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This. Is. The. Eeeeeennnnnddddddd.

This blog is now officially closed. To go to my new site, click here.

In The Apartment (Early Sunday Morning)

This is Ian. He's the first person I met in Nashville, a friend of Crystal's. We got him drunk and then convinced him to let us straighten his hair. Actually, he got himself drunk. Crystal also got herself drunk, and I was and am seriously disappointed in her. But I digress. This is Ian's before picture.

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These are his after pictures. Much better, no?, even with his abnormally large forehead. And very soft. And clean. I'd forgotten that boys with clean hair existed. It was kind of nice, for a change, though I will always believe in the benefits of dirty hair.

I also believe in a little self-induced humiliation every once in a while, as shown in this photograph of me wearing a two-piece bathing suit with ruffles on the bottom. Yes, ruffles. Crystal and Ian and I all went for a midnight swim in the pool next door to our apartment block, and I don't even own a bathing suit, so I had to borrow one of Crystal's. The only other one of Crystal's. Why she purchased and WORE a bathing suit with ruffles, no one knows. She claims it was because it was three dollars and she needed a suit quickly. The true story may never be known. P.S. The only picture ever taken that shows my fat Italian thighs. I am usually okay with them, thanks to Joseph Heller and Catch-22.

Me and Ian. He, at this point, is very drunk. I, on the other hand, am very sober, and ostensibly the only person in the room in this state. However, I am going to go ahead and say that House and George's alcohol had worn off at this point, because if that was what they are like drunk, I hope never to encounter them whilst they are sober. Acknowledgement: I know I look terrible in this picture.

Graduation Party/Anberlin

Me and my grandma, whom I love very dearly.

Me and Tara, the person who has put up with me longer than anyone else who wasn't obligated to. Yeah, Cubbies! =P I heart her.

"Your lovin' give me a thrill, but your lovin' don't pay my bills. Now give me money, that's what I want." Becoming about eight hundred dollars richer while my sister flashes the camera.

Oh, random picture of Robin that I like. Muy bonita, ¿no?

Stephen!!!! Pictures are now set in Tennessee. We saw Anberlin in Chattanooga on my third day here. ::cheers!:: It was very enjoyable. They played "dance, dance Christa Paffgen"!

We met him afterward, he appreciated the fact that we drove from Nashville (it was the first time any of us had been in Chattanooga), he told us about Haiti, and we were bountifully charmed yet again.

This is Brooks. He is in a band called Sullivan (I think) who thinks they are famous. Brooks is the new William Beckett. Well, not really, he is just uber skinny and acts like William used to before he SOLD OUT TO THE RECORD COMPANY!!!!! Ahem. Sorry. Someday, I will get my hip poked by a stranger in a non-sexual way. . .

REAL Last Post (In Parts)

Okay, so this is the last post. I'm gonna shut this blog down, and I haven't decided if I'm going to open up another one. I probably will eventually, but for right now. . . I'm watching movies. I'm reading again (I'm halfway through my first book of the summer). I'm writing. I'm thinking things out. I'm having late-night/early-morning discussions with my cat. I'm trying to get a job and a phone and a laptop and myself back. I'm trying not to worry so much. I'm letting things work out on their own. I'm eating healthier. I'm going on walks. Despite the fact that I freaked out and sobbed on the couch at 3 AM this morning while hashing things out at my cat after watching Romeo & Juliet (yes, with Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes), I am absolutely positive that what I am doing and who I am communicating with is absolutely the right thing to do. (I have also discovered that showering daily wards off depression. . . seriously! But that's another story.)

Okay, so I just wanted to make the last post in here a post that updated you all on how moving out/life after moving out went/is going. Heh. Anyway, here you go.

Yo y Quilina at graduation! 13 years of slavery and torture, cruel and unusual punishment. . . finally, freedom! Survival! We're lucky we made it out alive with our brains and intellect intact.

Emoness (inside and out) at Buca di Beppo's, post-sweaty graduation ceremony.

"Excuse me, could we have a candelabra, please?" Our poor, overstressed waiter.

Glahm! Spumoni chocolate sauce!

06-06-06 AHH!

This will most likely be my last post. And the majority of it is for you. I wanted to explain why I gave you the things that I did. I had planned to do it in person, when I gave them to you, but once I stepped into your apartment and you closed the door behind me, my throat closed over and all I could do was push the bag into your hands and myself into your arms. So here. You might think they need no introduction, but there were still some things I wanted to say.


The Batman cassette I bought just ages ago, but after I met you I figured I'd give it to you- a)because it's Batman, duh, and b)because at least one or maybe both of the songs on it are by Prince. . . and I know how you feel about Prince. =P So I figured you'd appreciate it more than me, as I hadn't even listened to it once.

The copy of Dead Poets Society because, obviously, it was yours.

The tiny little sculpture of the swans I bought months ago. I didn't pay much for it, it's not worth anything, and yes, I know, it's not even really that well-made. But in the store there was a whole shelf of those little glass sculptures, which I've always loved, even as a little girl. And the second I laid eyes on that one I thought of you, or of the two of us. I'm not sure why, but it just gives me a feeling of you. I'd planned on giving it to you right away, but when have I ever done anything in a timely fashion? The box is the box it came in, but I wanted to make it more special. I finished it just about a week ago while I was watching baby shows one night. =) The black side is for us, the words are for our words, because that's all we ever had, and the ugly design is because neither of us have any artistic talent to save our lives (as shown in our Exploding Dog drawings =P). The top panel is because we always had such a thing for eyes, and you're mine, and I found those words and liked them. And the white and green and red is for the months of April, May, and January. . . you should be able to figure that one out quite easily, although I think I got them out of order on the box.

The photograph. I'd had a mind for months to show you pictures of me when my hair was long, since by the time I met you I'd had it all cut off long ago. But of course I never got around to actually doing that either. So there you go--ta da!--that's the way I looked for ages. It was taken at an outdoor music festival 2 years ago.

The letters are, obviously, the ones I wrote to you while I was in the hospital. The green one is smeared in that one spot because I slept with it that night and cried on it. There were a few things I said in there that I know I never acted upon once I got out, but there was no point in scratching them out to conceal myself. I want you to know that I did at least once have the honest intentions to follow through on them. I'm sorry. But I did fully mean what I said at the time that I said it. And I'm sorry I never delivered on those hugs and kisses I closed the letters with. =/ Oh, damn it, I also forgot to give you the hug from Susen, my friend in Florida, who told me quite soon after I'd met you that I had to give you a hug from her because "he's softening you up. . . in a good way." Whoops. Sorry. (And sorry Susen.)

#9 on the CD! Possibly one of the worst songs ever published, I know, so don't think I gave it to you because I thought you'd like it. =P I found that CD when I was going through all mine and packing, I don't think I've listened to it since. . . 8th grade? Anyway, as fully cheesy as it is, I saw the #9 title on the back and immediately thought of you, popped it in for a listen and decided to give it to you. I mean, obviously not all of it makes sense for this situation, but I'm sure you can pick out what does and what doesn't. So, give it a listen when you're feelin' sad, and you can have a laugh at the fact that I, at one point, actually listened to and, worse yet, liked that kind of music. =)

That brings us to the teddy bear. I haven't forgotten anything, have I? It was given to me by my dad this Valentine's Day, a fact which immediately made me decide to rip its head off and burn both entities separately. However, when I reached into the bag to carry out my plan, I was arrested by the incredible softness and adorableness of the poor little guy. I couldn't do it! After all, the bear was the innocent party. So I plopped him back in the bag, and there he sat for the next couple weeks. Well one night it dawned on me that I could make him for you. So I spent the next three months putting my plan into action. I rid him of his awful pink sweater and cut the pink and red hearts off of his foot and patched it up again (hence the bald spot on the left foot). I slept with him nearly every night until I moved. I don't think I missed more than three nights. The idea was to make him smell like me and then give him to you for you to keep. Well, I don't think he smells like me at all. Oh well, I tried. I do, however, think he now smells--if not one bit like me--really good. I have spent many a night curled up under my blankets with my face nuzzled into the fur of that poor, darling teddy bear. I hope you like him. I thought you would.


The history of my elephant has already been explained to you. Please know that if we run into each other in 30 years. . . okay, what's the chance of both of us making it thirty more years? 9 years, if I run into you 9 years from now, please know that I fully expect you to still have my elephant, and will be very hurt and upset if you don't. He is one of my most prized possessions and I've had him for over nine years, so please take good care of him! I'd thought about it for several weeks and I just didn't feel it would be right to take him with me, so that's why I gave him to you. I trust you with him. Even if you don't keep anything else I gave you, you must keep him.

Don't think I don't miss you. I do. I cried as we drove away from your house. The first night I got here, I was laying in my bed thinking about you, not really worrying, just thinking about what you might be doing or feeling at the moment, and I cried. The next morning when I got your emails I cried. When I read them I cried. I checked your Xanga and cried (even though there was nothing new on it). I've already imagined a few handfuls of scenarios of you in this apartment. I dreamed about you. So don't think you are alone in your loneliness.

Last night me and Crystal went out, and while we were at the corner waiting to cross the street I saw a man holding a very small baby against his chest on the other corner, pacing around and rubbing its back while waiting to get to our side of the street. My mind went dead and I just stopped and stared at them.

But don't worry, that's not all I've been doing. I just feel the need to report all the sad and depressing-sounding stuff because I am morose by nature. =D Yesterday I wore the greatest outfit I've worn in weeks, no, months! I looked fab, the gothiest I have in a loooong time. I was intensely proud of how beautiful I looked, and no, I'm not arrogant. =P You, I'm sure, would have loved me, in my sad, angelic state.

I'm not sure if you're incredibly pissed off at me or if you miss me or if you're even reading this at all. But I just want you to know that I miss you and a lot of things about you, and I'll never forget you. I hope you get better and I hope we can can meet again someday.

School's Out Forever

I was going to say something when I realized I sounded just like Big Dismal. So, as is unfortunately customary of me, I will just use someone else's words to say what I'm thinking.

"I'm already missing you, and I'm not even gone."

::sigh:: I will make a concentrated effort to be happy and pleasant tomorrow. Well, at least at my party.

Edit:: I read that back and realized it sounded like I was talking about school. NO. Let me make it very clear that formal education is something I will never miss.

The Day After Tomorrow And Sunday

I panic too easily. Getting ideas logged in my brain till I begin to believe them as fact.

I tell myself multiple times that with all the packing and vet appointments and money and moving and unpacking and arranging and decorating and busy-ness and city life and excitement I will not have too much time to think about it.... But still sometimes I see a pathetic vision of myself bursting into tears in a lonely room. I will try real hard not to. After all, I am ecstatic. =D Getting confused is hard in the midst of ecstasy.

Either way, take this poem by Yeats. (Yes, I'm quoting Yeats. Now, don't you feel like you're friends with Sylvia Plath? Don't worry, no children or suicide in my future.) It's based off a sonnet of the same name by Pierre de Ronsard, but his is kinda hard to understand, so we're going with Yeats. It's called "When You Are Old":

"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;

How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;

And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars."

1) I hope this is not me.
2) ::sigh:: I wish I could write like that.

If My Life Was A MasterCard Commercial...

This is what our senior class trip on Friday would've looked like:


Group-rate ticket to Cedar Point: $10

Smokehouse hamburger at Johnny Rocket's and Dippin' Dots ice cream: $11.50

Hearing the Brazilian exhange student singing, "It feels so good just to be alive! This is the start of something new!" whilst on the Iron Dragon, seeing a huge fat tall black guy dancing animatedly to Love Shack, and meeting your future husband whilst in line for the Raptor: priceless


Oh, the queso. Sorry, I couldn't resist. =D

Quote of the Day!

Finally, I have a Quote of the Day again!

This one's from Crystal:

"Okay, we like mullets, backwards or forwards."

=D