One Time Deal

When I was 18, I saw a boy and the first thing that popped into my head was "Mine". I proclaimed that I had met my future husband, even though I had never spoken to the boy and had no way of contacting him. I just knew he would come back, looking for me. I was right, he came back several times. When we finally began speaking, my reaction was, "This guy could be my best friend". And he was.

Several nights after that thought, I met his friends. Upon meeting one of them, I thought, "I met the wrong guy first". Being 18 didn't help the situation. So, for nearly two years I dated my ex. For the first five months we dated, CJ lived six hours away. During this time, I'd run into one of his friends pretty often. It was the friend who made me think that I had met the wrong guy first. We exchanged numbers and hung out a few times. This did not make my ex happy. He told me that he trusted us, but that Chris wanted what we (meaning CJ and I) had. I pushed my feelings for Chris down as far as they could go.

The three of us made plans (through CJ) for Chris and I to move to NH to live while CJ finished school. I can only imagine what would have happened if that had panned out. Instead, CJ quit school and moved home. After CJ moved home, Chris would come along with him sometimes and play with my daughter at my house. We'd all go out together and I'd push and push and push until the little flutter I got when I saw him was almost unrecognizable. Except I could see that perhaps Chris hadn't pushed his feelings down as much as I had. There was always a special glimmer to his eyes when I saw him. I knew it was for me, because it always came out when he realized I was there. I did my best to ignore it.

We kept our flirting to a minimum. We did a very good job at trying to hide our feelings. I suspect now that CJ always knew both parts, both that the feelings were there and that we cared too much about him to act on them. Eventually CJ and I broke up. Chris was there to witness some pretty shitty things I did, and the crazy response it provoked in CJ. After CJ and I broke up, I tried to keep in touch because he had helped raise my daughter and I thought it was horrible for him to lose her as well as me. I saw Chris a few times during the clinging to CJ while wanting him gone phase.

After that was over, I didn't see any of them for a few years. I saw Chris's best friend while stuck in traffic one time, but, other than that, nothing. Then one day I ran into CJ and we went out a few times, and I took him to see my daughter. He wanted his friends to see her, so we went where they were. Chris was there. He hung back a bit, but, they had all seen what happened to CJ after I left, so I chalked it up to that.

CJ and I lost contact pretty quickly. I didn't see any of them for awhile. Then Chris showed up at the bar where I spent most of my time. I was so happy to see him. I asked about CJ, trying to reassure myself it wasn't my fault if he was doing poorly. He gave me the updates and left. We made no efforts to keep in touch. Maybe a year later, we started running into each other every couple of months. It was nice, and I always asked about CJ.

One night I saw Chris at a club. We started talking, and didn't stop. I didn't ask about CJ, and he didn't leave until the club closed. He stayed with me the whole time. We were singing along to a cheesy cover band, and his hand landed on my hip. It belonged there, I knew it. I felt the heat of it long after he had left. I asked him to call me, and he asked if it was still the same number. It was. He told me that he still had it from when I had given it to him about 8 years before that night.

He called, and I went to his apartment.

It was the day after Mother's Day. I had a shitty day at work, literally, and didn't even change. I just warned him about how I looked and went over. He greeted me with, "I thought you said you look like shit today". Then I pointed out an actual fleck of fecal matter on my shirt. He just shrugged and said I still looked good to him. We talked and it was slightly awkward because I wanted to jump in his lap and kiss him but didn't know if I should. I asked to see "Pulp Fiction" so he put it in. We watched the movie half-heartedly and chatted. When he got up for a drink, he sat on the floor, closer to me than he had been before. He edged his way closer still, until my legs were pressed against his body.

I reclined so my face was closer to his. We sat that way for awhile, touching but not looking at one another. I reached my arms around him and held him, trying to still everything in my body that was screaming at me. Finally he turned around and kissed me. It was one of the best kisses I have ever experienced and any doubts I had about whether or not it was my imagination that he had wanted me all those years were erased. I could feel the answer in his mouth. We kissed for awhile and I got up to leave because if I didn't, I knew I never would. I told him that, and he tried to lead me to his bedroom. I resisted, figuring I'd be back. I wanted to be clean and have smooth legs. Foolish pride.

He never returned my phone calls after that night. Perhaps I'd hurt his foolish pride. A few months later I saw him out again, and I mentioned how much I'd missed him and how I wanted to see him after the bar closed. He told me where he'd be. The only person who would go to the diner that night was my friend's married male cousin. We got along really well, so while I was waiting for Chris, we talked. What else would we do? I didn't see Chris that night. Broken hearted, I went home.

The next time I saw Chris a few months later, I told him I had gone to the diner and waited for him. I asked what had happened and he hissed at me. He told me he had seen me and that I looked "busy". I was confused and aggravated and told him that the only reason I was there was because I was waiting for him. Then I explained the whole married cousin of my friend thing and how he was the only one willing to come wait for Chris with me. He looked at me, halfway between anger and confusion and didn't say much after that.

The span of time between that and the next time I saw him was longer. Maybe it was six months or so. I had recently started dating someone new. I went up to Chris and whispered that I wished I was there with him instead. Again, he hissed at me, saying, "Well, then you should be." I'm sure the hurt and confusion showed on my face. I wanted to sort things out, but I certainly didn't want to have him hissing at me again. He left early that night.

The last time I saw him was probably two years later. I asked about CJ and moved along quickly.

Hormones

Hormones apparently affect my dreams. Every month for about three days, I get incredibly vivid dreams. This month was no different.

The first night my dream involved me caring for an infant who was neglected by his mother. His father turned out to be an ex of mine. The next night I had a continuation of an old dream, wherein my grandfather came back to life-- four years after he died. I think this time he died again and we all mentioned how it had happened before. The third night's dreams left me in a funk for half the day.

First, I had a sex dream, which I haven't done in a damn long time. Normally I would consider this a good thing, but not this time. It was sex with an ex. In the dream I kept asking about his real life wife, and he kept ignoring me. The fact that in reality he dated his now-wife's sister when he dated me, then flirted incessantly with his now wife (if not more than flirting) makes thinking about that a little unpleasant. Being hormonal and thinking of that really doesn't help.

Then I had a drunk dream. That was hard to take. I was drinking with my friend who passed away and left him with a mutual friend to go in search of someone who had written a list of things to do over the weekend, and they all included or centered around me. I was sporadically making out with my friend and stumbling around, searching. I got lost in what was the college in my dream. I peed all over my dress. I ran into people who knew me, but I didn't have the foggiest clue as to who they were. I slurred requests for directions. It was like a typical night for me used to be, only enhanced, dream style. At least dreaming made the people more attractive and the hallways nicer.


Despite the higher attractiveness levels, that dream sucked me in to a degree that I found damn near impossible to shake. I got up, walked around and still found myself halfway immersed in the dream. When I finally almost shook it off, I got upset by the fact that I was having drunk dreams. Then I got upset about the fact that my friend was in my dreams. Then I mentally added together all four dreams and got even more upset.

I walked around with my head in a fog and in a general funk until 2PM. Seriously? Why in the world should I let shit like that hurt so much? Damn hormones.

Running

The other day (week, whatever) I felt an urge I haven't felt in a long, long time. I wanted to run. (I mean literal running here, because I feel the metaphoric urge quite often.) It was a beautiful warm day, the sun was shining in a perfectly blue sky. As I walked with my son to the playground, my thighs were speaking to me. They were telling me to run, and run some more, and keep running. They wanted me to use them, and use them hard. I was kind of surprised that they remembered running, but they did.

The last time I ran for any length of time was before I had my daughter. I had never really run before that, I even got out of gym class most of the time. Her father was training to go into the Air Force. His running time was below where he wanted it to be, so he'd go to the track at the nearby college daily to work on it. I gained ten pounds or something, so he insisted I go along. (Just to be clear, we're talking I went from 113 to 123 and I'm nearly 5'8".) I, of course, didn't want to go.

Because I was an idiot, I went anyway. But I didn't run. Not at first anyway. I walked around the track while he ran lap after lap. Eventually he pressured me into running too. I'd walk a lap, run a lap. Running wasn't so difficult, after I got used to it.

Then one day some guy he knew was at the track, teasing him for being slow, and flirting with me. My ex wasn't pleased. However it happened, I got pissed off enough to race the fucker. I won.

He never mentioned me going back to the track again.

A few years after I had my daughter, I tried to run again, with a friend, in a different place. But I had boobs then and a bigger ass, so things jiggled when I ran. I had never felt that before and it grossed me out. I stopped after a quarter lap, and never tried again.

When my thighs were telling me to run recently, I decided that I will let them run again. I'm going to ease into it though, I don't want to get discouraged right away. This time, I will be prepared for the jiggling. This time I will do it for me, and not because some bully wants to show off. And I bet I'll kick ass again.

I've Found Him, Now What?

I have finally located my friend (OK, really someone who is much more than a friend to me). I sporadically Google his name and the university name, (hey-- don't judge, you know you do it too) and this time, I hit the jackpot. Sort of.

I found a LinkedIn profile that is surely his. I started my own LinkedIn profile with which to contact him.

Then I realized that I don't know what to say.

Or rather, that I know what I want to say, I just don't really want to say it. I want to say, "I miss you, I love you, I've always loved you, I want to see you again." Theoretically, I don't have a problem saying this. In reality, well, I feel like my life is so shitty and I've done so little that I can't say that. Who emails someone asking to get together and then can't even afford airfare, or gas money, or shit, even McDonald's? Me, that's who. And he wouldn't be surprised at an email like that. And he wouldn't be surprised at the response I'd have to give if he replied in the affirmative.

Therein lies the problem. This man is successful. This man saw me at my worst and wanted me to do better. He used to say I just needed someone to kick me in the ass and I'd be OK. But apparently he never wanted to be the one to kick me in the ass. I absolutely would've straightened myself out for him. I think maybe that's the problem. I think maybe he wanted me to do it for me, on my own. But I didn't, and I still haven't.

So now I'm sitting here, wondering whether it's worth it to contact him when I'm still the same old irresponsible fuck up I was before. Internally, I know I'm better than I was before. Externally, well, that's what's holding me back.

Anyone want to kick me in the ass?

Kitchen

We'd stumble through the swinging oak doors, into the commercial kitchen every night around 3AM. If someone had recently mopped, we'd slip across the red tile to the butcher block island, occasionally hitting our heads on the hanging pots above both long sides of the island. If we were lucky, most pots and pans were still in the sink, waiting for whomever was assigned the lovely task of cleaning them.

Most nights one of us would turn on the fryer. On a good night, we produced normal fried foods with which to stuff our drunken mouths. On a bad night, well, there were experiments with the fryer. Too many forgotten experiments led to the fryer being unplugged at night, or set on a timer, or something that our drunk asses couldn't figure out. Perhaps they simply started locking the pantry.

Before we got shut out, we'd all sit around the island on stools eating and talking and laughing. Whenever I had cramps I'd sit on the stool with my legs behind my shoulders. I can't imagine trying that today. I think my flexibility was directly proportional to my drunkenness.

Sometimes I'd cook. I earned the awe and respect of some older guys when I served up food that was actually hot all the way through, which was something they had never been able to accomplish at 3AM before that night. Sometimes if I knew one of my closer friends was on pot and pan duty, I'd try to help. Unfortunately, I ended up making more work a few times. One instance I remember clearly was running hot water into a grease filled pan until the grease melted, then dumping it down the drain because it was liquid and I could. I never repeated that mistake.

I used to get phone calls in the kitchen on a fairly regular basis. One of the guys who paid to live there would answer the phone, while someone else would roll his eyes, point a thumb in my direction and say, "I bet it's for her. No one else ever gets calls in here". Most of the time it was one of my friends calling from upstairs to tell me that he was getting ready to go to sleep and if I wanted to sleep in his room I needed to get my ass upstairs ASAP. Sometimes I'd get calls from around the country. That didn't always go over so well.

The thing about the kitchen was that it wasn't just a drunken hangout. I remember spending a lot of time in there during the day, doing daily domestic tasks with some of my closer friends. I suppose it was like any other "family", the kitchen was a focal point in our days. Life always seemed more normal in the kitchen.

Hmmph

Yeah, I know, I'm not supposed to whine about someone dying. But, damn it, did someone who was terminally ill for four long years have to die three days before I was supposed to have a weekend away from this area? Yes, that's mean. No, I don't really mean it, only kind of.

Of course the day my friend's stepfather died, I watched her three kids for her. Who wouldn't right? Well, the day before I wouldn't because I felt a little icky and my kid seemed feverish. That day, however, we both seemed fine. Until I came home at 3AM to find my son puking his brains out. Then I started shivering, etc. until 6AM when everything came pouring out of many orifices on my body all at once. I had to call my son's father to come take care of us. He had just paid an $8 toll that means he's nearing the end of his two hour commute. *shrugs*

Thank God he did. Not only were my son and I sick, but my daughter and father had the same damn thing too.

So I exposed my friend's three kids to the flu the day her mother's husband died. And now I'm bitching about my ruined weekend that I was rather unsure about anyway. Yay me!! I'm an asshole. I really wanted to leave the 70 mile radius from my house though. I haven't in seven years.

Where Do You Go When You Sleep?

When I drift off to sleep at night, I often find myself mentally traveling to the past. Usually I time travel to visit people and places I haven't thought of in years. I don't mean this literally. Well, kind of. I can distinctly see the (my?) surroundings I saw then, but, sometimes there are holes in the picture. I am aware that these thoughts came seemingly out of nowhere, and that they are not reality anymore. It's a half dream-like state, only it was once reality.

When my brain latches onto these images, I wake up and start thinking about the things that came unbidden into my mind. Sometimes I like to relive a memory in as much detail as I possibly can. I mentally walk myself through the scene once again, twelve or more years later. Often one image turns into many related images that have slept hidden for years. These are not horrible, evil moments, but simply moments. Sometimes I can see clearly now what I missed then, more often I just see how pathetically clueless I was (and may still be).

Usually when I have a particularly strong image emerge, I write about it. Due to logistics, and a half hearted hope that if I stay in bed I will actually sleep, I haven't been writing them out lately. But I want to. Oh, how my fingers itch to release the hazy, half formed thoughts, but clear images in my mind.

Spastic and Convoluted

I assure you the title is not just dramatization. So, I have this three city weekend planned in two weeks. My two friends and I are going to follow a band we've known forever. Mostly the other two have known them. I knew two guys, but never well, and never followed the band. One of my friends is flying in from CA to do this.

Here's where it starts to get convoluted. I'll attempt to simplify.

The girl from CA and I have known each other since Jr. High School. We've been friends, but never especially close. When we started to become closer, I stole her date to our third friend's wedding. We've gotten over this.

I have a crush on one of the guys in the band. He apparently has a crush on the girl from CA, and they made out at the last shows we saw. I'm going to pretend that I don't think the fact that she realized I had a crush on him and mentioned her date that I stole (and still talk to occasionally) right before that had anything to do with her approaching him. So, that is going to be rather awkward for me, but I can deal. I have already tried to squash my crush, blah, blah, blah.

Well, the crush guy invited us three girls to crash at another girl's house about an hour away from the farthest city from home. Yeah, I can see that going over well. We're not accepting, thank god. What is going to end up happening I can't say, as we will be staying in a hotel within walking distance of the bar. I have a feeling that at least some of the guys in the band will end up staying with us, rather than driving in the wrong direction for an hour. That will create weirdness too, but we'll ignore that now.

While discussing the plans regarding sleeping situations, my friend mentioned that our friend in CA asked to have someone else added to the guest list for the first show that weekend.

Of course it's someone from high school who emailed me out of nowhere the other month. He's single and apparently liked my myspace profile picture with it's good angles and freshly cut/highlighted hair. The picture is probably six months old. I've gained weight since then and haven't had another hair cut. I stopped emailing him back, (cuz I suck like that. Seriously, I found an email from a different friend that I have been meaning to respond to and realized the date is about a year old. O0pps.) and apparently he started emailing this other girl. Why the hell she invited him to the show, I don't know. Dear God, I thought this incestuous dating bullshit was well behind me. Make it go away. Please.

Maybe I'll just stay home for the weekend.

Positive Thinking

For awhile I was having a really rough time even getting up in the mornings. I spent a lot of time wishing I would just go to sleep and never wake up again. Then, fate threw a few little crumbs my way. I reached for them with both hands, desperately trying to pull myself back towards hope, towards life. I latched on to these crumbs, hoping they would turn into a whole meal. I decided that if I used the power of positive thinking, they could become whole meals, a whole new life.

So, they're still crumbs, and I'm still starving. (not literally, of course)

These crumbs lasted damn near three months.

Now family issues have turned this possible meal back into something to be swept away and discarded. I find myself feeling foolish for believing I could make something out of nothing. I feel the lack of support and warmth throughout me. I feel stupid for even thinking I could make it better.

I have to stop caring about these people who have proved time and time again, well, it doesn't really matter what they've proved. Or maybe it "shouldn't" matter. I have to stop being angry and I have to stop giving them the power to take away my hope. I just need to figure out how to do it soon.

Really?

I had a stupid weekend. Yes, my weekend was mentally challenged. I swear. OK, maybe it was just me.

I went out Saturday night even though we had 70mph winds, no electricity and thunderstorms. For whatever reason, everything seemed off. Someone I've been infatuated with for a very long time gave me some bs, and it just didn't help. In fact, when I invited him to join us, he said that he'd like to come along to see the show, but he's read my blogs and didn't want to damper my good time. Nice. Thanks.

So, of course, he was on my mind. Then I saw a guy who looked a lot like him (only bald and shorter) in the bar. I wondered if it was his brother. Then I thought about him some more. *sigh*

I found out that someone who had specifically said he didn't have a girlfriend a few months ago actually has been living with his girlfriend for the past two years. Also nice.

While I was bored I started telling people that I had gone out in the area where we were so often that people still come up to me to this day. Well, either come up to me or run away. I could tell they didn't quite believe me.

My "friend" from college showed up to see me. He keeps telling me how he's obsessed with me and wants me to indulge his sexual fantasies. Um, yeah, sure. There's a whole lot of back story there on exactly why that's ridiculous. Just trust me on this one. While I was trying to avoid being rude to my "friend" while also not encouraging him, someone came up to me. It was my "friend's" ex-girlfriend's good friend, who recognized me from ten years ago. That whole situation was a little weird, but the guy I hadn't seen in ten years was always nice to me. (From what I remember anyway.)

After filling me in on how the people I knew back then are doing, we chatted for awhile. He thought it was pretty weird seeing me out and about and kept mentioning it. He also mentioned that he wasn't quite sure it was me a few times. When he was getting ready to leave, he asked for my phone number. I felt safe giving it to him, only partly because he's gay. He called the number immediately, and I stopped him before he left a message. I explained that I don't know the code to access voice mail because the phone was a gift. Of course since I was pretty drunk by this point, I gave him the whole story.

The number is a NYC number that was purchased by a guy from Norway when he was visiting NYC and sent to me by a girl in Reno. Ed looked at me and said, "So you have a NY number via Norway via Reno?" I agreed. Then he said, "You really are Megan, aren't you?"

Good in Bed?

She leaned over, covered her mouth with her hand, and yelled into my ear, "Out of curiosity, do you think he's good in bed?". I looked in the direction she was looking, narrowed it down to one of two people, and guessed which one. I looked at my friend, hesitated, and wondered how much she knew about my thoughts. I had tried to keep my crush on the down low for several reasons, only one of which was the fact that she wanted me to fuck him a year ago so she could live vicariously through me.

I realized I hadn't really considered whether or not he would be good in bed. So I took another look, and decided. I formulated an elaborate hypothesis as I spoke. (Well, it was elaborate in a beer soaked way.) I told her I thought maybe at first he'd be awkward and perhaps not so good, but if you got him in the right mood, or if he felt comfortable, he'd probably be really good. She looked at me kind of strangely, and said, "You think?".

I elaborated more. Then I thought for a second.

"You did mean Jimmy, right?"

"No, I meant Matt."

"Oh him, yeah, he'd be fucking awesome."

Candy and Pretzels

Yeah, so apparently when you decide to go vegan it helps to have a plan. The only plan I had was that I am allowed to cheat on Friday night for awhile and have a slice of pizza. I found that eating little more than candy and pretzels makes you gain weight and feel like shit. I think I probably knew that already.

I tried two recipes from Veganomicon, Fresh Rosemary Focaccia and Coconut Lemon Bundt cake. The Rosemary Focaccia was excellent. Yummy. The Coconut Cake was OK. It took a lot longer than the recipe said and when I took it out of the oven the first time, it collapsed. So I smushed it back in the pan and recooked. It looked like hell, but it tasted good. A little heavy, but maybe that was because I had to use a Magic Bullet (no, not the good kind) to make my huge coconut flakes smaller, and they became almost flour like.

I tried hummus for the first time. I found a can of garlic free stuff, and I'm glad I didn't expend the effort looking for blender pieces to make the stuff. It's OK on pita chips, but not great. I"ve never been a big dip fan anyway though.

I thought it tasted like sour cream so I decided to play around with it and make twice baked potatoes. I added hummus, onion powder, broccoli and nutritional yeast in varying combinations to the potatoes and reheated it. The edition involving all ingredients was my favorite. It tasted cheesy, but not heavy or greasy, which is a welcome change from my usual twice baked potatoes.

I think maybe I'm getting the hang of this vegan thing.

Dear Gumby

Well, here we are again. It's that horrid day of the year. Every day for the past six years I've been reliving the pain of the first year. I don't go to the bar to visit you anymore though. It's just too much. I think this year marks the year you've been gone longer than I knew you. Heh. I bet 13 years ago you would've LOVED the idea that I would think about you at least once a day from then on. Oh, you would've been such a pain with that thought. I wouldn't have believed you at all either. Funny how shit works out, isn't it?

This year I find myself waiting for a check from the state treasury's bureau of unclaimed property. The state claims I had checks issued to me from a life insurance company about 16 days after you died. I never got (more likely I simply didn't open them), or cashed them, so the amount they were written for is sitting in the treasury department. I will probably never know why exactly they were written. In any case, I'm thanking you. I wish I would have thanked you more often when you were here.

Well . . .

There were two recipes I wanted to try that contained some semblance of actual food, rather than baked goods. I couldn't find all of the blender pieces to try one, and I couldn't find the most important ingredient for the other. The annoying part is that I had the ingredient in the closet at some point within reasonable memory. I think I tossed it because I said, "I'm never going to use this shit". Of course.

As of now, I haven't had any dairy or egg products. I can't say I've been eating especially healthy though. I started with some Runts Freckled Eggs (ironic, I know) and um, well, I had some pretzels and stone ground 7 grain crackers. I've also had some green tea, and I'm hoping it will work as an appetite suppressant like it's supposed to, so I don't go nuts and eat something (else) stupid. I've had nothing substantial to eat today, and it's really getting on my nerves.

I thought reading the cookbook and then gathering ingredients would be a better idea than blindly purchasing things, but apparently not when I have to wait until tonight to go to the grocery store. *sigh*

OK, well I made it through the day eating vegan. I also made it to the grocery store, but not the one that carries my lost ingredient. Oh well. At least now I have some fruit and olives and pumpkin seeds. Eating pretzels and candy really didn't make me too happy. Instead of losing weight, I'll gain it if I keep eating crap like that. Next time I go to the store, I swear I'll bring a list. I got all kinds of vinegars, broths, and little add ins, but, um, still nothing meal wise. I just might be clinically considered an idiot.

Vegan Start(?)

I decided to eat the things I already had in the house that contained dairy and eggs that I really liked (frozen pizza, whole grain blueberry pancakes) yesterday and then go from there. My reasoning was that it would be easier without those things around the house. I decided I'd start my vegan diet today.

I went to the bookstore and looked at some vegan cookbooks. I found several recipes in Veganomicon that I liked, so I just sucked it up and bought it at the bookstore price. I bought some peanuts, which, again, I shouldn't have in the house with my son, but, eh, . . . I settled in to read the book, eating some peanuts. It was then that I remembered that peanuts are not my friend anymore either. My itchy throat reminded me pretty quickly that I was an idiot. Benadryl is wonderful.

I found fewer recipes that I think I will use than I would have liked, but I did find some, so that's good. Apparently I will forever be omitting garlic, onions, and peppers from any recipe I find. I also have to omit nuts, and probably should omit soy. That doesn't leave a whole lot to work with in the book, but, again, a few things that sounded excellent, so I guess it's worth it.

The Benadryl knocked me out before I could go pee, so I woke up at 4AM. Then I remembered that I had also purchased a Cadbury Caramel Egg for a final time. So I decided that it didn't technically count as today until I wanted to get out of bed, and ate it, further solidifying my idiot status. Then I figured since I had that, I may as well have a coconut marshmallow while I was at it.

I've been doing well since re-awaking though-- mostly because I haven't actually eaten anything yet.

Going Vegan

I am planning to cut meat, dairy, and eggs out of my diet. I've been toying with the idea of vegetarianism for years, but always concluded that I don't like enough food other than meat. Now I'm calling "bullshit" on myself. Just because I hate onions, garlic, and peppers doesn't mean I can't eat vegetarian food. I can find recipes. I can create recipes. I have the time to do so. I'm not working. I don't have a car. What better way to spend your day than by doing something for yourself?

I never really considered going all out vegan before. I have cut out dairy to lose weight, but that was pretty much the extent of my feelings on it. Occasionally when I thought about dairy and eggs too much, I made myself queasy. The thoughts were fleeting. Often the thought of meat made me queasy, but I was, frankly, too lazy to do anything about it.

What changed?
I read a book.

No, it wasn't a "propaganda" book. It was a book on food science called On Food and Cooking:The Science and Lore of the Kitchen by Harold McGee. I've enjoyed Cook's Illustrated products for awhile now, and my favorite part has always been the science and methodology behind the recipes. I've been reading a lot lately and the cost was getting ridiculous. (no, the library is not an option) Then I saw the huge volume by McGee. I figured it would take a lot longer to read than the novels I was blowing through in a sitting. I was right.

I've only made it through the first two chapters so far. They cover dairy and eggs. The scientific explanations and reasons for why we use these products grossed me out completely. I thought about these foods in ways that I had only briefly considered. Reading about it confirmed that queasy feeling. Now I know that the reasons I vaguely disliked these products were founded.

The scientific, non-biased approach to the subjects affected me more than any biased reporting ever could have. I knew he wasn't trying to make me come to these conclusions, yet I came to them. That has a huge impact on me. I haven't even gotten to the meat section yet. That's next. I have no doubt that it will make me more than queasy.

I already tried to buy only free range / organic, local if possible, products. I knew about some of the ideals that were being broken in spirit, if not legally, regarding these products. I no longer think that is enough for me.

So I'll keep reading my book, and I'll figure out ways to eat "normal" things that are vegan. I think it will work. If it doesn't, well, at least I will have found some new, healthy foods to add to my diet. That can't be a bad thing.

Rebecca

I've been wondering for awhile what form of karmic retribution my evil behavior towards Rebecca would bring. I finally figured it out.

Rebecca was a friend of my ex. She was 14 years older than me, and I was a bitch about that fact. I knew she had a crush on Chris, and he refused to admit it. Hell, our first Valentine's Day "together", she invited him on a ski trip, and he went. Needless to say, that didn't make my 22 year old heart any more inviting to her. Of course, she was more of the problem than he was. Duh.

When I did meet her, I was shocked by how old she looked. She always directed our outings, and she preferred bars with an older crowd. I'd constantly rub in the fact that I looked younger than her by exclaiming loudly, "I feel too young to be in here!!" and things of that nature. Endearing, I'm sure. She'd pretend she wasn't rolling her eyes at me in front of Chris, but the second he walked away from me, the claws would come out.

He insisted she wasn't doing it on purpose. I wonder if he had to insist to her that I wasn't pissing her off on purpose too. I know he bitched at me about some things I said.

In any case, Chris treated me with a profound lack of respect. I put up with it, I felt it was more important to have him around than it was to make him stop playing games. Not something I'd recommend doing. Chris' friends treated me with the same lack of respect. He highly respected his friends. Getting the picture that it wasn't a fun situation for any of us?

Now I find my secret little crush growing larger and larger. (Sadly, I also find it shared by my daughter.) Enter karmic retribution.

My crush lives with a girl who is not his "girlfriend". She's younger and puts up with his crap regarding this lack of respect. See where this is going? Yeah, so do I. But I'm going to choose to not be Rebecca and make my move as soon as this girl finally sees the light. I'm going to see the light first, and force my crush to evaporate before it hurts.

I guess it's a good thing Rebecca was such a bitch.

Jeremy

"Do you know what your problem ish?" he slurred loudly while lurching toward me. I was standing by myself in between the bar area and the dance area in the fraternity house basement. It was either early on a party night or a pub night, the difference between the two was basically just whether the lights were dimmed or not. I just know it wasn't a party in full swing. I rarely drank in those days, so I often stood alone, watching, during social events.

Jeremy was the least favorite freshman pledge that semester. Even his blond hair and blue eyed cuteness didn't compensate for his ego. He was loud, and always right, at least in his own mind. He seemed to me to possess the arrogance of someone who was just pretending. I suppose overcompensating would be the correct wording. Of course I enjoyed him. I was always taken in by men who could exude even fake confidence. I drove all of the pledges home nearly every night, and he would insist upon being dropped off last. It made sense logistically, so I complied. Without fail, when we'd reach his dorm, he'd need help inside. I obliged, and eventually ended up tucking him in and leaving every night.

I'm sure when he asked about my problem I rolled my eyes and gave some smart ass answer. I'm sure I gave no indication I wanted him to tell me what my problem was. He leaned closer and told me anyway.

"You make too many short term investments", he started. I gave a slightly confused, yet bemused smile. I was clueless about anything financial. Seriously. He tried to explain that in investing you can either go for a short term investment or a long term investment. The short term investments had the potential to gain a lot of value quickly, but then you'd be done with them. The risk of loss was much greater there as well. Long term investments didn't gain at a particularly high rate, but over time, you gained more than a short term "big" payoff. He suggested that my uneasiness was due to the fact that I knew very small amounts about everyone in the room. He suggested I get to know people better, that maybe some people pay off in the long run rather than in the short term.

I still keep in contact with a few of the guys who stood snickering as I was cornered by Jeremy in the basement that night, twelve years ago. He was right, they mean more over time.

As for Mr. No Short Term Investments? He stole a bottle of rum one night a few weeks later and asked for an early ride to his dorm. He then offered to share his treasure. I doubt I need to go into detail about what happened later that evening. After that night, I never spoke another single word to him. He slept with some weird girl and left college for good, without a word to anyone a few weeks later. Sure, the fact that we never spoke again could've been because I made some unsavory comments about his prowess, but it could've been because he recognized himself in me, and that's why he gave me advice.

Crush

Lately I have been feeling something that I'm not sure I want to feel. Well, strike that, I've been feeling many things that I know I don't want to feel recently, but only one thing that seems strange to me. One thing that is different. One thing that is not the same old frustrating feelings.

I think I'm developing a crush on someone. That in itself isn't such a new thing. Well, it's a rather unused feeling as of late, but certainly not new. The way it's happening is new though. Usually when I decide I'm interested, it takes, oh, .2 seconds and WHAM!, there I am, completely and utterly infatuated. This crush is a long time in the making.

This crush, if that's what it truly is, has been building for over a year. Each time I see or talk to this person, I find a few more little things that I like, and he opens up a little more. Is this crush a mutual feeling? I'm not sure. Am I ever going to take a step to see if it is mutual? Eh, probably not.

Then why am I telling you this?

Simply because it's nice to know that underneath all of the anger and rage I've been feeling, that something else still lives within me. It's nice to know that maybe, just maybe, I'm approaching something in a correct manner for once. That guarding myself, while still letting someone in can happen. I don't have to open it all up immediately, or close it all off forever. Little by little, I feel more like a person and less like a victim of my life. That's got to count for something.