My Little World

Friends,

Tonight, I don't have much to say. I'm not very eloquent when it comes to unimaginable destruction and devastation. Faith, love, and celebrity gossip... sure. Horrific tragedy, not so much.

Since my alarm began abruptly buzzing at 6:18AM this morning, I have been bombarded with memories of this day five years ago. News stories, artsy photograph slide-shows, voice recordings of the now deceased... I managed to avoid most of the coverage. I made a playlist of MP3's instead of tuning into the local morning show. I chose Saved By The Bell over the Today Show on NBC. I did all I could to not be reminded of the fact that it is September 11th.

It's not the day itself that affects me. Sure, it's the eleventh day of the ninth month of the year... and something terrible happened on this same day less than a decade ago... I get that...But up until tonight's presidential address I was running away from the truth.

The truth that this world is so much bigger than I will ever be.

The truth that the plan for this immeasurably large world is something I will never understand.

The truth that scares me more than anything.

It is as if we (myself included) live in two worlds at once. The big world and the little world....and we (myself included) are infinitely more interested in our own little worlds. Our own problems, our own money, our own Ipods and SUV's... our own self. We are a self-propelled society moving within a larger realm... a realm in which we only see on the higher channels of our satellite TV's. I've said it before... it's the pursuit of comfort and ease, not happiness. When we are reminded of the events that took place in Manhattan five years ago we realize that comfort and ease, as we knew them, will never be the same.

This nation-shaking event has torn open the seam of my little world wide enough to realize that I am not the only one here and in the process of looking back at what I have left behind, I am astounded at how small and somewhat suffocating that little world actually was.

The New York air, though still filled with debris and aftermath, is far more fresh than any I have inhaled in my little world.

And I will continue to breathe.

Disclaimers #1 and #2

#1
*** yes, this last blog was rather self-deprecating, but i said that it would be honest and it was. i don't want you all to think that i'm sitting at home wallowing in my homeliness or watching america's next top model with green tears of jealousy steraming into the pillow beneath my head... because that is not the case. not at all. like i said... i am who i am... and i like who i am. i'm glad i'm funny. i'm glad people like me. i'm the fun one for a reason and more often than not those reasons are great. sometimes, thought being the fun one means there's not much to say after someone asks about more than being the fun one. c'est la vie! ***

#2
Disclaimer .2
** Some of you seem to have misunderstood me... it isn't that I don't like myself. I do. Sometimes too much, to be honest. It isn't that I don't think I'm pretty... because I do. Granted, I also think there are some things that I could change and I am slowly but surely learning how to change them. What I don't like is being put into a category. I don't like being boxed into this one thing that I am only recognized as. Somehow I think that is as much my fault as it is others. As much as I don't like being the funny one, being the funny one has always been an easy escape... a safe route... a familiar place.

So... no... I don't think I'm homely. I used that word in my last blog for vocabularies sake. However, I don't think I'm going to be a painter's muse anytime soon either. I don't think I'm gonna stop any traffic by shaking out my harvest colored curls on the street corner, but I do think I am worthy of love... both from myself and someone else.

I hope my over dramatic cyber-rants don't make you think otherwise.**

Friends,

My blogs are full of many things... opinion, sarcasm, introspection, wit... but the one thing that guides this freight train of thoughts and words along it's cyber-track is truth.

Honesty.

My blogs are always honest.

Tonight is no exception.

I realize it was a comment made in passing and no real harm was intended (or done, for that matter). I realize that had this person known I was nearby, the comment would not have even been made... although I'm not sure if that fact numbs or scortches the burn. I realize that the truth is better than a lie or even a sugar coated fib anyday... but for some reason hearing (or not hearing in this case) a truth about me... a truth that I already knew full well... did something to me. It affected me somehow, in a way most comments can not.

I’m not one to feign perfection or dwell in my inadequacies. I see myself for what I am, there's no harm in that. I am me and in my estimation... it’s nothing extraordinary.

If you asked someone who knows me to describe me, nine times out of ten they will comment on my personality. They say “She’s funny.” or “She has a good heart."... "She's a lot of fun" or "She's a blast." All of which are true, or so I've been told. I am kinda funny, and my heart is more good than otherwise. I do enjoy fun more than the alternative and, although I'm not entirely certain what being a "blast" would entail, chances are I'm up there with the best of them. But for some reason my blood boils as those phrases hit my eardrums. For some reason, I loathe those specific accolades. We are always quick to mention personality when we’re forced to say something nice about the plain.

“I have a friend I’d like you to meet?’

“Yeah, well, what’s she like?”

“She’s _______.” (insert any of the aforementioned adjectives)

“Uhh, I think I have to walk my neighbors puggle that night.”

That’s precisely what happens—minus the puggle part... I added that for dramatic effect. I know they say otherwise, but quality of heart and ability to make people laugh aren't usually on the top of a Man's list of Must-Have's. In general, most men opt for sophistication, grace, and...yes...physical beauty.

Men are, by nature, visual creatures... it's in their wiring. And I respect that.

I respect that, but I also understand that’s why I'm alone. I understand that's why she didn't know what to say when he inquired about more than personality.

Facts are facts.

Silence is silence.

I am who I am.

C’est la vie.

Pilot Episode

hello friends,

i have recently returned from a wonderful weekend in the middle of the heartland. All of my college roommates (seven including myself) got together in one place for the first time since we graduated over two years ago. it was long-awaited, but seemed to come at the perfect time. it did my heart good to see those girls again and i have a feeling that becca, joanna, alicla, sarah, nicole, and amy would say the same.

i tried to go to bed before nine o'clock tonight. this ingenius idea backfired as it is now only 11:30 and i have awoken from what turned out to be an evening nap. damn that internal body clock!

sometimes, i feel like my life is playing out like the end of a grey's anatomy episode. tonight is no exception. here i am...at the end of the day...with the perfect acoustic melody playing in my head, while i am internally flooded with sudden realizations, hilarious recaps, and thought-provoking questions only to be answered in next weeks episode. i realize that the world is truly perfect in it's imperfections and i rest the comfort that fact provides. i realize that friends in which your life once revolved around can dissapear completely in mere moments and i try to explain away how it could possibly be my fault. i wonder how improving one's life could seem so easy in thought, but proves to be so difficult in it's execution. i wonder how life and love can be such a wonderful pairing, but at times, somehow don't seem to coexist at all. i rest as the melody crescendos, not knowing what tomorrow will bring and what pickle i will inevitably get myself into. i rest with questions unanswered.

ut this is life.

this is good.

let the credits role.