What I've lost:

mom
youth
innocence
dreams
me


Will find:

mother
wisdom
responsibility
strength
myself

God


not yet though, still working on it. But I will hate Christmas until I do.

My Hamburgered Heart

The pinnacle of my poetry...thus far. Maybe I should write childrens books

Once in grade school, the 4th grade I think, the teacher brought a cow's heart to show us.
A real one, still cold from the fridgerator where it had been preserved.
That smooth heavy heart, complete with valves and veins and stuff...
We were told it was to be made into hamburger, and I believed it, but tried not to think too much about it.


When I met you my heart was made into hamburger.
I imagine one of those wine presses where the employees or owners or whatever,
They get into the vat of grapes and stomp and stomp and stomp.
You got your jollies off of squishing your toes through my hamburgered heart.
Me in that vat, I was rare and red and alive from the pain of being so mutilated.
But it felt good, kind of like when you exacerbate a sore so it won't hurt as much after you've pushed your pain levels to the maximum...

But you had to go home at the end of the day, a human wine-press has to sleep.
Really unfortunate, because my heart was left unrefridgerated that night.
Bacterias, what I always imagined looked like those little candy nerds, but smaller,
They came and started chewing on me...it itched at first, but then they started really eating.
I guess I didn't mind 'cause it was pain and reminded me I was alive.
But they started pooping where they ate.

You came back the next day for another stomp in the vat.
You didn't know about my new friends yet, although you did wonder why maybe I wasn't as red and raw as the day before.
I vicariously felt your pleasure as your toes squished some more, and you kind of knew that you were squishing through my hamburgered heart, but I allowed it, and you liked it.
But another day ended and you had to go to sleep.

Those wooden vats on stilts don't keep meat very well.
My bacterias were procreating, eating and pooping all in that vat with me, the nerve.
I started to smell and I think I was starting to die.
When you came back you noticed that I didn't smell right, but you stomped some more, not wanting to hurt my feelings by admitting I smelled.
Um, my heart was already hamburgered you moron.

The day after that, you brought a clothespin t0 clip on your nose.
It was embarrassing, the fact that I smelled and everyday you came fresh from sleep, from the shower, from life.
What had I done to my heart!?
You can't shower hamburger.
But you assured me that you still loved most of me, it was only a certain part that you couldn't stand, but that clothespin solved all our problems.

And it did.
Until the day I threatened to infect you with my friends...the bacterias of course.
You were having none of that.
I was falling apart anyways. You can only squish hamburger so many times before it becomes something more like puree, and that's gross.

Too bad I didn't hamburger my heart for a chef...or even someone with an electric grill.
I could have been fried up when I was fresh
Garnished with tomatoes and lettuce, a mustard smiley face adorning my own.
Consumed by that one, becoming quite literally part of him.
I would have gotten to stay safe and unharmed in the muscles of his arms or something!
Both of us keeping the other one alive....

Instead, I hamburgered my heart and put it in a vat for you to squish your toes through.
That was a pretty stupid move.
But it might not have mattered anyway...I don't think they made that cow's heart into hamburger after we all touched it,
They probably just threw it away.

Given Away

I gave.
You took
It was my problem
Of wanting more than I could get


Thought that me the little girl had gotten past all that


I gave.
You said
It was my problem
That bleeding hearts were unattractive


So I offered my body instead


I gave.
You left
It was my problem
For giving you something I know you didn't want


me

Can't google the future.

Sometimes...I just get the urge to google who my future husband will be. I don't really know how to explain this, but I think it has to do with at any given time wanting to know almost anything I don't already, turning to google for assistance. Seriously, this method of finding out my path in life has crossed my mind at least 4-5 times in the last half a year. Some of those times were checking on facebook, like a person search...then I realize I don't know his name...or what he looks like...and that I most likely haven't met him yet. I understand this is really weird, but it makes me realize what affect computers have truly had on my life, its not really the same as searching "black cocktail dress sleeves" and clicking images to see my options...



On a less creepy note, I'm starting this thing with this new guy. One may have noticed the less-than-bitter first paragraph and thought that something is up, well it is. It's just nice being respected...and being seen...instead of idolized, ignored or abused. Its only been a short time, but I've had more in common, more talking, more respect and comparatively less making out than all my previous "boyfriends" combined! And he's damn cute and really funny!! I'm almost uncomfortable with the healthiness of it, like obese people who've let themselves go and have to exercise or they'll die...I need this or I think I would have self-destructed beyond repair, but it's still slightly disconcerting to feel good; hopefully this feeling will not stick around too long. Still I think this relationship will present its own challenges along the way given some of our contrasts in age, background, and place in school. It's ok though, like I said, so nice. Thanks boy :)

Further on the road to destruction.

Counting down the days
Without an end.
Needing a dramatic good instead of bad

What the fuck.
What's the use of expectations
When We can't have them?

Really?
Expectations should be illegal
Then maybe I'd adhere

Ultimatatums

I am not grateful. It's not that I don't want to be, and believe me, I'm sorry that I'm not...But I'm not grateful, at least in the ways that will help me survive life apparently. So that being said, Thanksgiving was a failure I guess. I need someone to get me out of this and I don't mean God. If God sends someone ok, but I need a flesh and blood person to fix something for me since a flesh and blood person wrecked it in the first place. God put people here for a reason, not just so that we could "lean on Him" or this grand imaginary image of who we think he is.

Last Sunday, Monday and tonight I cried, literally weeping wailing and practically rending my clothes (my pjs are pretty much toast anyway so its unfortunately not as dramatic as it seems) for about 2-3 hours at a time. If you consider that my little bouts of mourning are usually 20-30 minutes long and just that puts me through the ringer, the nights this past week has left me physically exhausted. Mourning my mom, mourning Nelson, mourning loss chivalry, mourning the lack of adherence to my religion, mourning my allergies to cats, mourning every weakness I ever ever had, mourning the half of the freshman 15 I've so timely gained nearing the end of my first semester...And when someone asks you what's wrong instead of a torrent of things I just mentioned that are making my heart heavy I just burst into another round of broken crying and deep heart-rending sobs because, of course, I'm in such a state I can't even prioritize which one is pulling its barbed hook out of my heart at that time. When one big thing hurts most other things they may have just stung a little hurt a lot lot more.

I think a baby step to gaining back my gratitude would be to use the phrase "at least". "At least" I have cool nail polish on. At least I can sleep in until 8 am some days. At least my room is Pooh Bear yellow and that I can even see colors. At least I can cry...That's the cynic's grateful scale. But Zion was right, I lost grateful, but along with a lot of things I've lost lately in the light of self discovery I think I'm going to have to leave that one behind for a little bit too.

I find this waiting period of seeing what I develop into isn't so uncomfortable as I thought it was going to be if I ever thought about it at all. I knew in coming here to Memphis I would be free from a lot of restrictions that my otherwise curious and rebellious nature (the worst combo in the world lest I be underdramatic) would not have allowed me to break. In that freedom comes a series of trial and errors. If you want to get an idea of how many failures vs successes there've been I'd suggest coming to watch the predictable Sunday night wail. Days before weeks begin are the worst, just ask the Bangles.

I'm not going to pretend things are ok because really they're not. I'm not going to kick against the pricks, I am going to cry every damn time I'm truly sad that I can't have something I want. I'm going to take that sedative if I get anxious because I can't stand being around Daniel when I know we could have been good together were it not for him. I will say everyday that I miss my mom and scoff from a mixture of bitterness and self-pity at the thought that her spirit's really by my side. I will send dramatic texts to each past potential boyfriend telling them I hate them and love them and want them to grow up because they're stupid and I wish i could punch them in the heart...

Well, I won't do that last one because wisdom has finally taught me this lesson: certain people are walls and instead of hitting my head against them trying to break through, I'm going to pretend those walls don't exist and just walk on by.

Matrix style.

Somebody else must have had a pity party in order to write these songs, so I don't even feel bad.

Two songs that I'm feeling. Don't worry, no towers in Missoula :)

Alone Again, Naturally

In a little while from now

If I'm not feeling any less sour

I promise myself to treat myself

And visit a nearby tower

And climbing to the top will throw myself off

In an effort to make it clear to whoever

What it's like when you're shattered

Left standing in the lurch at a church

Where people saying: "My God, that's tough"

"She stood him up"

"No point in us remaining"

"We may as well go home"

As I did on my own

Alone again, naturally

To think that only yesterday

I was cheerful, bright and gay

Looking forward to who wouldn't do

The role I was about to play?

But as if to knock me down

Reality came around

And without so much as a mere touch

Cut me into little piecesLeaving me to doubt

Talk about God in His mercy

Who if He really does exist

Why did He desert me?

In my hour of need

I truly am indeed

Alone again, naturally

It seems to me that there are more hearts

Broken in the world that can't be mended

Left unattended

What do we do?

What do we do?

Alone again, naturally

Looking back over the years

And whatever else that appears

I remember I cried when my father died

Never wishing to hide the tears

And at sixty-five years old

My mother, God rest her soul

Couldn't understand why the only man

She had ever loved had been taken

Leaving her to start with a heart so badly broken

Despite encouragement from me

No words were ever spoken

And when she passed away

I cried and cried all day

Alone again, naturally

Alone again, naturally

Paper Dream

I take some paper on my hand,

And with a pencil draw a man

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A man with courage in his brow,

Who's licked his doubts and fears somehow,

A warrior of great nobility.

But who am I?

Just a wandering kid.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cause like his that I would die for?

And in his eyes he's not a afraid

Because you see he's got it made

The dream of what I'd really, really like to be.

A brave and noble, fiery youth.

Who's not afraid to die for truth.

Who's tall and straight, but best of all he's free!

But who am I?

Such a fool as I am.

A cipher on the wall, not even brave at all!

And where's my dream like his that I would fight for?

And where's my cause like his that I would die for?

But still the paper's in my hand

And every day I sketch that man

Who knows the truth and what life's all about!

My conscience says I should be him

I guess I could at least begin

But chances are I'd probably strike out...

I am not the only person in the Universe...

But dammit, I should be. I have to laugh to keep from crying. Why do people even blog? It's like, people want to know about your life, and I suppose every once in awhile a humorous event does happen, but why blog if you can't share the details of your life? Its probably because I don't have kids to brag or talk about, or even a husband to poke fun at. When you're a single blogger its rough, you're vulnerable (like an artist). You have to change names to protect the innocent, gloss over shocking personal thoughts, and hope your crush hasn't found how to access your website/shrine to him...Yeah, its rough.

Sure we could all write in our journals, but what I think is that we crave the attention from the universe. Writing a semi-personal blog is a way to say, "hello world, I have something interesting to say and (even if it isn't) you're going to ponder on it, laugh about it and comment on my blog so that I can feel I've made something of myself, cause hey, everyone can see I have friends who want to comment on my life."

Oh, I want to say so much more in a blog! I want to tell most people about some things, but I know that it might hurt other important people in my life. I want to divulge deep secrets so that I can be comforted and assured that I'm not a bad person and that many people actually think the same things, so you're not alone! I want a indelible witness to my life so that it actually might matter! In short, I would like to make a husband out of my blog. Of course there are obvious limitations to this idea which prompts me to return to the pursuit of a living, breathing spouse, but hey, a temporary companion ain't so bad...makes the title of my blog even more fitting :)

And pictures. I am surprisingly not a picture-taker by nature. Knowing that the next awkwardly-angled, double-chin revealing pic is on its way to any film processing center is not my cup of tea, so I naturally steer clear of the sport. But I think that I would like to try something new. This idea of adding visual interest to a blog with a stock photo is quite pleasing unto me. Who likes to read words? I mean, come on guys, if the Berenstain Bears had been a brief, illustrationless novel, would we have even picked it up? Would our creative minds have even evolved without those stimulating, brightly-colored pictures of unrealistically-clothed forest bears?? This is no wonder my blog hasn't taken off. Blogs are not appropriate without pictures, so here, i stop this madness and surrender to the sweet, sweet artistic stylings of stock photos....

Next time, stories of my endearing blog trying to teach our feisty 5-year-old how to play teeball...there will be crotch hits!!

Happy Birthday dear Blooooog....that sounds like "bloog"...Blaaaahg....

So, once upon a time I heard that it was beneficial to have puppies and kitties around, that owners were more calm, less prone to depression and anxiety. I believe it. Right now I'm sitting on my Aunt's couch, watching Marie Osmond say, "this isn't your mother's Nutrisystem..." next to a sleeping miniature fluffy wiener dog (I don't know breeds or pedigrees, the only categories I understand are cute, smelly or slobbery...I'm with cute) after having a good night's sleep next to my little flame point Siamese, Scarlet who has been in my family for about 10 years now. Maybe its the vibrations of the purring that calms the soul...

It's been over a year now since I first started this blog and I only really wrote in it for the first 3 months I had it...then I met Nelson. Nine months later after a new job and moving half a dozen times I am haggard, thin (this isn't necessarily a bad thing...), and depressed as hell. I would have DIED if I had lived much longer in that lifestyle. It wasn't even rocker-chick-I-do-coke lifestyle, I was a retail manager! I'm finally taking a 2 week break (turning into a 4 week cool down thanks to leaving work 2 weeks earlier than expected) and its the first time I haven't felt major pressure to produce in about 6 years. I just get to decompress. Honestly I wish I had like Yoga or meditation to help me in this journey, but I think reruns of What Not to Wear, pesto, new school wardrobe and small animals (sorry Dover) may actually yield similar results.

I've decided to document the next two weeks, which would be totally boring except that I'll be filling in the last 9 months of my hiatus by documenting processed feelings and thoughts of my year of hell. BTW, it'd better be over, if I continue any of this in Memphis...

I started this morning with Tin Roof Sunday. I only missed the ice cream's saint day by one so I hope the gods will forgive me. Last night after I finally rolled up to my Aunt Sneebie's and had tried to fall asleep for an hour, I snuck down to the fridge (cupboard was too risky having to turn on the light and all) proceeded to raid, only finding some tortillas that would quell my hunger, took them out and despite all my stealthy efforts, knocked the jar of hot fudge on the wood floor with a SMACK! There was no mention of it this morning so I'm hoping everyone's being polite as to my midnight bingey.

Ha! Stacey London and Clinton Kelley are transforming a theatre person and she just complained about feeling tired and vulnerable. I think that word, vulnerable, is the quintessential words for theatre people. I use it at least once a day, like a multivitamin. I'm sure other people feel vulnerable from time to time, but they rarely describe themselves as such. Have you ever heard an accountant say, "yeah, I was feeling a bit vulnerable today at work"?...I like being a theatre person with the rights to that state of being. So anyway, I'm feeling a bit vulnerable today...

But I had some tasty Chef Boyardee ravioli!!!!! I probably should have gone with the wild rice and chicken soup selection, but I was craving pasta...if you can really call Chef Boyardee pasta. Sailor (mini wiener dog) enjoys the refined taste of paper towel that I blew my nose on and left where he could snatch it. Its my fault, I wouldn't give him a ravioli which he begged for before moving on to the paper-made snack. Wow, nobody cares about what I'm saying right now. Well, I suppose I should bring on the drama...

Eh, next blog. Enjoy the tranquility now folks, cause from here on out there's going to be drama vomit!

Winona Ryder ruins everything...including my life.

Star Trek, so great, the biggest mistake ever made was Winona. I was going to make up some witty repartee on the matter, but I guess she doesn't matter enough to me. These last few weeks and days have been absolutely hellish. Sometimes when I throw myself into the day it isn't too bad, but when its night or the weekend I seem to retreat into the deepest darkest parts of myself. Every part of my little soul hurts right now and I am having the hardest time coming out of it. I wanted to write this awesome entry about Star Trek and some of my other semi-bitter musings about silly customers or my most recent movie purchase a WONDERWORKS classic Jacob Have I Loved...but I just don't have much of a heart left. It's really little little...

I can do this...

Riiiiiight. Um, how do you get over someone that you've really cared about? It's been coming for a long time, the end that is. Now I'm desperately clinging on for some reason and its like hitching myself to the back of a pickup and being dragged over a dirt road....at least its not concrete, right?

Maybe I should make up a poem about it....ahem:

When I was at the play, Mary said, "Hey,
Can I set you up with this guy?"
I said, "Um, I don't know, blind dates usually blow..."
But I told her maybe i'd try.

My opening night, Mary said, "He could be Mister Right!"
And I thought, omg, he is here!
But I didn't worry too much, nervous instead for the play and such
So I met him post-show without fear.

I was caught unaware, he was tall with blond hair,
and was broad and very smartly dressed.
He acted pretty nice, and seemed without vice,
'twas the green eyes that ensnared I confess.

I'd never felt prettier that day when we walked
at the park in the canyon at dusk.
But over the months, there's been nothing but lumps
as that moment has now turned to rust.

You see its important when dating a guy
to feel wanted and pretty and loved.
But when he starts to revert back to being a jerk
the "honesty" only adds to the crud.

So here I will tell all young ladies that dwell
In this hole where the zoobies all roam.
If things start to go bad, you can't fix them, sad.
So just leave him there and go home.

That was all I got. Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated and I'm not bitter anymore so...try to keep that in mind ;)

I watched Alias for at least 4 or 5 hours today. One of my favorite songs since meeting Nelson is Jeff Buckley's Lover You Should Have Come Over. Oddly enough it played during an episode. It made me sad and sad. And hungry for sad love at all.


Looking out the door I see the rain fall upon the funeral mourners
Parading in a wake of sad relations as their shoes fill up with water
And maybe Im too young to keep good love from going wrong
But tonight youre on my mind so you never know

When Im broken down and hungry for your love with no way to feed it
Where are you tonight, child you know how much I need it
Too young to hold on and too old to just break free and run

Sometimes a man gets carried away, when he feels like he should be having his fun
And much too blind to see the damage hes done
Sometimes a man must awake to find that really, he has no-one

So Ill wait for you... and Ill burn
Will I ever see your sweet return
Oh will I ever learn

Oh lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late

Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in
Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him
My body turns and yearns for a sleep that will never come

Its never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder
Its never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her
Its never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter
Its never over, shes the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

Well maybe Im just too young
To keep good love from going wrong

Oh... lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late

Well I feel too young to hold on
And Im much too old to break free and run
Too deaf, dumb, and blind to see the damage Ive done
Sweet lover, you shouldve come over
Oh, love well Im waiting for you

Lover, you shouldve come over
cause its not too late

For the romantic he was, it might as well have been...

When it comes to settling, its strange to realize how easy it really would be to do so. A conversation I had with one of my friends brought up the notion whether an intelligent person could truly let themselves fall into an undesirable marriage...also known as settling. For this grand experiment we happened to both gain boyfriends at about the same time. It was most unsettling (no pun intended) to find that indeed we could and came very close to finding ourselves ensconced in said non-beneficial eternal relationship. So scary.

There's some good news and bad news connected with our findings of the grand experiment. Good news, we are in the process of seriously getting out and there might actually be people out there that we won't have to "settle" for. The bad news: curiosity killed the cat on this one and at the least, my bout with fire has left me extremely singed and weak. I hate him. And myself for not having the strength to get out sooner. As it is I have to depend heavily on the right person who is as close to my mother as I've got and...sigh...mer hervenlya fervuh....you want me to say it louder?....grrr...my hervernly ferther....come on guys, you heard what I said, "my Heavenly Father"! Are you happy?! I said it, ok?!

Trouble is, and a ton of girls fall into this trap, I was in love with him, like truly. I was in love with who he should be, the combination of his talents and ideals coupled with the Savior's love and example he would radiate should have chosen to apply it to his life. He's so resistant to the second part, pride being of course the infamous culprit. The pride I'm talking about is the fear of lost "autonomy" if he were to acquiesce to or sacrifice for another. Its not just a simple matter of selfishness, its the ultimate matter of self-centeredness and self-preservation that keeps him from achieving greatness. I mean, he's even good-looking for heaven sakes!

And this mentality seems to be the norm for a TON of guys in the church, especially in Provo. They can know all they want about the scriptures, sacrifice, the atonement, everything. They will tell you that they learned this on their mission. But they are far from actually implementing these things into their lives. They would seem to be good, but until you can see from their countenance that their hearts have been pierced by the honest life that Christ has led, no, run, run away, because there is no one to stop them from selfish behavior unless they were to somehow dig deep within themselves to question the "norm" LDS man life. And hear this, if you try to bring this to their realization you will be doubly hurt by them throwing back in your face that you're nagging and that you should accept that nothing is perfect, challenging your ideals of who you want your husband to be. They want you to accept them because it is easy for them. They don't have to change.

Many would question how much should a person have to change in order to get married. If something's not working by wiggling here and there to try and change it, just like repentance, it won't change until you apply real force. In repentance, in order to change who we are, we must do a 180. We don't change our personality, but we do change what we want; we change our souls and how we feel. True repentance must come from wanting joy and if we're still wanting to sin...well...its never going to happen, then its too late. It's not a matter of priority for me anymore what I want, there's only one want and it just happens to be a need too.

God has a plan for us

The following is as far as I got on a 5-minute talk I had to prepare for Young Ambassadors...Erika reminded me why I really wrote it, probably for this time in my life.

God has a plan for us

One of the most powerful images my mother ever instilled in me was as she explained a passage in her patriarchal blessing which read, “Before you left His presence He explained very carefully to you those things He expected of you in this life, and He will reveal them to you as you prepare yourself for them.” I’m sure there were many times that she strained to remember that illuminating conversation between her and her Heavenly Father, yearning for the clarity to make difficult decisions in her life. I know in my own life I wish I could remember exactly what my Heavenly father expected of me, wanting to know how I could best endure the trials set upon me in this life.

In an attempt to reconstruct a basic plan for my life I once asked my mother in exasperation what Heavenly Father wanted me to do with my life, because I had, afterall, tried everything and couldn’t find a way to please him as was evident by my miserable situation! I was of course under the assumption that he had a verbatim plan for me and if I were to somehow follow it exactly I would find perfect fulfillment and happiness. After careful consideration, for I had often depended heavily on her to be my steward in spiritual guidance, she simply told me that Heavenly Father wanted me to be happy. I was skeptical. It seemed a simple answer, but one that changed my perspective on how I looked at the meaning of life. After holding to the iron rod, Lehi, in his prolific dream, comes upon the Tree of Life which symbolizes eternal life and joy. The scripture Nephi 8:10 reads “And it came to pass that I beheld a tree, whose fruit was desirable to make one happy.” It seemed that God’s plan all along was offer us something that would make us happy.

As a junior in high school I was once actually paying attention to a lesson in seminary. We were studying Abraham 3:22-23, “22. Now the Lord had shown unto me, Abraham, the intelligences that were organized before the world was; and among all these there were many of the noble and great ones; 23. And God saw these souls that they were good, and he stood in the midst of them, and he said: These I will make me rulers; for he stood among those that were spirits, and he saw that they were good; and he said unto me: Abraham, thou art one of them; thou wast chosen before thou wast born.” I was immediately alarmed and worried. I panicked as I thought perhaps I was not one of these noble and great ones. Was I just a cipher on the wall, not even brave at all? If anyone is in doubt what a cipher means in that lyric from Saturday’s Warrior it’s literally zero, or “one having no influence or value; a nonentity.”

I remember clearly that evening kneeling down on my knees asking Heavenly Father whether or not I was special. Was I one of the chosen ones or was I just one of the trillions of His “filler” children to bulk up the rest of the population for variety (I always sort of felt sorry for the gentiles in the Old Testament). I must say that that experience produced one of the most direct answers I have ever received from our Heavenly Father. I was prompted to retrieve my patriarchal blessing, something I had not looked at for probably a year or so. In the blessing after asking for His spirit to reside and declaring my lineage, this was the very first line: “You are fortunate to be on earth at a time when the Lord has need of special spirits. Your presence here on earth now is indicative of a faithful sojourn in the pre-existence where you were numbered among the noble and great spirits reserved to come forth in this time of the earth’s journey.”

Hopefully I will redeem my status.

A lovely wee voice.

I've decided I love the Scottish. Well probably not all of them, but I'm sure a great deal of them. One of my good friends April Mangham married a scottish guy, she said here favorite part was being called a "wee lass"....I'll take it. Anyway, I'm watching Dear Frankie and desperately craving fish and chips...I'll go see what I can find in the kitchen and then I'll be back to explain some of the best relationship advice I've ever received and other suggestions on what to do with my life because I still have adventures on the horizon...

Last night was Molly's reception and I talked to Erika. These last few months with Nelson have been a complete whirlwind and most of the time I don't know how to process all of the information that i've collected by being and not being with him. I wish I could have always have been so excited to have him (at least at one point) be my boyfriend, but I've been reticent at times to talk about him or introduce him as such because of the rocky nature of our relationship since about the first week. Because of this, and this waiting to actually see him in person today for the first time in 2 weeks, I counseled with Erika about my feelings on the matter. She said not to jump ship yet. That of course I'm not going to feel totally sure about it until the puzzle pieces are put together. Right now there are all of these pieces that set out and I've basically only started working on the border pieces...just sorting them out of all of the other random jig-sawed ones.

It made sense to me mostly because earlier that day while I was at work I thought of the same thing. We're doing the spring changeover there and because the store was so hopelessly disorganized and not merchandised very well, me and co-worker spent the better half of the day moving entire fixtures. It was really hard and kind of difficult for me to map it out all completely before we started because there were so many things that had to happen at once. So we tackled little bits at a time. There were times during the process that my associate would turn to me with a quizzical look on her face and ask how the heck certain things were going to fit or what were we going to do with such-and-such a group. But the whole time I knew it was all going to come together. It wasn't going to be perfect, and perhaps there would be more work redoing the mistakes that we had made, but I knew it would be better than it was and it gave me joy to organize it.

As we were discussing this, hand gestures and finger miming came into play as she described how I needed to make my plans, he needed to make his and if it was right our plans would come together. I realized that I had, in agreeing to date Nelson, abandoned all of my plans and tried to jump into his. Wrong, wrong wrong! Well, I was wrong to do that anyways. It made me unhappy and extremely dependent on him...which made me clingy, which made him queasy, which made me queasy and clingyer until there was this big blow out of neediness on New Year's Eve afterwhich I decided I was going to be back on my own forever...

until I talked to Brenda from the sex industry.

Well that's what she said to shock me anyways. Brenda is a red-headed spit-fire from South Carolina that works at my store who decided the night before to take it upon herself to find me a husband, even if that meant supplying one from her own three unmarried boys. So New Year's day after the Eve blow-out had a good talk with her that improved my life two fold: first, it put me in a position where I could glean from her her years wisdom about being single and happy etc. and it also let her know I was a human manager with feeling and would be willing to listen which would make her more open to taking direction and helping me be successful managing the store.

I know this because after we discussed Nelson for a bit and whether or not we thought he treated me well when she told me about having been in the sex business. What she went on to say is that she managed a store in which one third of the merchandise was lingerie so she had many a chance to see all the different kinds of relationships and girl halves of the relationships march through her store. She told me about how some girls clung to the futile hope that their douches of boyfriends would "change" and somehow they'd start treating them better if the girls gave them more of what they wanted....Somehow it applied to my life I think...er...:)

At one pont she started wondering out loud why a cute little whipper-snapper like me was stuck doing this dreary managerial business when she thought I should be in the "hospitality industry" like two of her boys one who was apparently very wealthy and very single at the age of 37....I'm always up for adventure, but I thought I'd better figure this Nelson thing out first. Anywho, she said that with my design background I should be an events planner. And I was like "no way! I've totally looked into that! You're right Brenda." So I started dreaming and scheming all over again, something that I hadn't done since I worked at Nuskin 3 months ago.

It was like a breath of fresh air. You know what? Later that day I started tentatively telling Nelson about it which opened the door to talk about the night before which opened the door to talking about why I was newly independently freshly scheming like I was. So...now we're still on a break, but we'll see what "my plans" do to our relationship and if they truly will move towards his....:)