Like, oh my i/denti/tee

I found this site via View from the Bottom (who I follow on Twitter @thegirlRiot, who I found because I was looking to follow fashion-tweeters? I think? Can't really remember!).

The point is, it's a pretty neat-o idea. There's music, there's fashion, and there's crowdsourcing. All good stuff I'm slightly obsessed with.

(That and keeping this blog updated. It's been a busy week for all of us - building-pass adventures for OhMyDrama and I, graduating college for OhMyGoodness (yay!!!) and workity work work for those other two amazing business women. But I do want to keep our awesome NaBloPoMo stream flowing steadily.)

I added to their database "I found a city love" from John Mayer to their database. I felt like I had a ton more in me, but couldn't think at the moment.

What would you want identitee to print on a t-shirt? There's definitely a difference between an awesome lyric and a witty tee, but they can live in harmony for sure. (heh, get it? harmony?)

Check out i/denti/tee, submit your idea, and let us know here, too!

What is the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Oh, yeah, it's jealousy.

OMG. Seriously. I'm about to write an actual coherent post on LOMB, but I had to get this out first.

Dear John,

I am so grossed out with myself right now. Let's see if I can describe this concretely, like I was trained so well in poetry class to do.

It started in my stomach. Butterflies isn't right, and it's also cliche. And "nervous" isn't concrete. But everyone knows what nervous feels like, right?

Well it started as nerves, in the outer film of my stomach, but seeped deep and rose high to my throat really fast. Except once it was in my throat, it sort of felt feverish. My eyes blurred a little bit, and I got a mini-chill.

I wanted to throw my laptop at the wall. But instead of moving the offending thing from my eyes, I kept clicking through - looking at picture after picture.

I'm talking about Facebook stalking, of course. Of you. On a "semi-formal" sort-of-maybe date. With another girl.

Well, duh, of course it would be another girl. And technically - technically!! - this is a-okay. Perfectly acceptable. Definitely encourageable, actually! I, of course, tried to rationally tell one of my other girlfriends this when she was apalled at her ex's Facebook pictures with other girls. "It's his right! You broke up with him!" I told her in a text message. She did not text me back. I wonder why.

Because she had this god-awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Because even though she (we, totally we, especially me) - because we're hott and girls and selfish humans and OH SO WORTH IT - are allowed to date, flirt, and otherwise online stalk other boys...our exes are SO not.

Because even though I traveled to Philly for a sleepover date, made out sloppily with a hottie mchotterson in public on Halloween, was surprised I didn't get a kiss at the end of my date last night, and am actively flirting with like 20389471 different guys, YOU, of course, are not allowed to do any of these things.

Because even though YOU broke up with ME, you obviously must be pining away over me. On the other side of the country. Like an a-sexual being. Because any woman after me is just a mere girl. Or something.

Well this is just silly. Because I am a 21st Century woman. And I love you (in all definitions of the word). And I am above all these games (sort of). I am mature with high, but realistic expectations about our "future" and our "relationship." We're on the freakin opposite sides of the country, for cryin' out loud, and we're human.

So I won't point out that she's not that cute (well, actually, she's adorable, but I could make up stuff I don't like her if I wanted to). I won't point out that we had a fantastically away-message leaving conversation over the weekend (barf). I won't point out that you broke up with me because you didn't know how you felt about relationships.

(Oops.) Instead, I'll blame it on Facebook, and how I jump all over conclusions and get all upset for absolutely no reason.

And I'll take back my thought process I had last time I was dancing with a cute boy. Because we had mutual friends there, and those mutual friends were taking pictures. Of me. Being dipped. By said cute boy. Tons of fun! And I thought, "I hope they put this on Facebook. And I hope Dear John gets jealous."

I take back that thought process because I really don't hope that. Jealousy is rare for me, and now I know why it's a deadly sin. It feels horrible. I wouldn't wish this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach on my worst enemy (my poetry teacher would be really annoyed with how many cliches I've stuck in here). And you're not my worst enemy. Far from it.

Much love,
Heart

(I just wish I did know what you are. Not that it should matter. Just like not that I should feel jealous. Should, should, should. Blah.)

Lyrics

Dear John,

There are a lot of good breakup songs. And there are a lot of different styles to them. And I've learned recently that most of the ones written by girls - even really talented ones, like the Corrs - end up sounding super whiny. And as I and my cohort have started writing awesome lyrics ourselves, I am very conscious of sounding too whiny.

But I keep listening to a ton of music in general and I keep realizing how many of them are breakup songs. Especially those by John Mayer (my fav). Now, I am convinced that like 90% of his songs are about Lydia (who I named my GPS device after for some reason), but that's another story.

This story is about Split Screen Sadness, and how I think it's the closest a breakup song will come to our situation. Every situation is unique, of course, but every breakup does involve well...heartbreak. So it's always easy to relate. But John hit me hard just now:

One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it's alright
You got your heart right

Now that we chat - i mean, uh, have super-deep conversations via AIM. Really? AIM? Yes. I mean, I guess I'm blogging to you, so I can't really complain about textual conversation channels - occasionally enough, I sort of crave talking to you more. I am always tempted to call, but don't know if that's...."allowed."

One of my friends and I were commiserating literally the day after our breakup, and he said something like "Oh yeah, do not call him. I called the SHIT out of whatsherface when we broke up. It just doesn't look good." I just think that's a hilarious way to put John's beautiful telephone-trigger image. What is the best way to use that weapon? When will you use it to your advantage? Will you use it on me?

All you need is love is a lie cause
We had love but we still said goodbye
Now we're tired, battered fighters
And it stings when it's nobody's fault
Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name
It's only the air you took and the breath you left

These lines are the worst for me, because I - and I know you too - are a huge believer in "all you need is love." My definition for that though must be shifting to sort of a general "love your neighbor" love, not romantic love. The same way I think 1Corinthians 13 is taken out of context.

It is so easy for my girlfriends to blame each others' exes. And bitch about how lame and ugly they were. And I know it is all to build up the girlfriends. But, just to let you know, I fought with them this weekend for you. I yelled at them, explaining your virtues and kindness and love. Because really, our breakup wasn't either of our "faults." It was distance. And it was timing. And it is confusion and definitions and maturity levels and life changes and exploration and youth.

"If I could I would punch timing in the face" is the little ditty-saying I had stuck in my head for a month after our breakup. It's being replaced by other tweet-ables, but it still makes sense. We share the silence.

Love,
Heart

Possible reveal

I've been watching too much HGTV, mostly because it's all my mom watches. All the designers in their little Disney Channel-esque interludes (remember those? "Disney Channel stars are just like you!" except they are famous actors. No big deal. But anyway!) between shows talk about how they love "the reveal!" Anyway...now that the possibly witty intro to this post got butchered by too many asides...

Dear John,

I gave you the link to my other blog tonight. In a differently related context. And maybe you're curious enough to wander over to this one. Maybe you're not.

If you are here - hello! I had played with the idea of giving you this link all along. And I'm not really ashamed of any of my whinings. And sort of proud of my growings, not in a small part to this blog/other journal entires/lyrics I have written.

If you do not come by, it's just as well.

And that brings us to the age-old: if a tree falls in a forest...

Love,
Heart

Shopping therapy

Dear John,

It's taken me five weeks, but I finally shopping therapy-ed post-breakup.

I went in to DSW for a pair of shoes for the wedding I'm going to this weekend, but I came out with three pairs of tights, two handbags (one was free though and for my mom), a pair of sneaker-flats (that you would think are indie-rad, probably), and a pair of wedding-appropriate shoes.

I call that a success, even though I tried on a bunch of cute winter-y hats and I couldn't make my puffy hair look good under them.

Remember when we went shopping together? I think I had more fun than with you than I have had with many of my girlfriends. It's probably because my gfs don't try to sneak into dressing rooms with me and act on thinking my outfits are sexy.

I still want these Toms boots, and I love-hate that you introduced me to the do-good Toms brand.

Love,
Heart

Vegas

Dear John,

When I invited you to come see me this weekend - still a good four hour drive from where you are, but probably the furthest West I'll be in a good, long while - I never expected you to come. I told myself I was just being playful.

Though you said you probably couldn't, you at least feigned interest and that surprised and delighted me!

But today, when you officially told me you couldn't make it, but seemed so disappointed about it, it hit much harder than I expected -

Especially when I walked through a beautiful photo gallery and all I could think of was the West and the outdoors and watching Planet Earth and wanting to share it all with you.

Especially when I ate at the Hard Rock and every band on the walls and on the video screens reminded me of the amazingness of music, which reminded me of you ("And I'd give up forever to touch you" may be the best opening lyrics of a song ever. Goo Goo Dolls? I'm not even that crazy about them. Those lyrics just stopped me in my business in the bathroom at Hard Rock though).

Especially when I walked the Strip and all I could hope was that this wasn't everything. That not everyone was satisfied with merely gaudy distraction.

It hurts the most though right now - in the form of sniffles and stupid tears on my stupid cheeks - in a cold hotel room (which I love! Truly!), attempting to substitute at least "one" more night of you holding me with a hoody and fluffy socks. It's not warm enough.

Love,
Heart

P.S:

I fear air conditioning.

Even though I feel so lonely, and I'm cradling my phone in my hand, knowing how lucky I am to have so many people who would pick up and talk to me, no matter how late it is on the home coast, I only really want to talk to you. What does that mean? Love? Lust? Fear? Intimacy? Loneliness?

Wellp

Dear John,

Now we talk all the time. On AIM, of course, which is not my favorite serious conversation communication channel, but I'll use it. To talk to you, probably mostly.

It's nice to know you didn't want to cut me out of your life. But now it's harder for me to know what to do.

I still think you're probably going to be an eternal bachelor of the rogue musician/philosopher/mystic/Brahman sort (I could imagine you as any of those, really). (And, I mean all of those as a compliment.)

Now I know you don't believe in relationships. Or, you don't understand why they are what everyone kind of strives for. I don't really know why either, but I know I do want one (I think). And I believe that if everyone is essentially looking for love - generally, it's the monogamous relationship kind - then relationships must essentially be good.

So, the point is, if you ever feel like having a best friend+lover (my personal definition of a relationship), with or without a culturally-prescribed definition, you know where to find me. I - in perfectly stupid girl fashion - would probably drop everything to get to spend time with you.

Love,
Heart

Feeling better

Dear John,

I am feeling...great today. I shaved my legs, put on a skirt, swished my hips a bit on the way to work, never once even thought about sobbing, and stopped myself short when I realized I wasn't thinking about you (but then it started me thinking about you but you know...).

I can't really figure out why! Here are some bluffs:

• Gossip Girl was on tonight, and I was looking forward to extreme (gross? on-too-early-in-primetime? HIGHschool?) sexiness all day
• Coffee for the first time in a few days
• I danced yesterday
• I signed up for a Pilates fusion class with my mom
• I saw some hott girls last night
• One particularly hott one gave me super-good ice cream therapy Saturday night
• Uhhh... I talked to you on the phone yesterday

Yeah. It was great talking to you. Except, I freaked out when you actually answered (expecting voicemail) and we talked about music for half an hour, since I couldn't remember what I wanted to tell you, and then you had to go.

And I feel kind of bad that I feel SO MUCH BETTER after talking to you. Woooosh that huge boulder of I'll-never-see-you-again-my-life-is-ruined-what-are-you-doing-with-your-life-how-are-you-feeling-without-me finally flew off of my shoulders. Probably to land on one of my other of what seems like hundreds of girlfriends that have recently been broken up with.

Even though we didn't get to finish our conversation (and I was too chicken to say everything I really wanted to), I feel almost no desire to talk to you today. I am feeling extremely confident and you know, if you want to talk to me, you can.

(So I'll be here. Sitting online. Waiting for you to IM me. You know, if you're interested. No big deal. I'm confident.)

Stream of consciousness from sitting outside as it began to rain

Dear John,

I don't think I've had conversations with anyone that were as intelligent, philosophical, and exciting as ones with you. Outside of an academic setting, at least.

I have this yearning to re-connect to nature, to contemplate God, but I still sort of want to do it with you by my side. Or at least to be able to return to you after I have contemplated. And we could share what we learned and combine forces.

I am turning into a music snob! Oh no!

You said you think change is like a death, where you have to leave some things behind completely. Please don't leave me in your last life.

I am dying to call you. (This feeling is so similar to the same longing to talk to you when we were still together but you were on the other side of the country that sometimes I think it's the same, dull pain that has allowed me to survive this week.) But I don't want to appear...however. I've been waiting for news of a possible job that would move me your way or to finish this book that I think you would like. You know, to have a reason to call you. But I am too impatient to wait for either. And I am scared that you will completely ditch memories of me before that time comes.

I think I've grown out of instant messaging, but I sign on just to get a glimpse into your life. Though your one-worded away message that hasn't changed in days doesn't really help much.

Whining. It's not flattering on me. I should try writing lyrics or something instead.

Lyrics

Dear John,

I already had started to become obsessed with Something Corporate right before we started dating. I think Pandora introduced me. And then after our first date, I was so giddy and "Punk Rock Princess" became my favorite song, you musician, you.

Later, after I started my job and then you moved, I just felt sad every single time we talked on the phone and "Down" became number one. As soon as our conversation veered towards actually breaking up a week ago, the same song automatically popped into my head.

Let's get drunk
You can drive us to the harbor
Wish upon a star
But do you know what stars are?
Balls of fire
Burning up the black space
Falling from the landscape
Exploding in the face of god.

Lets get crazy
Talk about our big plans
Places that you're going
Places that I haven't been.

This line always spoke to me. You've been everywhere, and I felt like a sheltered little brat. But I was so excited to go on a moving adventure with you. Which, of course, now may have come to a halt.

Build my walls up
Concrete Castle
keep this kingdom
free of hassle yeah.

I hear sound echo in the emptiness
All around but you can't change their loneliness
Look what you've found
I've fallen down.

Ahhh this chorus. So beautiful. I always try to sing it - usually when I get off the train on my way home and I'm walking to my car parked alone on the third floor - but for some dang reason I can't get the rhythm right and it always sounds funny in my voice!

Taste the saline
Rolling down your cheekbone
Tell me that you're alone
Tell me on the telephone
Feel your heart
It breaks within your chest now.
Try to get some rest now
Sleeps not coming easy for a while
Child

I never could figure out why I ended every one of our phone conversations, even when you were only an hour and a half away, in sobs. It was either:

• I am a huge slut and can't deal with not touching you
  
• You were really bad at phone conversations? (not really)
  
• They always turned super-philosophical and I felt like an idiot
  
• I just super-miss(ed) you

I think these lyrics kind of tease it out: I'm telling you that I'm alone...on the telephone. It's still being ... alone. Bah.

I hear sound echo in the emptiness
All around but you can't change this loneliness
Look at what you've found
I've fallen down.

Jason Mraz

I re-discovered the gloriosity of Jason Mraz today. I sort of used him to get through my last breakup, and when he showed up on my "Heal" Jango mix I made at work, I sighed and settled my way back into a celebrity crush.

1. Who doesn't love videos with cheesy musical-like choreography?
2. His lyrics? So amazing.
3. He's from Virginia!
4. He moved to SAN DIEGO!
5. Um, his Website is HILARIOUS. Just go to it. I can't rely describe his perfect sense of humor ("You better better keep that ish wrapped up tight so you don't catch MEDIA" ha-ha).
6. NEW CELEBRITY CRUSH (since everyone rejected my crush on John Mayer, I guess he's too sketch-tastic now).

 

Hehe

Dear John,

Can you believe it? They actually write funny, tongue-in-cheek break-up songs. Ohhh G. Love.

Remember that time you sent me a picture message after not talking to me for days of your car parked at the curb outside your work and the caption "city living na nah na nah nah." I thought at first you were taunting me in a mean way - a "you aren't here yet and I'm way cooler than you for living in the city ha-ha" kind of way. But wasn't I smart? And I didn't jump to mean conclusions. I suspected they were lyrics, and I was right. And I discovered G. Love. So thank you for that.

People say
You're gonna fall in and out of love all the time

People say
That it don't come easy
But you sure came easy on me oh my

Look at me
Still hangin' 'round
Still hangin' 'round
Ooo baby I'm still around

Scandalous, G. Love, scandalous. And I like it.

(Except that you/I can't hang around, cuz we're on opposite sides of the country. Boo. I guess I shouldn't try to live vicariously through songs anyway.)

RANDOM crap

Dear John,

I am annoyed with the random things that are making me think of you today!

What catalyzed this post/letter was closing out the folder I labeled "complicated" on my desktop. It's complicated because it has something to do with work and videos and converting them. But as I closed it, I thought about the "It's complicated" label on facebook, and how silly it was and how much of stir it caused when they introduced it as a possible relationship status.

Then I thought, well, doesn't that accurately describe my situation?

I've also always jumped straight back to "single" the very few times I've actually had to break up a facebook relationship (because everyone knows facebook tells all), and this was the first time I didn't click the "end relationship" button because, well, I was out of town without a computer when it happened between us.

But right now I just have the relationship status part of my profile mysteriously "hidden," like so many of girlfriends have it all the time - which used to frustrate me. Now I think blankness is the closest I can accurately describe my "relationship" situation.

ANYWAY. It made me remember the last time you broke up with a girlfriend (you serial-monogomist-turned-non-believer-in-relationships, you) and how my roommate and one of my friends went out of their way to give me the heads up.

"Heart!!! Have you checked facebook yet this morning?" asked my roommate at like 8am.

"Uhh no, why?"

"John. He's single! Weeeee!"

"Omg, Heart," read my friend's text, "I just checked my facebook and you'll never guess who showed up on my mini-feed as single! John! Go for it girl!"

I wasn't even 100% sure of my crush on you and everyone else already saw it.

So today, what other girls are gleeful at your newest update?

Love,
Heart

PS: Stirring sugar into my coffee this morning also reminded me of you, because you taught me to not tear the packets all the way open, since single-pieces of trash are better for the landfills or something. What the CRAP, heart?!

Pet hair makes me cry

Dear John,

I was doing really well today.

Unpacking was way easier than I thought. But then I came across my suit skirt.

I went to hang it up, and then I noticed the pet hair on it from lying on your make-shift bed. Fido, Rex and Princess** are so smart. They nudged between us when we weren't touching. They buried their heads into our legs and licked at the salt on our skin when we finally were.

Even though I only met them twice, I miss them so much too. One of the weird things about breaking up is that "missing" anything and everything always seems irrational, but is there nevertheless.

Love,
Heart

**No, these are not their names. Not even their genders, actually, though I'm not sure why I'm protecting the identity of animals.

I want my own puppy I think.

Forever

Dear John,

I just yelled at a diamond commercial.

It was one of those nice ones too - not the overly cheesy ones that pop up around Christmas, Valentine's Day and Mother's Day - where the young couple walks around the old couple who are holding hands, only to rejoin their hands on the other side. The hands have diamonds, like duh, but that's not the point.

The point is that I no longer believe in their tagline:
"There are only two things that last longer than a [lifetime? I actually can't remember this word]. Diamonds are one of them."

Ahhh I've been a hopeless romantic my entire life, even while watching my parents argue and after struggling with a really rough break up with my last "love." But I chalked it up to bad communication for the former and immaturity for the latter, and reestablished my faith in love.

Then I found you and jumped into love so fast. We Indian soul-gazed, you wrote songs about me, we spoke the words, we discussed moving cross-country and into our own place together. I guess I assumed that the only guy who would ever suggest all that would be someone as crazy and faithful in love as I was.

Changes, changes, timing, timing (if I could I would punch timing in the face for me and all the pain it has caused me and all my girlfriends) and poof, now we're apart. Does that mean we're no longer in love? We said the words at the last possible seconds before our separation. And we'd been talking for weeks about how we didn't get to fully explore our love.

So why give up on it so soon? Why not give it a chance? Maybe, as you believe, we would have broken up eventually - whether it was a year down the year or thirty. Maybe love isn't forever. Or maybe true (Godly?) love is, but flawed human love is.

Regardless, I yelled at a commercial. If there were a ballet or a Hollywood movie in front of me, I would also yell at it. Because love still messes crap up. And I hate that, possibly because of marketing, my standards, hopes and dreams were so high.

Dear John**

Ah, the perfect way to resurrect Care and Feeding from it's untimely death from the lashing, mouthy wit and too-hott-to-handle hands of Like, Oh My Blog:

A break up.

Boo, hiss.

I was thinking of creating a whole new blog, but why bother? Care and Feeding - weak and breathless as it may be right now - is probably the perfect outlet for Dear John.

I also was thinking of making Dear John letters REALLY GOOD, so good that I could become another blogger with a book deal. I could be all Carrie Bradshaw and even better because I could find a creative outlet and a career in a time of pain and confusion.

But I don't know if I can really - if I'm being true to my feelings and what I would actually say to John** - pull that off. These letters will all probably be pretty whiny, and a lot will be analysis of lyrics, because that's what I do. I get too wrapped up in other's words.

Also, I was thinking back to my last break-up, and I could hardly remember it. What hurt the most at that moment of realization was that in a few years time, I can be in the exact same place I am now:

Totally upset about Boy XYZ, and having forgotten all about John. Now, is that fair to John? Does it allow me to grow? Or will I keep making the same mistakes?

**No, duh, his name is not John. Very far from it. Also, try this irony on for size: John broke up with me. And he did it in a very, very nice and considerate and somehow sexy way. So I am not breaking up with him with these letters, just loving and thinking and trying to grow. Maybe one day I'll even share with him the link.

Following in the Family Tradition?

My parents met at work oh say, about 27 years ago. They dated for about three months until my dad's job got transferred to Orlando (they were in Virginia).

Well, it had only been three months, so they decided to break up. He was moving after all, they didn't want to do long distance, and the "timing" just seemed all wrong. Had they been dating any longer, maybe they would have considered an alternate solution. But both of them had stable jobs - just on different parts of the coast. Why worry about taking care of each other when they had to be in different places just to take care of themselves?

Within a month of being separate, they knew something was wrong. My mom was crying her eyes out every night. My dad sort of dated around but all the women seemed sketchy and lame, since it seemed the only thing to do in Orlando was bar hop.

Within two months, my dad was back up north, visiting family for Thanksgiving. But here is where their stories get a little muddy. My dad says they were engaged by November, but my mom doesn't remember being engaged during the Holidays - she said he asked her to marry her in February (Valentine's day? cute). They got married in May, so either three months or six months after they got engaged, and around a year after they started dating.

Later, my dad explained to me the confusion: he had made up his mind by November. Everything had been cleared up in his head, in his relationships, and his prayers: he knew he wanted to build a life with my mom by November.

Now I don't know what happened between knowing and asking (and even once he asked, according to my mom, there was no ring for a few weeks, a thing that all her girlfriends stupidly whined about). And I know this was 1981 and not 2008. And I know my mom was 25 and my dad was 27. And who knows what the difference in the definition of "marriage" is between then and now (that's a complicated enough topic for a whole separate blog!). And I know they have not had anywhere close to a perfect marriage.

But I DO know that I want to be with the bf. And I DO know that he invited me to move cross-country with him. And I DO know - and am confident in - the definition of love. And now I really know (and am not confused anymore) why my parents sort of support me (none of my friends believe my parents would let me do this).

(As long as I go into this with a clear head and open and honest communication and smarts) So do the other unknowns really matter all that much?

Music&Lyrics

I love wondering about lyrics. How, exactly, did the writers come up with the idea?

I remember reading an interview with John Mayer, where he was asked who, exactly, his songs were about? He said they were a mixture of experiences with other girls. I thought that was an interesting, surprising, but definitely believable answer.

When I presented that tid-bit to my boyfriend, he said "That's a cop-out. But do you think he would really call out actual girls names? I'm sure he has multiple songs all about one girl."

So when you're boyfriend's a musician, and he sends you lyrics in an email because you're sort of long-distance, and they seem like maybe sort of they're about you, how do you react? I don't want to assume anything, but I do want to praise him and feel flattered.

I dated this guy for like a second freshman year who was also a musician. He played open mic night all the time, and every time I went with my friend, there was always this one song that made us look at each other suspiciously because it sounded so much like me. I thought it awfully bold and quick of him, since you know, we dated for only a second. So one day my friend asked him if it was, in fact, about me. He scoffed and was like "Um, no. I have dated other girls."

Okay, so my bf is clearly like, totally waaay more rad than this kid. But still, the point is I don't want to assume. The point is, how vain am I really by thinking his lyrics could be about me?

Like, OhMyBlog!

Do it.

http://likeohmyblog.blogspot.com

(Well, maybe don't do it yet. Wait until we finally get a couple posts up there. But my friends and I are more hilarious when we're together, just you wait and see).

Dreams DO Come True!

When I was just a girl, I had to do something to keep myself entertained on my family's 6-hour car drives to the beach. Since I'm a hopeless romantic, I day-dreamed about the range of boys I saw in the cars we passed on I-95.

I imagined that they would spot me, as equally bored and wistful as they were, and be amazed at me and all my 12-year-old scrawny glory. So naturally, they would hold a sign up to the window of their car with their phone number. Now, back in those days we didn't have cell phones, which just increased the melodramatic-ness of the situation, for I would have had to wait until I got home from vacation to talk on the phone to my lover.

Aw.

I (sort of) out-grew that little day dream, especially since it's so technologically passe. (Last time I shared this day-dream with friends, they imagined someone throwing their cell phone out their window into yours! So that you could put your number into it! That just sounds dangerous to me. Hmm...)

I had dinner last night with one of my lovely loving friends, and she said she had a good boy story, but that it was kind of weird, and she hoped I didn't think she was a horrible person.

She was driving on, whatdoyaknow, I-95 when she noticed she was keeping pace with a crazy SUV darting in and out of the lanes. When she thought SUV, she thought soccer mom, crazy old man, or high schooler who just got her license. But when she happened to glance at the driver, it was a cute guy! They flirted as they weaved in traffic, and after about three or four glances, he actually...held up a sign!!

It wasn't a phone number, though. It was better: "You are beautiful."

After losing and finding each other again, the next sign was his phone number. They've been talking almost every day and are making plans to meet up. Whatdoyaknow, he actually lives close by to her - even though anyone could be driving on 95!

There is hope for love in this world!

Sex and the City

It's almost cliche how much that fabulous show and now movie have become an icon to represent young women's dating lives. It's a guilty pleasure of mine, but I'm not so sure why I feel guilty.

A poignant quote from tonight's rerun on the CW:
"Saying I love you is easy. What comes next is a little scrunchier."

My immediate thoughts afterwards:

• ew! Scrunchies!
• Aw, so true.
• Man, I love my boyfriend.
• I can't believe that I have a boyfriend.
• I want to see that movie again.
  
• I want to blog more about SATC.
• I miss New York.
  
• ew! Scrunchies!
  

Girl Crush

I - I don't know, judge me if you must - develop a lot of girl crushes. There was one today on the metro. She was wearing the cutest little shift dress, with sandals just like the ones I bought yesterday, and similar curly hair to mine, but much shorter (maybe my crushes come purely from vain). But! So out of character for me, she had a huge tattoo on her arm. Not quite a full sleeve, but definitely not cover-up-able. She also was sporting the cutest indie-chic big, bulky headphones, kind of bopping her head to the music a bit.

Actually, when I saw her, I thought "this is the kind of girl my boyfriend would LOVE." I don't even know how I could assume that - except for the fact he's a hippie-ish music lover with a tattoo - but I did. And annoyingly - and also so out of character for me - I began to feel insecure. Like me, the conservative Christian girl who would never ever get a tattoo and occasionally enjoys Top 40, should never deserve his indie-open-loving affection.

I dated this guy freshman year for like two seconds who was a pretentious musician wannabe. He was skinnier than me and thought smoking cigarettes would be good for his image and one of the other guitar-players on our hall called him a "whore" because he tried to play his guitar for anyone at anytime. A million girls had crushes on him and I could feel the hearts breaking around me when he played at the campus open-mic. At the time, I was proud that he "picked" me. But I was also weirded out - what would a guy like him want with a silly, preppy, conservative girl like me?

I've always said that I don't have a type. Maybe others stick to their types less, and I should stop stereotyping and start enjoying.

Brilliant Thoughts ... by My Dad

"Love is almost too precious to take the chance of giving it up."

Isn't he great?

Leaving... by Giselle

I know Giselle from dance (get the pseudonym yet? No?) and work. Together, we are a creative force not to be messed with. And talk about boys a little too much. I love her! You should love her too.

I’m not sure if it’s because my iPod is full of shaggy haired boys playing slow acoustic guitar and singing about unrequited love or if it’s because I had just left a certain shaggy haired, guitar playing boy behind...but I could not find a single song on my long drive home from Harrisonburg tonight that made me happy.

Who am I kidding, the latter is most definitely the reason for that.

For my fellow fans of The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, you might recall Lena and Kostos’ meeting in Greece at the end of the final book, Forever in Blue. Kostos is Lena’s ‘person’. You know, the someone you can’t get past despite anyone else…

…Sound familiar to anyone? Anyone?

Sorry, I digress.

Life had separated the two for months, and when they finally chance meet again, it’s the day before Kostos has to leave the country. They spend the night in their special place- an orchard at the top of the village- and when the sun starts to rise in the morning and they hold each other for the last time, he whispers to her a word in Greek that she doesn’t understand.

“κάποια”.

Lena seaches every English/Greek dictionary she can find, she asks her grandparents, her cousins, her aunts and uncles, but no one seems to know the word that she means.

Finally, on her last day in Greece she finds it in an old dictionary.

“Someday”.

Did I expect anything like that? Oh no.

But I can’t decide what I DID expect.

Experience and reason should leave me without expectation when it comes to this boy. But experience and reason should have taught me a LOT about him, and without fail, despite experience…and reason…something always brings me back to him.

Today was full of packing and loading and hauling and moving…so needless to say, by 7:00 tonight I was physically exhausted. And then there was the packing and loading and hauling and moving help that I received from shaggy haired, guitar playing boy- the very same shaggy haired, guitar playing boy who left my bed earlier that morning with a kiss goodbye- but when everything was packed and loaded and hauled and moved, and it came down to the ACTUAL goodbye, the REAL ending, I got a one armed hug and a “see you when you visit the beach this summer”. Now, I didn’t expect much, but I expected more that that.

… needless to say, by 7:00 tonight I was emotionally exhausted.

I sat across from my mom at Applebees, picked at my salad and tried not to cry. And after a while of staring at my pathetic-ness she said, “When did you become such a wimp? What in this 2-year-long friendship, or relationship or whatever makes it impossible for you to say how you really feel? That’s not you.” And of course, she’s right.

With Chicago Boy last summer, I promised myself I wouldn’t get attached.

Sound familiar?

I promised to let it be a physical thing only.

Sound familiar?

I promised to not expect anything and go with the flow and let what happened happen.

Sound familiar?

And then came the end of the summer, and the anxiety of leaving him behind, and knowing I didn’t want to be without him and having the conversation I knew I had to have and the resulting relationship and that was me. That was me telling him how I felt and getting what I wanted and being real.

But for some reason I cant say those things to Shaggy Boy. I can’t even ask him to say those things or prompt him to say anything at all. I never say anything I want to say or anything I mean. And I don’t know if it’s because I never know where I stand, or because I think I know where I stand and it’s not where I want to be standing, or because I think I’m more invested than he is or what, but I didn’t say anything. I drove away from JMU for the summer and from him for who knows how long and I pretended to be content with that one armed hug, and despite attempts to drown my sorrows in a Sheetz milkshake and cheese fries, I cried all the way up 81.

So here it goes- what I might have said if I had any courage or any faith or any hope:

“Maybe, κάποια?”

I obviously think this guy is lame. You should too...

One of the weird things about being in love

Is that all those really crappy Top 40 songs that you used to roll your eyes at or made you turn away and shutter ... now you love. And turn the volume knob clockwise to "blast." Only when you're alone, of course, because if your lover knew you felt that way (about the song, not him) it would just be awkward. And your friends would think you're just bragging.

But really, you're just enjoying the endorphins of being in love.

Sensitive Boys ... by Island Girl

Island Girl is one of my best friends from high school and we've been lucky enough to remain close and at the same college. I love her! You should love her too:

Call it a tragedy, but I always fall for sensitive boys. They tell me their feelings and we frolic in the land of emotion together. Eww. It's disgusting, and sadly I think I've subconsciously programmed myself to hone in on these boys.

It makes sense though. Women were created to be nurturers; we are loving and caring creatures. Attentive to the problems of the weary and the sad in spirit. Call me a Suzie Sunshine, but I love making people happy, cheering up their day, and putting a smile on their face.

Sensitive nice guys love this about women like myself and whether or not they know it, they enjoy it selfishly. I can't generalize, but most sensitive guys I've come across are only concerned about one thing- using you as an outlet to express their problems and feelings.

Obviously they can't express their feelings to their bros because that'd be emasculating, so they come running to the Suzie Sunshine in their life, pull up a chair, bring the tissues and dish.

I asked one of my good girl friends why she thought I was attracted to these kind of guys and why they were to me.

"You're a problem solver. You like to fix things. Guys come to you with their problems, you listen and offer advice."

ah-ha! So, those sensitive guys fill my need to be needed and I fill their need to be listened to. It seems so simple and black and white, but feelings always get involved and mix things up.

Prime example:

I had developed a friendship/relationship with this guy and we became pretty close. Our friendship developed during a time when he was having a hard time with his emotionally void girlfriend and I provided an outlet for his emotional needs.

This was the perfect situation for a Suzie Sunshine like me: This boy needed me! I loved being able to be there for him. Needless to say, I fell hard for this boy.

This went on for three months; then, nothing.

He broke up with his girlfriend, which I coached him through (ugh, so pathetic, I know), and all of a sudden, he didn't need me anymore.

humph.

Being the emotionally eager individual I am, I didn't realize his selfish demeanor until he IM'ed me last night

emotionally needy boy: we never talk anymore :(

(a month and a half since we've talked)

We talked about HIS day, how HE was doing, how stressful school was going for Him, etc. Common theme: All we talked about was him. Honestly, not once in an hour and a half did he ask a single question about me.

I'm not mad at him, or the situation. I just think its funny and maybe a little eye opening. Don't get me wrong, I don't think he was intentionally being selfish, but I certainly don't want to play these games anymore, it's too emotionally frustrating.

I love forming emotional connections with the opposite sex, but it comes with dangerous territory.

My problem now is this: how do I emotionally connect with a guy in a way that doesn't drag me down or better yet, how do I stop emotionally investing in someone who won't invest back?

Guest Bloggers...

...Seem to be the perfect solution until I graduate and don't have homework any more and can actually be a good, consistent blogger.

Plus I'm trying to figure out how I actually want to write about my new man, or if I want to, and he knows I write one and I challenged him to find it. So, he's probably reading it like right....now.

Maybe by reading how crazy my friends are about boys you'll understand how we all fuel each other.

Act Like a Man

I love stumbling across blogs, written by people as nerdy and excited about one topic as I am.

Edward Keenan's Act Like a Man blog is an interesting read. Basically, his goal is to get "guys" to well...do the title.

Why do so many "guys" prefer not to be called "men," and shirk their responsibilities and be less romantic and miscommunicate with the girls they crush on? I always blamed it on the rise of feminism, but Ed (we're so totally on a first-name basis) thinks that's a totally lame excuse.

Recently, a cute boy asked me, "Are you a feminist?"

I said no. I think partially because I wanted him to like me. But also because I would have no problem staying home, cooking delicious food, and raising beautiful babies.

However, both the cute boy and good ol' Ed made me realize my wrong ways.

The definition of feminism is simply advocating equal political (and social) rights between men and women. Why yes! I DO want to be treated equally!

Well...almost. I want to be treated special. Because I get to have babies.

Not yet, obviously, and I would probably even like the chance at a career before that happens. And I want someone to help me make and make a home for those babies.

So, can I have a career and have some babies AND not emasculate my baby-making partner? Ed thinks so. Ed also thinks that partner should step it up.

I think I found a cute boy who is stepping it up. Oh no, am I actually dating a MAN!? Not a "guy?" Not simply a cute boy?

Best date idea ever....

And by "idea," I mean, this actually happened. His idea.

We wrote a song and then recorded it.

It's the perfect date - active, creative, CHEAP (well, if you already have a guitar and/or recording software I suppose), and still plenty of opportunity for flirting and/or chemistry and/or double-entendres in the lyrics.

Holla. Why do I have to graduate now that I may or may not have found a decent JMU guy?

An interesting follow-up

I'm currently researching the effects of new media (the internet? blogs? i'm not sure how specific to get yet) on politics (partisanship? bias? again...the specifics have as yet alluded me).

While reading this article, based on a speech from a democracy conference in 2000, I came across this paragraph:

Now, the new technology allows us to talk to people all across the world. But as far as I can make out, our problem is, we don’t know how to talk to our neighbors. We look to Bosnia, we look to Africa, yet we can’t talk to each other. People can’t talk to their wives and husbands and children. Yet we are celebrating that we can now talk to strangers across the world. The democracies we have in small nations are not working very well yet wse hope to have a global democracy because of the new technology?

Generally, I've learned how to talk to my roommates, am working on my friends and family, and am in the middle of changing how I talk to potential dates.

And here I am, naively blogging, I think opening my audience to the whole world. Who am I kidding?

Communication

I think being a communicator has messed up my dating life a little bit.

My roommate met a cute boy this weekend, and got him to ask her out by being elusive.

"When can I see you again?" he asked, that first night.

"When do you want to see me again?" she coyly responded.

After some back and forth, they finally had their first pseudo-date tonight. When she came home and told us all about it (as girls so often over-analyze and digest and celebrate and get jealous), one thing she said she asked him is how he feels about piercings.

"Why, do you have one?" he asked, quite logically after her question.

She shrugged, so coyly, then asked, "How do you feel about tattoos?"

"Well, it depends! You've got to have one if you're asking, right?"

She shrugged, ever so coyly.

I have tried my hardest, especially in the past year, to be a clear communicator. Boldness comes with this territory, and I've had to take a deep breath and make myself tell a boy I like him before. Why not be honest? Why not tell him what he wants to hear? Why not make everything easier in the long run by establishing trust and sincerity upfront?

Well, I have dated about four guys in the past three months of this year. Every single one of them I've considered myself a decently honest person. And they all seemed to appreciate it at the time.

I know it's soon, but my roommate already has a second date lined up and cutesy texts like, "tonight was perfect."

I don't really talk to any of those guys I was trying to communicate clearly with anymore. Maybe I should stop communicating and start teasing/intriguing, like my hott roommate. Separate my professional goals from my personal.

Jalisco, Mexico

Our airplane shrank above the ground, a rainbow

Blessing our tropical journey with the flock

Of students bobbing sleepy heads to balk

At napping. I turned my eyes down below,

Where I imagined Mexican farmers sow

Their fields of patchwork quilts and ticking clocks,

Nested in pop-up mountains being mocked

By an American vacation’s shadow.

At the hotel, bare chests distract me by day

While it’s tequila squared that gets me at night.

Add to the list green waves and smiling faces

And I’m a camera-happy tourist who pays

No mind to local salesmen dressed in white,

Like saviors to our money and Spanish phrases.

Rescue by Eve 6

Though I'm in a poetry-writing class now and have come to appreciate the art form much more than I did back in high school, I still generally enjoy song lyrics as my favorite form of "poetry." Lyrics can be just as witty and visual as poetry (especially Eve 6's), but most poets would probably argue lyrics are too cliche. But cliches just give us something to understand and relate to!

(My dad is an avid musician who goes to a lot of open mic nights. Noticing the "emo" trend, he often comes home and says "Someone needs to tell these kids that not every page in their diary can be song lyrics! Give me a cliche, give me something to hold onto!" I am probably biased by his classic rock bias.)

Listening to Eve 6 while writing a brief homework assignment - but my poem about spring break in Mexico up behind that - these lyrics hit me. It's almost exactly what happened to me last week in a bar in Puerto Vallarta filled with multinational non-JMU (yay!) attractive men (and of course two of my amazing sexy, but spoken-for roommates):

Well I kind of sort of knew what was going to happen
When she put her number down on a restaurant napkin
She said goodbye I think the words were when you're back in
Town lets have each other again I'll come around and see you again

Long story short, I had a more-innocent-than-normal (for spring break standards anyway) rendez-vous with a beautiful Canadian (could he be any more geographically unavailable?). When we met, trying not to rely on expensive roaming cellphones, Eve 6 explains exactly what I did - wrote all my information on a napkin for him.

The boys of Eve 6 wrote this song 8 years ago, so of course now we can rely on cell phones and email more and there's always facebook to socialize long-distance. Or so I hope.

"I definitely want to keep in touch with you. There have been facebook marriage proposals before, right?" he half-joked with me on the second-to-last night of our vacation.

After a long goodnight, we made plans to meet the next day. Here the napkin plan hiccuped - he only had my information. So when I didn't hear from him, I had no other option but to wait. And go home. And not know his last name. And not be able to stalk him on facebook (uh, I mean friend! Friend him on facebook!).

Here's the chorus of Rescue:

Like Jessica Rabbit she collects bad habits gets her drinks for free
Animated vixen stole cupids arrow and came to rescue me
In the blink of an eyelid my lid opened up and I could see
That she'd come to rescue me

First of all, I'd always thought the "drinks" in the first line was really "trix." Rabbit, you know? Yeah yeah... I can be naive. On the other hand, I know I have a tendency to want to rescue boys, so am I turning into Jessica Rabbit? Developing the bad habit of only dating geographically unavailable men? I don't like how these lyrics sound...

A bumpersticker I saw today said

"Smile. It's the second-best thing you can do with your lips."

I smiled (it convinced me I guess), and giggled (out loud, then looked around with concern that anyone walking around in the parking lot who probably thought I was crazy), and then my thoughts automatically turned to what would be the first best thing to do with your lips.

Kissing came to my mind obviously. Then slightly dirtier things (hey, I'm just glad those thoughts didn't come first).

Of course I would think about the dating things you do with your mouth. But what about eating, talking (okay I guess you do this while dating too), singing, or making funny faces or something?

What is the best thing to do with your lips?

Size Matters

DearSugar had a poll the other day asking its readers if they preferred bulky boys or the skinny type, while today I read a New York Times article about the trend facing the fashion industry: increasingly thinning male models.

Coming from a girl who has dated on either extreme of the spectrum, I prefer something right in between (totally cliche, I know) too muscular and emo-boy skinny.

Looking at some of the weight-lifters in the gym even creep me out. Really? I'm glad they would be able to rescue their woman of choice, but I doubt a thousand-pound gorilla will be attacking their fair maiden any time soon. And the most muscular guy I've dated (and/or cared the most about how his muscles looked) was the most boring too.

This year I found myself in a weird trend of dating cross-country runners. Two weren't really that skinny (and had fantastic toned muscles), but the other was. And all I could think of when I was with him (and another skinny rockstar cigarette-smoking coffee-drinking "this is good for my image" type of guy I dated a few years back) was "Am I squishing him? Does he even find me feminine and attractive?"

When I polled some friends, of course the response was mixed:

"Really? I think it's gross. I prefer my boyfriend NOT to weigh less than me."

"I've never dated muscular guys. I prefer the skinny nerdy type."

"Well my boyfriend has a large frame, and he used to be obnoxiously skinny so it just looked WEIRD. Now he fits his frame better bug has some pudge. He says he's trying to work out more and I'm like GOOD. But I'm glad he's bigger than me."

It's like when I see a 5'1'' girl dating a 6'6'' guy - I get really angry and personally offended somehow. Leave the tall guys for the tall gals! - you can kind of just tell when a couple fits physically together. Maybe unfortunately the stereotype is that the men should be big enough to save us. So why is the fashion industry focusing on the measly male?

Alcohol

I'm starting to worry about myself.

The last three guys I've dated kissed me just fine sober(ish) for our first kiss(es). But then, for the second or third date/kissing opportunity, every single one of them got drunk before they became affectionate.

Am I that bad of a kisser? (I've been told the opposite.) Am I that unattractive? (I've been told the opposite.) Okay...Am I that intimidating?

Clearly it's not because I'm too humble! ha..ha..eesh. I hate boys.

"It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a helper suitable for him." --Genesis 3:12

This is sincerely all I want to be.

Pheromones

I think they're stronger than we assume.

I read this fantastic article that my friend drew my attention to (Oh she knows my interests so well!). It had a lot to say about how science, genetics, carnal instinct, and dating culture all inter-relate.

Why do we like kissing? Because saliva helps us sense the best DNA to mingle our own with.

How do men become subconsciously more attracted to fertile, ovulating women? It's in our scent.

There must be some hormone I released once I was more single than usual lately (it's a long story about stupid boys who are stupidly far away and me being smart and sticking up for myself). After this bit of heartache, I wanted to take a break from boys, I really did. One of my informal New Year's resolutions was to put less emphasis on boys (including just flirting for flirting's sake and especially ESPECIALLY to not date another boy at JMU. They're just too lame).

But like I predicted, that resolution lasted for oh, about fifteen seconds. Not my fault!! Out of nowhere, boys - both old and new - came to bug me. (Who am I kidding? I love it.)

A guy I met at a bar over winter break invited me to come back up to DC for his birthday party.

Another (mmm...military) guy I met at a club like nine months ago IM-ed me out of nowhere. For some reason I have a special place in my heart for boys in Maryland.

One of my former hall mates, who I've always had an attraction to, revved up the flirting last week. (But apparently he's been revving with several girls recently.)

Last weekend I ran into a guy I dated sophomore year for a bit. He looked seriously good. And he said all the right things. And I questioned why I didn't hold onto him a little bit tighter back in the day.

And then tonight, I heard from some boy I met on the metro a couple summers ago. Random, not too flirty, but then he never was too obviously flirty. He invited me to do a stop-by visit if I was ever in DC.

Did they smell my pheromones - even though most of them are at least 100 miles away? Could they subconsciously tell I was trying to give up on them? Are they a distraction from my goal; a temptation to give it all up? Or are they a reminder that it's futile to stop caring about having a boy in my vicinity? It's our evolutionary goal in life, after all, to find a mate whose DNA will mix with ours to create the perfect offspring.

Maryland is calling my name. Not quite sure why. (Well, okay, perhaps it is because he came to visit. Him and some friends drove down to meet some friends and come to my roommate's birthday party. When I invited them, I had no idea they would actually come. But I am extremely glad they did; I had an amazingly fun time thankyouverymuch.) My friends and parents tell me I only like unavailable men. I suppose this includes the geographically unavailable. Of course he would - out of all the long-distance guys I could potentially date - have the strictest visiting schedule. But considering I refuse to date JMU guys the remainder of my time here, what other choice do I have but to travel?

Like I have commented on before, the military just trains good daters anyway. He is legitimately more respectful and attentive from 150 miles away than maybe any other guy has treated me.

Buttttt if I do hang out with the JMU guys who have reappeared, it doesn't count as breaking my resolution right? Since I have already dated them?

Eesh. Maybe I should go back to rejecting all boys.

Ha, yeah right. That time carnal instinct let that thought last only five seconds...

Hookah

Pursed between flushed lips
like a bulb in its socket
she lengthens her ribs to a triangle.
Its smell climbs
but doesn’t knuckle the nose
until the final ounce
escapes lungs and mouth
without need of a doorknob.
Passed to the chimney
whose lips last left moist residue.

She lifts a shoulder.
Bends a knee.
Undulates through to the hill-like hip.
Catching the highway to her ear,
a giggle produces a sinuous partner.
Then two
(knot-hair).
They lift choreographed ostrich legs.
Then three
(mole-cheek).
They descend to the floor like rodeo ropes,
paunches sucked in.

But the onrush breaks
for the smell alerts, addictive.
Pursed again, the mature call it mango
but memory rouses childhood days of cherry.

Deep Thoughts via AIM

I've been spending too much time on instant message lately. But it's been good research, and very thought-provoking.

I suppose, like me (let's be honest here) everyone can put a little more thought into what they're writing/typing than just b.s.-ing around.

A former resident: college life is fictional, its not real, nothing like the real world at all, trying to start a relationship in this fictional world doesnt work, it certainly wont last, so i say, wait until ur out of college, have a job in the REAL world, then make your moves

My roommate's boyfriend, when I thought I was talking to my roommate: seriously, you know what you should do? relax, and just have fun with the guy

When I told my match-maker friend about this comment:

My match-maker friend: lets do that
My match-maker friend: i've been a lot better about that recently, actually
My match-maker friend: but boys are way more fun when they do what you want them too

So true! But mean! And then (no joke), she preceeded to send me a facebook link of a picture to see if I thought this guy was cute, because he needs a date. Typical.