After scrolling through all my blog posts here from my Chico years, it seems all I ever write about is boys.
I am addicted to love. I can't seem to help how easily and quickly I fall for men, and how it has plagued me for most of my life. I'm not complaining, as I have been involved in many great romances, and many not so great. Regardless, it has filled my life with happiness and provided me enthralling stories to tell.
Surprise, surprise, I'm in love again.
Bigger surprise: I had mentioned him a few times in this blog back in 2008, the summer we first met. I specifically mentioned a day I ran into him and his friends at Beer Can Beach while floating, and we all hung out and shot gunned beers, but he was "being naughty and flirting with me much too much" considering he had a girlfriend. I even posted a picture of him four years ago, but had no clue what we would become in the future.
When I first met Spitzer, I considered him permanently friend-zoned since I met him through Mikey. After I found out he had dated one of my best girlfriends from Chico, I thought of him as even further out of reach. I had always thought he was a cutie and the life of the party, but in the same breath, knew he was probably out of my league anyway.
Over the years, we bumped into each other at parties and followed each other on Facebook, but were never especially close until this past year. Our easy conversations over FB chat turned into a bit of a habit, and I talked him through some of life's toughest moments over the Internet this year. I gave him my advice when he was wondering whether to break up with his girlfriend when he moved to New York (he did), and consoled him when his stepdad suddenly passed away a few months ago.
I stayed with Spitzer for a day when I went up to NYC for a job interview in late October. It was the first time I'd seen him in real life for more than a year, and I had forgotten just how delightful and charming he was. It was instant chemistry. We spent the day eating and drinking our way through the East Village, and shared years of stories over a variety of beers and bars. There was never an awkward silence or feigned interest, it was all lovely and fulfilling. After many nibbles, we had some hole-in-the-wall authentic New York pizza, then headed back to his apartment to change into our costumes for a night out celebrating an early Halloween.
As I became a bottle of spicy Sriracha, he slipped into a shark suit, and after some pre-gaming and assembling of our group, we headed out to take New York by storm.
After having a fun-filled night hitting up two house parties and a bar, we had slowly lost the majority of our group, and found ourselves walking back to his apartment alone.
Back inside, he put The Lumineers album on his record player, we smoked a bowl out of his dino pipe, and then he basically professed his feelings for me and told me I should move to New York.
"You're the cats pajamas," he said again and again. "You've got a heart of gold."
He sung my praises for what felt like an eternity, telling me what a talented writer I am and how I would thrive in the city. I was so stunned by his kind words I couldn't speak, and was reduced to exasperated body movements, pulling on my hair and throwing my arms up in the air, unable to say how I felt.
Throughout the night, we danced, we snuggled in his majestic memory foam bed, we kissed and we talked until the wee hours of the morning. Eventually, we fell asleep and woke late in the morning, missing our brunch plans.
We grabbed egg bagels on the way to the subway, and he kissed my cheek, gave me a bear hug and sent me on my way. I cried as my bus left the city and the boy behind me.
Since that encounter, Spitz and I have been electronically inseparable. Morning to night we are FB chatting and texting. He sends me music videos, I send him links, we have open and honest conversations, and I have never felt closer to someone who was so far away.
He's coming to visit me in DC in a week or two. I have never been more excited. I don't want to jump the gun, but Spitzer is everything I could ever ask for in a man, and we've talked about everything from where we want to live in the future to whether and when we want kids. I'm not going to make any bets, but my heart is filled with hope and love unlike anything before.
Love, love, love. It's the only thing I seem to be capable of.
Life has never been better. Let's get caught up.
Working full-time at the local daily paper, the Chico Enterprise-Record, and absolutely loving it. This is exactly what I want to be doing in life. Read a few of my stories, if you have the time:Freecycle: helping people and the planetSummer of Fire: Mother, daughter recall loss of homes and comforting gestureTrial date set in Glenn vehicular manslaughter caseChico should get a kick out of 'Liberty Let's Roll!'
Moved into my new apartment a couple of weeks ago. This place is PARADISE. I love it, I love my roommates, and could not be happier here. It's an adorable 3 bed/1.5 bath with washer/dryer in a super nice complex at the end of downtown. Pool, fitness room, basketball courts, trees everywhere, nice lawns, three playgrounds!
All the windows in our apartment look out onto an orchard, and the train goes right by our windows too (it's not anywhere near as bad as you think! It's currently passing outside my window, and I think it's cool and comforting). I have a bunch of plants out on the balcony and a little hummingbird friend. This apartment is my dream.
I have been outfitting my dream apartment with all sorts of things that I've been acquiring, mostly for free, off of Craigslist and Freecycle. I am addicted to free. And garage sales! I can't even begin to get into it, but suffice it to say, I've outfitted my entire apartment for under $100. Good shit : )
Oh, and how about my fantastic and unreal boyfriend? I took him home to the bay for a week, where he met all the most important people in my life and passed all the tests : ) He is so good to me. If grandma approves, he must be wonderful. I just love him more and more each day, and I'm pretty sure I want to spend the rest of my life with him. Scary.
This summer is going to be out of this world. Traveling all over the place (Tahoe, Hawaii, Mendocino, Disneyland, Susanville, SF, Santa Cruz, and more bay trips), working at the paper learning everything about the world, day trips and lots of fun around Chico, and lovin' from my baby : )
LIFE IS SO GOOD.
How are you?
Today I drag raced on bikes down Ivy Street. I was coming home from my final interview for the new WREC center, and was passing these two dudes going pretty slow. Two girls had already passed them, and as I came up to the side of them, one guy said, "Oh, another one who wants to race, huh?"
"Hell yeah!" I exclaimed, and took off.
We pedaled our hearts out for three blocks down the middle of Ivy, where random people on the sidewalks and in front of Riley's cheered us on. I was leading for most of it, but he pulled out in front at the end. We called it a tie.
"Nice night for a bike ride," he said, as he smiled sweetly and caught his breath in the balmy spring evening.
So I have a real boyfriend now. Like — wants to hang out with me all the time, does sweet stuff for me, stays in touch constantly, takes me to meet the parents — sort of boyfriend. Herein lays the problem....
-He wants me to go with him for Easter weekend to spend Saturday with his mom's side of the family (she specifically invited me, I saw the text message), and Sunday with his dad's side. It would basically be meeting every single member of his family. We've only been together for a month and a half. I'm terrified.
I'm about to turn 21 in....9 days. Holy cheese whiz. I'm even more scared for that. My liver is gonna shrivel up and die, and I will fail all my classes. I have 8 presentations/papers due THIS month. I don't wanna drunkenly make out with anyone while I'm blacked out (not that Aaron would let me). Oh crap. April is gonna get me.
Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil
Poppa's memorial was perfect. It was a release, a relief, a time to share, a place to grieve, and full of love. So many tears, so much laughter, stories I'd never heard, and family coming together at a tragic time. I love my close-knit family so dearly, and don't think I could get through life without them.
We walked to the park and let go of a bunch of white balloons to help carry him to heaven. The image of the flock of balloons floating above the trees, backlit by the intensity of the sun, and listening my grandmother weep softly next to me.....it will never leave my mind.
I feel bad for living out of the area at a time when my grandma needs me most. I'm one of the people she's closest to in the family, and I wish I could be there for her in this tough transitional period. She is so strong, but not invincible.
My heart aches with loss. I love my poppa dearly and will cherish his memory and the things he taught me forever. He was an incredibly kind, knowledgeable, patient, and loving man. He raised a big family of four wonderful boys and six grandkids, and we were his proudest accomplishment. That's saying a lot for a man who has a patent, worked for the army and CIA, developed all sorts of cool spy equipment and traveled all over the world. He will most definitely be missed.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life
dear you (oh, what should i call you?)... fuck you.
please don't visit me in my dreams tonight.
if you must, at least don't show up smoking a cigarette and singing show tunes. you know i can't control myself.
it's almost time, i think. do you feel it? it's happening.
long-rooted, deep-seeded, i'm standing here pleading and pleasing
for the passing of the seasons
is too much to bear
off into the distance
you will see it when it glistens
then snag it when the moment is right
poli sci 404 final tomorrow morning. i don't know shit.
My roommate is driving me nuts. I just have to keep thinking "only seven more months!"
This bitch steals my tampons, eats my food (or throws it away before I get to), skips me in rotation, used all my laundry detergent, takes my bodywash and leaves it in her shower, never does the dishes, broke my brand new George Foreman grill, has crazy loud sex at 8 at night, always has people partying here and never cleans up the mess, broke the futon and blamed me, lets dogs shit in our house, never apologizes for anything and basically has no regard for anyone but herself.
ARGH. I want to believe that everyone has roommate issues just as bad, if not worse. True?
my throat has turned into a tube of sandpaper. i speak in sawdust and splinters.
and as i breathe my tinder lies, the ants continue to parade around the kitchen, celebrating the cornucopia of culinary delights. no matter how many soldiers i demolish with my 409 shooter, they keep coming back for more.
all i want is the ability to suck in air without feeling like it's the end of the world.
San Francisco is a magical city.
It draws you in with its sneaky grid, and gets you tangled up if you aren't wise to the kinks of the boulevards. In the three days we spent living in the Tenderloin, the streets eventually became our home, passing crack addicts in the stairwells and encountering more than one prostitute on our way. It's those people that lend spice to the city, along with the variety of ethnic food we had within walking distance.
I went to San Francisco with my roommate Alie and our good friend Lance this past weekend. We left Friday morning and came home Sunday night. This trip was probably one of the best experiences of my life.
Our first day in the city we went to Haight Street. We shopped in my favorite thrift shops ever, and I tried not to spend money I don't have. Dinner was at an authentic Indian place called Chutneys, where we gorged ourselves on chicken tikka masala, garlic naan, vegetable samosas, and mango lassi. Then we went and checked into our hostel on Post Street.
Yes, hostel, not hotel. We were the only Americans staying at USA Hostel, which is supposed to be exclusively for international travelers. It worked out wonderfully, and we had our own room, saw young people from all over the world, and the hostel even threw a kegger on Friday night!!
One of the best parts of the trip was smoking blunts on the streets of San Francisco at night. Friday night it started to rain a little, but that didn't stop us from trekking the hills of the city to blaze. Nothing can ever capture the mini-dance-party we had walking down Leavenworth that night in the rain. So excited for LOVEFEST!!! That night in our room, sleeping in the top bunk, I felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, unable to sleep. It was also like 100 degrees in the room, and we had a long, noisy, bumpy night.
....sigh, I must go study for my TWO mid terms tomorrow. I have at least one test every day this week, and I have two big projects due on Thursday that I haven't started. Chico is so much harder than I expected. And I'm supposed to start freelance writing for the news section of the newspaper here too. So much to do!!
Stay tuned for LOVEFEST 08 (the magical, wondrous, colorful adventures) parts 2 and 3, and lots and lots of pictures!!
This country that we're living in is one giant evil entity. We are trapped, and getting further and further sucked in to the lifestyle and hype they are feeding us. They are leading us away from self dependency and into relying on the corporate realm. Everything is amassing into one humongous corporate identity and concept—to sell. To sell you product after product: things to make you young, things to make you skinny, things to wear, things to eat, technological toys to play with, the way to look, the way to think.
The problem with this is not in the greed and egocentricity it manifests in people, but in the fact that to get a job at something that interests me, I'm completely buying in (and selling out) to this grand scheme and concept. Sell it. Sell me, sell yourself, sell to win, sell for the company, sellSELLSELL!!
I think this is a part of why I hate the holidays. Christmas revolts me for the most part, anymore. Working in retail makes me absolutely sick, our holiday shirts make me suicidal. Starbucks has devoured my soul. I feel like an evil little lemming, pushing pounds of mid-grade coffee and disgustingly fatty drinks on the caffeine-addicted general public.
"Here, have some diabetes in a cup." Smile cute. Say their name. They'll love you forever.
Fucking hell, what am I doing with my life?
*This whole entry was inspired because I am procrastinating from writing my journalism2 class final essay: "My Eight-Year, Eight-Paragraph Career Plan". It's scaring me shitless.
What is there to say?
I greatly enjoyed seeing some of my best friends over this holiday break (Chrissy, Elham, Sachi).
I've had a migraine for three days straight.
My boyfriend's supercute and draws me pretty notes.
Yesterday I we got to meet Sachi's birthmom for the first time. Out of this world. It was so strange to meet this woman who looks
like Sachi, because no one else in the world does (except for Kimora Lee Simmons). She was so nice, very funny, has a beautiful
house, and a cute dog. Spent most of the day with her, and I'm so glad that Sachi finally had this opportunity to meet the person she came from.
Kindergarten. Best friends for then, for now, and for ever and ever.