Painted Toes!

I just painted my toes for the music teacher's conference tomorrow!  They look super cute!

It's a little fuzzy, because I took the picture on my phone, but you get the idea...
I used Sally Hansen Nail Art Pens in white and silver that I bought at Wal-Mart for $7.50.  They were a tad bit expensive, but I really like the results I got and I can continue to use the pens for quite a while yet!

And So They Say....

"They", you know, those mysterious people who tell us things (such as, eggs are bad for us, it's bad to use heat on your hair, flats are bad for your feet, heels are bad for your feet and legs, running is bad for your knees, etc), say this should be easy for me.  I'm not so sure.


While a lot of things "they" say are probably true, a lot of them maybe are not and a lot are easier said than done.


"They" say, opening up is easier once you've done it.  I feel like I'm putting a knife in my gut and slowly twisting.


So, here goes:


I texted Jake on Thursday.  I had just remembered Wednesday night that he still had a couple movies I had loaned him (Freedom Writers and The Assassination of Jesse James by Robert Ford, the Coward).  I texted him asking if I could get them back, because (if you've read my previous blog) I was planning on not talking to him ever again.


He told me to stop by and pick them up anytime, and long story short, I went to his place directly after class and we ended up talking.  Well, he ended up doing most of the talking and I ended up crying and trying to talk.


We talked for some time, 3-4 hours I think, and he kept insisting that I was hiding something from him.  When I insisted I wasn't, he kept bringing up examples of conversations left unfinished and he kept prodding for answers.


One conversation he referenced was left unfinished, because I got upset and frustrated at the fact that he wouldn't accept my answer of "Well, not really.  But we'll leave it at that."  He asked why I had said that, so I told him that it was because I had not had enough time to formulate a better answer than that and that I had become frustrated and shut down.


He seemed a little disbelieving, telling me that the conversation (had via texting, because he was at work) had taken nearly 2 hours, and that had to have been more than enough time.  When I tried to explain how it wasn't enough time, I couldn't make it come out so that Jake could understand me.  I began to get frustrated and I began telling Jake to stop badgering me about it, even though he wasn't.


He got a little suspicious and aksed what was wrong.  When I tried to explain and couldn't, I said, "Nothing," and turned to leave.  He asked me to stop and try to explain.  I told him that I didn't have enough time and that he needed to do homework, so I was leaving.  He kindly told me that he had all the time in the world and he would really like to know what was wrong.


I started crying, again, and tried very hard to explain what I was feeling.  I started with a story from elementary school:


I had a terrible teacher one year.  She couldn't teach math very well at all.  As a result, I missed out on a lot of fundamentals.  As I progressed to higher grades, my math grades got poorer and poorer.  I got a D in 4th grade math and I failed 5th grade math.  As some background, it is important you know that I was a straight A student, except for math.  I was also in the gifted program and in advanced levels in all subjects but math. 


I would sit for hours with my dad and do math homework.  We would start directly after dinner, around 6:00pm and work for hours on my math homework.  As a 3rd grader, I would be up until midnight sometimes doing math homework, with my dad (sometimes not so patiently by my side) helping me. 


He is a Metalurgical Engineer and math comes very easily to him.  He is so good at it, he sometimes has a hard time breaking it down and simplifying it to explain it.  My teacher couldn't explain it.  A lot of times, there would be arguing and shouting from the kitchen table as my dad and I did homework.  He would get so frustrated with me, and would say things like, "Come on, Jamie, think!  What is 5x5?  You know this!"  But I honestly did not know what 5x5 was.  And I would get so frustrated because I didn't know and I couldn't explain that I didn't know that I would shut down.  I would start crying and I could no longer communicate with anyone; I could no longer think or function.  I can't tell you how many math assignments had tear stains on them.


I would get so frustrated, because I couldn't explain to my dad that I didn't know.  I knew how to say it in my head, but somehow, I couldn't get it out of my mouth.  And I would get so upset with myself for not being able to explain and for letting my dad down.  I wanted to please him so bad, but I just could not make the words come out.  And when I did know the math problem (which was rarely), I could not explain how I had arrived at my answer.  I knew how I got there, but I could not articulate that to my dad.


As I progressed through school, classes became more focused on discussion and speaking in class.  I dreaded it.  I kept quiet and avoided making eye contact with anyone, most especially the teacher, lest they ask me a question or ask me to explain something.  I suppose that made my problem worse.


When a teacher did ask me, I could not articulate to them that I did know the answer to the question.  You see, back then, I was a voracious reader.  I read EVERYTHING I could get my hands on.  And because of my musical background, I am a very good listener.  I can listen to the teacher in class, not take notes, and still pass a test with an 80% or better.  (This has not always worked to my advantage towards teachers, though.  They don't like it when you don't take notes.)  I can listen to a teacher and repeat almost verbatim what they've said.  But I can't articulate to them that I have made my own meaning from the things we've learned in class.


I sometimes can't write what I know.  And I require a lot of reflection time to be able to plan what I am going to say; to get the things I know from my head to my mouth.


Jake was slightly flabbergasted, I think.  I am one of those students that never cracked a text book in high school, unless the assignment was problems from the math book, and I rarely took notes.  In fact, I think my entire high school experience can be summed up in maybe 5 notebooks.  I have only read one text book in college, and I didn't even read it all the way through.  And I still have relatively good grades.  I think Jake was surprised by the fact that I am a "smart kid," but I can't communicate my thoughts or feelings to save my life.


Though, Jake wasn't too surprised.  As we have both learned in our SPED classes, gifted students sometimes have learning disabilities, too.  While I wouldn't call my inability to communicate, to articulate my thoughts and feelings, a learning disability, per se, it is a disability.


You cannot imagine how awful it is to be unable to communicate with others in a coherent manner.  Sometimes, I say things that make absolutely no sense at all, in attempt to communicate.  And sometimes the things I say contradict themselves, but I can't seem to find the words to make it correct.  I get so frustrated at my inability to articulate myself that I shut down.  I just do not know how to handle the intense frustration and I can't make myself function anymore, after a certain point.


Jake has been rather understanding about this, but I still try not to talk to him.  I am still hurt that he called me a liar.  I have never lied to anyone in my life, ever.  And I will never lie to anyone, ever.  I suppose, with my inability to communicate, that some things come across as lies, but they aren't.  I just, truly, cannot get the words form my head to the person I'm communicating with.


You also cannot imagine how painstaking it is for me to communicate with you about anything beyond pleasantries or music.  It takes intense effort and concentration on my part to have a conversation with you, and I leave feeling drained - emotionally, physically, mentally.


I do feel some better now that I am not keeping this a secret anymore.  But I am so ashamed of this and I am so terribly worried and terrified about sharing this part of myself.  I suppose you all know this now.


I am only sorry it took so long for me to say it and I am sorry it came about the way it did.  But I can't ignore it and I can't pretend it doesn't exist, because I deal with it every day.


I do feel some better having said it, though...

Brightening...

Today was pretty good.  And rather interesting.


I was slightly late to class, though we watched an interesting video.  And choir was pretty good, though slightly frustrating.


We even got our project slightly figured out, so we have a bit more of an idea where we are going with it.  That was a huge stress relief for our group.  We now have a conscious direction to go in and we know have a really good idea of what we are doing.


I felt pretty cute today and I felt like I got a lot accomplished.  I've been in the library for 3 hours now, and I've so far completed 4 assignments and I watched a TV show on Hulu for another assignment/class discussion on Friday.  I am currently completing assignment number 5. 


Today has been a good day, and it's so far been 3 days with 0 texts to or from Jake.  I am feeling so good about that.  He called me a liar the other day, and I do not need people like that in my life.  I do miss his friendship, though, like the times we sat and talked religion for hours, or when he came over to watch movies with me and we ended up talking about politics or books, instead or watching the movie.


But a lot of times, he wanted me to argue with him, and he always put me down.  He always called my thoughts and feelings irrational and silly. 


And I just really don't need someone like that in my life.  I've had too many of those kinds of people that nearly ruined my life, and I do not need another one.


So I'm going to make these 3 days turn into 4, and then 5 and then a week.  Then 2 weeks, a month.  If he texts/calls me wanting to talk about whatever he percieves to have happened, then that is fine, but I am not going to take the initiative to make contact with him.  And I am not going to confide in him any longer.


Things are looking brighter.  My life is brightening.  And I am pleased.

Today

Today, I am posting from my Kindle, because my computer died yesterday.  So if things look funny, that's why.

Today, I looked cute.  I felt the way a poplar, pretty person must feel every day.  My straight hair was blowing about in the breeze and I carried only my purse and a paper cup from the coffee shop.  A few people even did double takes as they walked by.

Overall,it was a pretty good day.  It was day two of not talking to Jake and it was nice.  

My voice lesson went well and even the impromtu trip home to leave my computer was refreshing.  Things are beginning to look more positive.

And I am actually tired before midnight for the first time in a while,so I am going to take advantage of that.  And typing on my Kindle is time consuming...

Accusations

Yesterday, well, last night, actually, I was accused of being a liar.  I was accused of not telling the truth, but saying what this person wanted to hear.


This was coming from someone who I considered my best friend, someone I loved and cherished for their opinions, advice and friendship.


I am so hurt and betrayed.  I feel so lost, forlorn and alone. 


My friend doesn't trust me anymore, because he feels that my last blog [Ode to the Boy I Love(d)] made him out to be a user and a person who leads others on.  I told him I meant it to say how let down I felt and how upset I was about him saying he was going to do something and not following through with it.


And so here I sit feeling hurt and alone because someone I called my friend called me a liar.


I am not a liar.  I never lie.  Not ever.

Ode to the Boy I Love(d)

Ode to the Boy I Love(d)




You are so perfect: so beautiful in every way.
You let me confide in you, and you don't judge me:
Messed up, confused, afraid, sad, tired, broken little me.

You pushed me to tell you something I wanted to keep private.  I didn't want to tell you, I really didn't.  I wanted to keep it private, because I didn't want things to get weird.  But you pushed, you kept pushing and I told you.  You said it didn't matter, that it wouldn't alter the way we interacted.

And poor, messed up, confused, afraid, sad, tired, broken little me: I believed you.
I thought, though I swore I wouldn't let myself, that you might care for me on some level.  You said you didn't see me that way, and I accepted that, wanting, ever, to be the friend I thought I should be. 

I let you come and go.  I let you do as you please, to come as you please...to do as you please.  I expected nothing from you, nothing in return for what I gave out.  I gave my undying affection to you, I gave my unfaltering friendship to you.  I never asked for anything in return, except your friendship.

And then, I asked you to come when I needed you.  You said you would, you said you would be there, but you didn't come.  You didn't even tell me you weren't going to come, until the very night before.  I let it slide - I know things come up - I know how it goes.

Another time, I asked you to come when I needed you.  You seemed enthusiastic, until you realized that the person I was with was one you hadn't seen in a while.  You didn't seem to believe that she wanted to see you too.  You thought it was just me.  But you said you might stop by.  But you didn't come.  You said later you fell asleep.  I let it slide - sleep is important.

Another time, I asked you to come when I needed you.  You said that time wouldn't work for you, but you said you'd be there the next day.  But you didn't come.  When I asked, you said something came up and you were doing homework.  I let it slide, because I know that homework is important, and I know how busy you are.

Again, I asked you to come when I needed you.  You said maybe.  When I texted to ask if you were going to make it, my text didn't send.  You got back to me later - much later.  And said you'd gone somewhere else.  You let me think you would be there, but you didn't come.  And I let it slide, but it made me start thinking.

And thinking, and thinking, and thinking.  I wanted to talk, I needed to talk.  I had a lot on my mind.  So I asked if we could talk.  But you wanted to ask questions, you wanted to push me to say things, again.  But I didn't let you push me this time.  I won't let you push me this time.

Again, I invited you, because I needed you, and you came.  But you came with someone else.  And I let it slide.  But it hurt me - like a knife.  Is that the reason you have let me down?  Why didn't you tell me?  Were you afraid? 

I am so hurt.  On many different levels.  For many different reasons.  You said you were afraid you'd hurt me, and I didn't believe you.  I didn't think you could.  I should have believed you.

I need you now, for a reason you don't know, for a reason you don't yet understand....for a reason I maybe don't know.  But I know I need you - on so many different levels I need you.

But this time, I will speak.  It is my turn to speak - uninterrupted.  And I will speak, I will say everything I need to say.  Then, and only then, may you push for the answers you seek.

I love you.  In many different ways I love you.  But in many different ways, I can never love you again.  I still need you, but in many different ways, I can never need you again.

I hope you know that these things I have said have not been said in any angry or vindictive ways.  I don't mean for these things to be hurtful, or upsetting.  I mean these things to be the truth as I see it.  I mean these things to be a testament to the things I feel.  I mean them to honor you, but to let you know that you've let me down.  Maybe they're to let you know that I've let you down.  Maybe they are...just...thoughts.  I don't know what these are....other than an attempt to get them off my mind.

But, you will not attempt to analyze me.  I will not allow it - not until you have time for me.  Not until you let me say all I have to say - all I have to ask.

This is my explanation to you. 

This is my ode to you, the boy I love(d).

So Bummed...

I am so bummed right now.  Soooo bummed.


I am trying to schedule my Senior Recital, so that my grandmother can make it.


My grandmother is 80 goes to Arizona for the winter, because she can't get around in the wintertime where we live.  She had polio in her twenties and has terrible arthritis and neuropathy and gout, which makes it really hard for her to get around under normal circumstances, let alone when it's cold and icy.  One of her legs is about 2-3 inches shorter than the other, as a result of the polio.  She uses a cane and has her shoes built up quite significantly to help her get around better. 


She still does most everything for herself.  She drives to Cody and Denver, which are pretty far away from where we live.  She also takes herself to the doctor, grocery store; she still plays the violin and piano and weeds the garden.  She still cooks huge, delicious, homemade meals for all of us when we're home.  She still sews, quilts, crochets, and cleans her house.  She's very able, except when it is cold and icy.  She gets unsteady on the snow, especially when it covers ice.


I love my grandmother with all my heart.  And she is the one who got me started in music when I was 5.  She paid for my piano lessons for the first 13 years of my musical career. 


It is really important to me that she be at my recital.  She has never missed a musical performance of mine, except for when she was gone for the winter, since kindergarten. 


I called her today to ask her which date would work.  I have 2 dates which are open in April, which are close to the time that Grandma comes back from Arizona.  I told her that I really wanted her to be there for my recital and as such, I had picked 2 free dates and I wanted to know which would work best for her. 


She told me that she really wanted to be there, but that she didn't know if she would be able to make it.  She said the 2 dates I had picked probably wouldn't work, so if there was a later date, that would work better.  There is the 17th of April, but that is 2 weeks before school is out, and I will be working really hard to get my classwork done and start studying for finals week.  So I would prefer to do it the 1st or 2nd of April, so that I have the rest of the month free to get classwork finished and start studying for finals. 


Grandma just didn't know if she could make it the 1st or the 2nd, because the weather might be bad, Aunt Donna might not make it in time to bring her home, they will probably be travelling that weekend, they just might not make it back in time....maybe this, maybe that.....


I am so bummed, because I want my grandma to be there for my recital, so she can see how far I've come in 17 years of music lessons.  I want to be able to stand up in front of everybody, and introduce my grandma and tell everyone that she is the reason I am a musician today.  It is just really important to me that she be there for my recital.


She couldn't or didn't want to say that she would be there, and she wanted me to schedule it later.  When I mentioned that the 17th was really close to finals week, she said something like, "Go ahead and schedule it for whenever it works for you.  If I can make it, I will be there, but if I can't, then I just can't."


I mentioned that my aunt might be able to ask for a certain time off, so that she could make it to my recital.  She said my aunt wouldn't know her schedule this far in advance.


I called my mom, and she said I should e-mail my aunt and let her know what was going on.


So I did, and told my aunt how important this is to me, and asked if it was at all possible to make sure that my grandma got there.  I also told her that I would like her to hear what I had been working on for the last 5 years.


I hope that my aunt can get my grandmother to come home in time for my recital.  My dad has also promised to talk to her about how important this is to me.


I guess I just expected that my grandmother would say something like, "Schedule it for whenever works best for you, and I will be there."  I guess I just expected that she would be there, like she has been for all my other performances.   


I just really want my grandmother to be there for my recital.  It is so important to me.

Experimenting...

I started this as an experiment for myself...as a way to catalouge my feelings and thoughts.  As part of this experiment, I wanted to write often - at least once a day -  but now today, I have nothing to write.


I want to write, but there's not a lot to say.  Of course there are a lot of things bouncing around in my head, but nothing seems worth posting to this blog.  I feel like posting nonsense is not worth the space in this blog.  It's an interesting predicament.


Maybe I'll post another poem....but finding the one to post is going to be difficult as well.


So I guess this is where this particular post ends, since there is nothing more to say about the things I don't have to say.  That sounds weird, but it's true.....if I don't have anything why should I say anything??

Adorable!

I just went to the local Chinese restaurant to get some dinner.  While I was wating for them to cook my order, I happened to notice a little boy and his grandfather come up to the register to pay for their dinner. 


Just inside the doorway of the restaurant, there is a Bhudda statue, a fat golden pig and a lucky, waving cat.  The cat and the pig are on a small table with 2 chairs around it.  There are also advertisement papers and want-ads. 


The little boy is maybe 2 or 3 and he is quite obviously ready to go home and play.  His grandfather brought him over to look at the different statues.  The little boy ran up to the Bhudda statue and hugged him, then rubbed his belly.


His grandfather picked him up and they sat in a chair at the table to look at the pig and the cat.  The little boy was interested in touching everything and talking about the animals.  The piggy didn't hold the little boy's attention for long.


The lucky, waving cat was what interested this little boy the most.  The cat was actually waving, his paw moving back and forth, waving at all the customers.  The little boy was very interested in the cat.  His grandfather was trying to get him to say "kitty," but the little boy couldn't say it.  He settled instead for "bunny."  As he was sitting on his grandfather's lap, pointing out the "bunny's" ears, eyes, nose, etc., he turned around to look at his grandfather and said, "Bunny go 'mau, mau!'" 


I thought it was one of the most adorable things I've witnessed in a long time.  I love little kids!!!

FABULOUS DAY!!!!!

I just arrived home from a fabulous day spent with one of my best friends, and my old roommate, Teri!


She moved to Eagle Butte and is a 5th grade teacher there.  Needless to say, aside from her graduation party last May, I haven't seen Teri in like 3 years.  Well, we did see each other in the library from time to time, but with both our ridiculously crazy schedules, we didn't have time to hang out much.  Today, we spent most of the day together - from 8:30-4:30.


We had breakfast and coffee (tea for me) together and then went to the mall for a wonderful shopping trip.  We met up with my sister and the three of us had a wonderful time! 


I am so proud of Teri.  She has really grown up and turned into a wonderful person!  She's talented, sensible, driven, so caring and compassionate.  She loves her students, her job, her family and friends.  She is classy, beautiful and so cute!  And I love her so much.  She is such a wonderful person and role model and I look up to her so much! 


I love you, lady-cakes!  Keep your chin up and your heart true!  You're fabulous!  And you are going to be a great teacher!  Your friends and your family will be there for you whenever you need us.  And remember, we all love you and want you to succeed.


<3

Addiction

I must confess that I have an addiction.  Well, several addictions, actually.


I am addicted to Facebook.  I check it at least 3 times a day.  I strive to check it 5 times or more.  I spend hours checking people's profiles, people's pictures, stati...you name it.


I am addicted to London Fog tea lattes from the coffee shop on campus....well, from any coffee shop.  I order it so often that the workers at the coffee shop on campus don't even have to ask what I want.  They just make it and have it ready for me and swipe my card when I hand it over.  I go there nearly every day.  I think I need a 12 step program to help me put this addiction to rest.


I am addicted to Law and Order: SVU on Netflix.  I've made it throught the first half of season six in a week, maybe?  I like to put it on while I'm doing homework, for a bit of noise to help me concentrate.


I am addicted to blogging.  I never thought I would enjoy it this much.  But so far, I have checked this 7 times today, looking for comments.  I will admit that I am slightly bummed by the fact that I don't have any yet, but each time that I visit this site, I feel compelled to write something, anything, as long as it fills the compulsion to divulge something to the entire blogging community.


I am addicted to sleep.  The more sleep I can get, the more sleep I crave.  I don't necessarily feel better with more sleep - I believe there is such a thing as too much sleep.  I believe my bed has magical powers.  How else would it be able to communicate with me from several blocks away while I'm at school?  It persuades me to come sleep with it as soon as classes are over.  It tries to get me to come back to it before I ever leave my apartment, but I know that I must ignore its pleas, or I'll never make it to classes.


I am addicted to sweaters.  I am always cold.  I just bought another one today, becuase I was cold.  I have far too many hoodies to keep track of, and I should probably get rid of some, but I can't bear to part with things that keep me war.  I am ALWAYS cold.


I am addicted to shoes.  I just bought another pair last week.  That makes 27 pairs of shoes that I have at school with me.  I have at least 15 pairs of shoes at home.  I think I need a 12 step program to get rid of this bad habit, too.


I am addicted to buying dress clothes.  I have so many that I can't wear them all regularly.  I keep telling myself that as soon as I become a teacher, I will need all these dress clothes to wear to school.


I am addicted to chocolate.  What girl isn't?  It makes every day better.  It solves every little problem and it keeps my blood sugar up.  It also helps solve cramps.  I would be lost without it.  Dark chocolate is the best.  The higher the percentage of cocoa in it, the more I like it.  It's also healthier for you than milk chocolate.  The higher the percentage of cocoa in the chocolate bar, the more antioxidants the bar contains - that means its better for you.


At least the addictions I have aren't serious or life threatening.  Nor are the detrimental to my health - as long as I keep it to one London Fog a day and a chocolate bar only when my body needs it.

Fog

Seeing as how it has been cloudy and threatening to rain all day, and now is raining, it seems like the apppropriate time to post a poem that I wrote a year or so ago.  Sitting here looking out the window of my tiny apartment, watching the rain fall and watching Dirty Dancing, and drooling over Patrick Swayze's very attractive 1987 body seems like the perfect way to end a hectic week.  The smell of the rain is wafting through my apartment, freshening things up and making things smell so clean - it is one of my most favorite scents in the world.


With that being said, here is my poem:

Fog

The fog comes down over the mountain.

Creeping...crawling.

It's tendrils twist down,

Ever downward.

The white mist seeps slowly down through the trees,

Sneaking upon the quiet, unsuspecting village below.

Closer and closer it comes,

Muffling sounds and giving the air a dull quality.

Blanketing the green hillside as it floats,

Closer the cool vapor comes.

The air grows chill.

The clouds above build and swell.

And suddenly,

The fog is upon us!

The clouds burst forth,

Spilling their precious, life-giving nectar!

The rain falls,

Pattering softly on the pave-stones and window-panes.

The only observer to this silent phenomenon?

A broken, lost soul,

Lonely and forlorn,

Mistaken, betrayed and used.

Me.

I Need a Life...

I know this post is close to the last one, but this is something that's been on my mind for a while now....


I need a life.


A life that doesn't involve pining after the man I love.


That being said, there is an explanation that needs to ensue, and here it is....


His name is Jake.  He is my best friend in the whole world.  I can tell him everything and anything, without fear of feeling silly or being judged because what I have to say.  He's sweet.  he lets me cry on his shoulder when the need arises.  He gives the BEST hugs.  He's smart and charismatic.  Caring, confident, friendly and outgoing.  He is reasonable and busily invloved in many different activities.  He knows everyone and goes out with friends a lot - he really does know everybody.  And he's ADORABLE, by the way.


And I am in love with him.  Really and truly. 


He and I are really close....well, I think we are.  He has friends that he is closer with.  And somethimes, I feel as though he only hangs out with me becuase I need a friend.  And other times, I feel like he feels he's really close with me.


We share the same thoughts on religion and politics - though our thoughts have different names.  I don't feel like the name of the belief is what counts.  If the belief is the same, that is what matters.  We can spend hours, literally, talking about religion. 


I value his opinion on all kinds of things, and I would say that he values mine when it comes to issues with girls, as well as with other things.  He just got his heart broken and I did too.  We were able to help each other cope with that and be there for each other.


I was talking to my friend at work about him, and she said I should tell Jake how I feel about him.  I took her advice and I told Jake that I love him.  I cried, when I told him I didn't really want to tell him what I was thinking, because I didn't want to get hurt....and he begged me to tell him.  So I broke down and told Jake that I really care for him, that I love him.


He told me he only sees me as a friend, but that he was afraid that he'd hurt me - he never did answer that question when I asked why.


He said, "How many times have I told you that I only see you as a friend?"


You see, last year, I had told him that I liked him, and he had said the same thing...that he only sees me as a friend. 


So I got over it, and I moved on.  Or so I thought.  I went home for the summer, worked 2 jobs and only talked to Jake as a friend.  I dated another guy that I really liked and I talked to Jake about the problems I had in that relationship.  And then I came back for school and continued to interact with Jake as a friend, but I couldn't help noticing how attractive he is, or how sexy I think he is (he has a six pack which I find sooo attractive and sexy) and I couldn't get those feelings to go away. 


So I mentioned this to my friend Ashley at work about him.  And she told me I should talk to Jake and that is where this story started. 


Since I told Jake that I love him, things have been a little awkward...and different.  Jake seems to steer clear of me.  And then one night, he went to the bar and wanted me to come over to his place. 


I did and we watched movies 'til we both got tired.  And we went to bed - he didn't want me to drive home with all the drunk people walking home from the bar.  He was joking, but I was tired, so I stayed and we slept together - platonicly.  We just cuddled.  But I could tell, as we were talking and getting ready for sleep, that he wanted to kiss me.  So I mentioned something about it the next day, as I was on my way to work. 


He said that he had thought about it, but he didn't think it was a wise idea, because he hadn't wanted to give the wrong impression.


Since then we have slept together a few other times, and each time he is tender and caring and he snuggles with me (which is one of my most favorite things in the world).  It it makes me love him more.


But he is distant during the day.  He doesn't text me much, unless I text him.  He doesn't talk to me much, unless I talk to him.


And so I decided the other day that I need I life that doesn't involve pining for the man I love.  He doesn't love me.  He doesn't want to love me. 


And I need to find something to take my mind off him. 


I need a life that doesn't involve pining over the man I love.

Newness, Seeking, Journeying

This is my first blog in a long time.  I used to post my blogs to MySpace, but I don't check it or update it much anymore.  So, here goes....


This blog will chronicle my life and my thoughts, as the title says, as I make it through my last year of college before student teaching.  It is an experiment to see if it will help me cope with the changes that will be coming my way in the next months.


I will admit that I am whiny, I complain a lot, I have an unstable mood at times (but who doesn't?), I am shy but yet I don't like to do things alone or by myself (case in point: working out.  My best friend is trying to help me with working out and he is currently trying to convince me that I need to do some things on my own, but I persist that I can't do it without him by my side......there's more to it than that, but that's for another day, another blog) and I am incredibly introverted.


I love music more than you can know; with every fiber of my being.  Next fall, I will be student teaching in a high school choir room somewhere.  Music is my life and I cannot do anything without music playing a roll in it somehow; I even sleep with the radio on.


This blog is meant to be a place where I can document my feelings and thougths, as I begin the end of my journey toward a goal I've had since my sophomore year of high school. 


I hope to be able to gain some amount of solace, satisfaction and contentment through posting on here.  No comments are expected, but they are appreciated.


This is where my blogging journey/experiment begins.  Wish me luck!