Archive for April, 2009


blog idol, blog of love, blogging with the stars

April 30, 2009

I own a TV, but I do not get cable. I use the TV to watch movies on the rare occasion that I rent a movie to watch. Other than that, the flat screen floats mid-wall in my living room.


I don’t miss watching TV shows. So few are imaginative, engaging, interesting. What do I miss? Reality TV.


The opportunity to see how others act in their natural or unnatural habitat. To wonder which girl he is going to pick. Who will toss their cookies before they can swallow down the tentacled insect. Which contestant could possibly burst a breast implant on national television. I miss the human, although sometimes out of this world, stories.


But I don’t miss it that much.


Because now blogging is my reality TV.


I see characters I would never encounter in my day to day. I hear stories I have never heard.


However, to know someone’s blog is not to know them. Blog entries are vignettes. They are slices of life, not life itself.


Engaging bloggers aren’t necessarily interesting people; they are good writers. That girl who writes about steamy, sultry sex. She’s not hot. That guy who makes you fall off your chair in fits of giggles. You could have normal conversation with him every day and he wouldn’t make you chuckle. You think you know them, but you don’t.


There are times that, like an episode of Rock of Love, reading a blog entry simply amounts to moments of my life that I will never get back again.


Then there bloggers who touch me. They move me to laughter or they move me to tears. I feel I have been welcomed into the home, the heart, of the writer, and I gain insight into them and into myself that didn’t exist for me before.


My challenge to bloggers is this: don’t just write, say something.



April 30, 2009

Last week I blocked my best friend on g-chat. I’m not sure I can even call her my best friend anymore, but after doing so for almost 15 years it’s hard not to. Nothing really happened to make it happen– much bigger fights have occured between us. Lately we often go days without talking to each other because she is completely unwilling to ever admit she’s wrong. 

It’s not like she’s changed that much. She’s always been a bitch. But before there was something there–something that covered up all the judging, all the anger, all the hate she had for things for no reason at all. 

I’m sure I’ll cave and unblock her. I’m sure that we’ll fight. She’ll tell me I’m not interested in being her friend anymore and I’ll lie and just tell her I’ve had a lot on my mind. 

I know it’s just temporary, but I sure as hell feel free. 


go ahead and marinate on this one

April 29, 2009
I didn’t start out as the other woman – it was never my intention.
I met the boy shortly after returning to my hometown after college. We became fast friends, and for the first time ever a boy was more interested in me that I was in him. Catching me completely off guard. I wasn’t used to the attention, and I was getting plenty of it.
I was “the new girl” in a very tight group of guy friends and more than one of them had shown interest in me. I can’t help it, when I’m on, I’m on – you could call me a charmer. But no matter how many boys showed their advances the only one that had me from hello was THE boy.
Things kept moving quickly, we were never officially boyfriend/girlfriend but we spent almost every day and night together (picking up what I’m throwing down?). Here I was completely infatuated and happy with this boy, and what do I do? Tell him I don’t want a relationship.
Kick me now.
The boy was hurt and I quickly distract myself with the next man I can bat my eyelashes at. But I couldn’t get him out of my head, because while we had stopped hooking up we were still spending plenty of time with each other, this time with just more sexual tension.
We played it off as being “best friends” but it was so much more than that. Random nights we would still hook-up causing the emotions to never really die. It was a vicious circle – until he met a new girl.
I played it off that this new girl didn’t matter and I liked her – a lot. She was very much like me, dark hair and eyes, loud and outgoing. Guess he had a type. For a little under a year the boy and I didn’t hook up because he had become exclusive with the girl. And I actually became pretty good friends with her, but she wasn’t happy in the town we were living in, she wanted more – so she up and moved 3,000 miles away. The boy didn’t go with her.
While they did the long distance thing, I kind of took on the pseudo-girlfriend role like I had been in the past. We were “friends”. Lots of dinners and movies, going out with all of our friends. When mass amounts of alcohol were involved things tended to get out of control. One night he kissed me outside of the bar. I immediately freaked out playing the holier than thou card. “You have a girlfriend!”, I shouted.
Meanwhile, I was completely and utterly in love with him and pulling away from him was the hardest thing in the world to do. I didn’t want this to become a pattern but next weekend we found ourselves in the same situation, but this time I didn’t stop him.
I woke up the next morning crying, I had never felt so sick to my stomach. Coming from a family where my father’s cheating broke up my parents marriage I never ever thought I would be in this situation. But here I was making bad decisions, thinking he was going to break up with her, she was so many miles away and he was here with me. I had it all rationalized out in my head.
On my 25th birthday of that year the pattern remained the same, the boy and I drank our faces off and then hooked-up.
Six weeks later I realized I was pregnant.
The weird thing was that I never even thought about keeping it. I wasn’t ready to have a baby, I was too young, I wasn’t married, this wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I felt numb but I knew what I had to do. I had an abortion and carried on with my life.
Thanksgiving of that year I found myself face to face with the boy’s girlfriend. I couldn’t make eye contact with her, she knew something was up. I confessed almost everything to her, being slightly vague. That night I wish I had a filter but I didn’t – I’m terrible at lying to someone’s face. To say the least, she was upset.
Things happened very quickly from that point. The girl threatened to break up with him if he didn’t move to the city she was residing in. I was a mess, completely heart broken and angry at myself for what I did. I couldn’t handle being around him anymore – it was over.
We both picked up and moved to new separate cities the same week of each other. The first few months it was really hard. It was for the best, it’s almost like we needed to be found out so that we could get out of the unethical rut we were both in and grow from it. The weird thing is we still talk, we have a lot of friends in common so it is pretty inevitable. But we have individually come to peace with the past.
At this point I just hope that the bad karma I got from that situation has worn away. It took a lot of time for me to realize that the blame was not completely on me – it wasn’t all my fault. He had a lot to do with it too, probably taking advantage of all the love in my eyes.
Oh yeah, and the boy married the girl this past summer. Just not this girl.
Me, I’m still looking, but this time with a lot more wisdom.

warning signs

April 29, 2009

Do you sometimes feel so bad that you think of suicide?

Who doesn’t?

Have you thought how you would do it?

Who hasn’t?

I have a stockpile of pills. Not a stockpile in the sense that I am saving them up for this purpose. But I have plenty and it would be easy to attain more. I have pain killers and muscle relaxants and antidepressants and more antidepressants.

I have vodka. Vodka stored in the freezer, as cold as it can get so it will go down as smooth as it can. Enough vodka to swallow those pills and make a few toasts before I shut my eyes for a deep sleep.

I will never commit suicide. I will never kill myself. I will never take my own life.

In a world of “never say never,” I am confident of the above.

Why? How do I know?

Because when I was a junior in high school my sister tried to kill herself. She took a heavy duty packing knife and slid it in a horizontal line across her wrists. 

They said that she wasn’t actually trying to kill herself. They said it was a cry for help.

When I was a senior in college, her education had progressed as well. This time, she took the knife and slid it lengthwise up her forearm. Her forearms. She was very close to successful. She did not succeed, but she was very close.

Her landlord kept her security deposit. He knew that it was human blood in the carpet.

It’s remarkable that he knew because I stood beside my father as he scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed trying to remove that stain. That stain of his daughter’s blood. A scream that was clearly not merely a cry for help. He did all he could to erase it. 

No parent should ever have to remove the mark of their own child’s blood.

So I have pills. I have lots of pills. And while I may take one from time to time for a non-prescribed use, I will never take them all. 


Because my parents deserve better.


The Predator

April 29, 2009

Allow me to introduce myself.

I am the person that you thought you knew, the one that you trusted, the one that you loved.

I am the one with whom you wanted to share your life.

I tempted you even though you were married.  I laughed inside when you struggled with your guilt, even though I pretended to be sympathetic.  The conflict that you felt only heightened the excitement for me.

I seduced your best friend in the other room while you slept, blissfully unaware.  I climbed into bed and whispered words of love into your ear with lips that tasted of someone else.

I felt nothing when I told you that it was finally over.  Nothing except annoyance at your inability to accept that I never really loved you.

I betrayed every lover.  It may not have been my initial intention, but the ending was inevitable.

I feel the thrill of the chase, the blood pounding in my veins, and I am single-minded in my pursuit.  I have no boundaries.

I will hurt you too, if you insist on getting too close.


The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

April 28, 2009

Walking down the street this past weekend, the view I took in caused a thought to streak through my head like a thunderbolt in a spring tempest: This is the most wonderful time of the year in D.C. (Fall being a close second.)

The most wonderful time, that is for men. I’m sure the ladies enjoy it too, winter’s over and all, but for the boys, well, what can you say?

Instead of heavy winter coats, wool sweaters and Uggs, sandals, thongs and sundresses have blossomed like the first flowers of spring, adorning the lovely curves of the District’s ladies. (Not to mention the shorts and sports bras the jogging public are modeling now that temps are above the perma-nip level.) The flowers beneath the sundresses are still a bit pale, they’ve yet to reach their full summer color, but it’s a harbinger of the full beauty of summer.

A time when even more clothes will come off.

Who among us (ladies, feel free to raise your hands too) hasn’t stopped and cast a sidelong glance at the magnificent displays of cleavage parading about town in strappy little sundresses? It’s enough to put lesser men into goto loop of indecision.

I say whoever invented the sundress deserves a Nobel Peace Prize for service to humanity.



April 28, 2009

I like being angry.

I like the feeling of my blood pumping through my veins. My mind pulsing with everything that’s going on. But after a while it just gets to be too much.

I break out in hives.

My hands start to shake.

And then every little thing that happens infuriates me more than it ever should.

No soda in the fridge? end of the fucking world.

Can’t find my sunglasses? then I can’t go to work at all.

People always talk about their goals or their bucket lists

My entire list: Get control. Be able to express myself so that I continue to enjoy my emotions–the highs and the lows.

It will happen someday.