Last week I took a trip down to southern Cal to visit some friends. I decided to go completely on a whim--I hitched a ride with a couple of Troy's friends--Rose and her sister, Lisa--they were headed back to LA, so I bought a return plane ticket and off I went.

Visiting Justin and Ness is always a great time. We're more than close friends--we love each other. I adore them both and I love their family. It was so good to relax and not have to be "entertained." I got to cook for people (which I *so* enjoy!), I got to see a little bit of L.A., I got to observe one of the most functional marriages I've ever seen, I had a little mini-trip before my return home.

I stayed up too late, and on one such evening, found myself re-reading everything I'd chronicled here. It was illuminating, and I was struck by the value of perspective, of a written record of what I saw, what I thought, what I did and how I felt. I rediscovered myself; I felt resurrected and renewed. I realized I'm not quite as bad of a writer or poet as I'd thought... I saw that I am not made entirely of mistakes--I can grow and evolve and, more importantly, I have.

When I came home, I found some desperately needed focus. As a direct result of that experience, I have decided to continue journaling, despite the long gap since my last entry(ies). I'm thinking I'd like to write about more than just what happens to me. Not sure where this will lead me, but I'm curious to find out.

If you saw ME in a police car, what would you think I got arrested for? Answer me, then if you want, post to your own journal and see how many crimes you get accused of.

I haven't posted in recent months because there either hasn't been much to say, or there hasn't been much I've wanted to share. Today I feel a little different. Today I feel hopeful, thoughtful even.

I'm still largely unemployed and I'm tired of fighting it, tired of feeling shitty for being unable to meet my financial obligations, my debts owed, my fuck-ups hanging over my head with an annoying "na-na-na boo-boo" expression going on. Today I decided to fork over this emotional burden and accept the reality that I can't control it and "whatever will be will be." Oddly enough, this line of submission seemed to be what the Universe has been waiting for.

Today, whilst making coffee and chatting with customers, I met someone who works for Wells Fargo, who has asked for my resume to forward on to her manager. I also met a woman who works with pre-paid legal services as well. I also began to feel more optimistic about the recruiter from WaMu that called me two weeks ago.

My mother and my brother came to visit last week, which was fun but stressful. It was great to see them and nice to go to San Francisco and Santa Cruz and Big Basin, all of which turned out to be lovely excursions. I'd not been to Big Basin before and the view was absolutely gorgeous! I had to take my family to the airport on Tuesday and as soon as I dropped them off and drove home, the apartment felt empty and I felt more homesick in that particular moment than I had in a long, long time. Of course, it was also a relief to walk around in my underwear again and not have to worry about my mother "cleaning" the apartment while I'm at work.

Other than that, things are have pretty much been business as usual.

I miss you all. ( Well, most of you anyway... ;oP )

I have yet another interview next week. I'm not particularly excited, but it would be more than what I'm doing now and it'd help pay the bills, which is kind of what's important to me at the moment.

I am not meant for domestic life. I need to work, I need to do something with myself all day. I have other responsibilities that have been too long neglected, and it would be nice to be in a position to take care of them.

Le sigh.

Wish me luck.

Oh. And I think Sarah Palin is one of the worst things that could potentially happen to my body and my choices in the last three decades.

I got a text message last week that went something like this.

"This message is in regards to Ryan Waller. He passed away at 2:37 this morning. I hope he will be in your prayers and in your heart. Cathy Waller."

Mind you, the damn text message came from Ryan's phone. ~rolls eyes~

You have *GOT* to be kidding me, right? First of all, who the fuck sends a TEXT MESSAGE to inform someone of a death? Second of all, there's no mention of a service, no obituary in any newspaper, nationwide, no record with the Social Security office, nothing. All of these facts, by the way, were established with two simple online searches.

Then, as if this whole charade isn't lame enough, I get another message from some random chick named "Rachel" with a similar message.

"Don't know if you have heard yet or not, but Ryan Waller has passed away. His mother was suppose to get in touch with everyone that he was friends with and inform them.
Within a letter that he wrote he stated this,
"When the day comes, make sure someone lets Jami Rhodes know that I am gone, she'll be pissed if I die and don't tell her."

I wish I wasn't the one who had to tell you about this situation and in this way, but I'm keeping true to his wishes.

I'm sorry and may his memory remain in your heart.
-Rachel "

The language, phrasing and grammar are the same in both messages, suggesting they were written by the same person. Not to mention the fact that in "her" message, my freakin' name is misspelled, so "she" wouldn't have been able to find me that way. No, this person would have to know what I look like. Ryan doesn't have any pictures of me, so it would have to be someone who has actually seen me in person.

I was so infuriated I was tempted to respond, but eventually decided no response would be even more troublesome to him.

Personally, I'm waiting for that phone call in a few months where he tires to tell me the CIA had him fake his death or some other bullshit like that.

Ugh! Unbelievable!

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0 created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Lara Croft A thrill-seeking, slightly unscrupulous, tough-as-nails archaeologist, Lara Croft travels the world in search of ancient relics perhaps better left hidden. She packs two Colt .45s and has no fear of jumping off buildings, exploring creepy tombs, or taking on evil meglomaniacs bent on world domination. Lara Croft 100% Captain Jack Sparrow 75% Maximus 71% Neo, the "One" 67% Indiana Jones 63% James Bond, Agent 007 58% Batman, the Dark Knight 54% El Zorro 50% The Amazing Spider-Man 50% William Wallace 38% The Terminator 17%

I'm coming home to visit, and I'm having a birthday party! Woot! Woot!

Everyone's invited. Friday, July 25th at Mic's on 1212 S 119th St at 9 p.m.

Hope to see y'all there!

Oh, and for the duration of the festivities, we are ALL, I repeat, we are ALL 21!

Woot! Partay on!

I swear, it's on a freakin' schedule.

Me an' melancholy are old friends. Every now and again I find myself overwhelmed by sentimentality and a vague feeling of regret, or maybe it's just remembrance mixed with a touch of longing. Then again, that's not a bad definition of regret, either...

I love music. Especially sad songs, though I can't really say why... Maybe it gives me a face and a sound to match with this pervasive sense of... something, I don't know. There are moments when I'm driven to clarity, when the enormity of it all, the vast interconnectedness that runs rampant in the world, the unfairness, the beauty, the passion and pain and the knowledge that it's all so damn fleeting... These moments come upon me and swallow me whole, and I'm left shaking from the overwhelming strength of that knowledge, like I can touch it, but it's too powerful for me to hold it, so you have to let it go, let it slip back down so you don't drown in it.

I may not be drowning, but sometimes I feel like I'm choking with no place to release that energy. There's a futility in being unable to express something that is ever and always so much a part of me. So much that I manage to put in my own way...

God, is the fear so strong? When did I morph into some sniveling, terrified, quivering mess? When did I become so much in doubt of my own capabilities, my own strength? Goddamn, I feel like such a stranger to myself sometimes. Occasionally, I miss that sort of fearless naivety that clung to me like a second skin. I'm sure it was annoying as hell to the rest of the world, but there was something ruefully admirable about it too.

That's it. Tomorrow is a new day, a whole new day for fuck-ups and successes. I will meet it valiantly, or at least not miserable.

Yeah. So take that!

Post 3 things you've done in your lifetime that you don't think anybody else on your friends list has done.

See if anybody else responds with "I've done that."

Have your friends cut & paste this into their journal to see what unique things they've done in their life.


Numero uno: I once had a multiple-girl orgy. Mind you, I'm mostly straight. This event can be attributed to a bottle of Jerry at the time and mind-numbing panic at being kicked out of my apartment.

Number two: I totaled my first brand-new car 6 months after I bought it.

Number three: I once punched a guy three times my size and broke his nose. (Suffice it to say, the bastard deserved it.)

I spoke with my mother today. My bunny is sick. There's blood in her urine and the vet doesn't know why. They think it's because she needs to get fixed, but they're only guessing.
I'm stuck here and there's nothing I can do, except wonder if I could've prevented this by getting her fixed sooner, like I knew I should have.
I don't know how I'll cope if she doesn't get better.
I miss her. I've been looking forward to taking her back to California with me.

I hope to God she'll be ok.

I love you, Bailey. Hang in there.