Oh, oh, oh, oh... GUITAR!

I've been listening to an ungodly amount of Exploding Hearts songs lately. I've finally gotten over my disdain for the band, although it had nothing to do with them directly (personally or musically, Adam was always a sweetheart to me) and I've been listening to the Shattered comp a bunch.

I just bought an epiphone les paul Jr. and have decided that instead of playing the fuck out of songs on my iPod, I might as well learn how to play them along with listening to them non-stop. I don't know about you, but sometimes I'll become musically obsessed with a song, listen to it for DAYS on end, then suddenly become sick of it and never want to listen to it again. Hopefully trying to play along will hold my interest. I'm halfway through Shattered (the lead is sooo much fun), and am closing in on Still Crazy and Your Shadow. They use a lot of weird ass chords as well, so I believe I may have bitten off more than I can chew trying to emulate those boys right out of the starting gate. I might have to go back to some Pinhead Gunpowder instead to tighten up. Don't want to get discouraged too easily... 

The only thing is, my new guitar keeps falling out of tune. Lots. It's pretty discouraging when you A. haven't picked up a 6 stringed instrument in a while and B. know that you're playing the god damn song correctly... it just doesn't sound that way. I'm going to look at a Boss TU-2 stompbox for a very very good price today. I've been wanting one for a while, and finally found a deal on one, though they're well worth the c-note. Of course there was that moment of absolute horror last night where I scolded myself for thinking a cheap ass brand new Epiphone would stay in tune... but really? A guitar should stay in tune for at least one song, regardless. It's like having a fridge that doesn't get cold. I hope the TU-2 along with a setup job solves the problem.

All in all, bad week turned around so far. 

If you hear this song one hundred times it still won't be enough.

It's never enough, it's never going to be. Sometimes I don't even know if it's him, or this unattainable brass ring I keep reaching for on this crazy merry-go-round called life. Am I really that terrible of a girl? Does the normalcy of my life and my standards really outweigh all the good in me? It seems as if my strive for a decent life has left me light years away from everyone around me. I don't know if I'm so far ahead I can't see them, or so far behind because it's all pointless. We're all going to be miserable in the end. So why bother?

I was driving home on the Bayside Bridge and Sluttering came on. That song always makes me think of another boy, which makes me think of another time, which makes me sad. I cried so hard I thought it was 2001. I cried because this looked just like it did in 2001, though I'm now 26, and was still suffering heartbreak and dissapointment of this magnitude. I cried because I always get my heart so involved regardless of the situation. I cried because I hoped that at this point, I'd be over and done with all of this.

I cried so hard I almost took my truck into the bay. I still don't remember if it was because of the tears... or because of the tears.

Open letter to Ms. Jones

Oh, Rashida. What is it about you that attracts them? Your natural beauty? Ivy league education? Trust fund? Lineage? Why is it that out of the two men I would give my left tit to kiss on the cheek, you have dated both? Not merely dated, but you were ENGAGED to one of them. I understand you come from good stock, and have a level head on your shoulders. You're tall, thin, exotic looking, well spoken, and seemingly down to earth... but seriously. Back the fuck up before I have to cut a bitch.

John Krasinski I can deal with. Tall, WASPy, Red Sox fan. Take him. Get married and have pretty babies together. Sure, I'll shed a tear but I know that deep down inside I'm really only attracted to Jim Halpert, and John Krasinski will always leave me feeling a bit unfufilled. Unsatisfied if you will. I hope he yells out "PAM!" while you're in bed together.

Now, while at work surfing wikipedia (what else do you do at work?) I stumbled upon my future husband's page. He's a Ashkenazi Jew from North London. Raised in NYC. Grammy winning producer & all around white ass boy who has worked with members of Wu Tang. He also has a penchant for dressing like a Mod. How much more perfect can we be for each other? I'll be marrying a nice Jew from NY, which is sure to please dear old Mom. He will have someone who the tabloids don't care about, and will fully support him in any endeavor he so chooses (as long as I get to come along). Mark Ronson should be mine, Rashida, but instead is dating someone half his age with a fraction of his talent. As we both know, 19 year old models ain't got nothing on a real woman... or so I try to tell myself. Ce la vie?

These roadblocks I can overcome, Rashida. But how am I supposed to compete with all you have to throw on the table? You're older, more experienced, better educated, talented and gorgeous. I'm woman enough to admit that to the interweb. But do you HAVE to run thought my "Before I die" list this quickly?

At the very least, you should introduce me to your ex-boyfriends. I can take it from there.

I told you I was trouble.

I usually try and keep it 'mum' on any problems I am having. Sure there are general bitch fests, and cry-a-thons, but if something is really honestly truly wrong, I just keep it bottled inside. Perhaps I'll talk to one or two people about it, but here's the thing about people: They're usually not very good at listening. Personal company included. They always want to draw parallels they think will help you (they don't), or give you advice they'd never take themselves, or they just talk over you about their problems. In my 26 years I've learned to take it in stride and realize that the only people I can usually talk to about my issues without having them bring up their own is my mother and my therapist. One I have to pay, and the other I have to pay back.



So things have been a little strained for me. I haven't been speaking to many of my friends because A. I don't really want to talk about any of this B. Chances are they'll just talk about themselves anyway and C. The more I fester about it, the more I'll actually have to buck up and do something. It's this big white elephant in the room, and I let it out of its cage. Perhaps prematurely but nevertheless it's done now and I should have been prepared to deal with the consequences. I don't think I'm ready for all of that yet.



You see, we all have issues. We all have things to deal with, accomodate for, get over. The thing is being able to put those issues aside for the greater good. At what point do you let your issues start running your life? Making choices for you? Speaking on your behalf? When do you say enough is enough and decide what you really want and go for it? When do you smother those schizophrenic evil little demons and say "Fuck you. You can't stop me"?



I guess, it goes to show you, that sometimes you can give your all, do whatever you can, and still end up with the short end of the stick... through no fault of your own. Kind of a take it or leave it sentiment, but then again I guess I'm just a take me or leave me kind of gal.

1-2-3-4

Wrapping my fingers around the neck of a guitar is actually helping. Low profile, style.

I've been in a proverbial funk about my future. Moreso, lackthereof. I just can't be stangant anymore in this town. If I'm going to be here I should make the best of it. Not wallow in self-pity. I guess this whole leaving the house and picking up a guitar thing is supposed to be helping. It falls right in line with my horoscope. New moon on 5/5 brings new faces and people. Band practice on 5/4 did just that. Who knows, this new direction may pave the way for going out on Saturday nights as well.

Baby steps, boo. Baby steps.
Let's just ride that train for a while and see where it takes us.

LOST SPOILER!

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If sawyer is still on the island, that's exactly where I'd wanna be. 

Oh Sadie.

Sadie is my puppy dog. She's going to be 10 months May 6th. She is a boston terrier, english bulldog mix, and most people think she's a baby pit bull. Which, is adorable as well as frustrating. It's like when people ask you all the time if your tattoo hurt, or if black is your natural hair color. People will just start ranting to me about the merits of Pits, or how I shouldn't clip her ears, et cetera. Which, was fine the first 3 months I had her, but considering she should have a life expectancy of 10+ years, I'm considering putting a sign on her neck that reads "BOSTON BULLDOG" just so people will shut their yaps about the whole thing.

I found her on craigslist, or rather, she found me. I made a post about how I wanted a smaller dog, but was getting a hard time from the SPCA because I slipped up and let them know I was a renter AND that we had another dog already. This meant I needed written notarized proof that I could own a pet, and that we'd need to bring Dutchess (Owen's dog) into the SPCA after picking out a dog to make sure they got along. It doesn't sound like a lot, but considering the SPCA is 20 miles out of town, Owen and myself work 40 hours a week, and our landlords (his parents) live in North Fucking Carolina... it was just too much to deal with. So I made a post on craigslist to that effect, stated that I wanted a smaller dog, that I had a large house with a fenced in yard, was able to bring my dog into work with me so she wouldn't have to be home in her crate all day, and one she was old enough, she'd have Dutchess to fart around with inside all day. As far as dog adoption goes, large house, prior experience with puppies, and a fenced in yard are all big pluses.

So, I received a few emails from people trying to unload poodles, lhasa absohs, and chihuhuhas. I knew none of those types of dogs would be for me. I'm a fan of large dogs, but I don't own a house and wouldn't feel right putting a 60lb dog into a one bedroom apt if it came down to that. So, I wanted to stay 30lbs or less. Well, the day after posting my "request" I received an email from a guy who said his dog (a boston terrier) just had a litter of puppies and he had one left. He sent me a picture of baby Sadie and that was it. I was in love. Her adoption fee was completely reasonable ($100) considering she was 4 months old and was current on all her shots. I tell you, $100 is barely enough to feed a dog for 4 months, let alone vaccinate her, so I knew she was coming from a good place and not some breeder or puppy mill. I called the guy and made plans to come meet her the next day. She was so little and shy and small, I was in love. If you've ever met my Sadie, you'd know the LAST thing she is is shy. So I walked into the nice man's porch, saw her, and said "sold." She came home with me that night and hasn't left my side ever since.

Sadie has managed to charm the pants off of everyone (well, everyone except Pam, because I'm fully convinced Pam doesn't enjoy puppies in general. Too hyper and jumpy for her to deal with). My parents, my friends, relatives who haven't even MET her are in love. My old grumpy father who manages to scream on a daily basis about how we should just "put him out of his misery" gets a huge grin on his face when she comes to visit.

This morning I took her in to get fixed. There is a rescue organization called Pet Pal Rescue (petpalrescue.com) that is a local no-kill shelter and they just opened a spay/neuter clinic in town. I'm a big believer in adopting pets and not buying from breeders (I was honestly upset that the SPCA thing was such a pain in the ass because I really wanted to rescue an animal, but in a way I guess I still have) because there are so many wonderful adorable animals out there for people to love; older dogs for those without the paitence to train, puppies for people who want to baby something, etc.

We got in at about 7:30 and the place was really nice. Bright and clean and friendly. The vet techs were immediately under her spell, came out from the back and ooed and ahhed over her. She even went right with one of them to get weighed while I filled out paperwork. As she played with the employees I tried to gain composure and choke back tears. ME. CRYING. OVER A DOG THAT WAS GOING IN FOR A ROUTIENE PROCEDURE. Wasn't going to happen. So I listened to their pick up instructions half heartedly while they took her into the back. The motherfucking backstabbing bastard didn't even put up a fight. Walked right with them wagging her nub the entire way. Traitor.

I'm glad she went happily, honestly, because if she would have turned around and looked at me with that underbite and those wonky big green eyes I would have lost it. So, with all that being said, if you're reading this keep Sadie puppy in your thoughts today as she goes in for her procedure. I'll be sure to update on her progess and healing as well. I'm at work and there's no warm fleabag sitting on my feet, or sleeping on my lap. It feels a little empty, and I just can't wait to have her back home. <3

Crossroads.

There comes a point in your life, where you need to re-evaluate. Take a look at what is important to you, and what isn't. Where you see your life going, what path you are taking to get there, and how it's going to happen.

Right now, I'm there. In the middle.

It's an especially hard time for me. I feel 100% alone. No friends, no boyfriends, no family. No one except myself and my mother seem to understand. They just can't relate. I don't blame them, can't blame them really. They're all younger, still undergrads, in amazing cities having the time of their lives. I've already been there, already done that. It's fun for a little while, but I couldn't imagine twelve straight months of it, let alone one.


I just can't seem to put time and energy and money into another heartache. Can't sweat it out in suburban utopia for absolutely nothing. Can't throw my savings and my hopes into a crappy overpriced apartment in St. Petersburg to work this crappy office bitch job for this crappy company who only looks out for #1.

But is the devil I'm unfarmiliar with a better foe than the one I know?

I guess that's the big question everyone has when faced with a major life decision. On top of it all, I feel like a fool. A love sick puppy who makes decisions based on her heart instead of instinct and intelligence. I've been doing it my entire life, and it has gotten me nowhere but here. Literally.

He isn't much help. Stuck at his own crossroads, seeing no future other than what is before his eyes. No hopes, no dreams. Just trying to keep his head above water. What he doesn't seem to realize is that we all are. With just a little help from each other, it will make life easier, make the world less harsh, make it all bearable.

But maybe my mother is right. That apparently the idea of me leaving doesn't seem amount to much. And who wants to feel that insignificant?