While I Run Down The Hallway...

And just like that, in the blink of an eye and beat of a heart, time flew and stillness grew. Silence was born, the rose loss it's thorn. I gained it all, I lost it all. I carry your light with me, even though you shine it elsewhere. Your words echoing in my nights, as you speak them to someone's morning. This is what's left.

I keep running down the hallway...

Droid X

This is simply a test post from my new Droid X phone.

Pardon the short spam.

P.S. Picture taken with phone as well.

I Ain't Shakespeare...

But, How do I love thee?

Like I love drifting off to dreamland,

listening to raindrops on a tin roof.

Like I love the rush I feel through my body

when I hear a song with a flawless beat.

Like the joy I feel when my toes are digging

into the warm sand, in my beach.

Like the smile that spreads on my lips,

when I hear a song that means nothing to everyone else,

but it makes your face pop up in my head.

Like I love watching snow cover the sidewalks

and rooftops, and the sound the flakes make

as they hit the ground.

Like I love the browsing the sweets aisle

on gas station stops in long trips.

Like that first sip of Coke Zero in my day.

Like the lightheaded feeling I get when looking

at the night sky, in the middle of a dark desert.

Like I love fall, when the air is crisp and it smells

like cinnamon and spices everywhere.

Like I loved my grandmother's soft voice,

humming as she embroidered a handkerchief.

Like the feeling in the pit of my stomach,

that is both scary and courage-inducing.

Like I love pressing my face against a cold pillow,

and tracing the alphabet with my toes in the air.

Like I love the things that bring me joy,

hope, dreams and peace.

Because the future is never certain,

but when every day involves opening my eyes

and seeing your face next to mine...

What else matters?

I can sing you every song, new and old.

I can write you every poem,

I can trace my fingertips over your chest,

or run my fingers through your hair.

There's no bigger compliment than showing you this:

I will be better. Stronger. Healthier.

Because you make me a better person.

And, though I may stray from our path,

I'll find my way home, to you.

(File that under things I should've said a long time ago...)

Alas, I Must Return To My Habitat

Almost a year ago, I was sipping coffee in a tiny little hole in the wall in Midland, TX.

I was brought to this coffee house with the promise of good coffee and live music. Of course, I knew that along with that I'd find countless fashionable college students with their Apple products, skinny jeans and colorful 'hobo' scarves.

It was a Tuesday evening, and my loneliness was full swing. The coffee was mediocre. The place was warm, cozy but full of the yuppies I tend to avoid. They all looked like they were plucked from the latest fashion magazine, and like they couldn't be bothered with this indie music that was TOO indie, even for them.

I sipped my crappy coffee, happy that I'd at least get to listen to two relatively cute guys, in unremarkable clothes, play acoustic sets (my weakness). The first guy came up, a ginger with a gorgeous smile and messy hair covered by a fedora, named Logan Mason. He looked nervous. He wanted to impress. He was good, and sang overall happy go lucky love songs about holding hands and going to the movies. I smiled at the passion he showed for what he did and clapped, along with the 6 other people there.

Second up was a young man named John Davey. He had torn jeans, a faded, wrinkly gray t-shirt and he needed a haircut. The messy look wasn't for him, but it didn't see that's what he was going for either. It just seemed he got too busy driving cross country with a fellow musician playing in small venues and he let his grooming skills go. I saw him hunching around his guitar, big brown eyes and dark hair, reminding me of someone I cared for that I had recently lost out of my life. Same looks. Musician. I shook my head and sipped some more of my mud in a cup, before I let the memories bring me down.

John tuned his guitar, and as soon as his mouth opened my heart exploded into tiny bits of joy and sadness at the same time. He sounded the same as my old friend, and I couldn't help but tear up...the music kept getting happier. He sang lots of Irish folk songs and quirky little tunes that left Jason Mraz behind, eating his dust. Until, in the midst of all the happy songs, the sneaky bard presented us with an old tune he had written years ago. It was simply titled The Process and after hearing the first 3 strums, I knew it would break me. It did. I hid my face slightly with my curly hair and stared at my hands during the whole song. The tears wouldn't stop, and soon I was quietly hiccuping and sobbing. The wound had reopened in my chest and there was nothing I could do but listen to every word and let it sink.

I bought his demo, alas, the song wasn't on it. I shook his hand and he was very polite. I bought Mason's cd too. However, that song haunted me for almost a week before it finally disappeared into my mind. Until 4 days ago, when on John Davey's MySpace page, he had posted The Process for all to hear. No. I still can't buy it. But I hope one day I can. Meanwhile, it's been on a loop in the background playing while I transcribed the lyrics.

Sometimes songs are written for the sake of hits. Other times songs are written to share with the world how you felt, and what your opinion is. Then again, this song was just written to make me both believe in love and realize it does not exist. Not in this form. Not for me. Is it sadder to hear what you want or what you had?

I think I'll learn how to play this song...

GO LISTEN: The Process by John Davey

THE PROCESS:

If I were a bird
I would fly to the branch
by your window
Your window.

And I'd watch as you slept
and you breathed in and out
so contently, slow.

And the night would go by and
the sun it would rise
and I'd be there
to tell you 'hello'.

And to sing you that love song
that you have been waiting to hear
that I wrote you last year.

And you'd pat my head
and you'd get out of bed
and yo'ud tell me you loved me the same

And I'd hop through your window
and revert to my shape,
and we'd go on with our day...

And we'd go down to 5th St.,
and buy us some coffee
and talk about all sorts of things.

and the day would pass
and I'd say, "Alas,
I must return to my habitat"

With 3 final words
I change back to the bird
and we start the process again
yes we'd start the process, again.

~John Davey

The Night Has A Thousand Eyes...

Last night. In my head. In a galaxy far far away:

This couch is comfortable...I love how it cradles my neck and holds me close.

Maybe I'll sleep tonight, although it's already 1 a.m. and I'm completely wired.

This is a cool phone, I have to tweak it this weekend. Oh! crap! I have 5 Word Wise games going, it's probably my turn...HOW DOES HE GET ALL THE GOOD LETTERS?! UGH!

I should mess with the weather widget some more...no. Stop.

I'm hungry, but my sugar is too high already. My heart's beating too fast. Breathe.

Just leave me alone, stop messaging me, I don't want to talk.

Iowa should be nice in September.

30 days. I'm nervous. Maybe this is a bad idea. I don't think I can do this. I'm such a loser.

I have a bad feeling. I want everything to just be over and done with. It'll be easier for everyone.

I wonder what Cathy's doing?

Gotta pee.

He loves me. He loves me not.

Silly girl.

Oooo I like this song.

It's 2 a.m.?? Sigh.

*falls asleep* *dreaming a white hand is gripping me by my neck, choking me and shoving me off the bed* *falls off couch, hits head on iron table, opens gash and bleeds*

Great. Just great. I wonder if I need stitches. I'll wait it out.

I'm nervous. *checks phone* *checks Twitter* *biting lip*

I'm hungry. My chest hurts, stupid murmur. Oooo I gotta pee, again.

*rise out bloody towel, presses it on head again*

WordWise. My turn. W-H-E-A-T. Take THAT, hmph. Wait...only 12 points?! Sigh.

I'm sleepy. Should I sleep with a concussion? *alarm goes off*

Time for work...

I'm just going to quit everything. It'll be easier. It'll hurt less.

Right...work.

The night has a thousand eyes,
And the day but one;
Yet the light of the bright world dies
With the dying of the sun.

The mind has a thousand eyes,
And the heart but one;
Yet the light of a whole life dies
When love is done.

~Francis William Bourdillon

The Real Yari

As many of you know, I often use my blog as a place where I can share my thoughts, my dreams/nightmares, my writing, my music...my fears.

I often hide behind carefully crafted self portraits with my BlackBerry. I let you see what I want you to see, and say the things that you want to hear. I keep my true feelings about you hidden for the most part, until I get enough courage to let you know. Once I do, I'm met with several outcomes: A) You can care less, B) You're lying to my face, and think that I'm blind and C) You want me to give 150% to you, even when I'm uncomfortable being that vulnerable, and you give me...maybe 15% back.

I think I'm tired of hiding. I think that at this stage, I want the people in my life to be in my life after knowing the things about me I normally hide.

I am 26 and still suck my thumb. Daily. I thought it was when I was really sad but it turns out it's just comforting.

I am 5' 9" and weight 275 lbs. I don't know why people always seem shocked to read the actual number. Apparently I'm kinda of tall enough and have the Puerto Rican body to hide such a massive amount of fail. Below are the most recent pics of me:

Yes. That's me.

I don't like it when my intelligence is insulted. I can read timelines, comments and status messages and *gasp* know how to put 2 and 2 together. The more you lie to me, the more I'm blown away that you didn't care for me enough to be honest with me from the beginning. I know the secrets you say 'are not what I think'. I know more than you think. I don't bring it up, because somehow you will find a way to make me feel guilty for seeing something that's blatantly obvious. I just let you either dig yourself out or deeper.

I am, and have been for 13 years, a cutter. I go through phases that are directly related to how lonely I feel/people disappointing me. Yes, I have attempted suicide twice before. First time, I got my stomach pumped. Second time my mom found me and and removed the neck tie from around my neck. I was hanging from my bunk beds. I am on anti-depressants, but I have not bothered going back to the shrink. I have an appointment on August 24th. I will more than likely, skip it and self-diagnose me as cured. This is my left arm at the moment:

Don't like that I'm posting this up here? Close the screen. I'm done hiding.

I became an alcoholic at the age of 17, in Puerto Rico. I worked from 12 - 7 every day or 2 - 9, and then went out with my buddies to shoot pool. Every night. Of course I didn't notice it was alcoholism, since to me it was just drinks with my friends. My night consisted of about 9 double shots of Jose Cuervo, 3 screw drivers, 6 bud lights and 2 amaretto sours. When I moved back to PA when I was 18, the first night I was back home with both my parents I thought I was going to die. I didn't know what was going on but I was shaking, crying and throwing up all over the place. It took me about a week to get back to semi normal. By then I realized what it was. I swore never to drink regularly again. I had a brief relapse from Nov 2008 - Jan 2009. At that point my drink of choice was a bottle of Knob Creek and a 12 pack of Budweiser every 2-3 days. I stopped that quickly and have been doing good since. Every other month I'll drink a lot a night or two, but mostly when out with friends.

I am not, however, as messed up as I seem to be most of the time.

I've had full time jobs since I was 16 and have supported my mom, payed mortgages/bills with no help and still managed to get straight A's all the way to HS graduation. I've never been fired of a job, and have only had 3 jobs since HS. Two years with a chiropractor in PA, I resigned that to move to TX and got a job with a chiropractor here for 6 years. I resigned and now joined the IT staff at the local hospital. I live a pretty stable life. Predictable. Safe. I was the good girl that never snuck out and when I married I was a virgin. Squeaky clean. Good kid. Despite the alcoholism I never failed my family, friends or work. No one ever knew.

I have, without a doubt, one of the kindest and depth-less hearts you will ever encounter. When I say 'I love you', I mean it. No, it doesn't mean I'm IN love with you, not always. It means that when you are down, and the world keeps trampling you over, I'll pick you up and take the blows for you. It means that I will get in debt so that you can have something you've always wanted. No questions asked. It means I will be walking down the street, and hear a song or see something, and your face will crowd my mind and my heart will feel like it's bursting. Because I love loving. I am loyal to those near my heart. The only way you will ever get rid of me, is if after I treat and love you this way, you turn around and get joy out of treating me poorly.

I LOVE laughing. I love making others laugh. I've always been a clown, an entertainer...and I have no shame in admitting I have the sickest and most cynical/sarcastic sense of humor you can imagine. I often don't display it, again, because I respect the people in my life that might not understand I'm merely joking. I absolutely adore toilet humor. There's no way you can gross me out. I actually encourage you to try. So when you see me being all emo and crap, just ignore me, it'll pass. I just need to vent song lyrics or thoughts out. I then reboot and am back to having only one purpose: making you smile.

I do not have a college degree, nor have I ever set a foot in any institution of higher learning after I graduated high school. I do, however, have the capability to learn quick and photographic memory. I am a fast reader and my comprehension skills are pretty sharp. I'm horrible at math, but excellent with puzzles of any kind. I'm a visual person. Sketching, photography, painting, carving, molding...anything I can use my hands for to show you what I'm seeing is in my head is a good skill. I was reading full books by age 4, my first book was Boy by Roald Dahl. It's still my favorite. Very few things bring me more joy than reading, writing and music.

I absolutely despise talking about religion or politics. I will simply nod and not offer my opinion.

I have an obsessive personality. I have intense emotions and a short fuse. I cannot be trusted with money. I'd gladly give my life, if it meant you could live yours happily. All you would have to do is ask.

How many of you are still around?...

WTF!?

Two minutes after I blogged about the hacker...a friend of mine sent me this on Facebook, which she received in order to send to me:

(screename withheld): You know Yari. Or used to know her. I've been feeling bad about what happened between us for a long time. I don't want her email. Or to contact her myself, because it'll hurt her. I want you to tell her I'm sorry, that she really is beautiful, and the password is confidence. Could you do that? This is from Clarence.

I'm going to take a warm bath as soon as I get home and I'm locking myself up in my room. I don't want to talk. I'm going to take my sleeping meds and going to sleep.

Tomorrow has to be better.

The Death Of Me

About a year and a half ago, I would spend my nights trolling chatrooms and just generally talking about literature with a specific crowd.

Hold on. Before I get into that, keep this in mind. Ever since I was a little kid, in school or in my neighborhood, I'd somehow end up friends with the "trouble" kids. The ones that were violent, or had issues at home, or if we were older - the ones with mental health issues (bipolar?) and drug problems. Why? I felt bad that no one would ever care about them just because they were a little rough around the edges. I figured we all deserved a chance, we all deserve love. We all have something positive inside to offer the world, even when it's hard to see or identify by others.

Obviously, this has led to many a hurtful friendship/relationship with someone. It was almost like trying to tame wild beasts that would turn on you when all you had done was give them the love, attention and patience they'd never had.

So in that chatroom, there was the resident asshole. No one ever knew his name. He was a full blown bully to everyone. He'd go on public tirades calling people out and airing their personal info. Everyone hated him. Everyone had him on the permanent Ignore list. Everyone but me. I was always polite to him, he was rude to me. I never got into any public debates with him, you know, never feed the troll. So he was an asshat for about 4 months, until the day I received an IM from him, prompting me to cringe when no words had been spoken yet.

He gave me his name, and asked me mine. Was still a bit of a douche, but we actually had an awesome 4 hour conversation on books and movies. At the end he said: "Thanks for giving me a chance." I simply said: "Of course." Over the next few weeks he calmed down considerably in the chatroom. He was polite and even jovial with everyone. We spoke every day on IM and then texted whenever we went out or were away from the chatroom for a while. Always fun conversations, we'd talk a lot about Oreo cookies. The first few weeks were pretty awesome, and then one day I took a little long to answer his IM and he said: "So now your other friends are more important than I am?" Um. What? I calmly explained that my friend needed me at the moment but we'd catch up later. He flipped his handle and started calling my cell phone. I answered, and before I was done with 'Hello' his mouth was off running calling me a bitch, spick, and many other colorful adjectives. How dare I diss him? Blah blah. I ended up apologizing and in tears. Feeling lower than dirt for doing something that, even though it was MY way of being, it obviously upset and hurt him.

The next day he apologized and said he was sorry he hurt me. He'd never do it again. I went back to normal business. Forgive and forget. He started getting more and more possessive. Nothing will make me want to never deal with you again more than these two things: Jealousy and trying to make me change who I am, with you ruling my choices. It's not going to happen. I will close in on myself and self destruct at my inability to change who I am. The thing is, I shouldn't have to. I told him this. Hell broke loose.

When I finally blocked him off my Yahoo and Twitter. He lost his marbles. 46 missed calls in 2 minutes, filled with death threats and other threats. I would pay, he said. I did. He hacked into my accounts and published all my information on his blog and twitter/yahoo chatrooms. All of it. Names. Bank accounts. Passwords. Photos. He took everything and posted it everywhere he could. The voicemails kept getting more threatening, and it got to the point where he said he would kill my parents and me one weekend. The phone would beep, or the LED indicator would blink and my heart would already be racing in my throat and my stomach in knots. I'd be shaking as I read through the message...sometimes it was him and it would destroy me, others it was just an email...and I'd still be a mess.

He won. I changed my number, had to close all my bank accounts and close all my email/social network accounts. Twitter became private and I no longer lurk Yahoo. I went to the police station and filed a report, submitting all my text messages, screenshots of his blog and recordings of all the voicemail messages he left. He still uses my screename in Yahoo and harasses my friends to get my information. I am always nervous. Always expecting for him to appear.

Why would people get joy out of hurting me after I was there for them unconditionally? What do you get out of watching me self destruct, when all I ever had for you were good intentions?

Lately, I'm having that trapped feeling again. Like I can't do one thing or say one thing without it being blown out of proportion or people questioning my every move. I'm just Yari. Always have been, always will be. You can either accept me for who I am, and how I live my life or you can simply choose to write me off.

But if you're going to destroy me in the process, just to make yourself feel better, there's nothing I can do to stop you. I am not well. I can't stand another one of these again. This isn't healthy and it will not end well.

I have to do what I can to survive it and be a better person.

49 Things No One Cares About

Facebook gave me this gem...so I share it with you:

1. What was the last thing you put in your mouth? Coke Zero.

2. Have you ever kissed anyone named Matthew? No.

3. Where was your profile picture taken? My living room.

4. Can you play Guitar Hero? Like a fiend!

5. Name someone that made you laugh today: Hadley

6. How late did you stay up last night and why? 3 a.m., listening to muzak w/ bud.

7. If you could move somewhere else, would you? Absolutely.

8. Ever been kissed under fireworks? Sigh. No.

9. Which of your friends lives farthest from you? Brendan Callis. :( New Zealand.

10. How do you feel about Dr Pepper? YUCK

11. When was the last time you cried really hard? Yesterday.

12. Where are you right now? Couch.

13. What bed did you sleep in last night? Mine.

14. What was the last thing someone bought for you (not food or movies)? Shanidy bought me a necklace/BF charm. :)

15. Who was the last person you took a picture of? Hadley.

16. Was yesterday better than today? no.

17. Can you live a day without TV? absolutely

18. Are you mad about anything? Of course. I'm Yari. I'm always ticked.

19. Do you think relationships are ever really worth it? ...Sometimes.

20. Are you a bad influence? No

21. Night out or night in? Either, although I rather in.

22. What items could you not go without during the day? lip gloss, phone, coke zero

23. Who was the last person you visited in the hospital? Ricky's momma

24. What does the last text message in your inbox say? "Ok..."

25. How do you feel about your life right now? Happy with part of it and depressed about the rest.

26. Do you hate anyone? I dont hate...but GOD do I dislike some.

27. If we were to look in your facebook inbox, what would we find? goddamn people growing crops everywhere. crap's annoying.

28. Say you were given a drug test right now, would you pass? Yes.

29. Anyone ever called you perfect before? Yes...right before I was treated like crap :)

30. What song is stuck in your head? Catch A Falling Star - Perry Como

31. Someone knocks on your window at 2am, who do you want it to be? Sigh. At this point a hobo.

32. Wanna have grandkids before you’re 50? No...

33. Name something you have to do tomorrow? Breathe in and out, several times.

34. Do you think too much or too little? Too goddamn much.

35. Do you smile a lot? Not usually.

36. Who was your last missed call on your Mobile phone? Greg.

37. Is there something you ALWAYS wear? Yes. My necklace and watch.

38. What were you doing 30 minutes ago? Packing.

39. Did you have an exciting last weekend? Don't remember. I think I cut.

40. Have you ever crawled through a window? I'm too fat.

41. Have you ever dyed your hair? Yes.

42. Are you wearing a necklace? Yep

43. Are you an emotional person? lol...Mhmm.

44. What's something that can always make you feel better? Cheesecake. Cathy.

45. Will this weekend be a good one? I hope so

46. What do you want right now? To be in a plane headed somewhere away from Texas.

47. Have you ever worn the opposite sex's clothing? Boxers rock.

48. Have you ever worked in a food place? No.

49. Does anyone know your Facebook password? No. But I'll give it to you if you ask nicely.

Punky B.

I've been thinking about so many things I've wanted to tell you for a while now and a way I can explain what you've become in my life.

I've always been pretty horrible at having friends that are girls. I'm awkward and tomboy'ish, and I for as long as I can remember, I've despised shopping. My mother would have endless fights with me over combing my hair and wearing a skirt or dress. She fought (and still does) to prevent me from sitting like a guy, slumped over with my arms resting on my thighs. The sight of my Barbie dolls sitting nearly intact and always naked or with boy clothes drove her insane. She knew she could always find me outside, chasing the boys and trying to climb trees with them (I was a massive fail at climbing). I never did my make up or wore pink. I joined the boys' basketball team in school, and was one of the tallest/best scoring players. I threw spitballs through straws at girly girls and laughed whenever one of them cried over a boy picking on them.

Through the years I've only had 3 other girls that I've called friends. One's that I would trust with anything and enjoy their company. I'd try to do the whole 'you're a girl so you should...' expected thing with them, but they were nice enough to notice I could not, for the life of me, be persuaded to be anything other than what I've always been. Sure, I went through my boy band phase, and I can sing every song. I had posters with Leo DiCaprio and Brad Renfro on my walls. I had never ending crushes on guys, but never said a word. Since I was another one of the boys, I'd always end up in the 'best friend' zone. Nothing like hearing the guy you secretly adore gush about how much he loves his chick. Nice.

Now I'm an adult, a young adult, whatever you want to call it. Like I've told you before, when I first met you I was absolutely intimidated by you. You're the epitome of all things girl, of all things smart and of all things perfect. Yet underneath it all, you showed me affection I had not been shown in my life in a long time. Sure I have people that love me, but they're so far away from me. My daily life was pretty silent, uneventful. Nothing distinguished one day from the other.

You, ma'am :), have now been in my life long enough seen me at my worst. You've seen what moves me, my passions, my downfalls. You've witnessed what my self destructive behavior is like, alcohol...cutting...ignoring my health issues, and have not once laid judgement on me or tried to snap me back together. I've told you things of my past, that very few people ever will know, including my parents. In all, you've become like the very thing that hangs around my neck, half of a heart. Of mine.

I simply wanted to say, I love you. From the tip of one of your hair strands to your big toe and everything in between. I love your silly laugh when you snort and the way you clip your hair off your face every morning. I love that I can look over at you, in a silent elevator ride, and we both break into grins knowing exactly what each other is thinking. It tickles me when you stick your tongue out at your phone and it never ceases to amaze me how graceful and intelligent you are when you are in a conversation...taking command of it.

Thank you for allowing me to be me, yet still inspiring me enough to see that I am beautiful, just like you. I've never felt like anything special, but you steer me in the right direction more often than you think (primarily away from whorey eye-makeup).

I want for you to be happy. Completely. I want to see you transform into something bigger (do NOT insert a fat joke, I know what you're thinking!) and better. And I want for you to allow me to grow with you, by your side, and build the memories I have been missing all these years. I want you to know, that your words spoken to me - die within me. Because, you have done the same...and I haven't found that in a close friend of mine (boy or girl) in a long time.

Thank you for existing, and for being you.

Oh, and if I fart during one of our sleepovers, well, it just means I really, really love you.

Bugs and Battery Pulls

GAH!!! ACK!!!

It's that time of the year again, kiddos, when my day consists of running from Point A to Point B while covering my ears and neck, crying like a lunatic. I mean, you would think that after 6 years of living in this alternate universe called Odessa, I would be used to the 5-8 weeks of hell that swarm upon it every year, around this time.

It starts with a tiny grasshopper here, a slightly bigger one there. The next morning you wake up and over sized locusts, grasshoppers and crickets are covering pretty much any available surface. Creepy, HUGE, with wings some of them. I don't know how many times I've blogged it, tweeted it, told everyone I know. I don't do bugs. Not butterflies. Not ants. No bugs. I freak out. Entomophobia. Google that crap.

So for weeks, I walk with my eyes scanning every inch of earth around me. Often I find myself walking through small hallways where the walls are lined up with these giant winged devils just waiting for me to walk by to jump on me. I freak out and run. It has resulted in many a sprained ankle and in me sitting in my car for hours because there's a praying manthis on the outside of my window. Example of my fear? Why yes. Last night I was washing my hair, and happened to glance up at the bathroom ceiling. There was a moth on the other side of the restroom, very well away from the shower area. A moth. The size of a quarter.I couldn't concentrate on anything else but that moth for the next several minutes. So, it happened. It started crawling on the ceiling towards me. I knew it would do it, naturally. Where else would any insect gravitate towards other than the Yari that kept backing up against the shower wall...trying to melt into it and get away from the danger. It kept getting closer, and I lost all ability to finish washing my hair. A bit of shampoo fell in my eye and I desperately tried to let the water clear away the stinging, but was too panicked to close my eyes for too long with that thing there. Sure enough, Mr. Moth was halfway in his journey towards me.

I did what I've done all my life when confronted with a bug. I froze, and screamed out for my dad. Mom opened the bathroom door and stormed in, I think half-expecting me to be set on fire or attacked by Godzilla. "WHAT? ARE YOU OK?"..."Can you kill that moth and make sure it doesn't fall on me? Please?". She slammed the door, cussing me out for being too old for this nonsense. With the impact of the door slam, the moth fluttered around a bit and landed again, this time a foot away from me in the ceiling. I screamed and this time started whimpering. My hair full of shampoo, soaking wet and calling out for dad again. I felt mom open the door again, with a fly swatter and before I could tell her to do it slow so it wouldn't fall on me, she smashed the crap out of the moth and it fell on me. I slipped in the tub trying to run away from the dead moth, hitting my head on the soap rack. She called me stupid and just let me there...with a dead moth.

Yeah. A MOTH does that. Imagine me trying to maneuver through thousands of giant, jumpy-flying things. How I loathe mid-summer/early fall here.

Also! I have reached the end of my love/hate relationship with RIM. My first phone was a Blackberry Pearl back in 2005. I hated that little asshole. However, I used it until the OS updates would no longer make any difference in how poorly it worked with pushing my emails and suck. On top of that, the God-forsaken trackball. Stuck. I finally got frustrated and slammed it against my steering wheel to get it unstuck. Yeah. I hulk-smashed my phone to bits and made my way, happily, into a Bold. This lasted about .... 4 months until last November I switched to Verizon and got a Storm 2. What. A. Piece. Of. Fail. The clicking screen that was locked within a day of use. I...I just don't want to get into the whole story of how poorly made this phone was. OS updates did nothing for it. I've had about 4 replacements so far, and they keep wanting to send me new Storm 2's. My life has been a continuous battery pull with BlackBerry. So, on Thursday, this little piggy is driving her ass to the Verizon store and ordering a Droid X. Yes. I've gone droid.

It is my most sincere desire to have a phone that's reliable and sexy. Yes. After talking to my buddy Phil about Droid options, the word 'sexy phone' is now part of my daily vernacular.

I figured you guys deserved an update about what's been going on. The past few posts have been directed at people that have hurt me, mostly because I allowed them to. I think I'm healing. I hope.

New doors are opening, and I'm kind of peeking in before walking through them. I hope I don't get bamboozled anymore. I just typed the word bamboozled into spell check and it turns out it's a real word.

I'll be damned.

Limitless undying love, which

shines around me like a million suns,

It calls me on and on across the universe...