28 Candles

I'm 28 today.

I wish this were a big, elaborate and meaningful post about how my life has changed blah blah. No. Here's my birthday in a nutshell:

I bought myself a strawberry cupcake and put candles on it. I blew them out and popped in The Emperor's New Groove. While I was at Michaels earlier (purchasing my candles), a very frail looking lady approached me in a frenzy. "You're wearing a hat! Just like I am!" Oh boy. Why me? I smiled at her and her green baggy cap sat crookedly on top of multi colored hair. She had huge dangly earrings, beads hanging from her hair and glasses, numerous necklaces and rings and every color in the rainbow on. She yanked my iphone out of my hand and tucked it in my pocket, then stuck her hand out so I could shake hers...I did. "My name is Mary Ann *** ***. Born and raised in Midland, TX". I couldn't help but smile, genuinely, at how I manage to attract characters. "My name's Yari. Puerto Rico." She started squealing about Puerto Rico and about our hats (I'm wearing a baseball cap), then said "I love that whole look you have going on. You look wonderful! So beautiful! Plus today is your day!" I was startled for a second. I didn't know this lady...what did she mean? I carefully said "Yeah, today's my birthday." She asked how old I was now. "28..." "Oh, I wish I could be 28 again...but I'm 49." "It's ok Mary Ann, 40 is the new 20." "YAY! Then I'm close to your age!" "You sure are. You look great too." She shook my hand again and told me to have a beautiful day. Just like that. The whirlwind that was Mary Ann flew out of my life as quick as it came in it.

So, if anything, I leave you with this. Sixteen Candles may have been true to a certain point. Sometimes birthdays aren't an event. Just another day. Oh man, and do they rarely end with you sitting in a dress on the kitchen table kissing your crush over a perfectly positioned, lit birthday cake. Sometimes you buy yourself a cupcake and meet an insane new person who you later realize is just like YOU, only 20 years older.

See you all again next year.

Goddammit: The Starbucks Edition

Today, Saturday July 14th, 2012...will be known as the day I will never be able to look at myself in the mirror the same way. Why, dear reader, have I lost a bit of my soul?

I'm out and about today, you see. Not doing anything in particular, really. I have my Nikkon D60 SLR camera out in case I see something amusing I just HAVE to pull over and take a picture of. I have a bathing suit I need to return at Old Navy, and regarding that all you need to know is that sometimes people do NOT need to see bits of me that should be forever hidden. I have big plans of using the money from the bathing suit (whopping $25) to buy soap, detergent, clorox and a broom. Hold back your obvious envy towards my insanely awesome weekend. I will clean. A lot. Then I'll play guitar or paint, while I answer calls from work. Living large. I know.

That, however, is not the point of this burst of words. Between returning my bathing suit and buying cleaning supplies, I had a marvelous idea. "Why don't I go by Starbucks and grab me a mocha coconut frappucino?" Innocent enough, right? Somehow the drive-thru idea turned into, "Hey, it looks empty inside. I'll just go in and grab it. AC is good in summer. No hipsters or obnoxious teenagers. Just me, my frap and a comfy chair to sink in..." Famous last words.

I brought my laptop inside, in case I got a work call. While ordering my drink, the barista excitedly interrupts and proclaims: "I LOVE your tattoo! It's so cute! Are you a music major?" I smile awkwardly and say, "No. I'm a guitarist." Her eyes get big and she continues, "OMG! ME TOO!". While my mouth and smile are saying "That's very cool...", my mind is screaming "No, honey, I can't afford to study music in that way. I just teach myself and hope for the best." I make my way to the lovely leather seat. To my right, on the very pricey coffee table, there is a rather large bamboo plant. I look up and there's two 15 year olds in almost no clothing, sitting indian style on the chairs and saying 'like' every other word during their conversation about a 'hilarious' trip to Walmart they endured. Behind them a dude with a very, very exotic sounding drink and in full on running gear browsing on his Mac. Behind him, a mildly buff Asian man in a pristine, albeit tiny, pearl snap shirt and Chucks that look like they've been steam cleaned and pressed before wearing. There's at least two guys in line with glasses and beards, identical arms crossed...bored expressions. To my left, a young man watching a Steve Jobs video on his Mac with gigantic Bose headphones on and a messenger bag by his feet that's worth more than my life up to this point (and I'm sure that's a $400 pen neatly tucked in the bag). Then there's me...

Drinking a frappucino...and on my Mac because I thought it would be hilarious to blog about what's around me...until I realized I've become THAT person. At Starbucks. With a MBP. Drinking something weird. Blogging. And while I SHOULD feel comfortable and like I finally "belong" with society's coffee hipster crowd, everything I own and/or am wearing while sitting here (including this device I'm typing on) has been gifted to me by people wanting me to be able to have something nice that I probably couldn't afford on my own. However, instead of feeling like a charity case or like I should try to finally blend in with people that merely look and act a certain way...I'm going to go ahead and give in and say, goddammit. I've become the Starbucks hipster crowd blogger. Just for today.

But I'm shutting this off now and heading back out. Because the sky is blue and the day is young. I want to enjoy the day the ways I always have and see what I can create away from a keyboard. I don't just have to be ONE thing. I'm defined by all my components.

P.S. If I start growing a beard and traveling around wearing Toms, please feel free to shoot me.

Says Who?

Says who?

I find myself wondering that a lot lately. I ask it of many things that are arising in my life for the first time and of things that I've always been told are a certain way simply 'because'.

In a week, I will be 28. I have no children. "Don't you want any? Shouldn't you get on that already?" I answer "Says who?"

I am a 28 year old woman. I enjoy, nay, LOVE wearing bright sneakers or shoes. Jeans. Tees. Everywhere. Unless you request that I dress up, I shall not. I do love boy shoes very much. There is no such thing as boy Jordans. There's simply Jordans. "So, you wear boy shoes? So you wear bright colors and childish attire? So you like comics and toys? Shouldn't you tone it down and start acting your age?" I answer "Says who?"

"I'll never make a living with art or an art degree. You need ambition. You need a career. You need to think ahead. Have a plan. Where do you see yourself?" Me? I see myself in a small house, with what I need, enough money to pay my bills, living my life. Get it? Living? Going out for a gd ice cream cone on a summer's eve? "That's not realistic. I couldn't see myself living like that. I don't see how you don't want more." I answer, "Says who? I want more. Just not what you want."

"You can't start over?" Says who.

"You are not being fair to others by putting yourself first. That's not reasonable." Says who.

"Not everything in life can be fun and relaxing." Says who.

"Life, love, decisions...are all complicated."

Says. Who.

Love Killed The Internet

I woke up from a long slumber, to the sound of your voice calling me through the haze. My bare feet flexed slightly under my every step. Like a fawn taking its first wobbly steps into the world around it. Instinct drove me. I was off and there was no turning back. 

In my newfound awareness, I decided to write you a letter on every single leaf of the trees surrounding me. Each one a tiny, green papyrus for my heart to speak to you...words. So many words, big...small, all different; yet, they all might as well been a four letter devotion. Love. But I got so busy writing, so busy...Fall crept up on me. Leaves turned yellow...tawny...maroon. Like an falling army of love letters on fire...dead on the ground. Never to be read. You would never know.

I stared at the naked tree trunks, and decided to carve my passion. I drove our initials in with a knife, copying them from my heart onto theirs. Over and over, tracing each curve on the letters, until the lines ran as deep as my adoration of you. I heard laughter around me, noises, music. I felt people come and go. I never looked up from my task, this time it would be permanent. This time you would know. But a silent nudge made me look over my shoulder, and over every heart-wrapped love spell...the world had come and gone...leaving thousands of messages of its own, covering mine with urgency. Dozens of "Come see our band", a handful of "Reward for missing dog", a single "Have you seen this man?", hell...even a "For a good time..." My message buried. You would never know. 

The night was sprinting past me. Out of time, I found a big, empty wall...high up on the side of a forgotten building. I climbed, climbed...with cans of paint and a brush hanging off my belt. The city sped by, the stars traveled across the sky, and I? I painted your eyes. Open, deep, loving. I painted mine, peering up at you softly from where your chest would be. The sun signaled the new day's arrival, tinting my image in goldenrod. I stumbled back across the street, on to another rooftop and sank on my heels. Your face looked alive on the wall, and the worship in my eyes...for you...was unmistakable. Loud beeping pierced the morning stillness. The ground rumbled. The crowds gathered. A giant wrecking ball with the word "Life" graffitied on it delivered a single, devastating blow to my mural. It crumbled bricks and eyes and peace and cement into a fine dust, that settled down below. A pile of feelings and history. You would never know.

So. Here I am. Writing Love on a corner of the world wide web. In a place only I can control what's said, where it's displayed, who reads it and where I can pretty much guarantee you will read the message tonight, tomorrow or 100 years from now. If you wake up tomorrow and the whole internet has somehow collapsed onto itself and humanity finds itself at a loss as to what to do without this wonderful mess of messages that connect us...

Well...You will never know, I guess. And I apologize for breaking the internet.

Be Still

The ice on the surface is thin,

Don't move about. Be very still.

The quicksand swallowing in

Don't fret, think, Be very still.

The world may grow louder

Listen to peace, be very still.

Storms making skies darker?

Wait for the sun, be very still.

The old bridge creaks underneath

Wait for help, Be very still.

Your mind is the hunter, don't be its prey

Stand your ground. Be very still.

You who refuges in panic

And reverts to the comforting fears

Break your chains, have faith

Don't give away, be very still.

Be that tree under lightning

Be that forgotten field

Be alive, be chaos,

But always be very still.

- YIP

What To Do?

"Have you ever been in love? Horrible isn't it? It makes you so vulnerable. It opens your chest and it opens up your heart and it means that someone can get inside you and mess you up. You build up all these defenses, you build up a whole suit of armor, so that nothing can hurt you, then one stupid person, no different from any other stupid person, wanders into your stupid life... You give them a piece of you. They didn't ask for it. They did something dumb one day, like kiss you or smile at you, and then your life isn't your own anymore."- Neil Gaiman

Onward.

Two For One Special

The first one...

I was walking around a city at night...it looked like SoHo, Lower Manhattan. Tall, brick buildings everywhere lit by rows of white Christmas lights. I walked by a few cafes where couples and friends sat with their glasses of wine and coffee cups...they looked like a scene from a movie. The air felt cold, crisp...like that week after Thanksgiving up in the Northeast. Sirens started blaring, and the wind picked up. People started shouting about a tornado headed our way...and I lost my grip on your hand. The sea of people running down the street, as if they could outrun whatever was coming our way, trapped me against an alley and I just saw the back of your head as you ran the direction they were headed. I called your name, screamed it...but there was just darkness and when I opened my eyes again...we were in a forest. We left a nice hotel for a walk. You, my parents, my aunt, a few friends. We stumbled upon a big lake, that had a violent whirlpool in the middle that spread almost to its edges. We tip toed around the edge of the water, careful not to get any deeper than our calves. The sirens started blaring again, and I remember thinking "What's going on with the world? Storms everywhere...Where can we go?" In my musings, I noticed I was the only one that had made it to the hotel. By then, they were evacuating all the guests into the basement. I shouted your name...always yours first. Nothing. I called out for my parents, aunt...any one of our friends. No one I knew was in the group of people. I feared the worst...that I had run off and left everyone I loved behind. I ran back out and instead of a tornado, I ran into a blizzard that had dumped 4 feet of snow all around me. In some places I took a step and was up to my neck, digging myself out to keep running. I called everyone's name. Just the howling wind answered. As I was about to turn around and head back to the hotel, I took a step and broke through ice...slush...and felt an incredible force pushing me away from some trees and into a clearing. The whirlpool. I started swimming as hard as I could, but I kept getting pulled under...the edge of the lake looked farther...and I just let go.

The second one...

I was laying in bed, in a tiny apartment on top of a hill. I just remember the breeze coming through the window, playing with pale yellow curtains. There was a knock on the door and a little girl dropped off some plush toys for me. They looked used and some where broken. She didn't say a word, just put them all at my feet and took off running. I put them all on my bed, and got dressed in a black, laced up dress. I walked down cobblestone streets into town, and met up with other people that were also dressed up. We all headed up into a coliseum, dressed in our finest, but with a somber feeling...scared. In the middle of a coliseum there were torches lit surrounding a pool of black water. In between each torch there were throne like chairs with shackles where the feet would go and spikes where the wrists were to be tied onto the chair. I saw everyone ease into the pool, methodically undressing and wearing only a white robes. Everyone acted like it was a single's mixer...I didn't recognize anyone...so I limited myself to watching what everyone was doing. Couples found each other right away. Boys were boys, picking on some girls. I was terrified...the place was too quiet...only our voices echoed. The water was too dark...I couldn't reach the bottom. We were all the same age...it was unnerving. A tall, tanned guy with curly hair down to his shoulders swam and held on to the edge of the pool next to me. We both looked at people, in silence and he whispered "So want to kiss?" I shook my head, looking up at him confused as to why a complete stranger would ask that. He said "You have to pick someone...or you'll be killed. People that aren't picked or end up with someone are killed off..." My heart started beating fast and my eyes searched the whole coliseum, pool...surroundings for your face. You were there, I felt it. The way I know you're never far off. I couldn't see you. Still, I took a gamble and said "I'm with someone here, he'll come forward when the time comes." The guy shook his head and swam off to find someone else. Just then a horn signal blared and I saw everyone jumping out of the pool and picking a chair. Girl, boy, girl, boy...that's how we sat. Then, a man came out wearing a black robe. Strong. Tattooed with markings. Teeth that were sharp...shaven down to look like fangs. He had a cynical smile, eyeing us all one by one. He walked past me, grabbed my chin and let out a small chuckle. My stomach balled up. First he asked for everyone that already had a partner beforehand or had found someone that wanted to be with for good, to get up, grab their hand and leave the room. Out of almost 100 of us there...only 17 of us were left. 17 of us that hadn't been picked, or hadn't picked someone else. The man in the black robe asked the guy to my left to pick someone. The young man refused, said the woman he loved wasn't in the crowd and he was faithful only to her. The man in the robe let out a dry laugh and said "Everyone, pay attention, our friend here says he doesn't want anyone here..." in a mocking voice. Some of the people left laughed nervously and in a fraction of a second, I saw the young man being kicked into the black pool. Except he had been lit on fire and the water did nothing to turn it off. I ran to the edge of the pool, screaming at him to sink in the water to see if that helped, telling him to swim towards me so I could pull him out and help. But his blood-curling screams drowned my own and soon he was just floating in the water, still on fire. The man grabbed me by my shoulder and it burned, his fingertips were fire. He shoved me back on my chair and said it was my turn. I looked around desperately, and still couldn't find your face...I was running out of time. The guy to my right grabbed my hand and plead, "Please. Pick me. I'll love you and be good to you. We can be happy. Please. Hurry. I don't want to see you burn." I looked at him...handsome, bright blue eyes, pale skin and black hair slicked back. He meant it. He was beautiful, and looked like he had a sweet heart...and he was pleading for me to kiss him and choose him. To save us both. I looked back at the man in the back robe again, his grin fixed in place and dead eyes drilling into mine. Then out of the corner of my eye, standing behind him, I saw you. I felt my chest burst in relief and happiness. I turned to the young man to my right and said "I'm sorry. I pick him. He's mine. I'm his. I love him. I pick him." The young man looked broken and said "Please. Are you sure? Are you really sure?" I looked back at you again, and you had an unreadable smile on...almost arrogant. I fought away the feeling in my stomach...warning me to think it through. "Yes. I pick him." The man in black said "Once you pick, you cannot change. That is your final choice. It doesn't matter if your love is not returned...you cannot go back and pick anyone else. Are you sure?" I nodded, let out my breath and shrunk back in my chair. The man moved out of the way and turned to you, behind him. He asked you, who was your choice. You pointed at her, next to you. She gave me a smirk, then turned to kiss you deeply. You both kissed, and I don't remember much but saying No...screaming it...over and over. You both walked in front of me, hand in hand, and the rest of the people in the room were full blown laughing at me and calling me names. Stupid. Naive. Burn. Stupid...I had been blind. I couldn't turn around. I made my choice. You had made yours. I saw you both walk away, kissing and I kept screaming your name. But you didn't look back at me once, almost like you couldn't hear my voice. All of a sudden it was like I was watching you guys walk away but from wherever you were headed. Both your faces. I could also see myself screaming your name in the background, on my knees, as my clothes was being torn off and the man in black lifted a sword to bring down to my neck. The last time I screamed your name, I saw a flicker of life come to your eyes and you wake up from a daze...shaking your head and recognizing my voice...finally...and horror showing in your face as you turned around only to find the door being closed behind you. It was too late.

Two nightmares a night is becoming the norm...and they all tell the same story...I'm waiting for the sun to start shining again. It has to. Maybe.

I Tried.

I lit a candle and watched it burn down to nothingness. I listened. I tried. I fought. I cried. I laughed. I hugged. I loved. I simply, waited. Now, I bow out.

It's Cold...

A friend texted a couple of days ago and said "I wish you'd write more on your blog. I love reading your words." I told her I had nothing to say, really...

But the truth is, I have too much to say and no strength to. There is a constant threat looming over me...I'm already withdrawing again from everyone. I know what comes next. It's happened before...

When I first moved to the US, it was almost too much for me to survive. Yet, I did. I was a freshman in HS, it was December and my mother was really sick. She had several complications from a routine surgery and coupled with her severe anemia, her blood levels dropped to the point that the doctors said there was nothing more they could do for her. They gave me those news at the hospital on a Thursday after school. I looked at her...she looked so full of life yet...tired? I wanted to break everything in sight or crawl on her lap and cry. I had lost my grandmother not that long before...why was this happening to me? I went to school the next day, no one knew anything and I didn't want to talk anything about it. It was Friday. It was a beautiful, sunny, breezy, island day. I spent the day laying under a tree in the schoolyard, sharing headphones with a friend as he talked about Dragonball Z. Dad picked me up after school and told me on the way home we were leaving for Pennsylvania that night. To pack light, because we were going to Allentown to stay with his sister while we tried to save Mom.

I arrived at Newark, NJ...Saturday at around 3 a.m. Mom being pushed on a wheelchair, and two feet of snow on the ground outside. I've hadn't seen snow since I was 4. I couldn't even experience the giddiness a person gets when they first play in the snow...I ran to my aunt's van, still wearing my flip flops and light tee shirt I left with from Puerto Rico. We sped off in the night. That's when I first felt that pang of homesickness that would never go away. Even in the middle of a dark night, nothing felt like home outside. Nothing felt like home inside the van either. Silence, tension, uncertainty. The next couple of weeks, I struggled to adjust in more ways than any person, at any age, should. The relationship between my parents and my aunt was strained, and we were constantly reminded we were there as a favor. No compassion. No warmth. This wasn't the aunt I remembered from my childhood. Maybe the US changes people, I thought. But we ate when told to, bathed when told to. Everything on a schedule, on the dot. Everything rationed and portioned, even though my dad got a job immediately and was buying the groceries for the whole household with enough food to spare. Daily visits to doctors, me sitting in waiting rooms by myself. I was kept out of everything. Dr. Matta's office became my hang out 4 times a week. A 14 year old, reading Highlights magazine for children and making friends with the little kids that came for pediatric visits to the doctor that shared the office.

Two weeks after arriving, just before New Year's, my parents come out of the doctor appointment and into the waiting room. Dad pays the copay, and helps Mom put on her coat and we walk in the usual zombie haze to our little beat up Horizon hatchback. I cram in the back seat, all 5' 9" of me, and sit sideways, shivering and wondering if it ever gets warm in PA. The silence in the car tells me that once again, a bomb is about to be dropped on me...and immediately my stomach churns...nausea. "We are staying here longer than we thought, Yari. Mom's treatment is going to take months. Probably until April. So we're going to have to enroll you in school...", my Dad said. Panic. Panic. Cold. Panic. I wanted to dart out of the car and run. Run away. I can't stay here. Not that long. I need to go home. To my family. To my house. My bed. My life. They wait for me to process the news, and I look up and notice Mom is staring at me from the side, rear view mirror, studying my face. She looks so much better already...and she looks apologetic. So sorry that she is the reason this is happening to us. How can I let her think she's a burden? No. She comes first. How could I have felt so selfish for a couple of minutes? I'll just go back home in the summer. I can do this. I force a smile and say "I want to go buy new notebooks then...", and the mood in the car immediately relaxes. That same afternoon I am sitting in the counselor's office, going over my classes and already they're trying to bump me to an English as a Second Language class. I calmly explain I'm fully bilingual, I can manage just fine in regular classes. He looks reluctant, and decides to bump me back a grade because "Puerto Rican schools are slower than US schools...You're probably in elementary school math and science." I feel my anger rising. I feel judged. I feel labeled without even given a chance. So, I tell him I'm in advanced English, Math and Science and have a 4.0 average. Just give me a chance. He sighs and does so, arrogantly. I'm given an ID and a locker number. I'm given books and I begin classes in two weeks.

By New Year's we have our own apartment and I spend my days dreading the upcoming school semester. I write a lot of letters (no computer...no emails...) to my best friends in PR and I get so many replies back...asking when I'm coming home, if I like it, that the teachers were so sad that I was gone, that my chair was empty, that my house looked so sad with no one living in it, that my dogs were given away to the pound, etc. With each letter and bits of news, I felt a part of me die. One of my best friends, Rebecca, happened to be visiting her family in Patterson, NJ for New Year's...and just like that she had someone bring her to my house in PA to stay the weekend. For 3 days, I was alive. When I opened the door to my apartment and saw her face, I just hugged her and cried until we were both spent. It felt nice to be missed...remembered...loved. We saw the ball drop in Time Square on the little tv in my room, and huddled in my bed under several blankets with a tiny heater keeping us going. She left on a Monday, and another piece of my heart crumbled right along with her departure.

School started. I had no friends. The news from home, my old school, my family...became too much to carry...so I stopped writing letters and answering them. I stopped calling my friends. I started avoiding their calls. The letters slowed down...stopped. The phone never rang anymore...and I was walking 17 blocks in frozen temperatures to school in the mornings. Ate lunch alone, took notes in class, looked at my feet when I walked the halls, got bumped into and was pretty much non-existent. By the time April came by, I didn't even bother asking my Dad if we were going back home. He was so happy with his new social worker job and a newer car. "I'll never go back to PR to bust my back for money." Mom got better, so at least I had that. She tried talking to me, but I just spent most of my time in the room reading old books I'd find at yard sales or listening to music. Days, weeks would go by without me talking to anyone or opening my mouth to say anything but Yes, No, Excuse me, Please and Thank you. I even refused to call my grandfather, the light of my life, to see how he was. I couldn't stand to hear anyone's voice. I hated myself for being far away. I hated my dad for leaving us here. I hated life. I withdrew. I shut down. I disappeared. The only thoughts I had the remaining time I lived in PA was "It's cold..." Everything else, I forgot.

To this day, anytime something starts hurting me or when I'm feeling homesick...when I hear news from home or my friends try to reach out to me because they miss me, I just retract...hide...because I cannot handle the pain in my chest and stomach of having so much to say...but no point of saying it.

Tonight, I'm homesick for more than just home. Tonight I'm lonely, for more than just company and friends. Tonight I feel the pull of that quite, safe cave where no one can hear from me and I can be away from the world. The peace. The detachment. The throwing in of the proverbial towel. My white flag is ready to fly desperately through the air. Surrender. Leave me be.

Tonight, it's cold. I miss you.

Pride

Pride. Such a double-edged sword. We know when we are right, so it's understandable to want to defend our point at any cost...any cost. Do we ever sit down and calculate the cost of being right? Are we but products of a life in which any self love and sense of pride have been beaten out of us? Now that we have a chance to have our voices heard, our feelings exposed to someone who gives a damn about them...are we more preoccupied with having the control we were never able to achieve with anyone else?

What happens when pride is overrun by pettiness...selfishness? Part of getting the last word in a confrontation is being aware of the price you're paying for getting your way. You may just be making somebody pay for someone else's mistakes. Maybe someone else mistreated you...and what are you doing now, if not making this new person pay for other issues that lie somewhere out of your relationship with them? This is how you're repaying a brand new start, an opportunity...by becoming the very thing you loathed about others and how they treated you. That's how you're treating them. So, great, you won the battle. But you lost the war.

The point is that, sometimes, it is more than just pride or winning, even if you are on the correct side of an exchange. Everyone has a breaking point...that last straw that makes them realize that maybe they have been naive. That they too can be proud if they choose to, and they can cease to apologize or take the blame. No one wins. Pride wins. So, maybe Pride can sit with you and provide you with dinner company. Pride can tuck you to bed. Pride can fill the silence. You can love your Pride, but the Pride will only love itself. Rather expensive price to pay to prove a point that never existed, wouldn't you say? If you swallow your pride for those who aren't worth it or even thank you for doing so...why can't you do the same for the ones who need you and treat you with love and like you're worth something? Those who want to be in your life because, well, they just want to...not because they need things from you?

What's worth saving, when it's all said and done? We all will lay in the bed we made for ourselves. How do you want that bed to be?

"I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine." ~ Elizabeth Bennet, Pride & Prejudice - Austen