For a Title, I'd Like to Quote Lyrics to a Song in the Easter Karaoke Fashion, But Tact Prevents Me

Solo tonight, I headed to the Chalet and arrived just as my watch signalled 9:30 PM. The infamous DM is MIA, claiming the sickness has won tonight. In telling Bryan, our minister and leader at this church of song, that she had to leave a wedding early on Saturday due to this illness, he is surprised by the notion. "I never remember that you can just leave." But then the thought of an "Uncle Joey" sampling an open (or cash) bar always keeps him present for the after festivities.

With this holiday (Easter) being an early morning event, the size of the crowd tonight will be a wild card. I hope the Angie Ang & Amy group shows up and it would be nice to visit with Jason & his crew. James is back in town so he should be up with Liz towards the end of the night. An absence of a certain phony Scottsman would be appreciated. Unlikey, but hey, a girl can wish.

Last year, we had an Easter karaoke worthy of our eternal destinations. Much enjoyment can be found in replacing each "baby" as "Jesus" in the songs. Some songs end up with a good Christian connotation; some do not.

Amy text messaged me to let me know she will not be up tonight. I hoped for Angie and Amy to be there, especially since Angie was part of the "celebration" last year and mentioned this upcoming Sunday last week, but no such luck.

There are two doors to enter the Chalet, one on each end of the bar leading from the parking lot. Both entrances are actually two doors. The entrance by the karaoke machine is close to airtight so when someone opens the outer door, the inner door moves slightly. This signal a new patron entering and is my secret to my "psychic" abilities. I am noticing that each time someone enters tonight, I am afraid it will be Craig and that I'll be stuckalone with him. This is not good. I do not like the feeling of worry I get over the fact I will most likely be stuck talking to him alone.

There is a post I have been postponing to write about this problem. File it under "unwanted advances." I suppose this post will be the one where I explain this problem. The issue is an overly friendly and obvious obnoxious man who is too closely intermingled in my circle of friends. I do not want to be rude tohim because he is a friend of a friend, but it comes down to the fact he creeps me out. He always tries to sit next to me, his mood turns sour when another man (interesting or not) sits by me, and feels the need to wear enough cologne to cause a medium sized community run for gas masks. His most recent attempt at flirting has been to introduce baby talk into his fake accent. "Gooseys" is not impressive. And there have been few in my life who have gotten away with their lives after calling me, "Bethy." My godmother is allowed that pet name; not him. It is a simple way to aggrevate me instantly. The metal baton and consistent 'I hate the bloody world' attitude he carries are also turn-offs. And forcing me to listen to an obscene song about a woman demanding oral sex is not going to make me want to go near you (or your Listerine infested crotch (side note: James and Dean shared a story about Craig's attempt at dating that involved washing himself in a certain area in the hopes of getting some action on a first date. This is also not a turn-on.)) Telling me that when "I take you out to dinner" (NEVER happening) that you'll bring me to a vegetarian establishment and we'll share tofu (I'm a carnivore ID-10-T) does not increase your chances.

I've been tempted to say to him, "Very few people are allowed in my bubble. You're not on the list and you never will be."

Bryan has not decided what our church is yet this year but has told me the disappearance of honey bees is the sign to prove we're right in our beliefs. It is good to be friends with such a creative and humorous man.

Andrew has arrived, receiving hoots and hollars of "I love you!" from the bar patrons (okay, mostly Donnie). Andrew is a fixture at the Chalet. He tends to follow Bryan around and they create mischief. They are the reason pick up baseball games are commonly held in the bar.

While trying to kil time on this slow Easter karaoke Sunday, I turn back in my notebook for random notes of unpublished posts. I bring you some of these now. Well, those that are Chalet related.

In January, I was practically mauled in the bathroom by a woman too highly hopped up on Woman's Lib. While I am an advocate for equality between the sexes, I ould choose another avenue to express this value. Yelling in pride at another woman that you don't know in a public restroom, "We just need a voice! We are women! We need toilet paper!!!" seems a bit extreme.

From sometime in February, I have this written in the notebook: Only at the Chalet can you observe an obnoxious, intoxicated woman screaming, "I need balls!" while trying to master the art of juggling, using her words and not mine, "weiners."

A conversation between DM and I while playing Trivial Pursuit in March:
B: What dictatorship was the only South American nation to support the British in its war over the Falkland Islands?
D: Iraq
B: What South American nation...
D: Oh! China?
B: [pause] [groan]
D: Chile?
B: Now you got it.

Ten thirty has arrived and Bryan has started a rotation. A guy just sang a great rendition of "The Lady is a Tramp," and now DM's fan is singing, "Love Me Tender." I lke the mood being established.

Okay, back to my notes. Speaking of fans of DM, a few weeks ago we met Tommy. Describing Tommy is important. Bryan allowd a cross between a pirate, Freddy Krueger, the Wicked Witch of the West, and David Bowie from the "China Girl" video. Aptly put.

DM was wearing her purple top that sparkles. It was a beacon for Tommy. He was inspired by her blouse to sing a song, or in better words, croon some Andy Williams while gazing at DM. He told her, while grabbing a seat next to her, "I love your shirt, your beautiful shirt. Did you make it?"

She replied in the negative and he continued. "Has anyone told you they like that shirt? Help me because I can't see [he was trying to read the karaoke book] - I love your beautiful shirt."

At the end of that evening, he stopped by the table again to compliment the shirt again. "I'm so absolutely in love with that blouse. I think it is the best ever." DM was ready to give him the shirt off her back just to satisfy him.

Two weeks ago, Bryan suggested a visit to plasticgrocerybag.com. Supposedly, this is a site that suggests fun activities to use those leftovers from shopping. And most of the ideads are terrible and involve young children. I keep meaning to check it out - Bryan mentioned it is good for one of those uncomfortable laughs.

Eleven PM is here now. So is Craig. His first words to me involved a story about a stripper and pasties. Great. During the rest of the evening, he mentioned bowel movements (in not so nice of terms) that resembled egg rolls and used more English slang than normal. I swear, Craig arrives and the stage direction should read, "Enter Uncomfortable Silence stage right."

Jason, Kenny, and Ryan did all appear after only 30 minutes of my torture with Craig. The bar filled up around midnight and karaoke was going strong. Around 1, Liz, James, and little Matt arrived. Liz and I had a great conversation about management frustrations (one of the reasons I love talking to Liz and James is the fact we're all managers in different fields so we can discuss the pros and cons without being industry specific).

I had a good time tonight, even with the creepy fake Scottsman (okay, he is from Scotland. But he has lived here for many, many years. His accent is only used on women) present. I'm happy to know that he will be out of the country for a few weeks starting in 9 days (yippie!!! Oh, sorry Europe) and the uncomfortable moments will subside for a bit. Everyone missed DM tonight and Easter Sunday was a little lower key than last year, but still a lot of fun.

"Under Your Skin I'm Playing in Your Head"

As a man gathers his belongings to go home for the evening, I see him meticulously put his iPod into his shirt pocket, lace the earbuds cord up through his collar, put on his jacket, dig for his keys in one pocket while getting his gloves out of the other, and then grab his lunch bag. Little gestures and movements, routine at the end of a long work day, and these motions are performed without thought. He is just getting ready to go home. He is most likely thinking of his drive, hoping traffic is not bad, or thinking of his family. The man is probably planning, or reviewing existing plans, for the evening. He doesn't know that in an instant, he reminded me of an entire evening out from eight and a half years ago.

This happens to me often. A small thing will trigger a memory long put away. I do not say forgotten, because it is there, but put away as if it were a file in an office building designed to store data. It wasn't needed at the time and so it is resting neatly in its cabinet, waiting to be referenced again.

It was a summer evening when my parents had the idea to take our guests and me to a piano concert. Our family had never attended a piano concert before, besides the recital I had to perform in when I thought learning to play sounded like a good idea. The pianists in this concert were much better players than I was, no pecking out the melody to "Beauty and the Beast," for them. The pianists were twin Russian women and they played depressing melodies and harmonies together on stage for about an hour. What I remember the most about their performance is the fact that at least one of them rocked back and forth on her bench and I waiting for the moment when she swayed hard enough to fall off the seat onto the hardwood floor. The urge to giggle was suppressed because the woman looked mentally challenged and I would be appalled with myself to laugh at the sight of a disabled person getting hurt, but this woman was not disabled. She just flailed wildly at a piano while her fingers played parts of the most miserable and gloomy pieces of music ever written. Her actions seemed so out of place with the tune that I filed this detail away.

At this point, you may wonder why a man leaving work at the end of a long day reminded me of this experience. Without someone connecting the dots, I would see the two events as unrelated as they truly are. The man getting ready to leave was not Russian. He didn't play piano. The twins didn't wear jackets or gloves; it was June in Minnesota. He picked up keys and they played keys, but that is not the connection.

No, it was how he pulled his earbuds cord through his jacket. As I mentioned, there were others at the concert with my parents and myself. One of those others was Andriy. If you've been paying attention to my life through this blog enough over the past few months, you'll know he's never far from being the center of my thoughts.

During Andriy's stay, he was lent my portable CD player. This came in handy to him during rides to his internship on the city bus, during his hospital stay, and during this particular piano recital. As the women pounded notes out on the keys, he sat slightly slouched to the right, resting his head on his hand. To the causal observer, he was enthralled by the music coming from the small stage.

In the inside pocket of his sports coat, the CD-player spun. He had laced the cord up through his sleeve and listened to rock and roll, much to my envy. Each time he saw the boredom on my face from this concert, he would smile mischievously and his eyes shone.

A filed memory, one not recalled at just the thought of him, but one that surfaced through a simple observation was able to let me remember the feeling of being there beside him. I miss him terribly. I read somewhere recently that missing someone has nothing to do with possession but with wanting to share experiences with that person. I miss him and wish each day that he could be here (or me there) to share more moments together. One month was not enough.

*Post-note: The title of this post caused me quite a bit of trouble. Titles should be created at the end of writing, not the beginning. At least that is my opinion. The title should describe the writing or song without giving away the story. I finally resorted to using a search engine (Google - but of course!) to find lyrics to a song. The song that came to mind was an odd one by an equally odd artist. There is a song called, "Headphones," by Bjork that I heard and it stuck in my head. It scared me. But headphones seemed an apt topic for the title. With a bit of help from Google, I found the lyrics to that song. They didn't fit the post at all. The lyrics, "Under your skin I'm playing in your head," are from a song I've never heard. It is by LeAnn Rimes and the song is called, "Headphones." The lyrics are actually kind of cute and I also enjoyed the line, "I wanna be that song comin' through your headphones." Well, enjoyed to the point that I could with the word, "Wanna," in there. Don't even get me started on, "Comin'."

Work-a-Holics

The week between Christmas and New Year's always arrives with an odd feeling. It is a time of everyone reflecting on the end of the year, shopping and gift giving is pretty much over, recovery from the BIG holiday is done, and only those last minute things of the year seem important enough to tackle immediately.

I've been accomplishing quite a bit at work this week - coaching and coaching and then, yes, some more coaching! Sadly, I've gotten to a point where coaching is being used to avoid writing reviews because I just don't want to write them (plus, I find it hard to write them when the entire team is there asking for attention). I should probably hole up in an empty office with my iPod and crank the four reviews out, but I don't. Ah, I'll do it Saturday. Nothing like the absolute last minute.

We're running on bare bones staffing this week when it comes to management. If I counted correctly, there were four supervisors out of twelve in the building yesterday. It gets to be a bit of free reign for all of us, doing whatever we need to do without approval.

I did an interview last night and hired the applicant on the spot. It is nice to actually have good candidates. It does also sound like we're going to try the evening training program again, which means my January and February will be hectic work months.

I wrote the other night, after Christmas at my parents, that there was something nice when I got home. I meant to write this out on Tuesday evening, but never got around to it. Finally, after a month, I opened my email to find a letter from Andriy. It is a nice letter, simple in parts and completely proper in others. It is really cute. I had asked him in my previous emails to explain his job and he did. Now, while I love my job and I am passionate about my team at work, I realize that in perspective, he works harder, longer, and deals with more life affecting issues.

My inquiries about his position focused on whether or not he held an elected position or if he was part of a team that was elected. As it turns out, he is appointed on the recommendation of the Prime Minister to assist the Governor. The Governor is not elected as we would elect Governors, but is appointed by the President. Andriy is responsible for all duties the Governor would do when the Governor is not present. He is kept very busy at work, dealing with political and law related issues of the oblast (similiar to American states), regulartory matters, coordinating actions when disasters strike, land issues, forest-and-wood issues, internal affair body issues, and dealing with judicial institutions. Busy, busy, busy! Steve read the letter and I commented, "It makes our jobs look a bit easy, doesn't it?" He agreed.

One of the perks of his job that I would adore is the ability to travel. In one year, he's visited five countries plus traveled his country quite a bit. He went to Ireland. I want to go to Ireland. Very much so. As he describes all of his duties and responsibilities, he is factual and detailed. Then he follows up the description of his travels with a simple statement, "I like trips."

In typical form, Andriy tells me about his work mostly. It is where his passion lies and that is what he shares easily. He does mention, "In general, everything is ok." There are holiday greetings, well wishes for my family and myself, and a request to hear from me again soon. There is also a promise of another letter after the holidays (Ukraine starts celebration on New Year's and has Christmas in January). He mentions taking a trip to the mountains to get away for a few days. I would love to escape to the mountains for a few days. Minnesota doesn't have mountains.

It was a nice letter to read on Christmas and of course, in my typical fashion, it just creates more excitement for me. A trip to see him is a goal of mine and could be a possibility in 2008.

Lioness said: No no no, 2007, seven, SEVEN! It must be next year! I will keep my fingers permanently crossed for you, believe me, all crossed and twisted and fused together. It must come to be.

Teri said: 2008 is too far away, I agree.

CarpeDM said: Hmm. 2007. Is it doable? That would be awesome but I can also see why it would be difficult to manage. I got to see the email, nyah, nyah, nyah. I am not sure why I have decided to gloat over that but there you have it - proof positive that I am a dork. Hey, so when are you going to do some coaching? See you chica-chee!

Joe in Vegas said: The trip could be sooner, after all you only need to buy a ONE WAY TICKET.

Mother of Invention said: Nice to see that at Christmas! You never know...your trip may come sooner than you think!

Udge said: Definitely 2007. Carpe Diem and all that.

CarpeDM said: No, no, no, Udge, she's suppose to Carpe Andriy, not the Dana Marie!

Frustrated Writer said: Wow, that seems like a long wait. Go sooner.

Little Things

Walking carefully to not slide on the ice, Steve and I returned from lunch talking about music. I made a CD for my car the other night - new songs that are just good to drive to. There's an array of various genres, eras, and explicit content.

As we were walking in, I asked Steve if he had ever heard of a song by The Offspring called, "Bad Habit." This song is about road rage and does include a chunk of curse words. When I mentioned the song, Steve rattled off the curse words and then!! followed up with an air drum solo.

This was extremely funny to me. I laughed the entire way into the building with Steve looking at me, a giggling idiot, thinking I was crazy. 'Sure, air drum solos are a bit silly, but what is with her?' I'm sure this is what he was thinking. But since he knows me better than to think I'm a complete raving lunatic, he finally asked, "What is so funny?"

He reminded me of Andriy. I know this song because of Andriy. He explained to me once that this song is where he learned many of the American swear words, chanting this little part of the song and finished it up with an air drum solo.

There are many little moments, little things, little reminders that pop up throughout my days that remind me of him. This was one of those moments.

In Which She Goes On and On About HIM, Yet Again, What Else Did You Expect?

Scatterbrained. Lost in thought. Dreamy. Misty-eyed. A million miles away. All of these phrases could be used to describe myself as of late. Reconnecting with Andriy, anxiously awaiting replies, has rekindled the feelings I’ve felt and hidden for the past eight and a half years. It is not my intention to turn my blog into a shrine to this man. And yet… Yet, I am enjoying remembering the moments from his visit. As frustrating as it is that he is 5,000 miles away and we both take two weeks to reply to emails and I can’t touch him, hear his voice, share a funny story and hear his laughter/see his eyes sparkle, and share more moments with him, it is also pleasant to get lost in the memory of him. If there is someone to get hooked on, he’s a good one for me. I like sharing the stories about when he was here, I like thinking of him.

Not trying to bore anyone to death with my posting, I try not to write about him every night. It intrigues me that I can find so many stories about his visit when it was only 4 weeks long, but they are there, etched into my mind. I tried hard, made a conscious effort, of making each day special when he was here. I revisited his visit in my mind over and over once he was gone to be sure to remember it. If there is something I never want to forget, it is how I felt when he was here. To remember those feelings, I replay the events of that month in my mind and share those stories.

Sharing those stories – that’s where this blog gets to play a part. Tonight, I will write a few more down.

Every June, Fridley (my hometown) holds a festival called, “Fridley 49er Days.” The town was formed in 1949. To celebrate, the town has a carnival, a parade, beauty pageant, and street dances. If we had visitors during this time, we made sure to take them to the different events. Andriy (and Bob – the defector) were our guests for a few of these events. We went to the parade, finding a spot at the bottom of Commons Hill. The floats and cars went by – the boys all waved at the beauty queens after learning the specific wave used by pageant winners. Marching bands strolled past, sometimes giving us a tune as we watched clowns run up and down the street. In Minnesota, there is a group out of St. Paul called the “Vulcans.” This has nothing to do with Star Trek. This group visits parades and numerous events in Minnesota and Wisconsin. Here’s a link to their website. The main thing about this group is that when visiting parades, they used to (not sure if they can anymore – some rumor about legal battles) put black face paint on those standing by. Andriy was a “victim” of their fun and smiled quite big when he had a thick goatee painted on his face. There’s a picture. Really should scan that one of these days.

During 49er Days, we also went to the carnival. Here’s something you may or may not know about me (depending on how long you’ve been reading this site): I am deathly afraid of heights and do NOT like rollercoasters at all. That goes for Ferris Wheels and rickety contraptions that spin you in every direction known to man at great velocities while being suspended in the air. There is a ride common at county carnivals called the Zipper. I hate this thing. Hate. Utterly despise. Never could you get me on this. Unless of course you happened to be HIM. After the ride stopped (which he had quite a good time rocking the car more than the ride would typically rock it for my benefit – jerk!), I was ready to kiss the sticky, cruddy ground and he was laughing hysterically.

One of the things that I found attractive about Andriy, and actually most men, was the fact he wore glasses. I don’t know what it is, but I do enjoy it when men wear glasses. The ones he wore while visiting were pretty thick – it’s a heavy prescription. One morning, as I was getting ready to leave for work, he was at the kitchen table wearing his sunglasses and trying with all his might to get the tiny screw back into his glasses. He looked so lost. Being a “strong” man, he didn’t like to ask for help with this task, but also realized he had to. I was able to fix the frames quickly. That little moment is still in my memory.

It’s an odd experience to fall for someone who is living in your home. Intimacy is forced upon you and you see the side of people that they typically hide at first. We didn’t have close quarters, but he was there when I got home from work. He was there in the mornings. We were able to stay up late each night talking and there was more time to spend with each other since we were in the same house. Then there were moments where we’d both forget the other was in the same house. One morning, I awoke and got dressed before heading upstairs (my room was in the basement). I walk up a small flight of stairs to find Andriy ironing his blue jeans. That was adorable – I’ve never thought about ironing my blue jeans. I still don’t see the point, but there he was. His embarrassment was not caused by the fact he was ironing clothing that really doesn’t need ironing, but the fact that he was standing in his boxers. This memory is not etched in my mind because of his lack of clothing, but because of his conservative nature and shock being caught half dressed.

There are more stories, more moments that I want to capture and share. I have a list of things (notes to jog my own memory – although each story brings another one out of hiding – I think that’s the fun part for me) to write and will be doing so over the next week(s). I miss him. It hurts to miss him. But then, there is comfort in knowing that I did meet him. Hope eats at me and it is most likely a lost cause, but that doesn’t mean I can’t find happiness in the time I did share with him.

I Promised Myself to Write 10 Things Tonight - So I Did

1. Last night, I went to go see "Stranger Than Fiction," and even with Will Ferrel in it, I liked it. Not side splitting laugher, but a cute movie with a fun plot and interesting turns of events. It was very much like reading a good book, but having the book read to you. I liked the narration, which drove the plot line. Emma Thompson was great, Dustin Hoffman brilliant as usual, and Will Ferrel was not annoying.

2. End of the year is coming and so we are forced to examine our budgets at work. After a little examination, Steve and I determined that we still had $250 to spend and since we have to spend it by the 10th, we went shopping. Normally we stock up on toys and food, but this trip to Target was one to get some prizes for contests (movies) and pick up some sort of holiday gift for the team. We ended up picking up winter mugs, tons of hot chocolate, tea, candy canes, about 10 types of chocolate, and some mint. Good winter presents. Once back at work, Steve and I put the gifts together.

3. To go with the mugs and to get ahead of the holiday frenzy, I got home from work and started making Christmas cards. I have 55 cards stamped and ready with pre-cut pieces. Now I just have to adhere all the pieces together. That's a project for another night. Too much bending over small pieces and I'm tired of it. But! I'm ahead of the holiday game. Sort of.

4. The other night I wrote about my mom's reaction to the pictures of Andriy. There was barely any reaction. Well, the next day (and today) she has been emailing me links and news she found online (she's into Google now - who knew?). The funny thing is she's not sending me anything I haven't found myself already ('cause being obsessive includes Google). But she managed to find the stories online about the previous men who held his job. I've been weary about posting the crazy stories I found about his job, but what the hey! So, here's the deal. It's not a safe job. Prestigious? Yes. Safe? No. There seems to be a history of men taking bribes and maybe one of those men was disliked and "riddled with bullets" on the front steps of his home because a group of people didn't want him to ever advance in politics. Yeah. This fact does not put me at ease. This is yet another reason why he should move to America.

5. When Andriy stayed at our home, we had another man visiting. He was older and, dare I say it, creepy. Not older as in elder, but just older than Andriy and I were. He was probably 32. Well, each time a group arrives through this program to the US, there is always a fear that the interns will defect. In this particular group, the leaders were actually thinking it would be Andriy they needed to worry about because of his political ties and if the election going on back home turned sour, it wouldn't be safe for him to return home. No one expected the guy learning about the Boy Scouts to defect. As we took Andriy to the hospital, he went to the airport but didn't return to Ukraine. Instead, he went to New Jersey and then disappeared. We figure he changed his name (we joke and call him Bob Smith). The really bad, sad part? He was married and left his wife and daughter in Ukraine. I'm sure he was sending them money, but the daughter was also very ill (Chernoybl effects). It was an odd turn of events. Not relevant, just something I remember.

6. I got an award today at work. It is for the performance of my team in 2nd quarter. It came with a $25 gift card. If I save up enough of these cards, I may treat myself. I know what I want, but that dollar amount seems to be too high for the time being.

7. It got really cold here. Yesterday wasn't too bad at 35 F, just above freezing. But drives home from work are at about 11 F (or less) and I wish it would warm up and snow. That's the problem here. We get really cold, but it gets so cold that the snow passes us by.

8. I have a new banker who joined my team at the beginning of the month. Nice guy - is performing pretty well too. I think he's going to fit in well in our team. But he did something I didn't expect yesterday. He left me a note (explaining something going on), but then signed it with "Love," drew a heart, and put XOXO under his name. It doesn't bother me, just seemed like an ending you'd use on a note to your boss.

9. Thursday night is karaoke night. Again. Finally. I've missed going on Thursdays. It will be nice to have that relief again.

10. Thursday will also be a hectic day for me. My team has two meetings tomorrow (our team is split into meetings because of the hours and instead of one meeting each month, Steve and I lead the same meeting twice in the same day). So I have a meeting from 3-5 and one from 7-9. Plus, I have a scheduled coaching session with my boss from 5-7. That's 6 straight hours of scheduled activities. Not entirely sure when I'll take lunch. Oh well. The meetings should be fairly easy. We want to celebrate a good year so Steve and I are planning on talking for about a 1/2 hour about performance and the results of some contests and then the team will watch a movie. That is if we can get a room with a DVD player. The evening meeting will be no problem, but the 3-5 one might be hard to find a room.

Yet Another Seriously Boring Post in Which I Dream

Fairy Tale. n A fictititious, highly fanciful story or explanation.

Dream. n A wild or vain fancy.

Fantasy. n Imagination, esp. when extravagant and unrestrained.

While I've written the story of meeting Andriy before, there are bits and pieces of that story missing. Memory only brought up certain times during the writing of that post. My mind has been working in overdrive in the last five weeks wandering to a place where a happy ending could reside. I'm remembering more things. One month was not enough and yet that one month was filled with so many wonderful moments. June of 1998 was the best month of my life. And the joy was always clouded by the knowledge that on July 1, he would leave.

In a fairy tale, July 1 would never have arrived. Or he would have found the way to stay. Or I would have gotten on that plane with him. Something other than geographical distance getting in the way.

Okay, what is the direction I want this to take? The writing, not the dream, I mean. I guess this is going to be a long post. If you continue reading, thanks. I don't expect it. It is just me going on and on again about a man that I've probably elevated in my mind beyond anything that he could possibly be.

Memories, misty water colored memories. I'm not sure if that is even the right lyric. Okay, moments that have come back to me over these years, again and again. Some small thing will remind me of him. Movies, music, tiny little details. Places.

One night while he was here, my mom got it into her head that a "crazy American" thing to do would be to visit a country bar and see some line dancing. Not entirely sure what she thought country bars were really like in Minnesota, but "Why not!" There's a bar in the town I now live (and actually drive past a few nights a week coming home from karaoke) called "Robert's." It's a dive. My mom heard they played country music. So one night, we all went. Keep in mind that at the time, Andriy and I were both underage. Little details like this never stopped my mom. When we got to the bar, she decided to try and get us in. She even told the person at the door that we were underage. She used some facts even. My mother explained to the woman that she wanted these foreigners to experience a country bar. Promising no liquor (which was a broken promise), she explained that both Andriy and I were from Ukraine and made me pretend that I couldn't speak English. And we were in. Inside, it was a typical dive bar. Loud music, one drunk woman dancing back and forth by herself, and dark lighting. We sat inside, chatting and watching the lack of synchoized line dancing. It was still a good time. We were together.

The third night he was here, my family went to go play billiards at this place called "Fat Boys." It is owned by the man who owned the pool hall I used to go to religiously. Thinking nothing of it, I wore this T-shirt my mom got me. The T-shirt was for a TV show that is still popular today. An American TV show that had not made syndication in Ukraine. Imagine the surprise and shock of a person who doesn't get the reference and sees a young woman wearing a T-shirt that proudly boasts, "I Killed Kenny." Yeah. I still remember his look as he asked me, cautiously, "You killed someone? And you wear a shirt that says it?" Cultural difference.

One evening, we went online (AOL) and my cousin's step-children were online at the same time. They chatted with us for about an hour, asking Andriy question after question. Andriy was having fun with the questions and being inappropriate. I edited the inappropriate comments out (the kids were 8 and 10), but remember his wicked smile as they asked him, "Do you drink milk?" His reply was, "No. I drink Vodka." It's cuter if you imagine it as it was, with the Slavic accent.

Oh, that accent. Lovely. Absolutely lovely. One evening, just the two of us driving back from somewhere (I think it was Target), we were talking about the accents. The conversation probably arose from the "Th-" or "-th" sound in English that is not common in other languages. Native English speakers - did you ever realize there are actually different ways to pronounce this combination of letters within our language? It's just something we pick up. It was something Andriy learned. He was explaining how my first name would sound different if someone didn't know the -th sound. I knew this. I spent a month in Germany during my senior year of high school, living with a girl who called me "Bess" when I knew for a fact she could pronounce my name correctly. The conversation turned to his name. He introduced himself as "Andrew" many times during his visit to people (and uses it sometimes in emails). His first name is not pronounced like the common Andre. Think Andri. Which makes no sense here. The ending sound is not "A" but "E". As we chatted, I demonstrated how someone could butcher his last name, using the "hard, crass American accent" that he had deemed to be common. His last name is correctly pronounced, "Ro-man-shoo-k." I looked at him, saw the gleam in his eyes, and said, "Roman-CHUCK." The horrified look was priceless.

I tried to teach him to drive a stick shift car. What you have to realize is that stick shifts are more common in Europe than here. He knew how to drive. But since his father was fairly prominent in his country, he learned on automatics. To this day, I still don't know how he managed to get the car parked horizontally in a vertical spot. There was a lot of laughter.

There are certain words that are not taught in foreign language classes. While his English teacher did a great job telling him about detailed topics (such as abortion - we actually had a debate one evening), she never did cover certain slang or curse words. Yep. Yup. Common words spoken in the Midwest. He didn't know they were forms of, "Yes." To him, they sounded like a certain Ukrainian word that we would commonly call the F-word. One evening, he actually said, "Why do people keep swearing at me?" That's when I learned a phrase, which I cannot spell but is pronounced, "Yup-for-you-much," that would be quite effective in displaying frustration or anger. The phrase, "C*cks*cker" also ended up being a conversation I will never forget. You really do have to break down the compound word to explain it. Because demonstration was not going to happen.

He doesn't like rootbeer. That surprised me. While we commonly use cherry flavor for medicine, it appears rootbeer flavor is used for medicine in Eastern Europe. Trips to A&W did not happen while he was here.

We made an unique pair. You have to know that I was 19, an American young woman who grew up in the 90's and had been taught my entire life that women are strong, equal to men. He grew up Ukraine and watched the fall of Communism and the rebuilding of his society. His views of men and women roles were different than mine. And the thought of letting me walk though a door by myself or holding the door open for him drove him CRAZY. It wasn't right. Also, the idea of letting me pay for evenings out was insane to him. But he was a guest in my home and I did pay for our evenings out. He'd get so mad. It was adorable.

So, my memory of him is of an ambitious man - going to law school (now graduated and holding a prestigious job in politics), a kind, gentle man, a man willing to learn about different cultures and finding better ways to live, a man with a passion for life, a bit of a work-a-holic, a man who loved to travel, a man with a brilliant laugh, and a man who just symbolized everything I thought was never going to be a reality in a man. I was 19 and had notions that love was a pipedream. I never thought there could be someone out there who was so right.

He is a fairy tale to me - one with a small hope of coming true. I want that fairy tale. Logic takes a backseat to the dream, no matter how unrealistic. Almost 9 years and I'm still completely taken with him. Every man since has been compared to him. And always will be.

A Post in Which I Mean to Talk About Random Things that Eventually Makes it Back to Him

Once a month, I write a check. One. Between online services and debit cards, my checkbook is somewhat obsolete. But my apartment complex still only accepts paper checks. While I was rummaging through a pile of junk to find my checkbook (which I manage to misplace every month), I found the remote for my DVD player.

Two months ago, I tore up my apartment looking for this thing. I looked under furniture. I checked boxes. I went through every drawer and searched high and low. The moment that I found it today was one of those moments where you go, "Oh man, I'm an idiot." Want to know where it was? You'll never guess. Well, maybe you will. I didn't. It was sitting in plain sight on my desk. ARGH!

I finished up DM's Christmas present today. Now I just need to wrap it. Hee hee! I also completed something for myself and got a good start on the rest of Christmas gifts. Yea!

It got cold here. Really cold. The temp isn't quite below zero Farenheit yet, but it is approaching and with windchill, it sure feels like it. Awful. And we still don't have enough snow to cause a problem or play in. Just a couple of minor dustings. I'm bummed.

Last night at karaoke, we were chatting about cell phones. I mentioned that I might want a new phone one of these days, especially since little pieces are starting to fall off my phone. But I didn't want to change my plan or pay for it. So it is a "one of these days" purchase. Well, I stopped over at my mom's tonight to find a notice from my cell phone provider offering me a $230 phone free if I renew my contract. Since I was planning on renewing the contract, I called them up and I'll have the phone by next weekend. Cool!

When I got to my mom's, I found her making Chex Mix. She sent me home with a big bag of it. I love her.

There seems to be some problem with my template. I'm planning on fixing it tomorrow on my day off. Hopefully I'll get it working again. Seems to be a problem when I post pictures. Sorry about that. I may have to scrap a bit of the formatting I've done, but I'll do what I can. Actualy, I think it might have something to do with one thing in the template.

I wrote a week or so ago about the fact I haven't told my parents about emailing back and forth with Andriy. It is silly not to talk to them about it, but not unusual for me. I've never been good at sharing my feelings for men with them. Probably because neither of them are great at sharing their own emotions with me (or each other), but that's how it is. Well, tonight I was at my mom's and she was talking about Russia (she's helping her friend's daughter with these countries puzzles and it is really cool and this month's topic is Russia). I said, "Speaking of the Post Soviet States, here's some pictures." I showed her the pictures of Andriy.

This is what bothered me about the conversation and the reason I tend to not share with her about him. Her response, "Hmm. He looks middle-aged." That was about it. No excitement, no caring, just factual and thinking he looked middle-aged. Maybe I'm biased, but I don't see it. Maybe she just remembers him being 19.

Oh, the waiting game is still going.

I have to finish a project up for work now. Have a great night!

Writing Emails

Tonight, I got caught up in responding to emails. I have a few contacts I still need to reply to - MySpace is not something I look at often, but I managed to find three people that I actually know trying to contact me through it. One was my friend, Melissa, from my pool hall days who now seems to be interested in computers. I had two emails from high school contacts - I'm delaying those responses. Also, a friend from the bank who moved away over 2 years ago found me and contacted me. That was a nice surprise.

I also wrote back to Andriy. Finally. I had a couple of problems writing to him. Part of it had to do with the fact his reply was delayed and I didn't want to seem too anxious. I also didn't know what to write about. I'm being overly careful with my correspondence with him. I don't exactly know why. And the main reason for the delay? I didn't want to be stuck in the "oh-when-will-he-reply" waiting game again. It's going to be a continuous cycle.

I've given up on trying to post each night - but I am back in the habit of writing more than once a week. I'm going to try and find something to write about each night - even if it is just an update about my day.

Oops!

Well, I missed a day in the whole NaBloPoMo. Oh well. I guess missing one day isn't that bad and I am back in the habit of posting more often.

The problem? I'm running out of things to write each day. Taking the time each night to stare at a blank screen does seem to help and I randomly just start writing about something.

This weekend, I was an awful friend. DM moved and I didn't help. I feel bad about this. My stomach felt good, mainly because my reason for skipping out happened to be Thanksgiving dinner at my dad's. And that dinner included garlic injected turkey. Yum, yum, yum!

After dinner, Dad flipped through the channels and found Pulp Fiction playing. I do enjoy this movie (because I'm morbid or something) and we had to laugh at the horrible editing job the cable channel did. To edit for content on a movie that violent and that heavy on foul language, it certainly was interesting. We only watched a few scenes, but they were just plain bad. An entire character (while a minor character - but one that drove a significant storyline) was deleted. There was also a part where the "kind of" replaced the word that is never allowed on basic cable (unless it is really late at night).

And what really bothers me about TV editing of foul language? Movies are changed to leave out words like (and pardon me here) "Fuck," "Ass," "Goddamn," and "Balls," (the last is absolutely ridiculous) and leaves in words like, "Bitch," "Whore," and racial slurs. Why is it appropriate to use terms that are derogatory towards women and minorities, but white, heterosexual males are protected? Pisses me off. Sorry, that was my rant of the morning.

I've been helping Sarah with her accounting homework. Well, there's this problem that we've been working on this past week and it kept stumping me. Tonight, Sarah brought her homework up to karaoke (yes, I still went even without DM - horrible friend! Yes, I know.) And I finally figured it out! It's kind of lame to be this excited to have figured out a basic accounting problem, but I guess it frustrated me and I am glad it is over.

I think that's good for tonight (morning). There's something else I need to write (non-blog related) and I'm stumped with bad writer's block. And it bothers me. If you were me, and you needed to write to someone in a way that is interesting, what would you suggest I write about? Work? Family? Silly movies that were edited in a bad way? Okay, strike that last one.

Impatience

A couple of impatient saps - that's what we are.

I get one email from him and am ecstatic. Gaining composure, I reply a couple of days later.

He replies. Tells me news that I don't expect. I wait a few days to reply, gaining composure again.

In the meantime, before I write a really long email with pictures, he forwards the message he wrote two more times.

So I reply. No response for two weeks (turns out he was away on business - typical). I forward the email I wrote. I send another email asking if he received the email.

Finally, finally, he replies. I haven't replied yet.

But after a couple of days, he forwarded the email again.

We are pathetic and impatient, if nothing else.

Groggy-Eyed

The work week is about to begin for me and I have what most people would consider Monday morning blues. Except it is Tuesday afternoon. I stayed up way too late last night, playing this dumb computer game about Egypt which probably explains the dreams about mummies, and am paying the price. Don't worry. There's a solution that they sell in this marvelous red can, the great, the strong, the perfect drink: Coca~Cola. I am feeling it will be my friend today.

Many out there in the U.S. are ready for a short work week, followed by grand feasts, long naps, and shopping-'til-you-drop. Not I. This is a typical week for me at the office, except Thursday will most likely be slow for call volume.

Here's an odd thing about me - sometimes when I am dealing with an issue, I tell only select people. My parents are rarely in that group. It's not that I don't trust my parents (because I do) and it's not that I think they'll make fun of me (which they probably would in a good-natured kind of way), but problems were not really discussed when I was little and I never got into the habit of sharing.

In the last three weeks, my mom has used the phrase, "Well, that's all I know that's new." And every time, I've replied, "Yeah, not much here either." Which is not true. I don't understand why I haven't shared the pictures of Andriy and his emails with her yet. I haven't told my dad either. But I've shared each contact and my impatient ranting with all of you here. I've told everyone at karaoke and told a few a work. I guess I'm resolving to tell my parents that Andriy has contacted me, especially since they are the people in my life who actually know him.

Okay, going to do a few things and head to work!

I'm Going to Pretend I'm Annoyed But in Truth, I'm Wanting to Scream with Excitement, Fooled You, Didn't I?

Oh, sure, you were out of town. Oh, sure, you were busy.

Actually, I'm very happy right now. I woke up this morning afternoon to find an email from Andriy. In his normal fashion, it is brief, to the point, and does not share much about himself personally. He's like that. For years, the emails I got from him usually said, "Did you get my email?" It always seemed the ones he would write about himself were eaten up by the World Wide Web, you know, taking a vacation in the void.

This new email pretty much tells me he's been busy at work, traveling for his job, and just got back. I am a bit awed by his English skills in this letter - normally there are a few errors and he doesn't seem to have any here.

Well, back to being on cloud 9. I'll reply and the waiting game will continue, as usual.

Bah!

Random Moments from the Past Few Days

• In the spirit of Teri, I'm going to bullet point these jumbled thoughts
• I saw Shrunken Head Man at Perkins again
• He shows up often there
• Today I went shopping for the team with Steve
• On the way to the store, I asked Steve if he remembered the random thing I wanted to buy for home
• He didn't know
• He was offering suggestions though
• He seemed like he wanted to suggest femine hygeine products
• But was way too embarrassed to bring that subject up to his boss
• Even if we are friends
• Cheese ended up being the random answer
• Food court food is barely edible
• And it may make your stomach hurt for hours after
• Even if you typically have a strong stomach
• Our team is moving our desks at the call center
• We're not going far
• Moving my desk is a week long project
• How much crap can one person accummulate over 6 years?
• Over 4 cart loads it seems
• But I have every training manual from every class I've ever attended
• I don't know if they are all worth keeping
• I'm printed the pictures of Andriy to bring to karaoke and show Liz and James
• Andriy is always on my mind
• That may be why I had a problem falling asleep last night
• Three hours is a long time to lay in bed trying to clear your mind
• I've been watching movies lately at home
• Not a good plan
• Not good because of the movies I've been drawn to
• Love, Actually
• Princess Bride
• Sleepless in Seattle
• Hitch
• Four Weddings and a Funeral
• Maybe I should switch to the action section of my DVD collection
• Is it too obsessive compulsive to organize my DVD collection by genre
• And then alphabetize it?
• It is very specific
• Comedy
• Disney Animated
• Anime
• Tarantino
• Musicals
• Animated - non-Disney
• Based on comic books
• Based on TV shows
• War
• Based on Real Life People
• Classics
• Westerns
• Scary/Thriller
• Sports
• Based on books
• Drama
• Romanic comedy
• Action
• Television
• It is rather sad that I have over 400 DVDs
• And that I my TV has a five disc DVD player
• Surround sound
• VCR
• PS2
• and N64 attached to it
• And the TV is so old that the remote stopped working 4 years ago
• And needs an adapter to plug in any additional systems to it
• Seems like putting custom rims and custom plates on a Geo Prism
• My stomach still hurts from the food court food
• One of my favorite people at work is retiring this week
• There's a party for him on Wednesday night
• I'm going (duh, right?)
• And I'm out of random crap to post
• Good night!

Reflecting

Funny how the month that I decide to write a post daily happens to align with the time that I have one thing on my mind. How boring. I'm trying very hard not to write about the same subject each and every day - unsuccessful in my humble opinion. Those nights I sit down and try to write a post that is not about the feelings driving me insane are the nights I pull out old high school essays, write about sitting in the dark at work, and random book reviews.

This blog is supposed to be a place where I write out stories about events I've had in life. Situations that were a bit funny or touching, or something at least.

It does seem that every time I try to stop thinking about a certain, insignificant connection recently reestablished, my "logical" mind decides to find another reason to think about it. I wonder if the fact this is on my mind constantly is the reason my team is dipping at work a little. Probably not, but the timing fits with everything else going on.

On my bookshelf, I have a little book called, "The Book of Questions." It's written by Gregory Stock, Ph. D. In it, there are 217 thought-provoking questions (with some follow-up ones). I rarely get past the first one.

The first question posed is, "For a person you loved deeply, would you be willing to move to a distant country, knowing there would be little chance of seeing your friends or family again?" Wow. Really? Really? How did you know to ask?

Sharing my true emotions is not an easy task. It's almost as if my mind, typically residing in logic mode, trips up my words, stunts my speech, and bottles up what I really out to share. I'm going to try to share those feelings here.

Hope. The feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best. Thats one of the feelings I keep having. Does it sound insane to know, want, and wish for a life with a man who lives almost 5000 miles away (8000 kilometers)? A man who I have spent one month of my life with (out of 337)? A man that I've had contact with three times (each a short span of time with a few emails and chat programs) in the last 8 and a half years?

It's ridiculous. I'm an optimist, sure, but this? Holy crap. That's a test of optimism. How the hell will this ever work out? As for the question the book presents, I know my answer. And it doesn't make me feel good.

When is love not enough? It is in songs, movies, books, etc. Surrounded by the belief that love is all we need. Love can conquer all. Nice sentiment, but a bit unrealistic. I looked up the circumference of the earth. A little less than 25,000 miles. I guess he's not half a world away, only a fifth of a world away. That doesn't make it any better.

Blast! I don't even know how to write all I'm feeling. It's like my mind is a jumbled mess, trying to make it a logical thought process and all I can really come up with quickly is, "A memenah ma me him." Why do I feel the need to turn into a bubblering idiot? That frustrates me. It almost angers me that there is someone out there who can make me feel like this. Yeah, angry. Angry because I want him in my life so badly and it can't happen so I have a constant stuggle to make sense of it all.

Another question in the book, in the follow-up section, poses this, "Is it better to have dreams that will never come to pass or to have no dreams at all? How much better would your life be if the things you dream of doing or having were granted to you?" I don't know that answer. But it seems to be what is kicking around in my brain.

This post, or desperate attempt to clear my head, is not working as I want it to. I'm still faced with questions, still struggling with emotions, and still checking my emailfifteen times a day, hoping for the familiar address to show up.

It's torture. Not like pins under the fingernails torture, but emotional torture. I'm sure most people have a way to identify with this feeling. It's frustration. Frustration for what we can't remedy, what we can't change, what we can't do.

Gar! At times like this, I resort to speaking like a pirate. It's because nothing else I can say seems to fit.

More on this topic to come. I hope I don't drive everyone away.

I replied

After a couple of days worrying about how to respond to the email I received from Andriy, worried that it would sound like:

Dear Andriy,

Blah ba gar da anhuoasnayha

Always,

Beth

I finally came up with a response. I'm trying to figure out if it sounds over the top and I'm not sure I care if it does. This is crazy. I know I'm not going to move to Ukraine. I know he's not going to move here. This is not going to work. Duh. Yet... There is still a part of me screaming to get on a plane RIGHT NOW and go there. Who cares if it costs more than I can afford? Who cares if I don't speak any of the language (take that back - I can say "chicken" in Ukrainian. Just to irritate DM. That will get me far. And sure, DM and I got through Portugal knowing, "Bacon," but that's not the same. Poultry is not pork. See? There is relevance there. I'm not sure where, but it's there.)

Okay, so back to the point. I replied. It's full of endearment and doesn't send any negative signals, but it doesn't come right out and say, "You are the most perfect man I think I will ever meet and I want you to move to America so I can be with you always." Because that would sound crazy.

I wrote to him how I was happy to hear from him and how I was sorry I never sent an email, thinking he didn't want to talk to me (which, apparently, he did). I congratulated him on his promotion at work and asked some questions about what he does. I briefly touched upon his failed marriage - not prying but offering a listening ear anytime he felt inclined to talk about it. He asked to pay for this computer battery that I shipped (because his computer failed after he got it) and I (read: SUCKER) told him not to worry about it. Honestly, I wrote that off quite some time ago and I don't worry about it.

I told him I want to visit him. I don't know how, I don't know when, but my belief that someday is stronger. I also invited him to visit here anytime he wants - jokingly suggesting immigration.

He asked for pictures and instead of sending him the link to my Flickr account (not quite ready for him to read my blog or see all the pictures), I sent him a few pictures that I didn't hate. A few were from Portugal. One is from January 2006 and the other from last year. All have been my profile picture. Funny how that works. I told him that I went to Portugal, but not too many details. Hopefully this round of contact will last longer and there will be plenty of time to share those stories.

I complimented him on the pictures he sent me. Yes, there is still an attraction there. He looks older, but that's not a bad thing. I asked questions about his life, hoping to prompt him to write me more and more. Each email does bring me joy - even if it is tortured joy. I told him about school and work and how I go out with friends many nights a week. Then I told him how much his letters mean to me and that I look forward to his reply.

Oh, did I mention that it took me a couple days to reply and since he hadn't heard from me, he forwarded his email again? I guess he's anxious to hear from me. Damn, that touches me too.

Someone out there is laughing at me. This is just torture. This is a bit too long-distance for me. And yet, I can't stop thinking about him. Even without hearing from him for three years, I never stopped thinking of him.

Half a World Away and Still Able to Surprise Me

A week ago, I turned 28. On that day, I opened my AOL email account, an account I use infrequently (since switching to gmail and a school account) but maintain because it is the one I've had the longest. I was stunned to find an email from Andriy (fake name in the original post) and wrote a quick blurb about it on this site. There was some nice comments, sentiments that made me smile. I know that Andriy is a man I'll never forget. I know that all men I've met since have been compared to him (rarely standing up to him).

I wrote the phrase, "He's happly married, working hard, and making a life for himself." Well, I guess I jumped the gun a bit. The last I had heard, he was married, working hard, and making a life for himself. I assumed the bit about, "happily."

Last night, right before bed, I pulled up my email again and found another message from him (as well as some other emails I need to respond to). He was able to shock me again. I was expecting more news that would make my stomach hit the floor - something along the lines of, "My wife and I are now the proud parents of 2.5 children who are absolutely beautiful and the center of our world." You know, something that just proves that there is no chance, how little, in the world that I should hold onto.

What I did not expect was the line, "As to my family, it broke apart even not a year of living together." Oh, great. He's divorced (or had the marriage annulled - I'm not sure of details).

Okay, I can deal with this. It's still absurd to get my hopes up over a man that I spent 4 weeks with 8 1/2 years ago when I was 19. It's crazy.

The rest of the email contains bits and pieces (coherent, and utterly adorable broken English) about the computer battery I had helped him purchase and shipped to Ukraine. He gives a solid reason for not contacting me for the last three years. As it turns out, his laptop fell shortly after getting the battery and broke into pieces, unrepairable, and the hard drive (where my email address was) was completely destroyed. Then he spent the last three years searching the Internet for my email address (okay - so he's not a detective and this took too long - I will give him the benefit of the doubt here in the fact that my name is pretty common). He did offer an apology for losing contact. He wrote, "I was looking for any possible information about you via Internet. But it was all no result. I lost any hope to find you."

Then, just randomly surfing Yahoo, he looked for my name and included my state. He found a genealogy site for a program that I haven't used in years but had my oldest email account, one that I've considered getting rid of but never quite did, listed on it. He wrote about how he was happy and lucky. Between the two sentences, there are 19 exclamation points (I did not count them until James made a joke about counting them, so there.) He was obviously happy to fin me.

He's been promoted at work, vice governor of his state. (Because that's not impressive - no, not at all. Bah!) He's quite passionate about his work, having finished law school.

Oh, and then there is the part where he asks me to come to Ukraine, anytime I want. He wrote, "It would be nice if you could come to Ukraine, whenever you want - I'll be happy to see you here." Sure, when's the next flight? Ha, ha, ha. Someone is laughing out there, right? You should. It's funny. Because it is driving me insane.

He sent me three photos of himself. He wants me to send him a picture of me (I may just send him my Flickr account address - plenty of pics there with easier upload/download times). And he is "looking forward to [my] answer."

I have no clue what to write to him. How does, "Baha blkah knjahkn nanabyada ebada, Always, Beth" sound? Because that's what is going through my mind.

Don't get hopes up - this is what I keep telling myself. It is crazy to think that this would ever work out. I'm not moving to Ukraine and I can't honestly think he would move to Minnesota and give up what I'm not prepared to leave behind. And who knows, I'm probably reading into all of this too much. Maybe he's just a rose-colored glasses memory. Maybe he's just dedicated to maintaining contacts in his life. There's an ocean between us. We were both 19 when we knew each other. We've both grown and changed in a million ways.

And I still see him in my mind's eye walking down that ramp to the airplane, turning back one last time for a final glance.

Voice From the Past

Early this week, via the Internet, contact was made. I was shocked, surprised, and stunned. If there was one person I thought I would never hear from again. It has been a long time since I heard from him and the sight of the message made my stomach drop.

My first thought was happiness at seeing the message. I figured the message would be filled with reasons and an explanation. In fact, it was simple.

Although I feel a bit of sadness about the history between us, I can still hold onto the happy times and wish him every bit of happiness. He's happily married, working hard, and making a life for himself. I'm not part of that life and that is sad, but I also accept what life threw at me. I'll remember the wonderful times. I'll remember the nights of laughter and smiles.

He wrote, "If you remember me," and all I want to reply is, "How could I forget?"

I do still care. He still touches my heart.

Stream of Consciousness (Did you know that Blogger actually limits how long your title can be?)

I don't want to call this post "Life Update" so I think I'm going to go with Stream of Consciousness induced by two days of being sick and couped up in my apartment

The past two days I have called in sick to work. Don't be alarmed, it's nothing major but still, work was not the place for me to be. I've slept badly the past three nights and I'm hoping I get a better set of winks tonight. I have to work tomorrow, my team has a meeting. I'm also sure the emails have flooded my inbox and that my desk is buried in paperwork. A project that I want rolled out by October 1 is on the list of priorities. Steve's back from vacation and I've spoken to him twice on the phone, telling him I wouldn't be there, but I haven't got to ask him how his trip was. Yuck.

Besides the bad sleep, I've felt yuck around my abdomen, which is why I haven't slept well. I'm going no farther to explain.

Sitting at home, staring at walls, drives be absolutely crazy. Once in awhile, I'll get a boost of energy and at least have been fairly productive during those bursts. I've reorganized one of my hall closets (things actually fit now - no more spilling out into the hallway!), emptied some boxes for DM to use in moving (read as cleared up my living room quite a bit), and organized my scrapping area. Besides DM's piles of stickers and paper set haphazardly, it looks pretty good. When DM comes over this weekend, she'll be pleasantly surprised at the room in that area.

I have been in the process of getting rid of piles and piles of excess scrapbooking magazines (parts without layout ideas) and hauled quite a few bags of garbage to the dumpster. There was a bad moment when one of the bags ripped open in the lobby and I had to run back upstairs to get more bags and then pick up random bits of paper. It's all that odd cardstock/shiny stuff and I don't have a place to recylce it here. Bah! At least when the bag ripped it wasn't full of rotten food and liquid.

About the only interesting (and that's debatable) part of these past two days was when my cell phone started beeping to tell me someone text messaged me. It was not a person I expected. Although, I should have because it's been a few months since he called. I only know one person who would ever send a message stating, "Yo yo how are you? doing" It's just great being in someone's little black book phone. Give it 6 more months and I'll hear from him again. He's in that stage of his life that I would refer to as the "job hopping stage." Former banker he now boasts working in sales for a construction company. A year ago, he was closing on mortgages for meth addicts. I think this new job is a step up. Maybe. The conversation over text message was kept rather short and he pretty much caught me up on his life. I didn't offer any info on mine.

I found an Amazon.com gift certificate that I had and used it. To accidentally purchase a DVD set I already own. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I think the stress finally got to me. In my defense, I had originally planned on purchasing the item from Amazon with this certificate and then bought it in a store because I didn't have it. When I checked out online, I forgot to remove it from my cart. Damn.

I'm thinking about doing another post tonight for thirteen Thursday. I'm thinking. If you see it, I did it. How's that for a deal?

What does one do with 300+ floppy disks for an "A" drive when the last four computers that person has owned has not been compatible? I suppose I could purchase an external "A" drive and see what is actually on these disks, but I doubt the files are not even compatible to my system. Well, I suppose I can do the same thing with the disks that I've done for the last 8 years: put them back in a box at the bottom of the closet.

At one point in time, I thought that saving every single plastic bag that scrapping supplies came in would prove useful. What was useful was the actual mass organization system that I bought. Say goodbye to little plastic bags. I did.

I have no idea My father is a pack rat. That's where I got this problem I seem to have. Going through things the past two days, I have found more stuff that I thought I might need someday, you know, if the world was destroyed and I'd be forced to live in my apartment with no option to leave for thirteen years. Besides only having about a month's worth of toilet paper, I have enough supplies to entertain myself and keep myself smelling nice and fresh for years. The closet seemed to have 5 bottles of lotion (which I can't stand to put on), 3 bottles of body spray, 22 bottles of nail polish, 15 eye liner pencils, four boxes of bandages, 3 boxes of jewelry, over 100 scrunchies, and at least 7 bottles of hair goo. Now, I use the same three scrunchies over and over, rarely wear jewelry, and wear make up about once a year. The bandages seem to be the most useful things in the closet. ARGH! Don't get me started on my kitchen cupboards. No one ever needs 8 cans of creamed corn.

At my dad's on Monday, I found a box from my college days. In it was a 3-ring binder containing EVERY SINGLE report I wrote during my grade school years. Just in case I ever need to show someone the report I wrote on a Mary Higgins Clark book in the 7th grade.

I am pretty sure this is a disease people. And it is genetic. Because I do have in my possession a report my dad wrote in the 4th grade about outer space. Before men walked on the moon. Yep, that's my family.

Speaking of my family, I got a bit of news recently. My grandfather (I've known about this for awhile actually but haven't mentioned it) has some form of cancer and has been going in for chemo. 99.9% of cases like his, caught when his was caught, are cured. So, besides his boredom of being hooked up to a machine for a few hours and having his already thin hair fall out, not much is different. Except the fact that my grandmother now drives him to and from the hospital. That's where my whole family is worried. This woman got stuck on a cloverleaf for over 20 minutes one time because she doesn't know how to merge. I hope she's taking side streets.

My cousin, Chris, has been going in for dialysis for a few years now. He's decided it is time to go back on the list for a kidney donor. I got an email that said something about a bovine implant for a stint? I think that's right. Interesting. I like Chris. He really is a good guy.

His brother, and also my cousin, Matt sold his house and made quite a bit of profit on it. Good for him I guess. He needs something happy. I say this because his wife left him for another man, twenty years her senior. He's got two kids and I've met one of them. I happened to be in Waterloo the day that kid was born. I tend to forget their names. This is absolutely terrible! I was going through pictures and remembering what it was like to actually spend time with this side of my family. They were cool when I was little. Now I like my aunt, Diane, and my cousin, Chris.

Months ago, I purchased, "The Colorado Kid," an audio book written by Stephen King. I bought it because I love Stephen King and hadn't seen the book in stores. I listened to it today. It's a mystery, no horror, from the master of storytelling. It was pretty good and I could definitely tell it was a King story.

My next class has started. Finance Part Deux. This one will actually get into present value tables and I'm not looking forward to it. Final grades for the first torture session class have not been distributed yet, but unless I got marked down during the last week, I should come away with an "A". I was at 100% at the end of week 4. I slammed the slackers idiots my former group members in the evaluation. I only consider that fair since I pretty much wrote all the papers and had to edit them too. I hate them all. I still hate them all. (By the way, this is meant to be funny. While they did nothing, I am done with the class and ready to let it go. Unlike the grudge I still hold over my cousin James for his provoking me when I was 8 or 9, causing me to lose patience with him after 20 minutes, hitting him with the heel of a stilleto in his arm, which my mom made me apologize for and make him a sandwich. He deserved it! Ellen even said so. Bah! See, the group members are getting off easy. They're just getting a grade higher than that of what they deserve.)

Well, that's enough rambling for tonight. I have decided not to complete a Thirteen Thursday post. Call it laziness, call it deciding that I am going to have something of content on this site again soon. One of these days. Maybe in 2008.

Another Update of the Weekend and a bit of iPod Shuffling...

Where did I leave off? Oh yeah, I updated about Thursday's poor* decision to visit the casino (my wallet is still suffering). On Friday, I decided to visit my dad for a bit (watched some CSI and Monk) and then headed to Wild Tymes to see Angie host karaoke. Amy and Becky were there, as well as Angie's parents and brother. Dean also showed up later and I found out even more horrors about Sunday. It has been stated, but here I go again, "I AM NEVER DRINKING THAT MUCH AGAIN." I apologized to Dean for telling him that he had "no penis." Oops. That was not the nicest thing I've ever said.

Saturday was a good day. I slept extremely late and awoke to find a message from my mom on my phone and a text message from the player. Who knew a drunken text message would start an entire week of conversation**? I called DM after talking with my mom and told her we needed food and to see a movie. I know she's sick, but she's not that sick. Just a little cough. We went to Green Mill for dinner and then saw The Producers. It was worth it. We left the theater, singing the songs from the show and just laughing. I certainly enjoyed it.

The other night, I sat at Perkins and put my iPod on shuffle again. My iPod certainly can find a mood and stick to it. It is a bit random sometimes. Here's a little of the mood my iPod was in that night:

Song #1: Nookie, Limp Bizkit
After a night of drunken craziness and thoughts of sex, this is not the best song to hear. "I did it all for the nookie, c'mon the nookie, so you can take that cookie and stick it up your ..."

Song #2: Tired, Tabitha's Secret
"Would I be a bigger man if I built a wall around your heart and dared you to come in?" Relationships take work. I don't think I've been ready to put as much of myself into a relationship for a long time. "Hurt's a funny thing." I've been hurt before without realizing it was happening and I'm terrified of it happening again. But fear leaves me alone. I'd like to experience love again. It is worth the pain, right?

Song #3: Show Me, Bree Sharp
"Solitairy girl, I have been, living in a cell, made of skin. Sealed inside myself ... I can't fee what you feel ... Show me the way to my heart, show me, show me."

Song #4: If I Had You, Queen Latifah
"I could show the world how to smile, I could be glad all the while ... If I had you." My mom thinks this album is full of "you did me wrong but I want you back to walk all over me" songs. I think this song is about wanting, but I have no impression of "you've done me wrong." Why are there so many songs about love? It amazes me how much people are inspired by it and yet it is still so undefinable.

Song #5: Occasionally, Melissa Etheridge
"I'm only lonely when I'm driving in my car, I'm only lonely afer dark, I'm only lonely when I watch my TV, I'm only lonely occasionally." This song haunts me. Melissa Etheridge sings it with emotion and passion and the only background is someone pounding out a beat on drums, probably by hand.

Song #6: The Bad Touch, Bloodhound Gang
This is where iPod decided to focus on sex songs.
I think this song was released my first year of college. It is completely ridiculous and I am glad it not a song I purchased. Adam actually gave it to me, but it is still one I can laugh about. Remember the fad in music (that probably is still continuing and will) to just put as many pop culture references into a song as possible? It was a way for many bands to break the scene and find fans. This is one of those songs but applied to sex.

Song #7: Would You Mind, Janet Jackson
My iPod is stuck on sex. This song is so bad (in every way possible) that it is funny. My friend from the pool hall bought this album when it was released and I was still a regular. She told all of us, "You have to hear this song! It's like audio porn!" And it is. Very bad.

Song #8: Dig Down Deep, Marc Cohn
"Baby let's go below the surface, let's see what we can find. There's no reason to be nervous, it happens all the time ... Baby, let's dig down, dig down deep, could you dig down deep?" It makes me think that I shouldn't fight my emotions as I classically do. But then, that makes up me. Seriously folks, romantic feelings are so illogical that they drive me insane. I'd like to experience love again, but it scares me because I can't make sense of it. ARGH!

Song #9: Need You Tonight, INXS
I have this song because it is on a soundtrack. "Slide over here, give me a moment, your moves are so raw, I've got to let you know, I've got to let you know, you're one of my kind." I'm thinking bad thoughts.

Song #10: Obsession, Animotion
So strange! I was just thinking at the end of "Need You Tonight" that this song would be next. How did that happen? "What do you want me to be to have you sleep with me?" My iPod is horny!

Song #11: Downfall, Matchbox Twenty
"I wonder how you sleep, I wonder what you think of me ... Be my savior and I'll be your downfall." Funny, it sounds like a bad boy singing to an innocent woman. This is not what I need to hear. You know what, I pretend around people I know that I'm not that innocent. The problem is, I am a bit naive and innocent. Why am I afraid of showing my innocent side? Is it because I think it is a weakness? Hmmm, there's a thought for a shrink.

Song #12: First Time I Ever Saw Your Face, Johnny Cash
"I thought the sun rose in your eyes, and the moon and the stars were gifts you gave to the dark and endless sky, my love." American IV: The Man Comes Around is a fantastic album. I suggest listening to the man in black (the original, not Randall Flagg***) and appreciate his take on all these covers. This is really one of my favorite albums. I don't play it often, but I'd never take it out of my collection. I have to be in the right mood to listen to most of it because his voice is filled with sadness and regret and love and misery and it is moving.

Song #13: New Coat of Paint, Bob Seger
My parents bought The Fire Inside album when it came out. I loved this song as a teenager. I think I loved it because I didn't pay close enough attention to the lyrics. In fact, the line, "Set 'em up, set 'em up, we'll be knocking them down" made me think of bowling, not liquor. This song has nothing to do with bowling! Oops!

Song #14: Faith, George Michael
"I guess it would be nice, if I could touch your body..." How did no one notice he was gay? I mean, I know it was the 80's, but were they really that outrageous? DM and I had to sit back in awe watching the videos while in Portugal (VH1 Classics) and just be amazed at how "out" George Michael was but no one noticed. Wow.

And just for fun, I'm going to list my Top 20 favorite albums of all times, not in any particular order:

1. Mechanical Bride, Medium
2. All You Need is Live, Cowboy Mouth
3. Graceland, Paul Simon
4. More Than You Think You Are, Matchbox Twenty
5. Skin, Melissa Etheridge
6. Easy, Cowboy Mouth
7. Sevens, Garth Brooks
8. Gordon, Barenaked Ladies
9. Pulp Fiction Soundtrack
10. Reload, Tom Jones (well, what I've heard of it)
11. The CD Steve made me for Christmas (the first one)
12. Spirit, Jewel
13. The Dana Owens Album, Queen Latifah
14. The Fire Inside, Bob Seger
15. Yourself or Someone Like You, Matchbox Twenty
16. Lucky, Melissa Etheridge
17. Lie to Me, Jonny Lang
18. Marc Cohn, Marc Cohn
19. Rock Spectacle, Barenaked Ladies
20. American IV: The Man Comes Around, Johnny Cash

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*The decision was bad on the wallet. I still had a good time. So it is not a total loss. Actually, it doesn't seem like a loss at all. I had fun and that is what counts, right?

**The messages are rather amusing. I have no interest in this guy. He's a bit of fun to mess with and I enjoy the fact that at least one guy seems to be interested in me as a woman, but I seriously don't trust him and wouldn't want to date him. He is a self-esteem booster and that is all. So, on that note, here are the messages (I am (B) and he is (P) (as in the Player)):

Monday:
(B) Sorry about the message last night. I was extremely drunk. I hope I did not offend you.
(P) I thought it was funny.
(B) Well good. I can honestly say it was one of the less embarrassing things from last night. Thanks for being understanding.

Wednesday:
(P) What else did you do? It can't be that bad (Note, I am correcting his grammar)
(B) Oh it could. Dana was also drunk and we made idiots of ourselves in front of everyone we know. Lots of sharing secrets.
(P) Any fun secrets?
(B) Maybe secrets about crushes and acts we wanted to engage in with certain men.
(P) Ah, sounds like fun.
(B) It was fun. We all found out that Dana swallows. And I seem to like showing people my panties.
(P) Girls should swallow and panties are fun to look at (Again, don't want to date him)
(B) You're funny. Hey, you never answered my question.
(P) What? What was it?
(B) The original one from Sunday night.
(P) What's that?
(B) Are you playing coy with me?
(P) No, I really don't know.
(B) Okay then. I believe it was about your appearance.
(P) Oh, yeah. I am.
(B) Good. I'd hate to think you were not sure of yourself.

Saturday
(P) I work with [former co-worker]'s estranged mom.
(B) That's interesting. Why are they estranged?
(P) I don't know. Her mom's crazy.
(B) Okay then.

***Stephen King reference.