheet in, I felt some webbing and jumped back, hitting my arm very hard against the nightstand. I vacuumed up that and it's minuscule occupant with a quickness, and vacuumed the other corner to be on the safe side. But I decided I didn't want to spend my night paranoid, so I put my new slip covers onto my couches and crashed on one of them for the evening.

Oh, and I definitely vacuumed more than 20 friggin' dead rolly pollies. Yuck.

Nine more months until I can move out this apartment.

Purpose II: The Joys of Purposelessness.

I forgot to mention yesterday the reason why I don’t care that my blog is about nothing; why I actually prefer it that way. I was reminded this morning when reading the comments on Black Hockey Jesus’ latest blog post. He has a daddy blog. But he doesn’t always post about being a dad. Sometimes he gets into some really deep shit. And when he does, he sometimes gets criticized for straying from the “approved” subject matter. “Hey, you’re a dad writing a dad blog. Write about dad stuff, and nothing else.” Fuck that, I say.

My blog, being about nothing in particular, can go in any direction that I desire. I can share anecdotes from my life. I can discuss my plans for my future. I can wax poetic/furiously vent about my boyfriend. I can post links to articles and share my thoughts on them. I can post my written pieces.

I CAN DO WHATEVER THE HELL I WANT. And who’s gonna stop me?? No one. As a blogger, I have the same freedom as any other blogger out there in the Blogosphere: I can write about whatever strikes my fancy. Black Hockey Jesus has this right. Yes, he has declared himself a daddy blogger, so it makes sense for him to blog often about the trials and tribulations of parenthood, but why should this restrict him?? Why should he not wax poetic on metaphoric staining and so on??

The blogospheric sky is the limit. Let anyone try to hold me back, and you’ll be choking on the dust that I leave in my wake.

Purpose??

Re-did my layout. Duh.

I was browsing through under the roof of a great house a couple of weeks back when I saw some information posted by laggin concerning a woman doing her thesis on blogging. I decided to jump on board and help out (I can't for the life of my find the link to the site now, sorry). I can't remember exactly what the thesis is about, but if you're curious you can e-mail her at aboutyourblog@gmail.com.

So she's sent me two rounds of questions thus far concerning my blog, and some of them got me thinking. "What is your blog about?? Why are you blogging??" Etcetera.

Why am I blogging?? What is the purpose of my blog?? Who am I blogging for?? All the blogs I link to have a purpose. But mine...is just a journal on the web. Earlier today as I was considering, I didn't like this at all. But right at this moment, I could care less. This blog is about nothing in particular, and I write it for me. I like knowing that people are reading it, that they find what I have to say mildly interesting. But I don't expect them to take away anything from this. If they do, good for them and kudos to me. If not, oh well.

Hooray for not making staff!!

I have once again failed in my half-hearted attempts to make the next rank and put another blue stripe on each sleeve of this oh-so-fashionable uniform. Which means I have once again avoided the responsibility of supervising some snot-nosed troop fresh out of tech school with the rosy and naive expectation of an Air Force that is more fair than anything they've encountered thus far in their early months of their enlistment. My only disappointment is not being able to crush that view and splatter its guts all over the wall.

Oh, and not being the next NCO D in a line of NCO Ds. My uncle and godfather, the patriarch of the D Family, retired as an E-7 from the guard. My dad retired as an E-6 from the guard. I suppose it shall be my fate as well, only I plan on retiring from the reserves. And with a rank higher than Staff Sergeant, thank you very much.

I am only a Senior Airman. And I guess I'm okay with that for now. It was too much pressure to have to study anyhow. And with the workload I've signed on for this semester, I'd rather not go to Airman Leadership School anytime soon.

Besides...Grandpa only made it as far as Private First Class in the army. So, nyeh.

I'm drinking tonight.

I feel like depressing you.

Maybe, if I'm feeling like it, I'll post some cheerier links later.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"The Afghan women jailed for being rape victims." Because it's all their fault that some guys forced their way under their burqas.

"Mexico's Cocaine Capital." I know what the theme of my next Cinco de Mayo party will be!!

"At JFK Airport, Denying Basic Rights Is Just Another Day at the Office." Welcome to America, land of the free. Not really.

"Toddler 'starved to death by religious cult because he wouldn't say amen'." The apostles said amen, and all they got was dry bread and cheap wine.

"Saudi girl drinks bleach to escape marriage." What would you do if your dad was giving you to a seventy-something-year-old man in exchange for a pre-pubescent bride?? Cutting off his balls would have been my choice.

Monotony.

The same thing, over and over again. An endless cycle. The never-ending entertainment of Rich playing Halo with Steven. Or Butkus, whomever is available.

I am so bored.

A burning question, a heated debate.

Yeah, it's pretty hot.

Sitting through yet another assessment, JB and I watched Olympic water polo on the TV above us as we waited for the assessee (person being assessed) to make copies of essential stuff on papers.

I turn to JB and ask, "Isn't water polo just volleyball??" She thinks about it for a moment, and replies, "No, it's like soccer."

"So, why not just call it water soccer?? Or even water fútbol..."

She seems perplexed by this logic, and so commences a debate on what water polo is, what land sport it is adapted from, and what it should be actually called.

Polo is a sport played on horseback using sticks. But water polo is so much like soccer. So is polo soccer on horseback?? After about ten minutes of this, a moment of brilliance: polo is lacrosse on horseback!! There's soccer. Then there's lacrosse, which is like soccer but with sticks. Then there's polo: soccer with a stick on horseback. But...lacrosse is called lacrosse, not "soccer with sticks". And polo is called polo, not "soccer with a stick on horseback." So why is water polo, which is soccer in the water with sticks or horses, called water polo instead of having it's own name?? And if polo is soccer with a stick on horseback, where the connection with it's supposed water version?? Where are the sticks and the horses?? Why the mislabeling?? And why treat it as a third-class sport not worthy of it's own unique and original name??

Honestly, what the hell else are we gonna talk about on these blasted assessments??

Still conscious despite all this choking.

I don't understand what's wrong with me. The Boyfriend usually reacts negatively when I try to explain a problem to him, but why I let this silence me is beyond me. I can't bring myself to talk to him, I constantly choke on my words. And I want so badly to talk, to explain, to make him understand, and I know he wants that of me. So why can't I do it??! Why do we always gotta go through this same routine?! Why do I do this to myself, to him, to us?? I even tried organizing my thoughts on a piece of paper so that I wouldn't stumble over my words or lose my train of thought, but the moment he stepped into the room I lost all my nerve. And then ended up rambling and making no sense.

Alright. Time to suck it up and try this again. I can do this. DAMNIT.

Let me point out that if I'm not terribly upset, I'm usually able to vocalize my thoughts, and he's pretty understanding. No fuss, no temper tantrums, just two adults having a conversation and finding a resolution. But if I've been really stewing and something sets me off...I can feel myself being strangled, and nothing comes out. Sigh.

I'm sorry, Rich.

The New Times of Phoenix has interesting articles.

Here's one profiling the "postmodern" John McCain, a fascinating read.

And this is a heartbreaking one about a guy who was the Good Samaritan and called 911, and may end up going to jail for it. What the fuck is this country coming to??

I would LOVE a four-day work week. Three-day weekends would become four-day weekends. Four-day weekends would become five-day weekends!! OMG, where do I sign up?!

You know, I have to say that on Election Day, I will be voting for Barack Obama. However, I do like to be as fair about these things as possible, and even though I would never in a million years vote for McCain, I would for once like to read something POSITIVE about him. If I'm going to be posting negative links on here in regards to him, I don't want to be accused of being biased. But it's so hard to find anything good in the places I'm looking!! I usually browse articles from all over the web on digg.com, but like I said, I'm only seeing the negative. Can anyone help me out??

Dude, weird. Vampire bats killing people?!

Look at this. Another negative article about McCain!! Sigh. Just read on, Davi. But wait, why stop there?? Another one!! Srsly, at this point, something positive would be refreshing. It's not like it would change my vote, I'm just looking for a change of pace in my political browsing.

I should probably put in a quick disclaimer real quick: Yes, I am voting for Obama. But, no, I am not here to "endorse" him, that is, convince you, the reader, to vote for him. As a member of the military, I am not allowed to do that. And even if I were, I am not the person to do this because I am politically ignorant. It is only with this election that I'm coming out of my own personal Political Dark Age into a Political Renaissance. So, read the articles I post, feel free to post your own personal opinions on here, but please, do not quote me, or at the very least, don't quote me as an authority on the subject. Hence my disclaimer at the top and bottom of this page, which will continue to be the case even when I separate from the military (or go reserve, still undecided).

Okay, I just went to www.johnmccain.com, and what I'm seeing is ridiculous. An official "Obama Tire Gauge"?? The Obama Fan Club?! I was expecting policy highlights. Instead all I'm seeing is the garbage being spewed about Obama. He's taking that whole popularity/celebrity angle a little far. And as for ridiculing Obama for his remarks on keeping your tires properly inflated...AAA has verified that this does in fact help out with your fuel efficiency. In yo' face.

And so, the search for positive McCain highlights continues. Someone help!!

Moderate Republicans for Obama.

These are some really interesting articles I came across this morning. If I find anymore, I'll post them.

Ike's Granddaughter Calls Obama "Future of America"

US Elections: Julie Nixon and Susie Eisenhower back Barack Obama

We Should Still Like Ike

Chuck Lasker Personal Site Politics Page

Kitty troubles.

So, my landlady busted me with too many cats. So not only am I forced to give up The Ex-Husband's cat, Tyger...but I'm also saying good-bye to my own cat, Mitzie. And it's breaking my heart.

Looks like Simi will be an only-child now. I will no longer be the crazy cat lady. I feel like bawling my eyes out all over again.

Non-pet owners don't understand. They never could. My cats are my children. I love them, they're my babies. They each have their own unique personalities, their own endearing qualities. Being forced to give them up is like being forced to give up your child. Now, if I had actually had children, it would probably be a little less dramatic for me. Nonetheless, it's heart-wrenching.

So tomorrow morning I have to get up and drive to Cedar Rapids, Iowa, to meet up with the Ex's mother and sister. His mother will be taking the cats for me. I'm really grateful to her for this, as I had nowhere else to turn. It's gonna suck driving, though. It's five hours there, five hours back according to MapQuest. I could probably make it in four-and-a-half, but that's still a nine-hour round trip. Alone. I hope I can make it without making too many stops.

So, there you have it. It's just me and Simi now. I hope, when the Ex gets back from the desert, that his mom will be willing to give up Mitzie again. If not, I won't make a fuss. But I really hope I'll be able to see my snooty little girl again.

And for my 100th post...

...I give you, The Airman Profile's Creed.

I am an Airman on Profile.
I watch all the other warriors.
The clinic has answered my call.
I am an Airman on Profile.
My mission is to sit, surf, and complain.
I am faithful to my physical limitations.
A Tradition of uselessness,
And a legacy of inaction.
I am an Airman on Profile.
Guardian of restricted duty and malingering,
My nation's plague and hemorrhoid,
Its whiner and weakest link.
I defend my non-deployable status with my life.
I am an Airman on Profile.
Victim, follower, casualty.
I will always be the Airman behind.
I will always falter.
And I will fail.

It's already Thursday?!

You can't make this stuff up. I laughed so hard I banged my head on my desk.

From TechRepublic writer Jody Gilbert:
10 flagrant grammar mistakes that make you look stupid.
10 mispronunciations that make you look stupid.

I don't feel sorry at all for this English teacher.

Sexual harassment is the key to human survival...so says a judge in Russia. Are you fucking kidding me?! Russia has been officially crossed off my list of countries to visit.

So...Paris Hilton for President?? Meh.

We're going back...back...back to school again.

I think that's how the song goes...

I registered for fall classes at my local college finally. I was hit with disappointment concerning my management courses; they're each only one friggin' credit. Ugh. I ended up signing up for Business Mathematics (?!) for three credits. It's a full semester course, hopefully I'll make it through. The Supervisor suggested I just CLEP the other management course to save time and money.

Also, I finally submitted an application to University of Maryland University College, two years after first coming across the site. I plan on taking online courses towards my bachelor's degree. If I move to North Carolina when I get out, I'll try to transfer to UNC. Hopefully they won't give me trouble; when I was in PR I overheard my dad on the phone with UNC, and it sounded like they were giving him trouble about transferring his credits over from the Interamerican University of Puerto Rico. Lame.

Yes, I fully intend on taking three full semester courses this semester in the classroom as well as taking online courses. Rich is going to Afghanistan, and I don't have many friends. I need something to occupy my time for the next year. Besides, I've been procrastinating waaaay too much on my education. A lot of the people that showed up at this base at the same time as me already have their CCAF degrees, and some of them are well on their way to getting another degree. I've been slacking!!

Oh, he's a funny one.

Not really.

Our flight commander sent a calender appointment for an upcoming flight call. He ended the message with, "Be there or be square."

That dude tries too hard to be hip. What kills me is that it's so unnecessary. Major C, we like you just the way you are. Please, stop trying.

Strength and VALUES.

Written 31 August 2005.

We underestimate our ability to help ourselves. We seek help from others, sometimes therapy, in the hopes that someone else will be able to solve our problems. This is an incorrect assumption, thinking that someone else can fix our problems. Only I can solve my problems, no one else. But sometimes, we need someone to help us tap into our inner strength; that is the purpose of therapy and such. One need only tap into that well of strength, and from there, conquer the world.

Today, the idea of VALUES was brought to my attention. Imagine that you are witnessing your own funeral. Who will be there?? The people that matter to you: spouse/significant other, children, family, friends. Will the boss that hates you be there?? Will the co-worker that irritates the hell out of you be there?? Will your landlord be there?? No. So why why should any of them matter?? Granted, today they are causing problems. But tomorrow, you're not gonna care. Why worry about the things that, in the grand scheme of things, don't even matter. Don't let that boss, co-worker, or landlord get to you. All that matters is your family, your friends, your pets, your career, and your happiness. Nothing else. What a lovely thing to have hitting you in the head when you're feeling down...

(c) 2006 - 2008 almighty-davi.deviantart.com

Only forward.

People surrounded her as she climbed the steps of the old tower, yet she felt completely alone. No one took any notice of her; she was invisible. Up and up she went, gazing out the windows as she passed them to see how far she'd gone. She reached the top, and stepped out into the glaring sunlight. All around her, every where she turned, she saw an endless blue sky dotted with white and gray clouds that capped the lush green mountains surrounding the lone tower. The people around her oohed and ahhed at the sight, snapping photos of the scenery and of each other. She wished they would all go away so that she might enjoy this moment on her own. In the distance she could see a town, which suddenly seemed much further away than it actually was. Gazing at the mountains, she could feel the mixed blood of her ancestors in her veins pulsing through her body. She was the brown native, taking from and giving to the land in equal parts. She was the white conqueror, encroaching on those long established here. She was the black captive, forced to work this strange land far from home. She was all of these and none of these, rooted in the past yet looking to the future. This was her home as it much as it was the home of the brown native, yet at the same time it was strange and foreign to her as it was to the white conqueror and the black captive. It was beautiful and alluring, calling to her in a way nothing else did. And yet as it called to her it contradicted itself with its strangeness, forever leaving her to feel the intruder in the midst of the lush, strange beauty. She turned to head back down the stairs, and by the time she had reached the bottom the momentary sense of belonging had completely dissipated. Once again she was wholly a visitor, and nothing more.

She sits at her desk, her feet once again firmly planted in the reality of her existence. She gazes for a moment at the souvenirs she has brought in. She feels nothing for them. Something inside her yearns to return to those moments, but the yearning is a weak thing. This is where she belongs; this is where she fits in. Those mountains are her past, and her roots go deep there. But where she is now will lead to her future, and this is home now. She can go back and visit; but she can never really go back. Only forward.

(c) 2008 almighty-davi.deviantart.com

THE WIND IN YOUR VAGINA.

Look over there. On the right. Scroll down a bit. See that?? That's my blog roll. See the one entitled THE WIND IN YOUR VAGINA?? Read it. Is it all true?? Is it all a pack of lies?? Is it a fascinating mix of the two?? Who knows?? Who cares?? The fact of the matter is, it's totally awesome and hilarious. And my endorsement of this blog written by Black Hockey Jesus is in no way related to him adding me to his blog roll. For serious.

You're my sweetheart.

It's two ay-em, and I'm the designated driver. Rich has just finished yelling the directions home at me, and I'm not pleased. His music is blaring, but suddenly he turns it down for a moment.

"I love you. You know that, right??"

Half-hearted grin. I'm supposed to be irritated.

"Seriously, I'm not just saying that 'cause I'm drunk. I really love you. You're my sweetheart."

Full-blown genuine grin as my heart melts. You're my sweetheart, too.

The Little Arachnid that wouldn't go away, and other stuffs.

Feeling that the antagonist of yesterday has moved on to less mobile pastures, I trudge over to the driver's side this morning, tired and cranky about having to go to PT. As I reach for the handle, I freeze. There it is. A full blown web. Not the stringy thing of yesterday. An actual web. Curse the little bastard!!

I walk around to the passenger side to climb in...and I just stand there, staring miserably at the car, clicking the un-arm button for the alarm over and over. I walk back inside and timidly ask Rich, who is lying in bed hung over from last night's shenanigans, "Can I borrow your car??"

"No!! You have to work. I'm not gonna be stranded here all [the 'all' drawn out in true irritated New York fashion] day!!" Sigh. I grab his broom (which I've never seen him use), and trudge back outside.

I wipe away the web, and have to psyche myself up to bang out the mirror four times. The little sucker isn't budging, so I carry the broom back inside, and resign myself to climbing in through the passenger side.

I'm at the last light before coming to the gate when I jump and cry out at the sight of that bastard. And so began, and I'm not embarrassed to admit this, my negotiations with that tiny protagonist.

I must pause to note here that fear has a funny was of distorting images and memories. Yesterday, its body alone was the size of a quarter and it was bright orange with black stripes. Today, it is merely brown fading into a lighter brown that might appear orange in a certain light, and the entirety of the body to include its legs is the size of a quarter. Huh.

Anywho, the negotiations... "Alright, stay right there, don't move. I'm gonna drive carefully here, so that you don't go off and hide again. I'll have a gate guard remove you, and you can run off and find a new home. You can go live where no humans can bother you, and I can have my car in peace. Does that work for you?? Just hang in there, I'm driving as carefully as I can without getting pulled over for driving too slow!!" And so on.

I pull up to the gate, and I point at the spider. The gate guard, in confusion, looks behind him. I point again, more specifically and vigorously, and he's taken aback at the sight The Little Arachnid. He flicks it away from the mirror, and I almost burst into tears with relief.

I am now able to get in and out of my car on the driver's side without fear, and hopefully that goddamned spider has gone and found a new home in tree somewhere.

After that, my day couldn't go wrong, and except for the usual parking misery at work, I was in a good mood all day.

Last night we hung out at Nick's , who explained almost as soon as I walked through the door that he would not be blogging until I ended my hiatus. I told him that it had ended weeks ago. Apparently, he took my hiatus from my blog to mean that I was decamping the blogosphere all together during that time, and according to him I'm the only person who reads his blog, so he hasn't seen the point in blogging, even though he says he has so much to blog about it.

And after the fight he tried to pick last night, I told him to get on it.

Brandon, Rich's friend, was also at Nick's, and Rich happened to mention to him that he'll be leaving in three weeks, though there is still no set date. I was upset that this was the first I'd heard of it (he'll be gone before the end of August!! That's sooner than I expected!!), and asked why he hadn't told me. He responded irritably, "I just found out yesterday." What?! You've known for a full twenty-four hours and have failed to disclose this piece of information?!

Men are completely oblivious sometimes. I wanted to smack him. I was totally expecting a departure date in early September. I was really hoping he'd be here for my birthday, but he'll be gone before then. I would have said all this, but chose to hold my tongue, as this argument would have made his friends feel awkward (we once had a screaming match in front Nick...how embarrassing; on other occasion, I yelled at Rich for waking me up while, unbeknownst [sp?!] to me, Brandon was laying on the couch trying to fall asleep after a night of drinking...I'm sure he took it out of context and I looked the worse for it), and besides, he already knows how I feel about the impending departure, and the fact remains that he doesn't entirely understand how I feel. But that's okay, having a penis makes it hard to understand this sort of thing.

Anyway, I am in such a good mood today that I suggested to Rich that we go shoot some pool. And, miracle of miracles, he actually said yes to one my suggestions!!

I'm smiling as I end this post.

Oh!! And before I forget...the girlfriend of one of Nick's friends, a journalist, told me that she had seen my blog and that she was impressed by my writing. Yay!! A shout out to Christie!!

The vacation, the sickness, and MORE GODDAMN SPIDERS.

Act I, The Vacation.

I did not go to sleep until about two ay-em. At three-thirty that Tuesday morning, I had to get up and go to the airport. Rich dropped me off, and I checked in both my suitcase and duffel bag for $46 (American Airlines charges not just for the second piece of baggage, but ALL pieces). When the woman behind the counter asked for my ID, I presented my military ID (which makes the airport nonsense run just a tad smoother for me). Upon seeing that I was a member of this nation's armed forces, she promptly informed me that I was not required to pay to to have my baggage checked in, and I was given a refund.

I slept on the flight to Miami. I chilled out in Miami for a few hours. On the way to San Juan, my contacts became so hazy that I couldn't read my book (The Diana Chronicles, by Tina Brown...very good). So I chucked them down the sink in the lavatory and put on my glasses.

I landed in San Juan and walked to claim my luggage. After an eternity, my duffel bag came. After another eternity had passed, it occurred to me that perhaps my suitcase would not be making an appearance. So I want to make a claim, and had to deal with a man with no sense of urgency and a pronounced lisp, who felt the need to translate everything I told him from English to Spanish under his breath as he ever so slowly typed in the information.

I finally met up with The 'Rents and The Sis, and was surprisingly subdued over the loss of my suitcase. Three years ago, the last time I was in Puerto Rico, I landed to find my suitcase damaged, which put me in a bad temper. Then, inexplicably, my right breast became exposed to the fiendish delight of some young airport employees. This put me in a towering rage, and I screamed vulgarities at them in English which they no doubt understood.

So here I am, three years later, my suitcase MIA...and I'm merely subdued. Bummed. Shows how far I've come in stressing over things that are beyond my control. I console myself with a greasy, cheesy, heart-stopping Baconator from Wendy's, and we get into the rental car for the drive to Adjuntas.

We arrive at my grandmother's, get fed, and stay up late, all four of us, discussing anything and everything from movies to history to whatever else crossed our minds. At some point we saw my fifteen-year-old cousin Rodolfo, who has lost weight and now wears glasses, and my cousin Ada, now twelve years old. Rodolfo currently lives alone in the house next-door to my grandmother since his father, my aunt Millie's ex-husband, moved out to go live with a girlfriend or something like that. Naturally I was outraged when told, and couldn't (and still don't) understand why he doesn't live with my grandmother or go live with his mother and step-father in Montana. Well, my grandmother feeds him, but apparently he doesn't want to live in Montana (he's fifteen years old, he's not old enough to have a choice in the matter!!), and besides, he's doing well in school and soon Millie and her husband, Brock, plan on moving to Puerto Rico and into that house, which belongs to Millie in the first place. Whatever.

On Wednesday, we go to my Aunt Aracelis' house to see her and my cousins Geramy and Antonio. We also see Sasha, a friend of Geramy's and the niece of Noemí, a woman who went to school with my mom and Aracelis. We let Aracelis know that the physical address provided for the delivery of my suitcase is hers (my grandmother's house has no physical address, as she lives on the side of a mountain; my aunt lives twenty minutes away in a more urbanized neighborhood on said mountain). We leave my mom with my aunt to look up classmates on Facebook and make fun of them, and take off to mooch on my Uncle Fred's wireless.

I call the 800 number provided by the airline a few times, but the automated voice thingy isn't telling me anything relevant. So after a few hours (and a delicious meal provided by Fred's wife, Cuca), I get a hold of a living, breath representative, who informs me that my suitcase is living it up back in Miami, and she has no clue when it will make it's merry way to San Juan. Frustrated, I hang up. We go back to Aracelis' house, and my dad calls the airline to speak to another rep. After being told that the airline pretty much could care less about my suitcase and my lack of clothing for the coming week which they will not reimburse me for, my dad bitches him/her out and says that if my suitcase isn't put on the next flight out, he's getting a lawyer. And he hangs up.

That evening my parents take me to Plaza del Caribe, the mall in Ponce (where I was born) to buy me clothing. We see my Uncle Edwin, who is head of maintenance at the mall. I get some shirts, pants, and (thank God) underwear, and we head back to my grandma's.

On Thursday, the vacation finally swings into action. We drive up to San Juan for some tourism. I call the 800 number again, and this time the automated voice tells me that my suitcase has arrived in San Juan, is scheduled for pickup at 0800 and should be delivered within six hours, hooray!! Meanwhile, we walk the Paseo del Morro (a trail along the seashore that winds around the fortress of Castillo San Felipe del Morro), and we see a lot of stray cats that Trish photographs (she plans on putting together a photo essay concerning these poor animals; or more information on their plight, go to Save a Gato) and Puerto Rico's version of Charlie Brown's Kite-Eating Tree.

We then walk over El Morro itself, and my dad and I continue on while we leave Trish and Mom to chill out on the grass and watch the people with their kites (the inevitable victims of said Kite-Eating Tree). I'm so stoked about El Morro, because I haven't walked through there in at least eight years. It's better than I remembered, and the view is amazing.

We end our excursion with a delicious meal at a restaurant called Raíces. I ordered for the main course mofongo relleno y churrasco (mashed plantains stuffed with a delicious and tender skirt steak), and for desert I had flan de queso (cheese flan!!). We headed back to Adjuntas, and I was looking forward to attending the Patron Festival that night in the pueblo, but it was rained out, same as the night before. On the bright side, we were able to go get my suitcase from my aunt's house, yay!!

On Friday we went with my Uncle Fred for a long drive along the southwestern coast of the island. Our intention was to see the lighthouse in Cabo Rojo; my dad loves lighthouses and photographing them. Unfortunately the road to it was closed off for the day. So we scoped out the salt flats real quick (apparently said salt flats are Puerto Rico's oldest industry), and then ate at a seaside restaurant that I walked away from with a lot of bug bites.

On Saturday, I woke up with the beginning of a sore throat, courtesy of Trish, whom I'd been sharing a bed with. We left my mom with my grandma and went to San Juan so that the two photographers could do their thing while I enjoyed the sightseeing. Well, we arrive only to find that my sister had left her memory card two hours away in Adjuntas. So we drove around for more than an hour trying to find her a memory card so that the day wouldn't be wasted. Finally we found the mall that we used to go to all the time, Plaza Carolina, and found the card in a Radio Shack packed with people and a child screaming so loud I thought he was going to choke and die right there.

My dad then drove us to the rain forest El Yunque, and he and Trish got some lovely shots of the surrounding mountains from the top of a tower. They got some great shots at La Coca Falls as well. At this point the bug that I'd caught from Trish, as well as a very stiff and sore right ankle from the San Juan trek a two days prior, was bringing me down. I was feeling lethargic, my throat was hurting more and more, and I was getting chills.

From El Yunque we were driving along the through a town called Loiza, and I was laying down in the backseat when the two paparazzi I was stuck with began exclaiming in excitement. I shot up in my seat to see that we had literally driven right smack into Carnaval de Loiza!! My dad parked, and we ran around taking it all in. After a while we walk into a store to get some water. I'm starting to feel a tad weak at this point. We go back outside, and after a few minutes I become lightheaded and almost pass out. I try to tell my dad, but he's distracted and not paying attention. So what else is new??

We get back in the car and eventually get out of the town (traffic was crazy backed up), and I make every attempt to get comfortable, but it's not happening. After a couple of hours we stop at El Mesón, a sandwich shop, and eat. We get back to Adjuntas at last where I take a Motrin and crawl into bed. I am full blown sick at this point and I have a fever. Fortunately the Motrin gets rid of it, and a few hours later when everyone is heading to Uncle Edwin's to watch a boxing match, I'm able to tag along.

It was Miguel Cotto (from Puerto Rico) against Antonio Margarito (from Mexico). The Mexican won, damnit.

On Sunday I'm not feeling to hot, but DayQuil keeps me going. We drive to Ponce for the day, and I enjoy myself fairly well. I get some souvenirs for myself, The Boyfriend, and The Brother. My dad took us to see The Cross in Ponce, and across the road was Castillo Serralles. We also saw the Parque de Bomba, and went to La Guancha, the boardwalk, where I chowed on empanadillas and a shrimp pincho, and Trish spotted some authentic looking Taino folk whom I bought a ring from.

That night I went with my dad and Uncle Fred to the fiesta, finally. We saw my dad's friend Raymond, who was the only person on the entire island curious enough to ask about my divorce. (I was surprised, I expected more nosiness.) I kinda stood around bored while my dad greeted and chatted up his high school buddehs. I then spotted Noemí and her drunk boyfriend, who kept going on about "la maleta" (my poor suitcase). I spoke with Noemí for a while, and not once did she speak English to me or encourage me to speak English, even though she can speak it well herself. So I got to stumble and stutter over this forgotten language while she and another fellow asked me about military life, more or less embarrassing myself.

Act II, The Sickness.

I'm dropped off at the airport to find that my flight to Orlando has been delayed FOUR HOURS as they wait on a mechanical part to come in from Dallas. I am bewildered; this is eerily reminiscent of three years ago, when the flight out of San Juan was delayed an hour while they fixed the brakes. I go to speak to the guy behind the counter to find out what the hell I'm supposed to do, since the plane would be landing AFTER my connecting flight takes off, and as I waited in line he came over the intercom asking for me. He threw out my old tickets and gave me new ones, telling me as he did so that I'd been re-routed through Miami and that my luggage had already been transferred. Sweet!!

I felt like shit on the way to Miami, sitting there in my seat curled up in a ball. We land, and I set out to get my hands on some DayQuil, stat. I get that, some water, and some Vick's Vitamin C supplements, yum. I sat around eating half the box while I waited...and waited...and waited some more. Oh, noes!! The pilot has been delayed coming from New York!!

Are you fucking kidding me?? Will I ever make it back to St Louis??

We finally take off, forty minutes late. I still wasn't feeling hot, but I wasn't dying so I just sat back and enjoyed an episode each of How I Met Your Mother, Rules of Engagement, and The Big Bang Theory. Finally, after a long day of The Sickness, I touchdown in St Louis and meet up with Rich at M1 to get my luggage. And we wait. And wait. And wait some more. I happened to glance at the screen for M2...and my flight information was posted there. Wow. Thanks. So we went over there and waited...and waited...and...you get the idea. I happened to see the reflection off the metal of the carousel, and I saw my suitcase. I walked around the desk next to me, and there it was next to my duffel bag.

Goddamnit.

Later that night, I was really feeling like shit as Rich tried to put me to bed. I wasn't any better the next morning, so I went to sick call that afternoon and got hooked up with lots and lots of Motrin and some kickass antibiotics that started working almost immediately.

Act III, MORE GODDAMN SPIDERS.

There's a line of spider webbing that starts at my driver's side view mirror and connects to the driver's side door. I saw no spider yesterday or today, so I was trying to ignore it. I was driving to work, and suddenly I saw a spider the size of a quarter without the legs hanging onto that bit of webbing for dear life. I was instantly in fight-or-flight mode and terrified, on the verge of tears. At the red light before the gate I watched as it cautiously made it's way to the mirror and SLID BEHIND IT.

Once I had parked, I climbed out my car on the passenger side (yes, my phobia is that bad), and walked into work feeling miserable. A few hours later one of my favorite sub-accountants , NM, offered to come out and kill it for me. So we went to my car and saw that the webbing was gone. NM tapped all around the mirror to no avail. He suggested that the spider had moved on, which I very much doubted at the time, but perhaps the spider decided that living on my car was not worth the wild roller coaster ride of my daily commute. Regardless, I will have someone else take a look at the damn mirror. That spider was orange and black, a color combo I have never seen on any spider. If anyone knows what the hell that thing is...wait, never mind, I DO NOT want to know. Not now, not in a million years. I just want it removed from my vehicle, dead or alive.

Epilogue: Belated review of The Dark Knight.

Awesome. Go see it. NAO.

Who the fuck is Watson??

I have to share this. I am a bitch, and sometimes I'm proud of that fact.

The Brother received an e-mail from his ex who is stationed in another country, whom I delight in referring to as the Red-Haired Succubus. She sent him this e-mail:

Subject: Distance is the problem, Watson.

Do words exist that could entice you to come hither for a hug and a
visit? Well, unfortunately not here exactly... [city named removed to protect said succubus]. In a couple days. Or a month or so?
Here's my attempt:

I have Belgian chocolate.

If you can't come in person, all other forms of hugs will be accepted...

I strongly suggested to him the following response:


Subject: Watson says, "Distance is no problem for me!!"

No, wicked succubus, there are no words that could lure me into your frigid embrace that I was fortunate to escape once. Who knows if, once there, I would be able to make that desperate escape again??

No, madame, not for all the chocolate in the world (or Guinness for that matter, so don't even try it) would I depart my safe haven here in the Midwest. Not in a few days, not in a month, not anytime in the next century.

If you're so desperate for a piece, try the locals, I hear red hair fascinates them.

Until we speak again (and may it not be too soon, for the love of Christ) I remain the one and only
LEACH.

Brother's response?? "Brutal."

Indeed. But worth it if one could witness the reaction on that pale, narrow face.

I couldn't stop myself from sharing this with The Parents and The Sister. Yeah, I'm a nutjob.

Tongue-tied in your presence.

And I still can't figure out why.

After blogging yesterday afternoon, it occurred to me that the smart thing to do would be to just go and see him and tell him how I'm feeling.

Easier said than done.

Mostly, I just sat there next to him in silence. While he sat there next to me, watching me and waiting. And suddenly I couldn't find the words. How do I tell him how I feel without coming off as being completely selfish and self-centered?? I want this for him, I really do. I just don't want him to leave. It's going to be a whole year of not seeing him, not hugging him, not kissing him. A whole year without having him at my side. I have a month to get used to this, and it's not gonna happen. Until the day he flies home and I throw my arms around him again, it's gonna be the hardest thing to deal with.

On a lighter note, I'm going to be taking a grand total of four classes this coming semester. Elementary Spanish I and Basic Algebra are full-term courses (yeah, remedial math...what can I say, bad math skills are genetic in my family), but I really scored with management. I need two management classes for my Community College of the Air Force degree, and I'm going to be able to wipe out both of them this semester because they're offering Entrepreneur Basics and Business Plan Basics back-to-back as accelerated (one month) courses; EP from August to September, and BPB from October to November. How awesome?!

Once this semester is done, I still need to take another remedial math course before I can take one that will count towards my CCAF, and then I think I'm done. I'm gonna be going to school non-stop through next summer, but it'll be worth it if I can graduate before I separate from the military. I won't have another chance, and it's what I get for putting it off for so long, but I can't wait. Hooray!!

Then I can get to work on my history and psychology degrees. Whew, I got a long way to go.