Something to believe in.

You know, ever since I was young, I always wished I had a cause -- something to really believe in, you know? I used to complain that I wasn't born in the early 1900s, so that I could've contributed to the war efforts in the 'teens or the early '40s. I even used to wish I'd been of-age in the 60s so I could've either helped out or been part of the protests to bring the troops home. I just always wished I had something to fight for.

In my last semester of undergrad, I signed up to join the Air Force. I was beyond excited! Besides the fact that I would have my degree and therefore was eligible to take the officer's test, I was just excited to go to basic, get training, and start being part of something bigger than myself. I couldn't wait to start contributing to society, in a way that I really believed I would love. Unfortunately for me, the Air Force standards for scoliosis measurements prohibited me from joining. I had been so close, and I was devastated when they gave me the news.

A few months later, I lost my brother, and I didn't think much of the military. I went through a depression and a few jobs, then met a new boyfriend and moved out to Western Mass. Out there, I was too busy worrying about paying the bills and trying to salvage our declining relationship to think of much else. I decided I hated my stupid job, and my only salvation would be graduate school, so my sights turned to that. Shortly after, I met Justin, and blah blah love and such, yadda yadda.

Justin is a Marine. He's not active duty, and he finished up his reserve term just a few months ago (and trust me, my relief was great). But he's still a Marine. "Once a Marine, always a Marine," and I don't ever forget that. The bond those boys have is nothing I could ever understand, but I'm not sure I could respect anything more. I think I'm lucky that I didn't have to deal with the stress, worry, and loneliness that I would've had to face if I'd been with him during his active duty, but I also kind of feel that I lost out a bit, too. I didn't get the chance to support him while he was gone, to be strong for him and make sure he knew I would be here waiting for him to get back. I didn't get to write him letters or send him care packages, or feel that rush when he came home on leave, safe and sound. Not that I'm not supremely grateful that he survived all three tours, of course I am! And again, I know the pain of him leaving would've been beyond anything. I just feel like our relationship would've just been that much more solid at the end.

Anyway, I didn't start writing this because I wanted to go on and on about my amazing Marine (believe it or not). I just wanted to let anyone who reads this know that we should all support our troops. All the brave men and women that are serving overseas and here in-country are doing it to protect our rights and freedom. They are the reason I can go to grad school; they're the reason I can write this post! I just hope our soldiers know that their country supports them, and that we're all hoping and praying for their safe returns.

And since it is the holiday season, should anyone feel like helping out a troop, a great resource is Any Soldier. In short, it offers an opportunity for kind-hearted people to donate money and needed items to send to deployed troops, and the packages are labelled "Attn: Any Soldier" so that they can be distributed out to those who don't get much mail -- it happens, because unfortunately, not every soldier is blessed with supportive family and friends. They also have related sites for specific branches; my favorite is, of course, Any Marine. You can put together care packages, or even just donate money (and they tell you exactly what they do with your money, right here). Even $5 can contribute toward getting a package out, so the cost of a fancy drink at Starbucks can help a soldier get a package full of things he or she needs.

One of Any Soldier's partners is Operation: Quiet Comfort, a group that sends supplies to troops who were injured in the Middle East and are now receiving medical treatment. They provide personal hygiene supplies, entertainment supplies (books and such), and quilts sewn to honor the soldiers. They're another good site to check out.

Even though I'm not able to be out there fighting along side all of America's amazing soldiers, I hope they know that my heart is out there with them.

(Sorry for being emo)

Most of the time, everything is fine. But it only takes the first few notes of a certain song or the smell of a certain food to make a smile disappear. It reminds you of things and places and people long gone. Just a specific phrase, or a particular touch. The memories are nice, but sometimes they only serve to remind you that those things are lost to you. They're out of reach, even if you stand on your tip-toes and stretch your fingers as far as you can. You'll never be that young again, you'll never feel so safe, you'll never know the touch of their skin again.

Most days are fine. But not every day.

One Glorious Morning

I woke up this morning, and I laughed. Not just a little laugh, either, but a hearty chest laugh that even drew a few teardrops from the corners of my eyes. I wiped them away with my index finger – first the right, then the left – and sighed contentedly. The morning sunlight was pouring through the window, warm on my face as I stretched my arms over my head, still smiling.

How silly I felt, having wasted two whole years over such a thing. It was certainly a shame to have squandered all that time, but it was also a huge relief. I was so happy to figure out that my big brother was still, in fact, alive, and not a pile of ashes in a metal urn sitting on a bookshelf.

The birds were chirping outside. I rolled onto my side and looked out into the backyard. The grass was as green as it had ever been, the flowers were in bloom, and the trees were rich with color. I giggled, making plans in my head to pack some clothes and drive the hour home to visit him, and maybe even stay the weekend. We did have two whole years to make up for, after all.




This actually occurred a few days ago. The only differences were the fact that I didn't laugh out loud, and that the Boyfriend was sleeping next to me.

That feeling of relief was so overwhelming. I'm not sure I've ever felt so happy in my entire life as I did in that one, sunny, amazing moment.

Then, it was gone. As he is.




.... It never does go away.

I must have done something really bad for karma to treat me like this.

About a week and a half ago, my boss decided to suddenly cut my hours at work, because he "can't afford" to pay me for 40 hours, despite the brand new electronics and office equipment he just bought (not to mention his personal new Blackberry phone and cross-country skiis).

That evening was my night to visit the boyfriend down in Westfield (Westfield to Leeds is about a 40 minute drive). I planned to talk to boyfriend about him not wanting to make the move to Worcester in the fall, when I hopefully will be starting grad school. For some reason, panic overtook me, and I broke up with him over this. It was completely irrational, and I was hysterical and crazy and awful for the next 6 days, until he finally agreed to speak with me, and we worked things out.

Friday evening, on my way back to Leeds from Westfield, I was involved in my first ever car accident. The plan was to take a left onto the city's very busy main street. The SUV coming toward me was taking a right onto my street, and the other direction was clear. I waited to make sure the car with its blinker on was actually turning, looked in both directions again, then tried to make a speedy entry into traffic. Instead, I made a speedy entry into the car that had been hidden BEHIND the SUV, which had taken the liberty to go around the turning vehicle.

Yesterday afternoon, after my boss made me stay almost two hours longer than my shift was supposed to last, he sat me down and told me that he really likes working with me, I do a really great job, blah, blah, blah. I thought this was my annual review, which was 3 days overdue already. Reviews generally promise a dollar raise, and these days, any extra money is more than welcome.

I did not get a raise. No, instead, I got laid off. He assured me that I've done absolutely nothing wrong, I'm really great, but our collections are down and patient volume is low -- it is the same as it's ever been in the last year, in my bitter but honest opinion. Of course, he'll give me a glowing reference, and extend the very unafforable option of COBRA insurance, and he'll even let me work until the end of next week! Oh boy!

So I go home where the boyfriend is waiting, and we somehow proceed to have an argument and spend the rest of the evening in silence.

He posed the idea that maybe I've run over some innocent animals without knowing it.

Karma, well, she seems very angry with me. I'm sorry, Karma. Whatever it was I did, I'm sorry!

Hopefully happier posts will come in the future.

An actual update

Okay, so I moved out to western Mass in October 2008. It is now January of 2010. Allow me to very quickly highlight the events of the past year and a half:

• Redheaded Boy and I broke up, got back together, broke up, got back together, broke up and didn't get back together
• I moved from Westfield to Leeds (a suburb of Northampton)
• I got a job working as a Front Desk Chiropractic Assistant -- a glorified receptionist position -- in January of '09
• I have a new boyfriend. He is the subject of the prior post, and he is wonderful.
• I went back and forth between going back to school for my Masters in Psychology and for a ADN (nursing) program. Just this very evening, I discussed my ideas with The Boyfriend, and he encourages me on my latest decision, a Certificate of Advanced Graduate Studies in School Psychology back at Worcester State. In other words, come the end of my lease (June), the two of us should be moving to Worcester -- back home!
• I haven't written much, as you've likely seen :-\
• I got my first tattoo!
• I'm up to... (yes, I had to count) 6 piercings now, and only one is R rated.
• I found a gym that I love love love, but this tattoo (and the holidays) put me out of commission for a little while.
Pictures!! Look see!


The boyfriend (he's being shy):


The tattoo (it's for my mum's tenth anniversary):



The bedroom (counter-clockwise):

I figure a picture update will do for now. I do, though, plan on blogging more, now that I have some free time for a change.

Good lord, I actually wrote something

Sex with him is like coming home.

I can barely blink when he is over me. He is barely outlined by the faint light sneaking through the blinds, but I know he is meeting my gaze in the dark. My breath catches in my chest and his breath comes faster as he moves inside me. Coherent thoughts are impossible. I run my hands over his back, trace his tattoos with my tongue. I love his skin.

Together, our breathing synchronizes in quick, shallow gasps. His thrusts become harder and faster, his fingers tighten on the sheets, and my nails dig into him. In the afterglow of my orgasm, I eagerly await his. He comes, and a small sound of pleasure escapes him, a sound that causes me several sequential shivers. Heart pounding, he lays upon me, so I happily massage his weary shoulders. My mind marvels at the hollow loneliness that shrouded me when I had first crawled into bed, when he was still at work. Alone with my oppressive despair, I doubted everything and colored my world with pessimism. I laid on my side, looking out the window at the moonlit rooftop beyond, comparing my life to the bleak surface of the shingles. After a time, I slipped mercifully into sleep.

Now, he lifts himself up onto his elbows, watching me. He trails his fingers over my cheek, then follows them lightly with his lips. They roam over my cheekbones, my eyebrows, my chin, my nose, and finally, my mouth, where I accept the most tender kiss I have ever experienced. He brushes the bangs from my brow, and continues to look down at me.

I do not trust myself to speak. I know if I open my mouth, I will tell him I love him, and it is just too soon for that. So I remain silent and concentrate on relaxing, trying to stop my body from trembling. I consider how my room doesn’t feel cozy when he is gone, how the house doesn’t feel like home, and how my bed feels so cold. He brings me warmth, comfort, security; he brings me joy and pleasure, and coaxes an appreciation of being alive from somewhere in me that even I can’t reach. And in some ways, the way he makes me feel is completely indescribable.

When I turn toward the window, his arm wraps around me, and his warm frame snuggles into my back. This time, I admire the beauty of the pale moonlight, the texture of the shingles, and the shadows of the leaves, and blissfully, I drift into sleep.

It's been a year.

And this is what I have to show for it.





There is a heavy snow falling, but the flakes are fluffy and light, and powder the ground in a soft, white blanket. Leafless trees line my path, dark against the elements. They usher me forward, barring the tendency to veer off course. I tear my gaze from them and look ahead. Down a long, snow-carpeted path is an enormous tree stump, the top perfectly level and flat. Upon it, sits a man.

As I approach, I see he is sitting cross-legged. His eyes are closed and his hands are on his knees. Short brown hair, the same color as mine, covers his head. He is broad shouldered and, though he is seated, it is apparent that he is tall – taller than me, that is – maybe close to six feet. Disregarding the winter environment, he wears a tee shirt with a tie-dye design, jeans, and no shoes. There is no snow on his person.

Guilt nags at me as the snow crunches under my feet; he looks so peaceful, I am loathe disturb him. I make little sound as I draw nearer, yet while I am still a distance away, he opens his eyes and sees me. No surprise mars his features, and the calm in his eyes almost radiates outward. He says nothing as I move within speaking distance, finally settling down on my knees before him. I sit back on my heels, rest my hands in my lap, and look up at him silently.

After a moment, he says, “Hey, kid.”

I blink. “Hi.”

He rests his elbows on his knees, leaning forward. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” I shrug.

“You always say that. I don’t think you’re telling me the truth.”

Glancing away, I pretend to be very interested in my interlaced fingers. There is a long pause. “It’s been a year.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence. Finally, I manage to bring my eyes back to his, noting how his remained a significantly lighter shade than my own. “I miss you.” My voice breaks and I feel myself tearing up. I look down again.

“I miss you, too, kid. But you shouldn’t focus on the past.”

Like a stubborn child, I whine, “I want to focus on the past. I want to remember!”

He reaches down and lifts my chin. “It’s okay to remember. Just don’t let it ruin your present.”

Suddenly angry, I jump to my feet. “It’s not fair! It’s not fair that, after all those years, I finally find you, I finally have a brother again, and then you’re gone! And there’s no one to be mad at! I can’t be mad at you, I can’t be mad at the EMTs, I can’t be mad at your family or friends or step dad, I—” The next word comes out as a sob, and I collapse into his outstretched arms, hugging him with all my strength, as if to let go would be to lose him all over again.

“Shh, hey, calm down, kiddo. Breathe.” He strokes my hair as I sob helplessly into his shoulder. “I’m always with you, you know.”

Trembling, I shake my head. I open my mouth to speak, but only a tiny squeak emerges, so I close it, take a deep breath, and try again. “There isn’t even a grave, Matt,” I manage to force out in a raspy, tear-choked voice.

“I know. Cremation is more affordable; you know Art and Diane don’t have a lot of money.”

“I know, I know, but it’s just… I just want to have somewhere to go. I want to visit you.”

“You’re visiting me now.”

“It’s not the same.”

“You never did lose that stubbornness, did you?” There’s a note of playful mockery in his tone. He sighs. “I remember when we used to play X-Men with Bruce in the backyard. I was Gambit, he was Cyclops, and you always wanted to be Storm. We used spend hours trying to talk you into Rogue, because you look more like her. I once even went over all the differences in Storm and Rogue’s powers to try and talk the sense of it into you. And still, every single time, you ultimately played as Storm.”

I smile against his chest, my cheeks wet and eyes puffy. “I remember.”

“Remember when we would spend hours in your room, playing Darius Twin and Ninja Turtles on Super Nintendo?”

I nod, wiping my nose on the back of my hand, and sit back on the stump beside him. “Do you remember that huge snowstorm, when school was cancelled and the snow was so high that we couldn’t open the outside doors?”

He grins. “And Bruce, Tessa, and I came through the basement to get you.”

“And then we played Omega Virus a hundred times?”

“That was a great game.” He smiles again, a little sadly. “Man, I remember how good your mom’s swedish meatballs were.

“You loved those.”

“I used to eat a dozen every time.”

“How about those little cherry cheesecake cups?”

“Those were amazing. And her kielbasa? Mmm.”

We stop talking, both drifting into our own reminiscent thoughts. Our shoulders press together and I close my eyes, savoring his warmth, his solidity. When I open them, he is looking at me.
“What?”

“I really love you, sis. Don’t ever forget that. Just because we didn’t see each other for a few years doesn’t mean that ever did, or ever will change. You’re doing really well for yourself: your own apartment, a boyfriend that takes good care of you, a cat, a car, two jobs… You’re where I was hoping to be after I finished school.”

My lower lip quivers. “I want you to have that. I wish you were there with me.” My vision clouds over and I, again, find myself in the safe circle of his arms. “I wish you got to finish school, I wish you got a good job, I wish you got the chance to get a new apartment... did you know, right before you died, I was planning to ask you if you wanted to get a place together? Cut down on the rent, see you every day, hang out on weekends—” This time, my sentence is cut off by violent, body-wracking sobs, and my brother’s arms tighten around me protectively. He begins to rock and, after a time, I quiet down, sniffling softly into his neck.

“Hey kid. I gotta get going.”

I sit up, not meeting his gaze. “I know.”

He touches my cheek, one corner of his mouth curling in a smirk. “Same time next year?” he asks, a sadness shining through the joking lift of his voice.

Again, I nod, unable to speak. We embrace tightly, and he presses his lips to my forehead, mumbling, “I love you,” into my skin.

“Forever and ever,” I agree, crying again.

And just like that, he is gone. Alone, I stand up, brush the snow off my pants, and head back the way I came.

Do you recall what was revealed the day the music died?

So. Uh. Hey there. It's, uh.... it's been a while, huh? Yeah. Yeah, it has.



An update of my life in one breath: I'mleavingmyjobtomovetoWestfieldwithmyRedheadedBoy. S'right. I'm wicked excited -- I love western Mass so hard. I had (have) my heart set on Amherst, but Westfield is nice, too. In January, Boy will go back to school and finish his graphic design/business degree, and hopefully I'll get enrolled at Holyoke Community College for Vet Tech-ery.



As you can see, our apartment is gorgeous -- we're moving in the weekend after next -- and also super affordable! It's only $770 a month, and that includes friggen' everything, even electricity! Yeah, I know! It's right in the middle of everything, too. I can't believe it.



Also, I know what some of you are probably thinking --> Moving in with the Boy? What is she thinking? How long have they even been dating?!

Three months, in fact, and no, I don't think it's too soon. Too each his own, and my own is a sweet, wonderful Redheaded Boy whom I love very much!

(On a side note, the first time he told me he loved me, he showed up with a dozen roses. Yeah, you're jealous. And that's okay.)

Also, I's gots me a fancay intarveeyu with a healthcare staffing agency called Clinical One. It's for a position as a Healtcare Recruiter, so I would be doing some interviews and such. I think it sounds cool, personally. Guess I'll find out!

If that doesn't work out, I'm registered with Office Team, who assured me it'd be easy for me to get work through them, since I've got lots of experience.

And to my blogging friends: I apologize for disappearing completely. I haven't left anyone a comment in... forever! I think it's very likely that I won't really ever come back, at least not to the extent I was at then. Thanks for all your comments and reading my ridiculous posts and such!

To my central Mass friends: I'm not going away for ever -- in fact, Shane and I will probably be back every other weekend! Plus, you're always welcome to visit us; we'll have a couch and an expanse of floor + blankies for anyone that wants to crash. Or a couch-fort, when Mark stays over.

To my western Mass friends: OHMYGOD I'M SO EXCITED TO SEE YOU ALL ALL THE TIME!!!!

End.

Keep living your false life / please wake me up from mine.

No, that's not me, and it's not my work, but it's a similar setup. In our building, there's less light and lots more papers scattered over our desks, but the general idea is the same. For anywhere between nine and eleven (like today) hours a day, I am tied to one of those little desks, surrounded by mounds of work, but I also get one of those cool headsets so I can continue to do computer work even when I'm making or taking phone calls.

I'm not exactly complaining. I mean, I knew what was coming before I accepted the job. I also don't really mind any of it -- there's just so much. I've been there over a month, and I'm just surprised at how much responsibility I have.

I generally start my day an hour early, so instead of 10am, I go in at 9. Lately, I've been going in at 8:30 to help train the newest girl. I do some copying, then spend roughly four hours of calling doctor's offices and hospitals to get information they should have included on the test requisitions, followed by five and a half hours of taking billing questions (aka angry people who are angry because they've gotten a bill they weren't expecting and want to be angry at someone. Actually, I've only gotten a handful of those so far). Somewhere between all of this, I'm also expected to enter the ridiculous amount of Patient Protection Program forms and payments we get, enter faxes with information, sort and distribute the department mail, and run the financial assistance program.

Needless to say, I've been staying late and skipping lunch breaks. I put in an eleven hour day today (8:30am to 7:30pm), and only took a 15 minute break to run to Dunkin Donuts and get a coffee that tasted like cat piss anyway.

Redheaded Boy and I are also trying to start eating healthy and get into shape (oh, we're doing quite well together, thank you for asking :-D ), so I'm planning to go for a run after I finish this post. It's been a long, long time since I've gone for a run. I know it used to be the best part of my day, so I'm hoping I can get myself into that habit again. I also have two different gym memberships at the moment -- though I think one is going to run out soon -- so I'm covered when the weather starts to get cold.

I haven't been doing so good with the diet part, and they say that's about 80% of the losing-weight process, but eh -- Redheaded Boy says he loves my shape and doesn't want me to change anyway *swoon*

So, in summary, this is my life right now: Monday through Friday = WORK ALL THE TIME and occasionally see Boy at night. Friday nights = get drunk. Saturday and Sunday = try to hang out with friends that might forget I exist because I'm never around.

The good news is, I'm making monies and I'm pretty happy. I'd be perfect if I was doing all this in western Massachusetts, but I'm keeping my eye on Monster.com and Craigslist for that.

Sometimes I stop and stare of blankly into the distance, and I wonder.

Sometimes I wonder, is this it? Is this all there is?

What are we moving toward in our lives, really? Sure, I'm learning programming now so that I can get into a good company and do something fun (sort of) and get paid good money. Programming is important considering the way computers are taking over the world, so why not jump on the bandwagon ten years too late?

Okay, so if all goes as planned, I'll have a good job, and probably a fairly secure future. Cool. Then what? I'm not terribly enthused by the idea of marriage and children. So what's next for me? What new horizon am I setting my sights on?

That's all it really is, anyway. Get over this hurdle and move on to the next. What happens when you claw your way up that last hill and find yourself at the ocean, at the end of the world?

I am not content to sit and watch the view for the rest of my years. What will come of me?

It feels like there is gravel packed in tight between my skull and brain.

I don't like this two jobs thing anymore, no sir. I could just collapse right here on this keyboard, so I could.

More for the song than the video.

It's terrible and so good at the same time. I can't stop listening to it.