Beautiful

“I do not consider you beautiful
because of what I see.

I consider you beautiful
because of what you do not let me see,
because it awakens
the desire and passion I have
for all that I do not know
that I want to feel
a part of me.”
~Leo Barella

Hell on Earth

I've been putting it off.

Going to the MVD that is.

See, that fun little class I took that helped me accomplish my before thirty goal of getting my motorcycle license was almost all inclusive. It provided the classroom teaching, the classroom test, the motorcycle to ride, the training on how to ride said motorcycle and the actual riding test. What it did not include was actually putting the motorcycle endorsement on your license.

That requires actually going to the MVD.

As excited as I was about getting my motorcycle license... I still waited almost two months before going to the MVD. I hate that place that much.

But I decided that Monday I was going to screw my courage to the sticking place and go. I'm still on a night schedule thanks to work, so I took a nice little nap around eleven pm on Sunday night, woke up around two am on Monday and planned on staying up until after I finished with my errand. Around seven am I did my bi-monthly shopping trip, came home and cleaned. Took a shower. Took the dog for a walk.
And ran out of reasons to avoid the heinous and always evil MVD.

MVD opens at eight am. I decided to drive an extra thirty minutes and go to the one that I always went to in high school. I'm not sure why, it's not any newer or cleaner then the one in my city. But I knew that MVD and familiarity seemed like a much needed bonus.

Showing up at nine was a terrible idea. I should have been waiting in line at six am. I knew I was in for a wait, so I brought provisions. A 600 hundred page book (hopefully it would be long enough, a snack, water, ipod complete with games, music and two episodes of Rescue Me. What I forgot? A personal bubble with an electric perimeter.

Besides the hoards of people the first thing I noticed was the distinct lack of pretty people. If someone wasn't white trash they were obese. If they had clothes that matched then it was styled from the eighties. I saw green knee socks paired with blue shirts on 55 year old men with no teeth. I saw chest hair and gold chains. On Women. The one thing everyone had in common? A lack of shower or bath in years. years.

Now, something you should know about me. I have these weird little quirks about me. Like, I'm not much of a toucher. I'm very careful who I hug and don't believe that casual touch is normal. Human touch is a very intimate and personal thing for me. I don't like to share drinks, though food is fine. I can't bare to use public bathrooms for the most part. I'm convinced that milk goes bad three days before the expiration date.

And above all... Old people freak me the fuck out.

Guess what? Arizona is full of snowbirds. Who all have to go the MVD to get their Arizona license.
On a monday.
At nine am.
When I'm there.


So I filled out my forms, got my little ticket, filled out more forms, I take the eye test, fill out my forms again and find a seat on the edge of a row. Now this seat was chosen very strategically. Since I was on the edge there was only one side for people to sit next to me on. Lucky for me, the next person was three seats down, which meant that no one else would go sit there because it would force said person to sit next to either me or her. So I was safe.

Or so I thought.

I hadn't been sitting there for more then ten minutes before an old couple that had to lean on each other in order walk sat down next to me. RIGHT NEXT TO ME in the two empty seats.
And they smelled like old people.

Instantly I was conflicted. My instincts screamed to get up and move to a different seat. My upbringing told me that would be very very rude. And as much as my body was screaming that someone was in my personal space and that someone was an old lady who smelled of peppermint and white diamonds, I also, for reasons I can not decipher, did not want to hurt this old lady's feelings.

So I sat there. Shrinking into myself and trying not to breathe old people fumes.

Two hours passed.

About this time I realized the MVD employees were cruel,evil minions. All their stupid little tickets with the Supposed random letters and numbers were just their way of torturing us. And after two hours I had figured out their system. If you were under the age of 25 you got a ticket that made you wait an hour. If you had a baby that was sleeping you waited 15 minutes. A baby that was crying, or multiple babies? three hours. Old people waited two hours, fat people waited four. Now you may be asking, what about pretty people? Well I don't know how long pretty people would have had to wait, because there weren't any. I'm serious. Not a single pretty person.

I realized about hour three that there must be a pretty person MVD. Where only the pretty people go, where the employees serve donuts and smile and say yes sir. And somehow I misplaced my invite. Or worse.. maybe I had never gotten an invite to the pretty person MVD.
So now in addition to trying to not to breathe old people stink I'm suddenly faced with all the insecurities that being an american girl is blessed with.
Yee haw.

They finally call my number.
I fill out more forms. They make me pay them money that I'm pretty sure was bribe money. And then they direct me to another line. The employee didn't explain why I needed to go wait in that line when I had just spent three hours waiting to speak to her. Just a curt nod in the direction I was supposed to wait.

I was infuriated. I spent another half hour in another line... expect this time there wasn't anyone manning the station. I mean, there was a women there when I got in line, but once there was only two people in front of me... she just went poof!. No explanation to the long line. No "i'll be right back". The employee just walked away. For thirty minutes. By the time someone new walked up and started to help us I had a whole speech planned out. All the things I was going to say that would put these asshole employees in their place and make them reevaluate the way they treated people. and when it was my turn I marched up to the counter, slid my paperwork to her, opened my mouth...

And the employee nodded curtly at another line and told me I needed to go wait there.

I shut my mouth and demurely walked over to the other line.
Oh yeah, the rebellion is going to recruit me any day now.

The last line was the final line. They took my picture, reprinted my license with a cool little M on the back and allowed me to leave. It took a total of five minutes.

As I was finally set free I looked around the parking lot and realized.. all those people that I had sat with for the last three and a half hours, they were all getting approved TO DRIVE. Those "people" were going to be sharing the road with me.
At least, they would have been if I lived in that city. Suddenly I was grateful I had made that thirty minute drive.


I got the hell out of there.

Check, Check and Check

The weekend was a success.

I managed to check off multiple things on my honey do list.


The Boy took off Saturday, bought me dinner and then the two of us made a nest of blankets and limbs and watched eight episodes of Sons Of Anarchy season 2. Seriously. In a row.

I slept for five hours and woke up to gunfire, which turned out to be my alarm.

I got to hang out with the always lovely Miss Erin, and because she's so lovely, she asked that we go rock climbing, which allowed me to check off two things on my list.

Home, nap. Then back to world waking. I lit candles, pulled out my comfy blanket, curled up in my comfy chair and started MockingJay.
And finished MockingJay. Six hours later.

I loved it, think it's brilliant and am completely irreparably damaged after reading it.

Since Jocelyn recommended the series to me this is completely her fault. Thanks a lot Jocelyn.

The Boy came home and I ranted about the book, he ranted about the book because he read it first because he's FOUR BOOKS AHEAD OF ME.
Except now he's only THREE books ahead of me. Slow and steady wins the race

Then I curled up against The Boy and dreamt of post apocalyptic worlds and motorcycle gangs. I mean clubs.

Woke up four hours later. Went to The Boy's Parents house and sewed. For hours upon hours.

Finished two costumes for Halloween. Four more to go. I love love Halloween. And I love sewing. Bodhi played with the other dogs and I babbled for hours and incoherently about my plans and ideas for more costumes. The Boy's mom just took it in stride and probably privately planned to buy me my own sewing machine for christmas.

Then the plan was to come home, nap again, wake up, work out and maybe get a started on my next book. Instead I came home, sat on the internet for three hours and THEN took a nap.

Stupid internet.

Now I'm up and not really motivated to work out. Because working out at home blows. And it's four am. And I am la lazy.

And besides, I've accomplished plenty this weekend.
And I'm anything but an overachiever.

Honey do list

I've worked 6 days out of the last 7.

I'm a little burnt out.

I have the next three days off.
Here's a list of all the things I want to cram into those days

Go to the Rock Gym.
I really miss climbing

Go see The American. And Winter's Bone.
(and maybe Machete.. but only after a sake bomber)
(don't judge me)

Hang out with Miss Erin
She's in town and I am demanding play time
Maybe we can cook together again. And by "we" I mean, her

Watch all of Sons Of Anarchy season two
With the boy, on the couch with chinese food.
It just came out this week and season three starts next week
Ahhhh

Have an adventure with Jess Berry and Little Liz
with less bug bites this time

Lose 5lbs
Cause I'm a girl and I turn 25 next month and I'm having a bit of crisis about it

And by 5lbs, I mean 10

READ!
The Boy is four books ahead of me. Four

Clean. My poor cluttered house.
Seriously, books and half finished experiments everywhere. It's like a wizards study

Sleep. I want to sleep 10-12 hours of every night.




I'm going to need a longer weekend

Do I pick door #1, 2 or 3?

I'm conflicted.

I've finished a long twelve hour day of work. I have the rest of the night and all of tomorrow off. Then I work forty hours in the next four days.
So I need to make the most of tonight.

But I'm being pulled in two very separate directions.

Part of me wants an alone night. I want to put on boy shorts and a wife beater, with socks to keep my feet warm. I want to pull out my comfy chair onto the patio, light a few candles, turn pandora onto Kings Of Leon radio, pour myself a glass of red wine and lose myself in the written word. I want to revel in my loneliness. And when I'm a little too tipsy to follow one paragraph to the next, I'll switch out my book for the laptop. And type. Type with the abandon that comes with two glasses of wine on a mostly empty stomach. Write my thoughts, my dreams, disappointments. Maybe reveal a few secrets. Then, when the words start to slur and the screen starts to blur I'll switch the pandora to the Black Snake Moan soundtrack and have a private dance party in my living room. And when I'm glistening with sweat and joy, I'll curl up in the nook of my couch with my favorite blanket, the pup and a gallon of water.

That sounds lovely.


But the other part of me is aching for company. I want Liz and Jess to come over. We'll drink Sangria and watch Buffy and laugh to we cry. We'll make a fort out of my couch. Drink more sangria and watch more Buffy. And when the tv becomes blurry and our attention span shortened, we'll talk about how much we love each other and are so glad that we're friends. Only, I won't use the word love because I don't believe in it and that will lead to a discussion about what love is and whether it exists. And if it does exist, what makes it so elusive. We'll pass out gradually and The Boy will come home in the early morning to find us still passed out in our blanket fort.

Or

Have Ryan come over... we'll do shots of Jack. We'll turn up the music and dance. Have another shot. Talk/argue about music and whether or not Jack White is brilliant or insane. Another shot and that will lead to tattoo ideas, which will lead to someone (probably me) grabbing a sharpie and using it to draw on each other. Once every spare inch of skin is covered with would be could be tattoos and another shot taken, we'll take another shot to keep us warm and take the dog out of for a walk. We'll walk the streets and stalk the night while plotting the best ways to survive the zombie apocalypse. And when the sun comes up.. another shot to put us to bed.


So many choices... guess I better decide.

cheers, to a lovely night no matter what

Never Satisfied

Now that I am a dog owner I have a new list of wants/needs

Things I wish someone would invent:
1)A door opener that I can push from my car that opens my apartment door, guide the dog down three flights of stairs and straight to my car.
God I hate leaving my car to walk up three flights of stairs, greet the dog, put leash on the dog, walk back down three stories and convince the car to start again.

2)A retractable leash the dog can't chew through.
Yes I know they have chains, but the retractable leashes are sooo handy. I want both in one handy dandy leash.

3)An air conditioned dog park.
I hate the summer in Arizona.

4)Doggy daycare at the gym.
Hey, they do a baby daycare, so why not? I'm sure teenagers would much rather play with my dog then your crying,pooping baby.

5) An extra room that is just for dog food.
Seriously, I need a whole room. I hate buying/carrying dog food home. I always buy the biggest bag so it will last longer. Problem is I live on the third floor. So I end up carrying a sixty pound bag that is half of my body weight up three floors (have I mentioned the three f*&king stories yet?) while an over eager dog pulls on the only short leash he hasn't chewed through yet.

6) A doggy car seat.
I would take the dog EVERYWHERE with me if I could. I do take him most places. Often those places end up with him being muddy. Which I can't blame him, since I'm usually muddy too. However, I don't roll around the backseat on the way home. (well.. sometimes, but only if The Boy came with us). I've tried laying down a towel, but he's too active and it just ends up on the floor. My poor poor backseat.

7) A whistle that lets the dog know when to attack and when not too.
The dog is such a good guard dog that he tries to eat The Boy when he smacks my boy short underwear clad ass in the morning. Which was funny the first time. But a big part of The Boy and I's relationship is built on roughhousing. We are constantly wrestling. And I'd really like it if The Boy didn't lose his hand. So a whistle that lets him know when we are playing and when to attack... That would be awesome


8) A magic pill that makes my hair grow faster.
Ok, this isn't really dog related but I'm tired of my short hair and am pissed it won't grow faster. Why can't I have hair like Joanna's?!


Ok smart people. Get inventing!

A Story of Burning Bridges.

I was looking through old journal entries. Stuff from ages and lives past. When I stumbled on this...Well It's still too close too personal. But I want to share it.

And yes, you still enter my dreams unbeckoned on occasion.

This is a story of burning bridges
and allowing time to pass
this is a story of forgiveness
and breaking things in my hands
this is a story of understanding
you can't choose who you love
and this is a story of soft skin
and rats in the walls

well you can't just pass along
the pain that comes around
you'll go dizzy until you fall
and I know you didn't mean to let me down
but you let me down so hard

this is a story of loaded glances
and leaning in too far
this is a story of vague advances
and confessions in smoky bars
so now I am walking down the sidewalk
and I am singing to myself
and I'm going to leave it all behind me now
'cause I don't need this,
I just don't need this

and you can't...

these memories are talking and talking
and I'll do anything to shut 'em up
I've got the pillow over my head
but they won't stop
no, no they won't stop

some fantasies are never meant to be realized at all
and some regrets could be prevented
if you read the writing on the wall
oh and sometimes you say "you know nothing can happen"
and then she leans over and lifts off your glasses
and the next thing you know you're just tangled and guilty
and you've got a head full of liquor and perfume
oh and when did you leave me
and when did you find her
and tell me is this just what you wanted...