The Best of....

I feel like the word BEST is a very ambiguous term.

Dictionary.com had the following definitions of the aforementioned word:

1. of the highest quality, excellence, or standing
2. most advantageous, suitable, or desirable
3. largest; most
4. the highest quality to be found in a given activity or category of things

Pretty straight forward I think. Basically someone who can be ranked as #1 among their peers.

But where the ambiguity for me is how can someone truly be the best? Like first of all, who has the authority to rank anyone or hold a position that gives them the right to deem someone "the best"? Secondly, what if there's someone else out there who is better, but simply didn't throw their hat in the ring? So, I guess what I'm trying to get to is the word BEST is very linear and all based on perception. Really the word BEST is an opinion, not really set in stone.

Well.....I was totally under that mindset until this went to print today:

I got a call about 2 weeks ago from my publisher informing me that my book had been named to Kirkus Reviews Best of 2013 Indie List! I literally screamed out loud when I got the news, but was told to keep it quiet until the magazine went to print and the website was updated on 12/16. Can I tell you how hard it was keeping this quiet? Ok, sure...I may have told a few people (like the important people--my family and really close friends) but the vast majority were informed today via social media.

So....the word BEST. Maybe not so bad?
;)

For a full listing; here's a Link!

I'm super excited about this honor and am really hoping it leads to bigger and better things for me and my writing!

The Hills Weren't So Alive...

There are two things in my house that are pretty basic necessities and staples. These two things are Pork Roll--a breakfast meat that is very popular in the tri-state area --and The Sound of Music. Yes, Pork Roll is of itself hugely important and our house always has at least 4 packages of it in the fridge. It also HAS to be Taylor's. But The Sound of Music is almost like a religion to us.

We have it on videocassette, recorded from a television broadcast, on DVD--at least two of them--and the original soundtrack from the 1967 movie. If it's being aired, we all gather together to watch it or stay glued to it if we happen to channel surf our way to an airing. Collectively, we've probably seen it at least 1000 times. And my parents surprised us a few years back and took us to see the touring show when it game through Philly. And we all secretly want to plan a trip to Austria to see all the sites. As my Dad always says "It has everything! Great scenery! Great musical numbers! And Nazi's! You can't beat it!"

Now if The Sound of Music is our religion, then Julie Andrews is our god. Or goddess.

Like down on our knees, exultation and praise honoring her in all her British glory. Her voice is literally comparable to angels, and many tears were shed in my house when we all learned that her vocal chords were irreparably damaged in a botched surgery and she'd never sing again. "I'd sue them for all they were worth," my Dad says, in complete and utter outrage. Our love of Julie also transcends The Sound of Music, as our other love is for Mary Poppins. It's actually my Mom's favorite movie of all time.

Obviously The Sound of Music is beyond a classic in my house, and really in the entire musical theater world. The 1967 movie is something that has never been touched and really should never be recreated--it was perfect in every sense of the word. So needless to say, I was a bit miffed when I heard NBC would be producing a LIVE! telecast of the show in December.

Actually, I was a bit pissed.

What the hell is the point of touching a beloved classic? The original cast can never be recreated, so why even try? A travesty! A complete travesty!

But...I'll admit I was slightly intrigued by who they did assemble for the cast. Namely the leads; Carrie Underwood as Maria and Stephen Moyer (aka Vampire Bill from True Blood) as Captain Von Trapp.

Now it's pretty obvious that Carrie has the vocal chops for the role-- please YouTube "How Great Thou Art" and try not to get chills or cry--but I've never heard she could actually act. She was in that "Soul Surfer" movie a few years ago--and if you haven't seen it, don't feel bad, no one really did--but I didn't hear she was an acting prodigy or anything of the sort. And Vampire Bill obviously has the acting chops, but I don't think he's sang professionally before. But for me, him as a singer was kind of believable.

So on Thursday, December 5th my entire family and I assembled at my sister's house to watch the LIVE! Broadcast. We were all pretty excited. And it started....

And 3 hours later, it was over.

And my verdict?

Well....the scenery was pretty?

I'm sorry, it was just awful. Terrible. No good. Waste of 3 hours for me. So bad, that my best friend and I started texting back and forth during it. Here are a few examples:

 

 

 

 

Here's the thing. Carrie Underwood can't act her way out of a paper bag. Like she was so flat and one-toned. Kind of like she was more concerned about remembering all her lines than putting actual emotion or thought into the words she was saying in her dialogue. She was dead on with her vocals, I'll give her that but she should've kept her mouth shut for the rest of the show.

Stephen Moyer actually did a great job in the acting department but he suffered terribly from pitch problems. He was off key in just about every one of his songs, to the point that I was cringing and squeezing my eyes shut when his songs came up. It just wasn't good.

There were a few redeeming qualities--the Von Trapp children and Audra McDonald as Mother Abbess. The children were well rehearsed and on point at every turn. They obviously were a bunch of Broadway Brats and are used to the LIVE! aspect. And the scenes Carrie shared with them weren't as sufferable--she seemed to lighten up a little with them. And Audra McDonald. Wow. She was beyond great. Her rendition of "Climb Every Mountain" was astounding and I believe she will be nominated for an Emmy for her performance.

Overall, I was disappointed. But to be fair my expectations were pretty low. I may be in the vast minority--because I've heard a lot of people say they loved it--but I'm just not one of them. Sorry.

There's only one Julie Andrews.

And it's not Carrie Underwood.

Phobias

I think it's pretty normal to have a few fears in life. I'm not talking about fears that everyone has--like dying, or amounting to nothing in life. I'm referring to unique fears, fears that are particular to one person. Fears that have been cultivated and grown with time. Things that are truly crippling and can stop you from doing certain things.

For me, I have 3 major fears that have shaped my life in more than one way. And not always for the bad.

The first true fear I can remember--dating way back to when I was a wee Penny--is that of needles. You know, those sharp, pointy weapons of mass destruction they use to inject you with vaccinations at the doctors, when your mom swear there's no shot at this visit then you do have to get one and they swear it won't hurt a bit but in reality they are LYING and still jab you when you are least expecting it?

Yeah, those.

A fear of needles and shots is pretty normal for little kids. No one likes getting shots and being told you have to get one is not always a pleasant thought. But usually kids grow out of it, especially when they do in fact realize that the pain is momentary and by the time you exhale--from the large breath you take before they do it--it's already over. It's really all in your head.

But not for me. And this fear is something I still haven't outgrown. The last two times I've had to have blood drawn, I broke down in complete hysterics and basically had to be restrained. And I'm not kidding on the restrained part--2 rather large African American women had to basically sit on my lap and hold my arms down in order for the nurse to draw a few ounces of blood. I also accidentally/on purpose kicked one of them in the crotch while they were holding me down. Needless to say, I never went back to that doctor again.

On top of shots, I also was unable to get my ears pierced until I was 16 and I nearly fainted in the process. I also do not have any tattoos--which I actually really want one and have gone twice to get said tattoo but left both time without them. I also cringe every time I see a movie or watch TV shows that involve drug use and needles.

I guess my parents would consider my fear of needles a blessing in disguise, but it has definitely embarrassed me quite a bit. But I don't see it changing either--although I have gotten somewhat better as of late with giving blood.

My second fear of all fears is that of snakes.

Just looking at this picture gives me the willies!

Some would consider this a semi-normal fear. A lot of people abhor snakes and run from them at all cost. They're slimy, spooky, the epitomy of evil in a good Christian's view, and they can eat a person whole--have you ever seen the movie Anaconda? Yeah, that shit is no joke!

But my fear of snakes, is a bit more intense I believe. I literally get the shakes and feel faint. And run for the hills if I ever see one. Once, when I was 8 my dad took my sisters and I fishing off the Neshaminy Creek. I happened to catch a water moccasin--one of the most poisonous snakes in the world (in my opinion anyway). The minute I pulled it up with my rod and saw it, I dropped the rod, screamed bloody murder and ran for my dad's car. I wouldn't get out of it for the rest of the day. I also avoid the reptile house at the zoo, but that's a given.

So yeah, I'll never own a snake or date someone with a snake. Sorry fellas.

My last fear is probably the worst. It is my fear of heights.

I don't know what it is, but being up high and seeing the height scares the piss out of me. I start to hyperventilate and my legs start to shake beneath me. Then it gets hard to breath and I just break down in hysterics. It is my most crippling fear because it prevents me from doing quite a bit. I don't go on amusement park rides, I don't rock climb--which is something I funnily enough really want to try--climb high ladders, or go over suspension bridges. The worst one is probably the amusement park rides because it leads to pretty boring trips to Hershey Park or Dorney Park--I basically ride the iron bench the entire day.

But lately this fear has started to interfere with my job as well. We just moved into a new expansion in my building and everything is beautiful and new. One of the major plus's about this move is the storage they've equipped our department with. Which are huge shelves that rise about 10 feet high. In order for us to reach the top two shelves, they've also given us a set of rolling ladders. Kind of like the ones you see at libraries. Or the one below:

Well unfortunately part of my job description is that I have to organize everything for my department, which now involves me having to put all our samples on these shelves. So I have to climb to the top step of this ladder to get things on the top shelf. Obviosuly this is a major problem for me, and I've already had more than one nervous, tremor on the ladder and had to ask a coworker to help me down.

Yeah, it's that bad.

So now my whole department knows of my crippling fear which is a bit embarrassing. But it also puts me in a semi-vulnerable position because I work with a group of people who like to playfully jab at me. Which means I have to fear being thrown around on this ladder as a joke.


Those are my major fears. Feel free to comment on your fears so I don't feel so bad about mine. No seriously if you have a fear of squirrels or tin-foil, please comment below. We can be scaredy-cats together!

10 Steps to a Shiney Penny

I think I've done something similar to this before around my birthday and New Years, but I decided to make a list of ways to better myself. I've been going through a lot of different emotions lately and have been pretty depressed as of late---I think everything from the summer and beyond is catching up with me and it's making me question a lot about my life. I think part of my problem is that I'm starting to believe I am an "unlovable" person. Don't ask me why and it may be part of the delusion I've been experiencing lately, but I feel like part of my problem is that I don't truly love myself completely.

SO! I decided to be proactive with change and instead of making a mental list for myself and forgetting half of it in a week, I'd write it down and hold myself accountable to it. I came up with 10 changes I'd like to see. Here goes:

*Sorry if this was melodramatic or if this post isn't too entertaining to most, but this is something I almost feel like I need to do at this point*

    1.   Become more understanding and less judgmental

*Major hangup. I tend to make snap judgements of people too quickly or listen to what others say before I make my own decision. As a mature woman, I shouldn't do that. It sells myself and others short and I could be missing out on something fantastic.

      2.   Stop Lying

 *I lie about the stupidest things, just to get myself out of situations I don't want to be in. Like they aren't huge, life-changing lies but they are still untruths. It can be as simple as lying to my aunt (who I work with) about lunch plans, just because I don't want to spend an awkward hour with a woman I don't particularly like. I know everyone does it, but I do it WAY too often and with people I shouldn't be. I need to start being truthful.

    3.  Trust people

 *This goes hand in hand with lying. Because I know I lie a decent amount, I assume everyone does the same. Due to this, I never trust what anyone says to me. If a friend bails on dinner plans because they "aren't feeling well" I call bullshit without a second thought. I think it's a defense mechanism because I've been let down so often, so I get pissed instead of bummed. I need to start trusting people if they deserve that trust. 

   4.  Reach out to friends and family more

 *I have a tendency to let things well up inside of me and let it simmer until it's ready to explode. I don't like asking for help or reaching out to friends or family for support in times of need. I don't know why, but I always feel like a nuisance and don't want to bother anyone. I'd rather deal with it on my own--which is never dealt with. Support is what friends and family are there for, and I need to take advantage of them a bit more.

   5.  Stop being so needy in relationships

  *It's just not attractive and makes me look like a whiny little girl. I need to stand on my own two feet. I don't need constant attention or "I'm thinking about you" to get through my day. It's nice to have these things, but I shouldn't be seeking it at all hours of the day. I believe it's one of my major pitfalls and I drive people away.

    6.  Always be myself in a relationship
 
 *I tend to lose myself a lot once I'm with someone. I get involved with their activities and interests and forget about what I love to do. I feel like I do that to try and prove to the other person that I am their perfect match, when in reality I'm not and I'm almost disappearing in the process. It's not good. And I always end up bored and pissed.

   7.  PATIENCE! PATIENCE! PATIENCE!

*My Achilles heel. I've never had it with any aspect of my life and it has screwed up a lot of things for me. I end up rushing through things or not depending on other people when I should. I need to start letting things flow at a normal pace. Take a breathe and realize eventually things will get done and not everyone works at my pace.

   8.  Stop lashing out or being a bitch 

 *Another one of my faults. For some reason, I lash out on the people who love me the most--particularly my family--when it's completely unwarranted. Like if my mom asks me what I'm doing tonight, I will freak out or be really short with her. Usually its due to stress or the fact that I feel like my mom is incredibly nosey and has to know everything, but I shouldn't react like that. It always leaves me feeling awful and I need to stop it before I ruin relationships.

   9.  Be a better friend and sister

 *I want to work on all my relationships to an extent. I need to reach out and be a better sister and friend, especially because I want the same from my sisters and friends. Relationships are a two-way street; I can't expect them to come to me all the time if I don't go to them equally. I need to be there when they need me and be a better confidant.

   10.  Get out more and try new things

 *When I'm feeling down and depressed, I will stay locked in my room and talk to no one. I shut out the world and just wallow in my self-pity. Doing that doesn't help in the least bit. It makes it worse! I need to go out again--start enjoying life a little more and actually living. I need to try new things and find new hobbies. 


So there you have it! My ten steps to a new, shiny Penny! It's a lot to try and complete, but I don't think it's impossible. I'm also not setting a time limit on this, so I can work on it little by little. I just know I can't keep living the way I am, and I am serious about a major overhaul on my personality and day to day life.

Wish me luck!

Hit and Runs and Neck Braces

I am a very squeamish person. I get scared easily and am usually "that girl" who jumps 5 feet in the air when someone walks up behind her unexpectedly--my co-workers recently found this out, and have started doing it on purpose. But, I am the most squeamish when it comes to blood and injuries. Whenever I see blood, I can literally feel my legs going weak and my stomach turning. I can't watch videos on surgery or even shows that involve people giving shots or anything that involved needles. Once, I had a phone interview with a company that sold medical equipment and they asked, "So would you be okay being in surgeries and watching the instruments being used? We have to ask because the last girl we had dropped like a sack of potatoes when the first incision was made. She split her head open." I did a nervous laugh and said, "Yeah....that'd be me."

Didn't take that job obviously.

I actually like to avoid hospitals at all costs, because just the smell makes me nervous.

But this past weekend I had my first ER visit as an adult, and it's sure to be one I'll never forget.

On Sunday, my sisters, my mom, newborn niece and I decided to drive out to Peddler's Village (by New Hope, PA) for a little girl bonding and to look for some of the things my older sister still needed for Maggie's Christening in 2 weeks. It was a relaxing afternoon and Maggie Jane was a perfect baby as always.

Isn't she perfect?

While enjoying a quick lunch, my younger sister Kate got a call from my Dad. Kate had asked my Dad if he'd vacuum out her car while we were gone, which he had no problem doing and also wanted to surprise her by waxing up the dashboard. So while crossing an intersection in her car to the local supermarket to get the wax, he was t-boned by a car speeding through the red light. Worst part of it, the car didn't stop, but just kept going.

People are legit assholes.

My dad was okay--the majority of the damage was to the back driver's side door and luckily the airbags did go off. He was very dazed, pretty bruised from the airbags deflating and he blacked out for a good 10 minutes. Luckily people around him pulled over to make sure he was alright and called the cops. But he wanted to go to the hospital--which if you know my dad is a rarity. He almost cut off his foot a month ago when we dropped a power saw on it, but instead of having my mom look at it (my mom's a nurse), he bandaged it up with duct tape.

So naturally, we hauled ass home and my older sister called her husband to go over to the accident and make sure he was okay. Five minutes later, my brother-in-law calls my sister to say my dad had decided to drive the car home--not thinking of himself but not wanting my sister to have to pay for a tow. Yeah he's crazy. And then when we finally get home, he's not laid out on the couch but in the garage cleaning it out.

We wanted to kill him.

So like a small army, we all herded into 3 separate cars and coordinated who was going where--my sister needed to drop the baby at home with her in-laws, my other sisters had to pick up my mom's car there, and I was taking my parents to the hospital. Luckily, we live 5 minutes from the closest hospital and besides the car that was speeding and cut us off--to which my dad replied, "Are people trying to kill me today??"--we got there unscathed.

When we walked in, we immediately had to sign in, my dad was given a wheel chair and he had to fill out his medical information. He turned to my mother and goes;

"Jane what's the date?"
"It's the 27th."
"Oh ok....don't forget to pay the Macy's bill later."

I almost peed myself laughing. My dad had just been in a major car accident and that's what he was worried about. My mom shushed me and looked very embarrassed as the triage nurses took my dad back to examine him. After they gave him the once over--and gave him a neck brace to wear--they wheeled him into the waiting room and told us to hang tight until we were called to go back in to the separate rooms.

So we waited and waited. About 2 hours in, my Dad finally got called back. Unfortunately, only 2 of us could go back at a time so I had to wait even longer. About an hour later, this is what I walked back to

Sorry, I couldn't flip it for some reason

And I am 100% evil because I burst into uncontrollable laughter when I saw him. I really couldn't help myself and am still laughing looking at this. Yes, I am fully aware my father could have died that day but the neck brace just killed me. I think my mom was pretty embarrassed so she kindly asked me to go back outside until I could compose myself.

I stayed out in the waiting room for awhile lol.

While waiting again, the ER started to fill up pretty quick. It was standing room only for the last 3 hours of our time there--in total we were in the ER for 6 hours, which my Dad was NOT happy about. And I guess I forgot that people come to the ER with actual emergencies. Like my Dad was relatively okay, he just needed a once over to make sure. But the people I saw were not. There were babies crying, a man sitting next to me in a wheel chair who had 3 rather larger puncture wounds in the back of his head--I don't wanna know how he got those-- a girl who wouldn't sit down until she was allowed back to the rooms (I have a sneaky suspicion that she was incredibly strung out or high), a family of 5 people whose father just had a heart attack and were waiting for test results (very sad, I wanted to reach out and hug the little old lady who I assumed was his wife), and a man who had a lacerated hand whose bandage kept falling off and was dripping blood everywhere.

That last one I almost passed out. But generally, it wasn't as bad as it could've been.

Time went slowly, and eventually--3 hours later--my Dad had an X-Ray and a CAT scan and everything was fine. They gave him some pain meds and told him to take it easy. My sisters and I all snuck back to his room at that point to figure out what we were doing next. All my Dad wanted was "a huge slice of pizza and a cheesesteak." So my sister and I started calling around to all the local pizza places, trying to find one that was open at 11 on a Sunday.

And I guess I made the mistake of turning towards a commotion in the hallway outside of my Dad's room at the exact moment they were wheeling a patient back. Well the patient was a firefighter who had just been brought from a fire and had extreme injuries. Of which I saw all of them. I can't even describe it without feeling sick. After they wheeled him by I had to run to the bathroom and puke. Oh god it was awful, and I found a new respect for that profession.

Needless to say, I texted my sisters from the bathroom and asked them to meet me outside. I was NOT going back there again.

So, Sunday was an extremely eventful day. My Dad is fine, back to his old self and not in an ounce of pain. My sister's car is totaled and she is now dealing with the insurance side of the accident. The cops aren't hopeful that they will find the fucker who did this, but we are just happy my Dad is okay.

Really hoping it's awhile before my next ER visit.

Even in a hospital, can't change him

Push To Publish

I've never been too active in the writing community. When I was in college, I was part of a writers groups that met every two weeks to bounce ideas off each other and workshop new pieces. It's how I got the majority of my book finished. And really it was just a great way to socialize with people who were like-minded and had the same goals.

Once I graduated, I fell off the bandwagon. I attempted (twice actually) to pull a group of writer friends in the Philadelphia area into a structured group, but it never came together. Schedules and "reality" just got in the way, and I never really pursued it further. I still have a friend or two who I consistently send works to, but we don't meet to hash out ideas.

To be honest, I've really missed that "round table" workshop type of feel. It was nice to be surrounded by a group of people who supported you and your work. And the best advice I've ever gotten has been from a peer in a workshop setting. It's also a great way to talk out ideas, especially if you're stuck or going through a bit of the dreaded "writers block".

So lately I've been looking for some sort of an outlet to pursue. And I guess I've been looking in the wrong places--I tried my local library to no avail, and found a few interesting/shady listings on CraigsList (which I obviously did not go to). Then I got this in the mail:

I subscribe to the magazine Philadelphia Stories, and get their publication once a month. This came inside my August issue--an advertisement for their annual Writer's Conference at Rosemont College. An all day event, from 9 to 5, that would focus on getting your work out there in the public eye. For $75, breakfast and lunch would be provided as well as the 3 workshops on various topics and (the big draw) the chance to sit down with literary agents and editors. It's the chance to get someone in the industry to sit up and take notice.

Naturally, I paid my $75 and registered. The chance to pitch my existing novel and my new one is an opportunity I couldn't pass up. So for the last two weeks, I've been compiling writing samples, writing up book proposals, printing all coverage and reviews of my current novel and putting them into a packet format. I went a little crazy--I started laminating bits of it and it looked AWESOME! I was ready, prepared, and excited to pitch.

The Thursday before the conference, a reminder e-mail was distributed, giving a final timeline for everything with the next day and also confirming the agents and editors for the next day. Signing up for the "Speed-date with the Agents"--a 10-minute meet and pitch--would be at registration BUT at restricted to availability when you got there and to have back-ups prepared. NO MEETINGS were guaranteed but basically a crap-shoot and depending on who was still available when you got to registration. The doors to Rosemont's library (where the event was taking place) would open at 8:30 and not a minute before.

Wasn't really sure how to take that e-mail. Would it be that crowded that I might not get to see who I wanted? I had never been to one of these things but I assumed the e-mail was like a "worse case scenario". Still, I decided I'd get there at 8:30.

Well, apparently I should have gotten there at 8 because the line was already out the door at 8:30. And by the time I got to the registration desk, both agents I wanted to see were booked. I was a bit pissed, but I settled for an editor I had on my back-up sheet.

Now the one part I hate about these type of things is the networking aspect and really going alone. I'm definitely not the type of person to go right up to someone and strike up a conversation. I am reserved and a bit shy when it comes to unfamiliar situations. I just don't like doing it and I attempted to sit at a table that was empty and I wouldn't be forced to talk to anyone. Unfortunately, the event was packed full as my table became. After a few awkward moments, I joined in on the conversation my peers were engaging in--basically what we were working on, bitching about the "cattle call" of registration for the "speed dates", and if any of us had had things published before.

Now I have to draw some attention to the fact that by industry standards I am young. Writing and getting published is typically a mid-30s profession--and most don't see any success until much later. I am completely aware of this. Another aspect of this is that I appear to be a lot younger than I truly am. Most people, when meeting me, have a hard time believing I'm on the "wrong-side of 25". I get it and I'm used to it. So I fully expected to be the youngest at the conference, which I'm pretty sure I was. Almost everyone there appeared to be in their upper 40's late 50's. Then the woman next to me asked, "So are you a student here?"

I had to laugh a little bit. "No. I graduated from undergrad almost 5 years ago."

"Oh wow! Well trust me honey, you'll love compliments like that 10 years from now."

Soon after, I was able to meet with my first of 2 editors in my "speed date". The first was a local woman who has her own business. She was extremely nice and cordial--was very interested in both my current novel and my new project. She flipped through everything I handed her, gave me some advice and then offered to work with me. Which was great. I definitely feel like my next project will need a bit more polish and preparedness if I want to pitch it to a stream-line publisher. My next meeting was with the managing editor of Philadelphia Stories. He actually sat there and read the first chapter of my new manuscript and gave me great advice in regards to character development and what to cut. It's advice that I am already applying to rewrites and am very thankful for.

The rest of the day flew by. I heard a lot of interesting things about marketing and being proactive in the search for the perfect publisher/agent/editor etc. I met a lot of nice people and gave my e-mail and information to keep in touch--which I hope I do. Although I didn't get exactly what I wanted out of the day, I still walked out with more than I went in with. It was definitely worth a whole Saturday and I'm going to look around for more to attend in the future.

Write On!

The Tale of the Haunted DDD

I'm pretty sure everyone in the world has a ghost or supernatural story they love to tell to friends. It could be a creepy experience that happened to them or to "my sister's best friend's mom's third cousin's ex-wife"--and reciting that exact connection is always important to the story. Usually these tales are a bit embellished for dramatic purposes--"And I swear, I felt something pass right through my body" or "I have the picture to prove it!"--and most of these tales would be considered a "Big Fish" Story; where the story has been so twisted that even you start to believe it. The listener doesn't really know if the story is real or just a figment of the teller's imagination, but really it doesn't matter. These stories are always incredibly entertaining and really gets you thinking, "Wow...maybe there is another plain of existence for the dead."

I don't know about you, but this is the exact scene that I think of when I mention "other plains of existence for the dead." And if you don't recognize this.....well, shame on you!

Truthfully, I don't have one of those stories. I know! Very shocking as I pride myself on my story-telling abilities. But really, I've never experienced something so spooky that I attributed it to the supernatural or a ghost. I've never had things mysteriously levitate before my eyes, seen an apparition floating in a graveyard or on an abandoned highway, or heard voices in an empty house. And trust me, I've tried! I love that kind of shit! And will even seek out creepy places--like Byberry Insane Asylum, that's right by my house and apparently one of the most haunted places in Philadelphia--just to try and catch a glimpse of something creepy.

The only thing I can contribute my lack of supernatural occurrences is the fact that I haven't really had a lot of death in my life. I don't have a relative or a friend who I was very close with die suddenly--the only being my maternal grandfather when I was 6, but I have very few memories of him to begin with. Sure, I've had great-uncles or acquaintances die unexpectedly, but I don't feel like any of these would require someone to haunt me, or linger on with the need to speak to me. Not that I don't have departed people who I would love to speak with again--there's actually one in particular who I wish would visit me--but it just hasn't happened.

Well Sunday night I had something incredibly weird and freaky happen to me and I can't think of a reasonable explanation. I don't know if it was truly supernatural, but it definitely scared the shit out of me.

On a whim, I decided to drive to Reading to visit a friend from college who was home visiting his parents. I really had nothing going on, so I didn't think much of making the hour drive at 6:45 at night to a place I had never been to, when it was also pitch dark outside. Probably wasn't the best idea, but luckily I have a GPS and I always trust it with my life. And I'm not kidding--I literally could not function without it. My parents gave it to me for Christmas one year, as I am constantly getting lost which usually leads to massive panic attacks. So, the GPS was a way of saying, "Here, use this. Stop calling us, hysterically crying when you get lost 2 miles from home." It's pretty bad, I'll admit. But the GPS puts my frantic mind at ease when I am driving somewhere new.

Mine is NOT this nice

And an hour later, I got to my friend's house with no problems.

We hung out for about 3 hours, but it being a Sunday and me being in the real world, I knew I had to leave at a somewhat decent hour because I had work the next day--and an hour long drive ahead of me. Didn't want to leave, but I knew I had to be on the road by the latest 10:30. So at 10:15, I jumped into my trusty PT Cruiser, but the key in the ignition, punched my home address into my reliable GPS, and pulled out of his neighborhood.

Easy enough.

Until my GPS had a seizure.

Within 2 minutes of pulling onto the Pottstown Bypass, the screen of my GPS went blank, turned off and then turned back on. It stayed frozen on the welcome screen for a few minutes, then the GPS lady started yelling out directions but didn't show anything on the screen. Then it went off again, turned on and sat on the "Calculating Distance" screen for another eternity. Again, the GPS lady  (or bitch as I started calling her) starting screaming at me to "MERGE ONTO THE POTTSTOWN BYPASS"--which I was already on. Naturally, I started to panic. I pulled over on the side of the road, thinking maybe I'd turn it off for a few minutes and allow whatever glitch to figure itself out. I stayed there for a few minutes, then turned it back on. I re-entered my home address and allowed the map to load. Everything seemed fine so I pulled back onto the road.

Then it crapped out on me 3 more times.

I didn't know what to do, so I pulled over again--this time in an abandoned parking lot--and turned it off. I was incredibly tempted to just chuck the damn thing out the window and head back to my friends. On top of that, I had just watched an episode of COPS where a girl was parked in an abandoned parking lot on the phone, the cop thought it was suspicious and came up to her and hauled her in for a warrant. Not that I have anything on my record or was doing anything bad, but having a cop shine a bright flashlight into your face is not appealing.

I figured I had to at least take my chances. So I pulled back onto the bypass and started to drive--I knew I was on that road for awhile and it eventually led to the turnpike. At least I hoped. My DDD ("demon direction device") continued to freak out. Now it was just flashing the word "AHEAD" over and over again. I still attempted to tap the screen and replug my address in, but it was having none of it.

And like a sign from God, I saw the overhead sign that read "PA TURNPIKE".

"Thank you Jesus!" I screamed and sped down  the highway. Literally hauled ass to the safety of the turnpike, where at least I knew where I was going--literally just straight, can't screw that up. I merged onto the turnpike lane, went through the toll, and drove forward to my entrance.

I'm not even kidding you, the second that I turned onto the turnpike the DDD flashed and everything was fine. The map was on the screen, the GPS lady (yes, she was a lady again) was talking calmer (in my mind anyway) and it was giving me correct directions. I was on my guard, waiting for it to spazz out again but the rest of my ride was completely uneventful.

Too uneventful.

Which got me thinking.....

Was something tapping into my GPS? Was there someone in my car deliberating causing it to go haywire and stall me? Was my GPS possessed?

I have never had an issue with it before--sure it has taken me on asinine back routes, but all GPS's do that to an extent. Yes, it's about 3 years old, but I rarely use it. Also, when I'm not using it, it is safely packed away in my glove compartment so it wasn't overcharged or burned out either. And if there was truly something wrong with it, why would it all of a sudden be fine again?

Makes absolutely no sense.

Maybe something was with me that night....protecting me from something on the road. Or just screwing with me for the fun of it.

I'll never know.

But I still get goosebumps thinking about it.

"I'll Just Take A Shot"

I'm attempting to pull myself out of my sad, "woe is me", crying victim mood I've been in the last few weeks. I know my recent posts have been pretty over-dramatic and semi-boring, and I do apologize. I'm sure I've turned quite a number of people off of my blog,  just because of my attitude. Trust me, it's not intentional and I wish the last few weeks hadn't happened.

So in an effort to start fresh, I thought I'd describe a bizarre event from my weekend.

Ok?

Ok.

My friends and I don't do many big trips together. We don't get a shore house every summer, go on long weekends up the mountains, or plan week-long vacations to tropical islands. I don't know why--whenever we hang out, we always have a blast--but we just don't.

Now there is one thing we never miss. Even if any of us has things going on, we still make time for it. Schedule our lives around it. Put down payments on it 6 months in advance.

That would be Wildwood's Irish Weekend.

 

The last official weekend of summer (meaning the second to last weekend in September, when Fall officially begins. NOT Labor Day, as many believe), the Jersey Shore gets flooded with green, orange and white for 4 straight days of beer, vendor food, beer, make shift stands selling Irish gear, beer, Celtic dancing and music, beer, and debauchery.

Did I mention beer?

Wildwood closes down one whole street, right by it's 6 major bars in the area (Keenan's, Westy's, Flip Flops etc.) and allows merchants to set up a street fair. There's live music and bands playing on the street and in the official Irish Weekend Tent, you can buy a commemorative "Irish Weekend" cup and drink beer as you walk around (until 9 pm then the cops will smack your full cup of beer right out of your hand. No lie, I have seen it done) and buy as much Irish gear as your little hear desires. The bars have extended hours and Irish specials, including all the major Celtic bands from the Jersey Shore and Philly.

It's seriously the best.

My friends and I (there are 11 of us now, as most of my friends are in relationships or married) usually rent a condo right off the strip for the whole weekend. It was a perfect location as we could run back and forth to the house whenever we needed to (to use the bathroom or refill our cups) and we could individually leave the bars whenever we wanted and not be afraid of someone walking home alone. We always got the same condo, in the same building but for some reason, this year we could not. Seems someone bought our unit--assholes-- and we were homeless for Irish Weekend. Luckily, my friend was able to find us another place, equally as close, but it was almost a duplex--a house split into 4 different apartments. It wasn't as nice, but the price actually turned out to be better and it had a great view.

So by Friday night, all 11 of us were finally in Wildwood and Irish Weekend was in full swing. We started early and were done pretty late. That first night, I think we stayed out until almost 3am and only left when we were all starving. Luckily, our house was conveniently right across the street from a 24 hours McDonalds. Needless to say, we emptied the place and were not quiet when we finally stumbled into our house. We were pretty loud, I'll admit--something really funny happened while we were waiting in line at McDonalds and we were still laughing about it. But I don't think we were up for more than an hour--long enough for everyone to eat and blow up their air mattresses.

The next day came and went as usual. We got up semi-early, drank through our hangovers, went to the tent to see the Irish Dancers perform for an hour or two, came back to the house, took naps, then got ready for round 2.

At about 7:30, we were in full party mode. There were about 15 people in our house--random friends of friends who were drinking our beer and being kind of rude to us--and things were getting intense on the deck with beer pong. At one point, two of my guy friends had gathered up some of the cans to take outside to the trash. When they opened our door, they were greeted by our upstairs neighbor. Now from the kitchen, we could hear the majority of the conversation going back and forth between the three of them and we knew they were complaining.

"It's 7:30! What do they expect! It's Irish Weekend," one of my friends whispered as we all tried to listen to the conversation.

A few minutes later, my friend came back and told us what happened. Apparently our neighbors upstairs were a group of old women who were not too happy with how we came back "screaming at 3am the night before." And would rather take it up with us then get "...you know....them involved," meaning the cops. The woman asked if we could please keep it down tonight.

Naturally we took the threat pretty seriously and at that point kicked all the un-knowns out of our house. Then we discussed the whole situation as a whole.

There were 3 things we all agreed on:

1. We were not THAT loud the night before. Yes, we may have been obnoxious when we first came in but it lasted no longer than an hour. We were also in the house with the doors closed, and not on the deck.
2. It's Irish Weekend and we were staying a block from where everything was going down--sorry ladies, you signed up for this! If you wanted quiet and peace that weekend, you should have rented in the Crest. Sorry
3. Those ladies had no room to talk. "When we walked back in to the house this afternoon, I saw 3 of those ladies passed out on the stairs with pizza boxes all around them,"recalled my friend Jess.

All that aside, we agreed we'd try to be quieter when we came in that night.

At that point my friend Danielle walked into the hallway to go back to one of the bedrooms by the front door. As she walked by the front door she noticed it wasn't completely shut and was being nudged open. She opened the door, only to find the same woman (the confront-er from upstairs) standing there, tapping the door with her index finger.

"Hi! Um...can I help you?" Danielle asked.

"Yea. Hi! I wanted to come in and hang out with you guys. Is that okay," the "confront-er" said. Danielle really wasn't sure what to do so naturally she just let her in. So she came right in and introduced herself as Marilyn, our 65 year old neighbor from Brooklyn.

"So what we drinking," she asked looked at all of our shocked faces.

"Um....beer," I said, still a little stunned.

"No shots? I want to do a shot with you kids," she said, making her way over to our fridge and counter of snacks and liquor.

"All we have is tequila," my friend Lyndsay said.

"You don't have anything else," Marilyn said, pulling empty bottles from our stash and looking quite disappointed.

"Well we're just drinking beer today Marilyn. Very sorry we're not prepared," I said.

"Fine. I'll just do a shot of tequila then," she said, pulling the almost empty bottle out and handing it to me.

So we filled the shot glasses up, divvied up the limes and salt--also showed our elderly neighbor the proper way to do a tequila shot (lick the salt, drink the shot, suck the lime)--and tried not to laugh. She then proceeded to tell us her life story, and apologized for yelling at us earlier. She blamed the entire thing on her "un-cool roommates". Then she left--only after she realized she drank the last of our tequila.

I can't explain the fits of laughter that broke out among the 11 of us the minute the door slammed behind her. It was the most bizarre 15 minutes of our lives. Don't get me wrong, it was not because of her age. As a group, we hang out with and drink with our parents a lot. But the fact that she had come down, 20 minutes prior and yelled at us for coming in drunk and loud, then wanted to party with us? Come on now Marilyn!

We were all pretty sure that she, herself, was very wasted--she was slurring her words and her eyes were rolling a bit. So maybe she was just looking for a good time and her "friends" were all passed out drunk.

And yes, we snapped a picture for proof

 Definitely a memorable Irish Weekend.

Thanks for the laughs Marilyn!

Friend or Foe?

"There comes a time in your life, when you walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with people who make you laugh. Forget the bad, and focus on the good. Love the people who treat you right, pray for the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is a part of life, getting back up is living."

If you've been following my blog over the last few weeks, you'll know that I am currently going through a break-up.

Yes, about 3 weeks ago I finally got some sense and ended things with my boyfriend of the last few months. The relationship itself was pretty tumultuous as it involved substance abuse on his part, and I guess I just wasn't worth putting "the bottle down" for. Yeah, I know we were only together for a few months, but Jesus God it felt like a lot longer. It was the worst roller coaster of emotion I've ever been on--*I also hate roller coasters and have never been on one, which is a bit ironic*. It was just drama-filled and exhausting, and I've never been involved with a guy who had so much baggage and crap. Every time I thought we were turning a corner and things were getting back to semi-normal, he'd go out on a 3-day bender and I wouldn't hear from him for almost a week.

Just had enough. Too young to be dealing with this. And he's not going to change. I think he is missing that gene.

So now that the dust has settled, and I'm trying to take back my life and start doing things for myself again, I'm trying to figure out and decide what to do in regards to him. Specifically in what capacity he can still be in my life. I'm not the type of person who just easily throws people away and acts like they were never important to me. I usually attempt to remain cordial with exes, and if at all possible, friends. We are still talking, and I know he has the foolish hope that we are going to get back together--let's recall the reason we broke-up; he is still drinking and this hasn't curtailed his outlook on it either, so that's why it's foolish. He's sent me a lot of sappy texts, about how much he misses me and how he just wants to hold me. Every time this happens, I'm very cold and bitchy in response and try and set him straight at every turn.

"Glad you're feeling this now, but you had me and blew it. Sorry," is my go-to response. It's harsh, I know, but I can't give him an inch anymore. When he goes to rehab, maybe I'll be a bit more understanding and loving. But right now? No, not gonna happen.

That's not to say I wouldn't like some sort of relationship with him. I do want him in my life, just not the capacity where his drinking affects me directly. In a way where I don't have to mop him up, or worry about what he's doing at all hours. I'd like to at least keep forms of communication open in case he needs me or anyone to talk to--I know he has no one in his life who he can actually talk to about his struggles and feelings. So really, I'd like to attempt a friendship of some form with him.

But that got me thinking....

Is it truly possible to be friends with an ex? Or am I just keeping him on the back-burner in case things don't work out elsewhere, or in the off chance he does turn a corner and changes?

Under normal circumstances, I do believe it is possible to be friends with an ex. Most relationships start off as friendships, and later evolve into something more. You need to have some sort of foundation in order to have a strong relationship. And in most cases, people will consider their spouses/significant other their best friend. You tell them everything, you are with them all the time, they're the first person you call when you are in trouble or in need--glorified best friend. And if things go sour, it's easy to just revert back to that friendship. You can still hangout, lean on each other in times of need, and talk without the messy complications that existed in your relationship.

But that's in an ideal, rosey world. And it rarely happens due to intimacy.

Once you are intimate with someone--in a physical manner--it is hard to get past what you once were. Sex complicates everything, and if you've done it once and established that connection through vulnerability, there will always be a slight tinge of longing for what once was. You'll always wonder, "What if," and having that person around all the time will only make it worse. No matter what you do, that past will always be there, and it can be extremely difficult for most people to separate the two. Especially if one of you attempts to move on with someone else. Jealousy will arise--either from the ex or the new guy--and lines must be drawn. I had a friend who's boyfriend would not allow her to hang-out or speak to her ex because they once dated--their relationship had successfully reverted back to a strong friendship. The new boyfriend always thought there was something going on behind his back--there wasn't--or that they'd get back together. He was a bit paranoid and actually started checking her text messages every night. Needless to say, the new relationship was short lived, and she and the ex are still great friends and NOT lovers. As long as there is trust and a mutual understanding by all involved, a friendship is possible. But most times this is not the case.

And I guess another factor in the whole "friend game" is how bad the break-up was. Like the magnitude of the pain you felt or what happened to cause the break-up. Personally, if you cheated on me or did something truly horrendous--like revealing 2 DUIs and a suspended license in front of my friends--then I want nothing to do with you. I want to pretend you don't exist and that the last few months didn't happen. If the break-up was messy and egos were bruised, most likely a friendship is not possible. But, if it was just a change of heart and you ended it in a mature fashion, a friendship is possible. I've seen it happen.

Or sometimes this happens...

Another part of this has absolutely nothing to do with friendship, but you disguise it as friendship just to make yourself feel better. That is keeping the means of communication open just in case things turn around with your ex. Kind of like a Plan B. These people want to keep their ex on short leash, just in case they can't find anything better. They want to be able to swoop back in, unannounced and reclaim what was once theirs. In my experience, I've seen this happen most when the ex has started pursuing someone else--now all of a sudden that person seems more attractive, once they may not be an option anymore. Kind of like the bratty, little kid who tells his parents he hates all his toys but then loves, can't live without them once they are about to be donated to another little kid.

"No! No! That's mine! You can't have that," they'll scream and pout.

On the other hand, pursuing someone else can sometimes send you running back to your ex. After you start dating someone new and it doesn't turn out the way you want it to--like the person ends up being a bit crazy--it can make you see that maybe your ex wasn't so bad. It's the whole "Grass isn't always Greener" philosophy. You might realize you were being too hard on your ex, and really he wasn't so bad. So sometimes people like to keep that communication open until they know their new person is a good fit. Totally manipulative and selfish, but it happens everyday.

I know a lot of girls who use this tactic. They'll basically end the relationship in technical terms, but keep things going on the emotional level--they'll still talk, hang out once in a whole, and lead the guy on until something new crosses their path. Then they'll pull the plug and cause a shit ton of drama. It's basically breaking up with someone twice because you're ripping the dumpees heart out again.

Now in an effort of full disclosure, I will pose the question to myself:

Do I really want a friendship with my ex? Or am I just dangling him until something better comes along? Is he just my security blanket?

Truthfully.....it may be a bit of both.

It's nice to have someone text you all day, telling you they miss you and want to be with you. Knowing someone is thinking about you all day is its own brand of high for me--something I really can't get enough of. One that I'd miss if it went away. At this point, there is no way we can get back together--which he is well aware of as long as he is drinking--but he still texts and calls me like his girlfriend. And I know he wants to be. I know it's all he wants right now, and although I know it's not a possibility I'm not turning him away either. A smart girl would've cut off all means of communication and dropped him cold turkey. But I just can't.

Maybe I am dangling him, and disguising it as friendship. Maybe the only way I can justify what I'm doing is to say I'm attempting a friendship, when in fact I don't really want one. That the minute a new guy comes into my life, our "friendship" will be over. And if that's the case, I am doing the most selfish thing possible right now and am not really thinking about him at all. It will make things 10 times worse in the end, if that does happen. I'm just prolonging the inevitable and causing more drama and heartache for myself and him.

I don't know.

I have a lot of thinking to do. And as much as I don't want to consider his feelings and just "do me", I can't drag him along with this. I do have to consider the overall outcome and how much I'll be hurting him--even though he definitely deserves it.

*Insert SIGH*

Change is Good

The last few days have been completely crazy, wonderful, and going at a speed-racer's pace all at once. I've sat down to write this post at least twice over the last 4 days (I meant to make this an August post) but the days have just gotten away from me. So I do apologize if you have been waiting for a new post from me.

First, I made the ultimate decision to end things with Kevin (my boyfriend). Last Sunday was a repeat of everything I've been dealing with the last few months--where he was supposed to meet up with me, but went and got drunk instead. I didn't cry, I didn't get emotional--which I'm pretty proud of. I just knew it was done. I can never trust him with my heart again. I can't let him toy with me and my life anymore, no matter how much I love him. It's not worth it to me. He is a lost cause, and I'm not. I have so much going for me and he has nothing that appeals to me anymore.

At this time, I don't think he completely gets how serious I am about this--he is still texting and calling me like normal, even though I have said to him at least twice in the last week that things are over--but that's on him. I'm done.

And happier for it. Realizing now how much stress versus joy he brought to my life. It wasn't worth it and never will be.

Working on getting my happy back. And I feel like I'm almost there :) 

But the main source of the crazy, wonderful is the early arrival of my niece, Maggie Jane.

My older sister brought this little bundle of joy into the world on Thursday, August 29th--4 days ahead of schedule. My family and I were on vacation in Sea Isle, New Jersey--all but my older sister and my brother-in-law. On Wednesday, things seemed to be progressing but we were sure our little niece/nephew (we didn't know what she was having) would wait until we came home on the 31st. Then my parents got a call at 4:30 in the morning from my youngest sister--who was not due to come down the shore til that evening--that my sister's contractions were 5 minutes apart and she was driving her to the hospital. It was a fury of clothes that morning--my dad actually got to the hospital with his shirt inside out--as my parents rushed home from the shore.

Unfortunately (for me) my parents asked me to stay down the shore with my grandparents and aunt, as it was too early to wake them up and they wanted to get on the road without having to wait. Plus, it just wouldn't be a good idea to lug them back--it'd be more stress to have them home alone then having them down the shore. So I stayed down the shore with them to virtually babysit, until we got word that the baby was here and my dad was headed back down to the shore to bring us all back--we needed more than one car to transport all of us and our luggage. It was the longest 2 days of my life.

The first day was tense; constant waiting for news and jumping every time my phone rang. Being down the shore, and basically paradise, lost all its charm when all I wanted was to be home and with my family. I was really upset and sad. News was coming every few hours--initially they thought she was going to be delivered before noon on Thursday, but the doctor had miscalculated the weight and she was just too big. A C-section was the only option, and at 5:12pm our little Maggie Jane was welcomed into the world.

I fell in love the minute I saw those chubby cheeks. She is perfect and beautiful and I just love her.

Unfortunately it was another day before I was able to get home and finally meet her. I literally drove from the shore to the hospital; didn't even stop to eat or use the bathroom. I cried like a baby the second I held her in my arms. And seeing my sister as a mother for the first time was really emotional. I saw the change in her instantly; that this new, little life was now her everything. And the love she had for this little girl is something I will not truly understand until I have one of my own.

But it's pretty damn close.

I can't wait to spoil her rotten--which has already started--and shower her with kisses and love. I love this little girl with every part of my heart.

Just look at her! How can your heart not melt?!

I also started work on my next big project--I know I said before that I started the research phase, but over the weekend I actually started the writing part. It feels great being productive again and actually working on something big. My first drafts are always really REALLY shitty, but they always seemed to come together once I transfer it to my laptop. I'm excited about the process and have been writing almost every night!

I've also decided to participate in a Writers Conference in October at Rosemont College. I'm a bit nervous about it, but I really think I need to get more involved with my peers and actually get some constructive feed-back on some of my work.

Wish me luck!!

Lots going on, but I promise to keep you all up to date! And I'll try not to bore you to death with countless baby pictures.

But it will be pretty damn hard!

Awkward Run-Ins

There is one thing in life that I absolutely abhor, makes my stomach flip, and gives me the most anxiety. It's running into people, or simply being in the same vicinity of an individual who you don't really want to see or talk to. I know it sounds insane, but I can't stand it! There's that awkward,

"Did they see me?"

"Can I get out of here without them seeing me?"

"Shit, now I have to say hi."

"I look like crap and of course I run into you now!"

"Now I'm gonna be stuck in an awkward 15 minute conversation with the girl I hated in grade school, smile as you act like we were best friends when you made my life a living hell, and all I wanted was a small fry from McDonald's! Fuck!"

"Oh hi! I used to bang your girl."

Yeah.....happens to me a lot.

Now I'm not being a snob and I am a pretty friendly person. I do like the surprise of seeing friends somewhere unexpected. Key word there was FRIENDS. If I don't like you (or know you too well), I don't like seeing you anywhere, especially somewhere I have to be for a while and have no means of escaping you. I don't like being approached and forced into an awkward, forced conversation. Some people thrive on those situations--obviously if you are coming up to me and I am giving you major stink-eye than you have a big set of balls--but I am definitely not one of those people. And never will be.

Because the world knows how much I can't stand these run-ins, I swear it happens to me twice as often as normal people.

Take this morning!

I'm driving to work at 7:30am. I am barely awake, fighting a really bad head cold (who the hell gets sick in summer?) and attempting to listen to my favorite radio morning show. My ears are also pretty clogged so I had the volume pretty high. As I'm listening to the DJs discuss the fact that organ donors donate organs, not actual body parts (like legs or arms)--yes this was an actual debate--I kept hearing a low beeping noise and a voice. I figured it was the radio so I ignored it. Then something to my right caught my eye. It was a red truck, with someone climbing back inside the window--yes it looked like their upper body had been hanging out the window trying to catch my attention--and then an arm sticking out waving at me. At first I thought it was just some crazy person being stupid on their morning commute. And then I realized I was half right; I saw a huge Philadelphia Flyers decal on their back windshield and recognized the truck.

It was a crazy person alright. THE crazy person I dated for 3 months.

If you need a bit of a refresher please see my post discussing the topic.

For those of you who are a bit lazy, here's the foot-notes: I dated this guy for 3 months, only to find out he had quite a rap sheet (including 2 DUI's, a warrant out for his arrest, and driving on a suspended license) and a raging case of ADD that he refused to take medication for. I ended things with him back in February after he revealed the majority of this in front of my friends (who were just meeting him for the first time) and because he thought the whole thing was a joke. He's texted me a few times since the split--very random and weird texts--but I never responded, hoping I'd never see him again.

And I thought I was scot-free when I found out he moved to Jersey.

Nope!

Needless to say, I was freaking out a bit. My hand immediately went to my face and stayed there for the rest of my ride. I slowed my car down, hoping to stay away from him, and luckily he pulled into a 7-11 immediately after seeing me.  Then I started second guessing myself; "Maybe it wasn't him. How many red truck with a Flyers decal in Philadelphia could there be? Like a million!"

Then I get the following text:

Three things:

1. Bad grammar is not a recent development. This was a common phrase of his. Should've dumped him the minute he verbally raped my ears.
2. Why does he still have my number?!
3. What the heck was he doing in my area at 7:30am, when I know he moved to Pennsauken, New Jersey 4 months ago?

So naturally the rest of my ride was just as paranoid and freaky. I was looking in my rear view mirror every 5 minutes, waiting for him to come out of nowhere and flag me down. But I got to work without any further run-ins. Thank God he didn't pull up next to me again, where I'd be forced to have an extremely awkward conversation with him, and that my ears were clogged and I didn't notice him the first time until he was pulling away. Can you imagine? Oh my God!

Naturally, I'm not responding to his text--because awkward text conversations are a pretty close second to awkward face-to-face conversations, where at least you can delete/ignore the offending awkwardness. I don't want to give this kid an inch, when I know he'll try and take a mile. Definitely NOT how I wanted to start my day!

And I'm not kidding you, this happens to me at least once a week. Friday, my ex-hairdresser and her friend (who happens to be the mother of one of my good friends from grade school, but she's also a major bitch) plopped down next to me at my local bar. Had to avoid turning a certain direction all night! The day before that, 3 former co-workers were at the same restaurant as me and my boyfriend--no bad blood there, but I don't really want to catch up with old friends while I'm trying to enjoy my french fries and burger.

Maybe I'm just being a bitch and should lighten up. I know a lot of people and there will always be a chance I will run-in to people I know, especially if I'm out in Philly. I should just roll with the punches and start being a little friendlier in surprise situations. Really it could make my day, or brighten up the day of someone else.

Or maybe I should just get a tattoo on my forehead that reads:

NO I DON'T WANT TO TALK TO YOU!

LEAVE ME ALONE!

 

But I don't think my forehead is big enough :/

In a Funk....

I don't have a great post or story to talk about this week. I'm in a bit of a funk and trying to work my way through it. I've been trying to think of a cutesy way of putting a spin on my current mood and circumstance, but have come up with nothing at this point. Truthfully, it's been hard for me to focus on anything but my personal life as of late and when that isn't consuming me, I've been knee-deep in the research phase of my next project--I LOVE doing research so it's helped take my mind off of things.

I'll fill you in a bit:

In the past, I've written a bit about my aunt who's very sick. She's going through her 4th bout of cancer treatment--4th time in 6 years--and things aren't going too well. She's been in and out of the hospital the last 2 months from complications from her last surgery. This latest hospitalization has been due to internal bleeding from the stitches in her bowels opening up and fluid in her lungs--which she's now on oxygen because she can't seem to catch her breath. She's very frail and weak and has lost about 50 pounds from her already tiny body. She literally looks like one of those starving kids in Africa that there are infomercials about, begging for "10 cents a day."

I really just don't know how much more she can take. She's been through so much already, physically and emotionally, and I don't think she can survive much more. It just doesn't end, and every time she turns a corner and things seem to be looking up, something else happens and sets her back 10 miles. And I know she's at her breaking point--she refused to answer my mother's calls for a week when she wasn't feeling well because she didn't want to go back into the hospital, which scares me because it's like she's given up. And she can't. We need her here with us. We need to see her smile and laugh at old memories. Her son just got engaged over the weekend and it should be happy time for all of us, and it is, but he almost feels like he has to rush the wedding now. Time is against us all, especially her.

It's just hard to see her in so much pain and not be able to do anything about it. I can't even look at her without bursting into tears. I don't know what we'll do if we lose her. I really don't.

I've also written in the past about my grandparents moving in with my family. Well it happened back in March and they've been living with us for about 5 months now. But I don't think I explained anything about my Aunt Paula, who is also now living with us. She will be 50 in February and is mentally handicapped. She was never diagnosed--because back then they just threw people like her into mental facilities and tried to forget about them--but she is autistic. My grandmother did/and has done everything in her power to protect her from the outside world, which has also stunted her tremendously. My grandmother stills cuts her food, dresses her, bathes her, and caters to her every whim. She has no social skills, has the mind-set of a 5-year old, and is as stubborn as they come. It's become quite a challenge in the last few years because she doesn't realize my grandparents are old and can't do things for her like they used to. All she does all day is watch TV and eat--while my grandparents serve on her, hand and foot.

All this aside, she is very smart. She knows exactly what she's doing and everything my grandmother does for her, she is fully capable of doing for herself--we know this because when my grandmother was in the hospital last month, she was able to do everything herself with a little prodding. But she chooses not to--and when my grandmother came home, she went back to her act of "helpless child". She chooses to let my grandmother struggle with opening jars, walking across the room to answer the front door when she is sitting ten feet away from it, and pushes her buttons just to get attention from her and from all of us. She uses her handicap to her advantage and acts dumb to a lot of things--when we all know better.

It is getting very frustrating for me to keep my mouth shut and be understanding of her predicament. I don't have patience for bullshit and I'm about ready to explode. I know I sound awful, but it's a lot to handle 7 days a week, and the way she treats my grandmother angers me. I have never wanted to move out of my house so much in the last 3 months. But.....then I feel a lot of guilt when I think like that. Because my parents need help controlling the situation and it’s something they will have to live with for the rest of their lives-- my dad is her legal guardian.

I'm trying to keep my cool, but every day is a challenge.


On this blog, I have touched on a bit (indirectly) about my relationship woes. My current boyfriend has a drinking problem. Actually......no, I've never lied on this site and I'm not about to. My boyfriend is a functioning alcoholic. He doesn't drink every day, but when he does he goes on these massive benders and drinks himself into a stupor. We've been together for almost 5 months and during that entire time, he has consistently blown me off to go get drunk or has simply forgotten to call me when we have plans and he knows he's not coming. He's embarrassed me on more than one occasion with not only my friends but also my family.

He keeps promising me he'll get help, that he'll change and make things better. But I have yet to see him actually do anything. He has yet to go to AA, has not stopped drinking, and I really don't think he thinks he has a problem. That I'm just over-exaggerating and making a tiny problem into something huge. Which, let me tell you I'm not. I've seen 2 of my best friends families get broken up because their mom's were constantly pulling their dad's out of the local bar.

I'm at my breaking point with him and I don't know what else to do. Every day I tell myself that things can't get any worse, but they do. I should just walk away and tell him to go F himself, but there's something that keeps me.

And I wish it'd just shut the hell up.


So needless to say, I have a lot going on right now. A lot that I really don't want to deal with, to be quite honest. Hoping things turn around soon, but I really don't see that happening.