What's left?

The insanity is currently palpable and I can only pray that the mixture of hormones and Yuletide emotions have sparked it.

2000Great.... to 2000Hate

We had such high hopes for the year. Most went unfufilled. I'm still working at the same boring job in the same uninteresting field. I made lots of new friends this year. Trimmed the fat from the rest of the stock, which is exactly what I needed to get my head on straight. Reconnected with some oldies but goodies. Picked up the bass again. Started riding my bike a whole bunch. Totaled a truck. Bought some guitars. Formed relationships that I hope are as deep as they feel at this very moment.

There are other things I'd rather not go into detail about. Having my heart broken. Watching my father slip away slowly and painfully. Mourning over the past. Visiting too many hospitals. Fallen idols, wreckless decisions and the like.

This year was supposed to mean something. Supposed to be the beginning of a chapter in my life. A step in the right direction. And as I look back on 2008, the only thing I can really say about it is I hope that 2009 does not follow suit. Perhaps it is a new beginning. The chapter of a book that starts out sad and lonely, and ends on a high note. Our hero, beat down and defeated, will rise from the ashes of mediocrity and strive for something she's destined for. Reach for that brass ring the wind keeps blowing just out of reach. Because we've all got to have something to hope for.

I'm a stronger gal than I was 12 months ago. More self-assured, more indignant. For better or for worse, I'm a different person and at 26 (a mere 2 months shy of 27) I can finally say I understand that life is an ever evolving, ever changing thing. Outlooks and opinions should not be concrete. They should not be rigid. They should not be steadfast. Life changes, and so should your actions. The past is what it is, and what it always will be. Your future is the only thing you have control over... and even that is limited to your ability to recognize and act upon it. Something I've taken for granted in my formative years.

So, for 2009, I wish myself the best of luck. The strength to do what needs to be done. The courage to see it through. The wisdom to choose between right and wrong, and the heart to keep on moving.

I wish all of you the same.

Vroom, vroom. Screech!

I am not a "car girl." But, considering my new-ish truck had just been totaled by some coddled bitch from Brooklyn (who is, officially, fighting me on fault for the wreck -'nother story), I've gotta turn into one, quick.

This involves some decisive decision making.
I am not known for my decisiveness.
Ever.

So, I had band practice with Matt and Eric yesterday at the Kiss of Death/Fueled by Ramen/Vertical Merch warehouse in Tampa. After oohing and ahhing at the industrial though obviously punk fucking rock equipment (screen presses, sticker ovens, et cetera), laughing at the 3 miles of LTJ merch, and generally feeling really depressed that I didn't get to work in such an awesome atmosphere (blasting rad music from my iPod, free records, and puppies), Eric mentioned to me that he was trying to get rid of his truck. A 1993 Dodge Dakota. With a V8. His bandmate Bryon, being the original owner, was telling me how it was an honest workhorse, and how impressive the engine was ("I could kick a Mustangs ass all over the Howard Frankland Bridge"). With 160,000 miles on it, and some minor problems... Eric told me he'd let it go for $500 bucks.

Holy crap. $500 bucks. For a truck to get me to and from work on rainy days, to and from Tampa for band practice/social events. Nothing fancy, nothing pretty, but powerful and steady, just like I like my men. So, I told him to let me know what was up with it, and since the boyfriend is an amateur mechanic (he's fixing up a '62 Ford truck at the moment), I'd see if any of it was out of his comfort zone. Called Owen, and he said "That's a fucking deal, take it. Even if it dies in a couple months, so what?"

That was, until, I got on the Craigslist to see what I could get for $2500. And I stumbled upon a '66 Chevy Corvair. Fully restored. 66,000 miles on it. Baby blue. White interior. The type of car my 16 year-old self would have died for. http://tampa.craigslist.org/hil/ctd/947954107.html

So, what am I to do? Put the three grand (that I don't have yet) away for a snowy day, or throw it all into the hands of some slimy used car salesman just for an extension of my non-existent (though, obviously HUGE) penis?

Ah well. I've had worse things to be distraught about.

Friendsgiving and the weekend that followed - quick update

Friendsgiving was a tumltulous arena for gorgeous boys and girls to showcase their bike skills via polo, and street methods. Lily and I drank lots of wine. Then Scotty bought me a slice of pizza. Seattle Amanda drank whiskey straight from the bottle, and made me fall in love with her. I fell, twice. Then I decided passing out on Pam's garage floor alone was a poor substitute for my warm bed and puppies.

Saturday, I got into a car accident. Bettie Dakota has severe front end damage caused by an out of town Bride-To-Be not watching where she was going. Hopefully they total Bettie out and just hand me some cash. I think I know what I'll do with it...

In the meantime, trying to get ahold of Allstate to secure me a rental car (her insurance company, as I was not at fault for the accident), a lawyer to make sure I didn't do any permanent damage by slamming into an SUV at 30 mph, and tuning up my bike as I'm set to be a commuter for the next few weeks...

Other than that, life's good.