Have faith, hang in there… things fall apart so things can fall back together.

I wish I were poetic enough to convey with words what has happened with me over the last few days. But maybe my poetry comes in my lack of ability to sugarcoat certain things that I experience and feel.

Some of you know that there are a few lists of people in my life… the main two being those who have been close to me that I plan on keeping close forever… and then those who were close to me who now hate my guts and don’t want me in their lives anymore.

I have ranted about this before… I’m searching my archives now to see if I blogged about it.

…

ok I can’t find it… and skimming through all my long rants from previous years just distracts me from my point. So if you don’t know my track record with “best friends”, you’ll just hafta pretend to understand.

Let’s just get it all on the table… I lost another best friend last night. Cut off, hated and put in my place about how I am untrustworthy and how I intentionally hurt people. She “never thought I had it in me…” but I defy the laws of physics and grammar and human thought on a regular basis so I guess I am not surprised that I could turn into such a selfish and dishonest bitch.

Some of my stalkers are probably like “see!!! You got fucked again, liz!! I’m not the only one who thinks you are a horrid person who no one should be friends with.” And all I have to say to you is STOP FUCKING READING MY PAGE AND GET A LIFE. IF I AM SO BAD AND SCARY AND SOMETHING TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THEN GO AWAY!!

So I am… how do I say this nicely… very ok with this. Because of something else that happened this weekend.

You see… a very best friend that i had thought i'd lost... she fuckin came back.

And I can’t tell you how mushy gushy inside it makes me feel. It’s like… a high I haven’t felt since I graduated. To me… it just confirms everything that I have felt and thought about friendships. People have to go and grow through things on their own. They have to figure it out and want to change before anything will happen. I can’t make someone think or feel the way that I believe is the truth and the best way to be. And they can’t do the same to me.

Some people (a whole lot of them, actually) just aren’t ready for the real type of friendship I so desperately need. Real friends DO have problems. They DO change. They DO make mistakes and they DO hurt one another. But they are open and honest and real when they do. And there aren’t hard feelings… there is an understanding and a caring between them. That these pains that happen throughout our lives are part of living… and that as long as we want to work together to be good to ourselves and each other… then it’s all gravy.

There is no such thing as the perfect person, friend or lover. The perfection comes through working together to create the perfect love. I stole that one from my man, Tom Robbins.

I make mistakes. I do things that others may not approve of or even agree with. But that’s going to happen with everyone. That is not how you measure friendship.

And well… if that is how YOU measure your trust and relationships… then you should probably rethink your relationship with me. Because I am guaranteed… I mean there is a list of at least ten people to confirm this… to disappoint you.

joy! rapture! sweet lord in heaven!

yeah...

i am overly excited about this.

anybuddy want to be my date?

ok you know what? my mother and i had a most-excellent convo in the car on the way to work today and in light of a website that i frequent... i need to vent.

i'm debating about whether or not i should post this on that site... give me some feedback here if you think it will even be worth it.

ahem.

he calls me vain. and it bothers me.

yes, i check myself in the mirror if i pass one. and not in one of those can't look away from a car accident sort of ways. whenever i wear my hair down... i am playing with it. i fidget constantly and my mane is a good way to occupy idle hands. (devon sawa vision ::drool:: ... ok, i'm better now). my hair is very long and very thick, so it gets tangled easily. i adore my hair as a big part of my identity and want it to look good.

i try to buy clothing that is flattering. i wear outfits that i feel are appropriate for the occasion. i bathe daily and wash my hair at least every other day. i wear ankle socks with shorts because i think they make my legs look sexy. i wear sneakers a lot because they make my feet look cute. i try to groom on days that i know i'll see him. i accessorize like a champ.

but beyond buying hair care products that i like because of their smell and bitching on occasion about the middle ground between juniors and misses that IS my size 12 existence... i don't think about fashion or make up or my appearance.

now before you call me a hottie hater... i'm not hating on people who are attractive or who like to look good. i'm hating on people who spend hours a day thinking, preparing and acting on maintaining their personal appearance.

paint me retarded, but i have a ton of other things that i would rather occupy my time AND my brain with.

they say that your personal appearance reflects on you and your lifestyle. i agree whole-heartedly. my lifestyle is one where i make an effort to be practical and appropriate and to take care of myself... but i am in search of something deeper that cannot be put on a logical scale and i will disregard social graces in order to find fulfillment.

i think that people should take pride in their appearances. and that you should take care of yourself and try to look the best that you can. the key word in the sentence is YOU. use what you were given. why spend so much time to try to look like something/one that you aren't?!?! why doesn't anyone want to be who they are anymore instead of one variation or color combo of a specific prototype?!?!?!?!?! it just seems to me that people have taken a general concern/interest for their appearance and gone way overboard.

if you get some sort of internal happiness from researching and analyzing highlighting methods, eyeshadow and the art of the tube top... i am happy that you found what makes you tick... but get the FUCK away from me.
if you are so obsessed with style and fashion that you wouldn't date someone on dread row for the fashion police even if they were everything else you could ever dream of in a mate then WALK AWAY QUICKLY. i'm getting a gun and i WILL pop a cap in your well-loofa'ed ass.
if you read cosmo for the articles, of course regularly and own over 2/3 of the merchandise found throughout the zine... and you whine about not finding that see-through blouse in the color you wanted on the forever 21 website (every week)... i hope you die.

let me reiterate... i don't mind people who like fashion or make up or applying both or either of these things to their daily maintenance. i am one of those people. it's the psychos who don't seem to care about anything else in their lives above how they look that make me want to punch their newly-chiseled nose and suck all of the fat that was injected into their lips. or slash their entire wardrobe and have dogs chew up all of their shoes. highlight their hair green (in the not cool way) and give them bad hair cuts. just to prove that their lives wouldn't be over if they didn't look good.

ugh. now i wanna go out and run around in public in my target jeans (not flared.. but BOOT CUT), dayglow green t-shirt, with my hair in pig tails (not the uber cute and trendy low ones, but the i'm motherfucking pippy long stocking ones), no make-up and flipflops with socks on underneath.

it is 6:30pm and i am still at work

ugh.

that's almost an 11 hour day, people.

11 hours of my life. wasted.

gone. forever. and ever. amen.

how do people LIVE like this?!?!

i have had quite a few conversations on the steady job for the rest of your life subject. and let's just say i'm not coming out a better person for it. everyone tells me i'm just going to have to suck it up and train myself into routine. well i'm sorry... but FUCK THAT.
i don't care if it is what's expected. i don't care if that's what it takes to manage a healthy family and household. in the words of dana carvey i'm just "not gonna do it." if this was the point of all my schooling... then the point sucks my right nipple. and not in the good way.

i want a job where i learn things. and teach things. and im not talking about stupid paper shuffling things... i mean like things about life. and people. i want the 40+ hours a week i spend doing whatever i'm doing to be worthwhile and meaningful. and i want to do different things. not the same crap every day. and if no job out there exists to my standards then i'll just have to work multiples... or switch every time i get bored.
i AM aware that this will not provide me with a nice income or steady benefits. and that's fine because i could give a fuck about either of those things.

maybe in 5 or 10 years i'll change my tune. i'll have a hubby and kiddies who will make me reprioritize. but i doubt it. because even with a life partner or offspring... i will look for the same things in my life... as well as theirs.

i will not settle.

and don't you try to make me feel bad about wanting something different from what society tells me i should want. i appreciate the advice. i do. but just watch what you say. i know you think it's for my own good... but good is relative. trust me to decide for myself.

unintentional poetry, by ricochet

so i'll sit.
and stare.
at this big white screen.
and nothing comes.
nothing goes.
just fingers tapping.
in an attempt to jog my memory.
when what i really need to do.
is jog my fat ass.
and balance my budget.
and pay the bills.
and read the pink book.
and give the orange book to mum.
and give the job info sheet thingy to nitsuj.
and burn this cd for you.
and play with myself.
cuz i'm good at it.
and remember the other idea that i had.
that i was going to write.
that also.
magically.
disappearedededed.
eat your heart out, david blane.
too many sentences.
giving up.
but not just yet.
it's too fun.
ok.
you win.

<3

moved past the dreams onto nightmares.

now posted on twilight...

my one werd/dream blog.

Featured Writer #2:

Last December, I shared with the masses Stephanie Johnson's Ode to Belly Fat. This second piece, however, is from a friend of mine who had a story to tell, but wanted to remain anonymous. I'd like to call it "Skeptical Glitter."

enjoy!

I'm 21 years old. And I have never been in a serious relationship.

I feel like i'm in AA. Which may be why Liz offered to post my story anonymously for me.

Anyway, some people may think that being 21 and without some sort of significant other... ever... is odd. Maybe it is. And it could be for a lot of reasons. No, im not built like the average sorority girl. But there are some boys who will look past that, so I don't think that's it. See, I have this nasty habit of making myself seem unavailable. I don't flirt. I don't put myself out there. Why? I have theories, but they're not important.

I felt like I was missing something, though. I couldn't understand why someone would sit in front of their computer and compulsively check someone's away message, and wait for their special someone. I couldn't understand it when people talked about that feeling you get when you KNOW that you like someone. I couldn't understand how like, or love, could be blind, and deaf, and dumb.

That was until I met him.

He lives about two hours from here. How we got to know each other is a long, boring story that's not much fun. But we have been talking every night since late June. With the exception of about 5 nights. We make silly jokes and he understands me like few people do. When he doesn't, he makes every effort to. He IMs me every time he's online, and immediately asks how i'm doing, and how my day went, and all sorts of other things. There is never, ever a lack of conversation topics, because we can talk about nothing at all for days... and yet it feels like minutes. We have the same silly senses of humor, and a strong sarcastic streak. We've fought, on occasion, but we even fight well. We can talk to each other about it honestly and work things out. He doesn't like to hurt me. And he puts up with me when I get a little nuts on him.

Then one day, about 2 months after this talking every day stuff, he came to visit. His life is crazy, and he has lots of responsibilities that he can't control. So he drove two hours to visit me for about 5. ...that was the shortest 5 hours of my life. We talked, and flirted, and joked, and watched a movie. We tried to watch a second one, but.... we didn't even get to the opening credits of the dvd. After we hooked up... I was smiling. Not because I got some, but because I was happy. There was this... energy in the air. I didn't want him to leave.

That was about a month ago. And since that day, I can honestly say that I get it now. When we talk... even online... I feel like there are little gold sparkles in the air. Like fireworks, or glitter. He makes this warm fuzzy feeling come alive inside of me that no one else can. I want to spend my whole life sitting in front of the computer, with my cell phone by my side, waiting for him to come talk to me. If i'm driving around, and I see the car he drives, I smile to myself. And if that makes me a loser, then so be it.

I got scared though. All of this feeling, and nothing to back it up. So we had a Talk tonight. About where we stand, and what's going on. And it wasn't like most normal talks. Like I said, he doesn't have a normal life, so our Talk wasn't normal either. Plus, he's like I am... emotionally scared and wary of any sort of relationship, or the accompanying feelings. I didn't press him for a title. Or a relationship. Or anything more than a confirmation that we're... something. That he's not going to pack up one day and leave me and the little gold sparkles will go away. It was a difficult conversation to have, because I wanted to know what he thought, and I didn't want to scare him either. So what it came down to... on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being acquaintances, 5 being good friends, and 10 being dating, we're about a 6 or so. (on a purely emotional level. hooking up is not included in this survey.) That wasn't exactly what I wanted to hear, but I think I can live with that for now. Would it have been nice if he were madly in love with me? Of course. In a perfect world, I would love to pursue him further, and demand that we date and whatnot. But with his life, and the distance... i'm at least content for now with knowing that he does care more than the average person, and that he's not going to pack up someday and leave. Maybe things will change, and maybe things won't. Knowing him, and knowing how things are with him, 6 isn't a bad number.

Either way, I want to thank him. I want to thank him for showing me what it's like. For helping me prove to myself that the little gold sparkles do, in fact, exist. For showing me how long I can, in fact, sit in my chair and cross my fingers that someone gets online. And for proving to myself that I'm capable of getting the warm fuzzies just like anyone else. A friend said to me, "you know? i'm proud of you for letting yourself get this involved. I know it isn't easy for you." ...you know what? I'm proud of me too.

stream of consciousness.

i scrape away at you
until you are naked
the insides robbed
of their skin
filter-less. without concealer.

the shavings
that my fingernails
have collected
lay in a heap.
waiting for the fire.

longing to burn away
from this world of you and i

longing to belong...
anywhere else.

she has been filed away
in a rolodex of neverminds
and doesn't matter anymores

pushed into the past too quickly
and written about too late.

i never really got to hold on to you.

you are like my clouds that drift away when i try to hug them tight. and my starz that i just can't seem to reach yet still try to dance among. you are that secret that i have been trying to pretend i wasn't keeping. you are the poetry i have told myself that i had forgotten how to write.

you have made me a liar. and while i adore you for it...



i loathe my inability to come clean.

blog plug!

anti-social commentaries.

this specific entree is one of the best introspective rambles i have read in a loooong time. this dreamer contemplates what he is doing with himself and where writing fits into the picture. i definitely relate.

family studies

Things are not well between my brother and I. I speculate that he is unhappy and confused about what he is doing with himself and that is why he is being so moody and irritable. I also speculate that his lack of productivity and contribution to the household is why I am getting so pissy at him.

I hate this. I hate his criticizing and patronizing comments. I hate how he doesn’t do jack shit all day long. I hate that he never accepts my invitations to spend time with my friends and I. I hate that I can’t talk to him without getting upset.

Ugh. Mom and I are at each other’s throats. About stupid crap. And I haven’t even seen my dad in almost 2 weeks.

I wish my family would be willing to go to therapy… but even if they were… we couldn’t afford to go.

scattered dreams

now posted on twilight...

my one werd/dream blog.

"well ... we were going to."

That is how this weekend will forever be remembered.

I was going to work until 2ish on Friday. Work was cancelled because of Isabel.

I was going to have rehearsal with the QO guard and stay through half time of their home game. School… and the game… were both cancelled.

Adam was going to meet me at QO and see their performance. See above.

We were then going to go up to The Fe, in College Park, to see one of Adam’s favorite bands, Laughing Colors. It was going to be a surprise, and was really the whole point in him coming down Friday (aside from seeing my guard). The Fe, however, had no power, and so they didn’t have the show.

We were going to go eat at Mrs. Oleary’s Pub and then go bowling, and we did… well… at least that eating part. Bowl America was without power too.
So then we were going to go get some drinkie drink and relax at my house. All of the places we went to were closed. And my house was without power. So we drank leftover Malibu and played Never Have I Ever in the dark. Not that I’m complaining about that part. ;)

Saturday I was going to take Adam out for breakfast and then go to QO for a competition at Westminister. The competition was cancelled. We were also going to shower and dress and be clean for the day… but my house was still without power. Burrrrrr.

Adam was going to go to his cousin’s wedding shower and then meet me up at QO before we left for the competition. See above. So I went to the shower with him.

We were going to get his cousin this TACKY monkey lamp that she registered for at Bed Bath and Beyond, but they didn’t have any. So we got a cute card and a gift certificate.

After the shower, we were going to go home and eat dinner with my mom. But we still didn’t have power to prepare dinner, and my mother wasn’t home anyway. So we went to Pizza Hut.

Then we were going to wait around for David to call (he was up for the UMD WVU game), so we could go party with us. While we waited we were going to go cosmic bowling. But they cancelled cosmic for the night. So I kicked his ass with the lights on. High score of 170. ahem.

David never did call. Maybe he was bitter about the loss. So we decided to just go home and play around with my guitar… make some music. My guitar is strung for left-handed people, however, so that was a no go.

Sunday Adam was going to leave by lunchtime. We slept until 2pm. Then my mother got very pissy with me and so Adam stayed to help me take the food that was in our now-warm refrigerator to the dump.

Then I was going to clean up a bit and try to catch up with everything I needed to do for this week. But we were STILL without power… so we spent 3 hours over at my aunt’s house, showering and doing laundry.

I came home and was going to write up a few things, but was too damn tired and frustrated to write in the dark. So I just went to bed.

And now, here it is, Monday morning… I am still without power and back to work at this lovely office. Wee.

ask the oracle?

LIZ

-------------------------------------------------------------
From the Italian root meaning "Failure"
-------------------------------------------------------------

Expression
Liz does things with housecats illegal in 47 states.

Personality
Liz should be monitored around small animals.

Natural
Liz likes animals-- perhaps too much.

Emotional
Liz is cold and calculating.

Character
Liz will turn on you in an instant.

Physical
Liz couldn't beat Ghandi at boxing.

Mental
Liz isn't rowing with both oars.

Motivation
Liz has a god complex.

stolen from shay, who got it from here.

Isabel

i've gotta love the bitch... she's got my name.

because of her, i got this really cool lantern from my coworker, Mildred (who rawks, btw). i also get to go home today at 12:30pm.

because of her i knew that it would be alright if i came to work hung over and under slept. i drank half of a gatorade (cool rush flavored) on my way to work.

oh, and on my way to work... because everyone else gets to stay home, dear Isabel shaved 15 minutes off of my commute!

because of her, my friends got to stay out late with me last night. the metro is closed all day today, so those without other means of transportation also get the day off.

she even won over the cold hearts of the UMD staff, and hell froze over... because the terpies don't have class today.

AND i get to wear my cool ass poncho on my way home. fingers crossed that she doesn't fulfill my dream of wanting to fly... cause as much as i adore this lady, i do not want to blow away.

WHATS THIS? a bright side??

so we all know that the "regulars" at a doctors office are made up of older people. and before you start with the "awwww, how cute" comments about old folks... this is not the thing that i am referring to.

there are couples. that come into the office together. sometimes both with appointments. sometimes only one. but they come in together. both well over 65. sometimes one is leading the other with their hand. sometimes one is pushing behind with a wheelchair. sometimes they are walking side by side. sometimes one is standing behind the other with their silent support.

seeing that people actually do stay together their whole lives. joined together with a bond that keeps them caring for one another even when they are physically or mentally unable to do it very well anymore. a lady that i held doors for and helped into the bathroom was carrying her husband from the examining table to the lab.

when you reach that point in your life where the little things you used to do absent mindedly take all of the concentration and energy you can muster... i can't imagine how nice it would be to have someone right there beside you, experiencing it with you like no one else can.

it's just such a powerful thing to see. it makes the ideas of love and commitment so much more real than any of my fairy-tale musings.

crazy dreams

i've been having a lot of vivid dreams lately... some of them lucid.

now i'm no dream expert (like someone i know), but i keep having these periods where i seem to remember more of my dreams right before or during a time of stress for myself.

for those of you who don't believe in this sort of thing... you might want to stop reading.

this past week i have been remembering a dream or two every night... and if i napped, that's when i started to have the lucid dreams... where i knew i was dreaming. the dreams, while scattered, all included major undertones of things that are going on in my life.

granted, this makes sense if our dreams tap into our subconscious... because these issues have been in the back of my mind. but last night really scared me.

there was a scene where i was leaving for work in the morning... and i came outside to get into my car. but there were people outside looking for my car to reposes it. so i jumped into my old car (remember my hot 1988 pontiac safari station wagon? maroon with all the bumper stickers? yeah.) and tried to pull out of the parking lot. i almost got into an accident with my neighbor pulling into the parking lot. weird.

then i was at QO, waiting in the bus lot on the tour buses we rode in during band trips while i was in highschool. it was suddenly dark outside, and we were all trying to sleep on the bus. who "we" is, i'm not exactly sure. but then all of a sudden the earth shook and everyone was aware that we were caught in the middle of a storm and a meteor hit the ground.

i mean, seriously, wtf?

i remember trying to sleep, but being too scared to close my eyes. i remember reaching around in the dark trying to find him (who him is i'm not too sure of either).

but the worst part about the whole thing is that i woke up this morning, perfectly aware that i had dreamed all of this, but then my mother asked me if i was behind on my car payments. umn. weird.

now i'm paranoid about the competition for QO this weekend and of course, the hurricane. not to mention the him issues. i worry about this stuff enough while i'm awake... why does my subconscious have to freak me out too?

i must admit, however... that this is very exciting for me to be so aware of all this storming around and inside of me. something big is going to happen. i just hope i'm ready for it.

wardrobe

i am wearing. my comforter. in scrub form.

it is white. long sleeved.

matches my white pants. that when i sit down... expose 4 inches of my sock and calf skin.

the shirt has CUFFS at the ends. elastic CUFFS. that fold over.

snaps all the way up to my neck. goes down to a few inches above my knee. two big pockets in the front. equipped with kleenex.

the pattern is of violets. big, purple violets. with various shades of purple. and vines. and leaves.

did i mention the CUFFS?!?!

... dear geebus, when did i turn into a 50 year old woman?

pieces of me

i think i am going to sneak a few things into work tomorrow to keep myself occupied and stimulated during the impending 9 hours of doom. a pad and some crayons... maybe some magnetic poetry. anybody have anything they recommend playing with while at a boring desk job? i should also get on a new all about me section and update my subpages. however, the head doc is back in town from his vacation... so the pace should pick up quite a bit during the morning. maybe i won't really have any time to fart around.

my mother is not happy with me having to leave at 3:30pm every monday to go run PB's rehearsals. this is on top of the tuesdays and every other fridays that i will be leaving at 1pm for QO. my argument is that i get to stay associated with the kids, i get the physical activity and a chance to look at some different choreography. maribeth also clued me in to a possible winterguard that she is checking out this season. we shall see if my options to run another guard program at QO or PB this season pan out... if they don't... i am SO doing this.
to be honest... if it weren't for the guard work that i was doing... i would really have no desire to get out bed every morning. so thank god for that. no amount of money is worth sacrificing this activity for me. maybe someday she'll understand.

just to update you on my living status... the laurel thing fell through for now. we basically are being forced out of the house my future roomies were living in. so if we find a new place, it could work out. fingers are crossed.
i was just offered a room in a house right across the bay bridge on the eastern shore, though. only $300 a month. but if i did that i would really need to wait until after guard season. no thanx on the over an hour commute every day. sigh.
i dunno how i've made it this long still living at home. it's not my family... it's just time for me to have my own space. i am craving space. and this 10ft X 10ft jail cell full of crap isn't cuttin it.

my brother and i are going running in 6 hours. i'm excited. let's hope i don't slack my way out of it. i should go to bed now so i'm rested enough. unfortunately, i napped all afternoon and my patterns are wack now. i had a pretty good weekend, though. friday night wasn't the bestest... but it worked out to be an advantage in the end. definitely made some progress in the communicating. saturday was ia bummer at PB... i was glad to be out of there. then went to the UMD game vs. the Citadel. very interesting time... nose-bleed seats, a crushing first half and a catsup shower encouraged our foursome to skip out early and get some food. karma smacked me in the behind (following mr. tuttle's example) when my exco-worker from starbux (remember the guy who called me donkey ass?) ended up being our server. then spent the rest of the evening partying at 2020... it was a good time, but very surreal being there without it being "my house" anymore. this time last year i was just beginning my residence there... a whole fucking year ago.

craziness.

oh oh... i have also come to the conclusion that sundays were made for lying around all day long. very john mayer and "body is a wonderland."

just wanted to plug the bitter club. besides the latest rant i posted, i've updated the subpages and guestbook. please drop us a note about any suggestions for the site.

stop IMing me.

it really doesn't matter about your new addition.
i subtracted your variable from my equation...
a long time ago.

i don't want to hear about the new.
with you...
it was always tired and old.

i can count the times
you've truly made me smile
on my right hand.

but to count all of the times
you've made me cry...
i don't think there is a calculator capable.

i have learned my lesson.
you taught it to me ages ago.

and i know
there is more for me to learn.
but i'll be damned
if i let you be the professor.

by accident

her outfits always match
the weather

her hair is always up
and feathered

she carries
her heart
in her jeans'
back left pocket

and sometimes,
by accident
it gets squished
when she sits on it

constipated. with werdz.

AmngStarz: i want to write
AmngStarz: like
AmngStarz: so bad
AmngStarz: but i just cant
struggles101: awww

AmngStarz: and im constipated with words
afterophelia: do you have any known word laxatives that work for you?
AmngStarz: i wish

l2icochet: what are YOU doing?
AmngStarz: being jealous of people who write

...

i am pitiful. in that beat yourself up over bullcrap sort of way. i read something that touches my heart everyday. so many people convey such emotion and meaning through their writing and it just makes me pine.

all this talk of being a writer. i can't be a writer if i never put down anything besides posts on a blog that i read more than anyone else. and the posts that i do write aren't heartfelt. i wonder how people who surf in feel about my writing. i'll always wonder because i never get the feedback. i mean, i guess it doesn't matter as long as i'm getting something out of it. but i'm starting to wonder if i really do.

what is the point? i mean... if i wrote a book... would i even want to read it? lord knows i'm a terrible closer. the ending would be horrid.

i cannot get a following for this site because i don't have nekkid pix and i don't have nifty computer nerd info and i don't have creative content anymore. all i do is whine.

training day

and no, i'm not talking about the movie.

ugh. i spent 6 hours today... doing jack shit. ok, well... i was "learning" the "complicated" system for checking in and out and making appointments over at the other site.

i. wasted. so much. time.

i'm not a moron.

i like computers.

i have people skills.

i know how to count cash.

i know how to slide credit cards.

i know how to stamp checks.

and she tells me i have to come back to FINISH my training tomorrow?

fucking just... shoot me in the face. please. now.

apparently, they are used to training monkeys and ex-starbux employees... because the amount of information they thought i could process and understand was insultingly low. and the pace they move at implies that they do all of their calculating on their fingers.

i just want to go back to the office that i will, you know, actually work in so i can learn, you know, their way of doing things, so i can, you know, actually serve some sort of PURPOSE.

ugh! they wouldn't even let me check my email during downtime... so i ended up staring at the wall and turning the ring on my left index finger. thrilling, this job environment is... i tell ya.

and as a side note... every single woman working at that site had facial hair issues. like. it was disgusting.

"doctors' office, this is liz..."

so it's my first day working at my new temp job. i call it a temp job because it is basically just steady income for me until i find something that i really want to do. i'd like to give myself the title "utility rat," which basically means i'm the office's bitch. fortunately, this does not mean filing and making coffee... it means learning all of the entree level positions so they can shift me around depending on where the staff is hurting that day.

today... i am at the front desk. pleasantly surprised to find internet access on my computer, i can keep myself entertained in between check-ins. weee. so exciting, i know.

things are looking up... i am really enjoying my job search. i'm sure that will change when i start phase two: the interviews. but then again, i kinda like the uneasiness of meeting a bunch of new people who could end up being my world. so keep your fingers crossed i find whatever it is that i think i should be looking for.

the dark side of my job search is my evening job... i have decided to enter the world of serving. the issue is that i need to chose where i'd like to begin my journey. there are tons of great restaurants in the area... and tips are high especially in rockville and bethesda... but it's pretty much a done deal that i will be moving to laurel come the beginning of october. and the rates are not going to be as high in PG. so my dilemma is... do i go for location or for bling?

we shall see. but one thing is for certain: the unemployment spell is over. let's have a moment of silence, please.

his quiet makes me uneasy.

that saying "no news is good news"... yeah. i don't buy it. i never have.

i always pry... ask questions i shouldn't... say things that beg to be further explained... all of this in hopes of some unveiling of secret, juicy information that i crave. i'm always looking for a hidden motive or complex. and while some of you would say that if i were a verb, i would be kiss... i must admit... i would be analyze. it's what i do.

he looks content. his actions express his affinity for me. i feel chemistry between us.

but i watch him almost constantly... except when deliberately avoiding his eyes. his dopey grin. his carelessly vibrant hair. his hands. that neck.

and when we do lock eyes... his leave me intrigued. i want to jump inside them and swim around. they look like pools of autumn.

i adore the way he looks while he kisses me.

but i am searching his face. for some sort of sign. i told him today... i told him that i couldn't read his face. and i can't. and it makes me nervous. because he is short a few bars for the title of "most deliberately communicative when it comes to his feelings"... for someone who relies heavily on the use of the english language to express herself... it leaves me in a constant wonder of how he is feeling.

i worry that he isn't into me and the moment as much as i am? or that maybe there isn't anything there to read?

i am not one of those girls who wants to hear that they are beautiful every 5 minutes... but i do want to hear about his impression of me and the things that he enjoys and thrives off of from me. i want to hear him acknowledge what is happening between us.

at least... i hope there is something happening bewteen us. and i don't want to sit and beg like a puppy. but i am always thirsty for it. always waiting. always aware of the lack of words being spoken when we connect. and as much as i like those moments where words are not necessary... i need to hear his mouth translate his heart beats.

and i guess the only way is to translate mine first. ::thump thump:: ::thump thump::

here we go again, infatuation

i'm doing it again. and i'm starting early this time.

a beginning ... or maybe just a typed up fart.

"move over. i can't see with your head in the way like that."

it seems as though we have been spoiled with stadium seating. we haven't been to an old fashioned theater like this in over a year. And that was when we thought slumming would be fun over at the Ghetto Plaza.

"ugh. no cup holders?!?! i will NOT put my soda on this floor. i'm grossed out just stepping on it."

Jared was a little more uppity about the situation than the rest of us were, obviously. maybe that's why we liked having him around- he always spewed out the infantile, self-centered comments that we managed to keep at the back end of our thoughts.

"here. stuff some popcorn in that fat mouth of yours. extra butter to keep you shiny and extra salt to make you choke."

that's Larni. she's pretty much the resident bitch. she forgets sometimes, though... and that's always is a fun thing to witness.

a walk to remember

movies are dangerous.

they make you feel things. they add a sense of poetry to, what i suppose we can call, nonfiction. granted, most movies ARE fiction (even if inspired by nonfictional occurances)... but if you are like me, you tend to forget that.

there is poetry to our nonfictional world. but it's not the kind you find in movies. whether you believe in a higher power of sorts or not, at best, this life only has one editor (who also happens to be the director and producer. budgeting, you know) and a shitload of actors who all think that they are the star of the show.

not exactly the formula for an oscar winner.

so while i continue to live vicariously through movies... and while i still look for a love that you only find in those movies... i've gotta make sure i don't overlook all of the imperfectly poetic moments my screen play is in the middle of.