The icing on the cake on the table at your wake.

Pleaseee cast Garrett Hedlund as Finnick!

Mon, 19 Mar 2012 14:44:29 -0400

I mean look!

(oh also you see his butt in this movie ;D haha)

I think he would be the most perfect Finnick Odair.

[Dream -- archived]: Maul at the mall

Sat, 25 Feb 2012 08:56:55 -0500

[Dream]: By land, by sea, by air

Fri, 24 Feb 2012 08:58:00 -0500

I’m in the car with one of my ex boyfriends, but we’re obviously back together in this dream. He and I are going to the beach, and he’s driving. Everything seemed normal and fun until he started driving on the dock, and driving recklessly. It’s like we were on that ride at Carowinds called “Ricochet” where the turns are super sharp and you feel like you’re going to fall off.

I start freaking out and tell him to quit it and explain I’m scared. He said “that’s the point”. He then presses a button that makes his passenger door disappear and then makes another turn where I’m only hanging in the car because of my seat belt. I reach over and grab his knife out of his pocket. I try to slice his throat with it, but it doesn’t cut for some reason. He laughs and then steals it from me and cuts my seat belt. I start panicking. I try to grab onto the seat but the next turn we take he gives me a push out of the car and into the water below.

I know there is something in the water that scares me, but I have to decide if this is scarier than facing what put me here. I tread water underneath the dock for a little bit and then swim underwater to the other side where there is a ladder and climb up. As expected, he is standing there, waiting for me. I can’t remember exactly what I did, but I did something to distract him, and then started running toward civilization.

There was a big cluster of buildings on the other side of the marina. I decide I’m going to hide out in one of them and find a hotel. The owner is standing outside and I give him a large amount of cash if I can hide out in the room he’s standing in front of. I tell him I’ll double it if he doesn’t mention anything to anyone about it. It’s a suite and there is another girl staying there but she said she wouldn’t mind a roommate. I explain the situation to her and she said she understood and I could stay with her as long as I needed to. She then explained she had to go to work (I think she was a model) but she’d be back later. I thanked her and watched her walk away, but then I saw my ex on the stairwell she was walking toward. He stopped her and sweet talked her the way he does, and she eventually pointed back to where I was and I ducked. I’m pretty sure he saw me through the window anyway. I peek up again and I don’t see him, but the girl is standing there with a horrified look on her face. I have to move quickly, so I roll underneath the bed. The mattresses are thin, and there is no box spring, so if he came in there he could easily take his knife and stab me through the bed. I was so scared. Somebody came in the room and jumped on the bed above me. It was a male voice and it said, “I know you’re there, just play along”. I kept quiet and heard the door open again. My ex starts yelling at the guy on my bed asking where I am. The guy turns on the tv and says he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. My ex says he just ran into a girl who said she was staying in that room, and the guy says this was the manager’s suite and that he invited her (implying she was a prostitute or whatever) for the night along with another girl but they had both left. My ex seemed frustrated and slammed the door on his way out.

I rolled out from underneath the bed and thank the manager for saving my life. He says I can stay as long as I want but that he has to leave the room to tend to other patrons, so it might not be safe if he’s not there. I decided to borrow some clothes from the model girl’s closet and changed and ran outside. There is a group of tour buses nearby and I decide to hop on one of those. I don’t see my ex anywhere, but I climb all the way to the back just to be safe and slink down in my seat. Someone on the bus hands me a yellow (this is important, because most of my dreams are in B&W) helmet and I put it on. I stood up and looked around the bus and saw my friend James sitting at the front and waved. I asked him what color he had and he said he was also yellow. There were people with red helmets on too. I wasn’t sure what we were going to need them for, but the buses were moving now and we were going somewhere hopefully safer than the place I had left.

We arrive at this clearing where there is no floor. It’s an outdoor wind tunnel and I get on it and shoot up super high in the sky. I remember feeling like I should be afraid but I’m not. We have ropes that we’re holding onto as well, though I’m not sure what the heck they’re attached to. I keep thinking my ex is out there somewhere and being afraid he’ll attack me and everyone else who is up in this wind tunnel. I lower myself down somehow and walk around looking for James. I remember just looking up at everyone and there being this eerie fog so I couldn’t tell who was who, all I saw were their ropes. And then I woke up.

[Dream]: Fire on Middle Eastern public transit & trespassing

Thu, 23 Feb 2012 09:43:23 -0500

I was in a car somewhere in the Middle East (probably Iran, because I was with Laela and her family is from there) and Laela was driving and her bf Luke was in the passenger seat and I was in the back. There were a TON of people in the street and Laela wanted to be a good Samaritan, so she decided to pick up as many people as she could. The problem was, she was letting all these hitchhikers pile in the backseat with me. After three other people were added, I told her I was getting out and would meet her back at her house. I asked her what the address was, but she didn’t know how to spell it in English so I just told her I’d figure it out myself.

I got out of the car holding my cell phone and was immediately ambushed. This guy saw my phone and said “I could really use a good phone like that” and I pushed past him with a “yeah, in your dreams” comment.

I saw a city bus and hopped on it. There weren’t any seats available so I had to stand. I then remembered what was in my other hand — a lighter, one of those long ones used for lighting grills. Anyway, I accidentally dropped it on the floor of the bus and before I could bend down and pick it up, everyone on the bus started shrieking. Upon being dropped, the lighter had activated but there was a wall of flame coming up about a foot from it, the entire length of the lighter.

I’m not sure, but I think I got kicked off the bus because the next thing I know I’m aimlessly walking through this neighborhood. The homes are all townhomes or duplexes, and very small. I meet this group of guys who are fellow Americans and I guess they were trying to meet up with Laela and Luke as well, so I follow them.

Instead of navigating the streets of the neighborhood, we go through people’s houses. Apparently in Iran, using door locks is not common. We must have cut through 5 or 6 houses during this dream. In one house, I saw one of my Israeli coworkers asleep on a bed with her husband in a room with two other beds and two other couples. Talk about close quarters.

We eventually end up back outside, looking out at this giant lake. Then I woke up.

[Dream]: Sharks, hot tubs, Coach shoes, and a shootout.

Tue, 21 Feb 2012 11:30:00 -0500

I was standing on a dock going out into the ocean when I saw a tidal wave coming my way. I ran inland, with Jenna F. (this girl I went to middle school with, and haven’t seen since) right beside me and a ton of other people. We were at a beach with sand dunes like Jockey’s Ridge and they were difficult to climb. Jenna and I fortunately got to them top of them and were safe, but these giant sharks came up and tried to nip at our legs. The tidal wave ebbed back to the ocean and bits of human flesh littered the beach. They looked like pieces of raw chicken for sale at the grocery store.

We were both freaked out. Jenna went back down to the dock to look for her family…or what was left of them. Another wave started forming, and I just kept running away from the beach.

I end up in this building built into the side of a cliff by the ocean. Laela and Luke are there and they said they have found this safe room for us to all live in until the shark problem has been controlled. It was a modern looking spa-type room, all walls being clear glass, with black leather lounge seats, a fish tank and even a salt water pool in the floor that extended down into the actual ocean. I remember thinking that wasn’t the most secure thing in the world, and worrying about the next attack.

*************

I was in a hot tub with some of my male clients, but forgot my swimsuit so I was naked. There were bubbles so the clients couldn’t tell when I was in the water, but I didn’t know how to approach getting out of the tub.

*************

I gave my grandmother a pair of Coach shoes similar to ones I recently bought, except these were brown and had the classic print on the side. GM said she had seen them in the store earlier that month and that she didn’t like them because of the weird coloring on the sides, the cream and caramel colors weren’t doing it for her. She did say she loved the yellow shoes I had gotten her earlier that year…

*************

This random, middle-aged man gave me a bag with a sandwich and cookies in it. The sandwich had turkey on it, so I know he didn’t know me well. I didn’t eat any of it. I went outside and it turns out I was at my childhood home, in the orchard on the hills by our horse pasture. The guy comes outside with a gun and starts shooting to the sky. My dogs from my childhood are there, as well as a Zeke-colored chihuahua and TS’s dog, Cooper. The dogs are all running around trying to protect me and TS (who randomly appeared) while the guy is going crazy trying to shoot the dogs.

*************

Seriously, my subconscious is on some drugs.

Rule No. 232

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 16:31:49 -0500

rulesforthesouthernlady:

Don’t let a bad day make you forget how amazing your life is.

Oh my goodness I have the same smurf figurine thingo that is now your picture thingy. Excuse my pro terminology...but wow. That was weird. Also, I like your "My name is (not) Earl" plan... :D

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 09:59:08 -0500

:) Glad to hear you also love Smurfs. I collected as many as I could when McDonalds had them in their Happy Meals. Vanity is my favorite since my dog chewed up Grouchy.

Thanks for following, and hopefully my plan will work out and inspire others to do the same. It will be worth it!

My Name is [not] Earl

Mon, 20 Feb 2012 08:43:00 -0500

I recently subscribed to Hulu+ solely because I wanted to watch the entire series of a TV show called “My Name is Earl”. I finished all the episodes and have moved on to Greek, but I was really inspired by Earl. If you’ve never seen the show, here’s a quick summary, from Earl himself:

“You know the kind of guy who does nothing but bad things and then wonders why his life sucks? Well, that was me. Every time something good happened to me, something bad was always waiting round the corner: karma. That’s when I realized that I had to change, so I made a list of everything bad I’ve ever done and one by one I’m gonna make up for all my mistakes. I’m just trying to be a better person. My name is Earl.”

You gotta give it to the guy. For four straight seasons he did nothing but try to make up for all the wrongdoings he had committed in his life. But it wasn’t always so easy. He ended up in a coma, in jail, on a stretcher in front of a tractor trailer, and in various other precarious situations. It was worth it, though. Every time he did something good and crossed a mistake off his list, his life would take a turn for the better. That’s karma.

It’s kind of silly that a comedic tv show with a ridiculous redneck cast could be so inspiring, but it has motivated me to create my own list.

Unlike Earl, I do have a full-time job and commitments to things other than just “the list”, so I won’t be crossing a list item off every day, and maybe not even every week. Every list item that I do cross off will help put my mind at ease, but more importantly, repay my debts to karma by making up for something stupid/wrong/[insert other negative adjective here] I have done.

Some things will be easy to mark off, like #7 — “Never paid Sue (mother of my good buddy Chris) back for $60 I borrowed for court fees” (that’s a good story, too). But others, like #32, “Stuck gum under most public seats I sat in” will be more challenging to make up for. Regardless, I’m going to try my best to do it all.

Stay tuned…

textless: A stick person made by my friend Richard Cady.

Thu, 09 Jun 2011 00:25:38 -0400

textless:

A stick person made by my friend Richard Cady.

crackliffe: Wise words.

Thu, 26 May 2011 07:19:48 -0400

crackliffe:

Wise words.

"What is a gentleman, anyway? -A man who never has pins under his coat lapel. -Nonsense! A..."

Thu, 14 Apr 2011 12:57:09 -0400

“What is a gentleman, anyway?
-A man who never has pins under his coat lapel.
-Nonsense! A man’s social rank is determined by the amount of bread he eats in a sandwich.
-He’s a man who prefers the first edition of a book to the last edition of a newspaper.
-A man who never gives an impersonation of a dope-fiend.
-An American who can fool an English butler into thinking he’s one.
-A man who comes from a good family and went to Yale or Harvard or Princeton, and has money and dances well, and all that.
-I think we ought to look on the question more broad-mindedly. Was it Abraham Lincoln who said that a gentleman is one who never inflicts pain?”

- F. Scott Fitzgerald’s “The Beautiful & Damned”

Mmm, a large glass of chardonnay and a kate spade bow...

Wed, 13 Apr 2011 18:46:51 -0400

Mmm, a large glass of chardonnay and a kate spade bow ring… <3

So I already have some pretty big and somewhat tacky rings, but...

Wed, 13 Apr 2011 18:23:45 -0400

So I already have some pretty big and somewhat tacky rings, but OMG do I want this one…

"Look at the limes, how they float. That’s good news. Next time I’m on a boat and it capsizes, I will..."

Tue, 29 Mar 2011 13:40:49 -0400

“Look at the limes, how they float. That’s good news. Next time I’m on a boat and it capsizes, I will reach for a lime. Like I’ll be water-skiing without a life preserver, people will say “What the f*ck?” and I will pull out a lime. I’m saved by the buoyancy of citrus.”

- Mitch Hedberg

Seattle's finest -- my adventures with @rikkiking

Mon, 28 Mar 2011 01:18:00 -0400

Last Sunday, I left my little apartment in Raleigh to head home to Greensboro for a day before I began my adventures in the Pacific Northwest. My company recently signed a contract with an aerospace parts manufacturer located outside of Seattle and I was assigned to join one of my Israeli colleagues for the 3-day installation and implementation portion of the project.

I started my travels with a long day of flights on Tuesday. I flew Greensboro-Charlotte-Phoenix-Portland, then rented a car (I call her Vera the Nissan Versa) and made the three hour drive up I-5 to Seattle. Although flying direct to Seattle would have been cheaper and less stressful (I nearly missed my connection in Phoenix), I wanted to take the scenic route and also promised to pick up newspapers for some silly boy in Goldsboro. While I was in college, I spent a week out in Silicon Valley touring facilities of entrepreneurial greats like Apple and Google; another year I attended the IIE Annual Conference in Vancouver. I loved both areas, particularly Vancouver, but I’d never been to the vast expanse of land in between the two until now.

This region is well known for being cold and rainy, especially during this season. I guess I lucked out – clear skies greeted me Tuesday-Friday with only a few on/off showers. The week was fairly uneventful; I was there to work, after all. I did manage to visit the famous Pike Place market and the first Starbucks store, as well as several quaint little shops and restaurants tucked along the waterside. The real fun started Friday night.

I was introduced to Rikki through the aforementioned Goldsboro boy. A native of the area and a breaking news reporter, Rikki had promised to show me around one of the “dirty hipster” neighborhoods of Seattle that are popular among the early 20-somethings like myself. After enjoying a few cocktails with dinner at The Pink Door and then retiring to the hotel bar, I met Rikki in the lobby of my hotel to begin our night of shenanigans. We caught a cab to Fremont where our bar-hopping started at High Life, a tavern recommended to me by the hotel’s bartender. Disappointed with their alcohol selection, we quickly downed a drink each and headed out – but not before the huffy bartender announced last call, which was at 12:15. ?!?! What the heck, Seattle.

The next venue (also with the word “high” in the name, coincidentally – High Five) featured live music from a band that I think was either called South Africa or hailed from there. I’m only pretty sure because I was heavily buzzing when I hopped up on the benches in front of the stage controllers to dance with some girls who were waving a South African flag, telling me it was “for the band”. It was here that Rikki introduced me to my first local brew, a Mac & Jacks. The heartiness of the beer didn’t seem to mix well internally with my salad and cocktails, so I made a good judgment call (surprised? me too) and handed the half-consumed beverage to Rikki to finish.

From there, my memory is a little hazy. My talks with Rikki about post-college life and newspapers and 20^th century authors likely turned to less intelligent topics, like drinking and boys. We walked across the street to a bar called Norms, where we quickly befriended the bouncer and bartender. I’m not 100% sure of how many well drinks I tossed back here – I’m still scared to look at all of my receipts from this night. I recall making brunch plans that I, soberly, had no intention of keeping with a few guys that had taken an interest in Rikki and I. The cab drive back was unmemorable; we stopped at the c-store near my hotel to pick up my traditional pre-hangover meal: Tylenol, a loaf of bread, powerade….and a six-pack of Coors Light.

As I’m typing this, I’m wondering whether Rikki remembered to grab said Coors Light from my mini fridge before she left. Ah, if not, I’m sure Consuela was happy to be the one cleaning my hotel room. Finders keepers.

Despite my valiant attempt at prevention, my hangover on Saturday was inevitably brutal. I spent the hours of 8-11 that morning with my head over the toilet, cursing my alcohol addiction. There’s a fine line between being a lush and an alcoholic, and I think I crossed it. After seeing the bright yellow of my stomach lining floating and carefully eating a few crackers, I decided a short nap would be necessary before I hit the road towards Portland. My room had a fantastic view of the Space Needle, but even on the 6^th floor the street noises of downtown Seattle drifted through my window and made my head throb. Minutes later, a sharp tapping at the door from housekeeping further added to my headache and halted my nap plans. Checkout was at noon; it was now 11:30 and my belongings were still strewn about the room. It was time to get my ass in gear. I changed clothes, noticing the tombstone stamp on my wrist that I was tagged with upon entering one of the bars last night. How appropriate.

As quickly as possible for someone in my current state, I packed my bags, checked out and hopped in Vera the Versa. I’d never driven on an interstate while hungover, and I would never recommend it. Just imagine trying to go 70 mph while hurling – that was the last thing I was trying to think about, but the only thing that my stomach felt like doing.

I decided to pull off at the first exit I see with an IHOP or Waffle House. I figured they probably get drunks like me at all hours. But APPARENTLY, in Washington state, everyone and their mother goes to IHOP at noon on Saturday. So, I walked in to the south Seattle version of an Aldi store to find something to calm the seas of nausea.

I’m pretty sure I reeked of alcohol and bad decisions, but here’s the thing I love most about people in this state: they don’t fucking care. Nobody stares or judges or makes unwanted eye contact. I am normally really uncomfortable in grocery stores by myself, but that day I felt fine as I checked out with a 12-pack of Dora the Explorer ice pops, pretzels, and a bottle of Sprite. When I puked all over Dan Allen Drive on NCSU’s campus last fall, this medley of groceries is what the nurse at Urgent Care prescribed…and it worked!

My adventures that followed this ridiculous popsicle binge into Oregon are too beautiful to be sullied by sharing them in a post of alcoholism and the other fine things in life, so I’ll end things here.

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing ‘cause I built my...

Thu, 24 Mar 2011 01:44:49 -0400

Well, I’ve been afraid of changing ‘cause I built my life around you…

“Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.”...

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 21:28:45 -0400

“Nothing tastes as good as being skinny feels.” -Kate Moss

"Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re..."

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 09:37:00 -0400

““Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you’re wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn’t love you anymore.”
-Lady Gaga”

Motivation

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 09:34:36 -0400

Jessie: What's my motivation?
John: Well, you're a bounty hunter. You hunt bounties.
Jessie: Oh. Right.

Moving on...in a Different Direction

Mon, 21 Mar 2011 06:18:00 -0400

“I love you, Jessie,” he says as he sits on the edge of my bed, his voice bucolic and calming like always — but with a sharp hint of finality.

His gaze is just as deep, dark and devastating as his words. Our eyes meet; I should look away. The warm blue of his eyes that once assured me of a love that would last forever has been replaced with a colder gray.

I shiver and turn away as the tears start welling up. My mind wanders off to a time many months earlier, a happier time, when I first heard him say those words. Similar to the present, we were in silence, but we were lying in the bed instead of sitting and it was his bed, not mine. He had held me close and my heart started pounding, overwhelmed with the certainty of what it was feeling.

I was in love.

To this day, I still find amazement in that fact alone. It was that particular moment that my heart had decided it was ready to try again. Its broken bits from the devastation of my first love had been picked up, sewn back together, and healed enough to allow me to let someone else have it now.

I had struggled to say the phrase that first time. I knew with every ounce of my being that what I felt was true, but my head was telling my heart to be cautious. The small smile that crept across my face as he repeated my whisper quickly turned into a full-fledged grin.

“I love YOU.” I could hear the smile in his voice as he said it, too.

He had also felt the power of the realization of love that night. But now, that power was gone. This returns me from my fonder distant memories to the present moment like a slap in the face.

This was the “stuff exchange” — our last goodbye. I had traipsed around my small apartment earlier that day collecting his belongings, photos of us, love letters, memories. I held each item and gave it a final kiss before letting it fall softly into the bag.

“I’m so sorry, Jessie,” he says, reaching for my hand.

I move away to avoid his touch. Don’t blow your composure, I kept telling myself. I sit in silence. Quiet, not because I don’t have anything to say, but because I know my voice will quiver and my glass facade will crack.

“I still care about you.”

The pools in my eyes finally overflow and run down my face, taking my mascara with them. My silence turns into an audible sob. We had always been so open and honest with each other that it was difficult to hide my feelings from him now.

Months before he had begged me to trust him completely — he had sensed I was still being wary and holding back from giving him all of my love. I was scared then of feeling how I did now.

He now knew everything about me. My likes/dislikes, my life story to date, my beliefs and aspirations, e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. He was my best friend and my lover, and he was sitting here on my bed telling me he no longer wanted to wear those hats.

We were growing apart, he said. My tears ran faster and my sobs became louder. We both knew what he was saying was the truth. I just didn’t want to believe it.

I guess a part of me knew when I signed my job offer letter that I was choosing my career over my relationship. I was a stronger person then. I’m sure that “me” still exists somewhere deep within my being, but she was definitely absent on stuff exchange day.

He continued to talk about how he didn’t want this to be the end of us, that we just had some things we needed to work on and hopefully our paths would cross again in the future. I ran to the bathroom to escape the unintentionally harsh gravity of his statements. I looked in the mirror at my makeup-streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes. Get a grip.

I clean up my face and join him back on the bed. He rises from his ever-so-suave position and advances toward the door, looking back at me.

“Can I get a hug?”

He stood there asking for one last chance to embrace “the hottest girl ever”, his first true love, the one he had promised never to hurt. I walk over to him and give him the biggest hug I can… can’t you see that I need you? His arms were stoic and didn’t provide me with my usual feeling of comfort. I lose my stability again and sob into his shoulder, clawing at his back. My looks, my brain, my heart, my words, nothing can keep him from leaving. His mind was made up.

Somebody pinch me — wake me up. I want so badly for this to just be a terrible nightmare. I want him to lean in and wipe away my tears, grab my hand and kiss my ring finger like he used to when he would end each “I love you” with “forever & ever & always & after”…

He walked out of my apartment with the little bag of us and closed my door in his life that day. He’s moved on…and I know it’s time for me to do the same. It’s been months. I need to pick up my heart’s newly shattered pieces and find a way to put them back together. I’ve done it before and I can do it again. I just need the strength.