Another hard truth? I’m leaving for home tomorrow for Christmas. I’ll be gone, away from all reasonable internet access for 7-8 days, which means I won’t have the means in which to write on here anyways. Sure, I can open a new word document and type away as if I were typing on here, but that would defeat the purpose. So, the reasonable solution? To take a break….ride out the rest of 2012, and start with a renewed energy in 2013.

Which is what I plan to do.

Even as I type to you now, I’m feeling sick and sleepy and as if my eyeballs will roll back into their sockets any time. I’m just not firing on all cylinders on this fine day of the impending world-ending  apocalypse. I feel like death right now, and still have my 2nd job to work tonight. C’est la vie. They always said the wicked never get to sleep. Once work is adjourned, I’ll head home, pack my duffel with a week’s worth of sock, jeans, and sweaters. Hit the sleeping pillows, and awake with all intentions of loading up the car, getting some remarkably cheap-as-of-late (and hopefully it continues to be that way!) gas, and I’m on the road for 3 hours singing my heart out to Josh Groban and Mercy Me.

I really love the holidays.

I just hope I’m not feeling like this or I’m going to fall asleep behind the wheel, and I’m most certainly NOT missing Christmas. I love it all. I can’t wait for lasagna and Moscato on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait for stockings on Christmas morning (yes, I may be considered to be too old for this but I really don’t care. I’m always going to be a kid at heart!) I can’t wait for cheesy vegetable hot dish for Christmas dinner. I can’t wait for slushes Christmas night when we usually get cozy on the couch and watch a new movie. I miss family, and cannot wait to see them.

If the time since I graduated from the Academy has proven anything to me, it’s that I’m a family girl. Those I consider family always come first, and I can’t stand to be away from them for too long. A part of me physically hurts when I haven’t seen or spoken to someone in too long of a time. Don’t even talk about saying good-bye to them. Choked up throat, pig penguin tears….just a hot, hot mess.

Writing, planning, and reading are the big goals for this short, but truthfully needed, holiday break. One thing I’ll be planning? How to bring this blog back to its original intention. More so, how to bring its original intent back to the forefront. It’s about a Modern Jedi in a Modern World. This was not meant to be a release for my bitching and all that is non-Jedi. Granted, the two do intersect sometimes, but there were too many instances of bitching for bitching’s sake.

So, planning. How I’m going to go about do that. That’s what this week is all about. And eating. Lots and lots of eating.

Be safe out there, and be very merry this Christmas season. Enjoy your family and friends, and never forget to be thankful for all the good things going for you this holiday season. There are more than you think.  Merry Christmas, and we’ll see you in the New Year of 2013!

As always…May the Force be with you.

Who else would you think of when someone says ‘Cry Me a River’?

I hate that I’ve taken so much time away from this, but there were other things to focus my attention on. Plus, I adore my sleep. I do not adore waking up with bear breathe and out-of-this-world bed head. I tend to imagine myself falling asleep the way a model does, cute and all put together, every beauty product well at work on this body. The image remains in the morning, and the instant I look in the mirror, its shattered. Tiny broken pieces everywhere. Watch where you step! (And this is every single day of my life!)

BOOM! Goes the dynamite

That sounded very melodramatic, didn’t it?

Doesn’t matter, really. There isn’t a single person I’m waking up every day to try to impress. Except maybe myself. The most important person to impress, after all. I’m taking to heart the #1 lesson of Jedi dedication: There is no chaos, there is harmony.

No more will chaos reign!

What does this 3rd line of the Jedi Code mean? Personally, it means to stop warring with myself, to stop warring with others. I need to be at peace with myself before I can have true harmony in the world. One major part of my life where there was massive conflict? Looking for my soul mate (or at least a boyfriend for the time being.) After one too many heart breaks and painful metaphorical knife stabbings to the gut, I’m finally yelling it high and mighty:

ENOUGH!

“No matter how cute and sexy a guy is, there’s always some woman somewhere who is sick of him.”

Carol Henry, a romance writer, probably hasn’t met Ryan Gosling. How could anyone ever get sick of that lovely hunk of man?

Who were you passionate with, lady-love?

Not to be entirely tossed out. My eyes are still peeled for that lucky son-of-a-gun who one day I will call mine, and come home to every single night. Until that day, I live my romances through movies and fiction, the stories that keep our hearts full and wishful. I’ll hold on to the romance I know is waiting out there, but until then, my energy and efforts are going to be put towards making me a happy individual, and to helping others.

There is no turning back.

So, to quell the romantic beatings of my heart, I want to share the best heart-melting moments of my second all-time favorite romance tale of all: The Notebook.

- “What happens if a car comes?” “We die.”

- “You’re a terrible singer…But I like this song.”

- They didn’t agree on much, but in spite of their differences, they had one important thing in common: They were crazy about each other.

- “She is out foolin’ around. I didn’t spend seventeen years of my life raising a daughter and giving her EVERYTHING , so she could throw it away on a summer romance.”

- “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

- “You look different, too. In a good way.”

- “You wrote me?” “Yes! It wasn’t over. It still isn’t over.”

- “You got my letters. Finally. What are you going to do, Al?”

- “It’s about security. He’s got a lot of money!”

- “They fell in love, didn’t they?” “Yes, they did.”

Seriously. What’s not to love about that entire story? Not a damn thing. Every time I watch it, I pray to the higher powers watching over this earth, and over me, that I will be blessed with a romance as passionate as Allie and Noah’s. Love isn’t worth having if it isn’t a passionate affair with one another. All my fave love stories have it: Titanic, The Notebook, Pirates of the Caribbean, Star Wars.

See, they had passion? Why can’t I have that?

The dream I had last night doesn’t help matters any, either.

Put your hands up, up!

Even worse? Hearing your gal pals talk about guys they know, mostly single guys,  in the hopes of possibly giving me a chance to find someone nice, someone who will treat me like the lady and princess I am, and someone who will fight their battles against me but still like me all the same, and the end result? They’re all too old or not in the same interest fields.

Now if they all possessed the looks, charm, and ambition of Cooper Anderson, maybe I wouldn’t be so picky,

Trust me, I know opposites attract, but these ones just would not mesh with me. One happened to be a vegan. How die-hard a vegan, I can’t be sure, but if a guy can’t stand the thought of me eating a juicy burger or medium-rare cooked steak, it’s a done deal. I like my meat more than any guy any day.

How is your mouth not watering right at this very moment?

It might sound stupid, but it’s the truth. I like to eat, plain and simple.

We had a few beers, but I wasn’t really in the mood to be drinking. Pineapple Habanero salsa and tortilla chips along with a glass of water with lemon sufficed perfectly well for me. And Jeez, we went through three baskets of chips! Damn, they were delicious. The perfect mix of crunchy and salty — my two favorite kinds of food of all time.

Totally delicious and not as spicy as one would think containing the word ‘Habanero’.

Sitting with my water and listening to two other women squawk about how their boyfriends/husbands piss them on the most random things, I’m sitting there, thinking, “Be happy you have someone  to be pissed at about something as stupid as whether he’s standing beside you the entire time you’re shopping at Target.”

“When I think of some of the men I’ve slept with…if they were women I wouldn’t have had lunch with them.”

Carol Siskind, a nightclub nabob, has hit it right on the money. Which is why I have recognized the fact I really don’t get along with that many women. The ones I do, great! There are a handful I tolerate. The rest? Forget about them. I’m not nose diving into your catty, passive-aggressive ways of tearing a person down, and that includes over a meal. If I want a damn platter of onion rings, I’m going to have a damn platter of onion rings!

She sounds like her understands the male mind almost TOO well.

Me? On the guy front? I have no one. Not even a dog to cuddle me to sleep when I’ve had the roughest of rough days. I don’t even have a fish to come home to watch swim around his little bowl and spew my deepest inner thoughts to after everything is said and done. I have Yoda, sitting here patiently on my couch, always watching and always waiting for me to come and sit by him, possibly use him as a pillow. He’s usually the one who sits in the passenger seat when I make a solo trip anywhere, and we talk. Or I should say, I talk and he listens with that calm smile plastered across his face.

How can you not fall in love with that face!

Yoda is an excellent listener. I wouldn’t keep taking him on car rides if he wasn’t. He’s seen me sing so loud, other cars next to mine are surely able to hear me loud and clear. He’s seen me laugh on the phone with my best girlfriends. He’s seen me freak out because I’m lost in the middle of the cities yet again. He’s seen me swear and cuss at idiot drivers and at myself. He’s seen me cry over unexpected break-ups, sad movies, or terrible conversations that should have gone differently.

He’s seen me through a lot, and he will always be my Master in that sense. Why? Whenever I have one of the above explained moments, I talk to him and then the resolution usually dawns upon me just as quickly as the problem settled on my shoulders.

Incredibly wise, this one is.

The radio is always playing  in the car. There are songs for everybody which remind you of someone or a specific moment in the lives we’ve led so far. ‘Gangnam Style‘ takes me to a time my best friend and I were sitting on the couch after months of not seeing each other while watching A New Hope. Faith Hill’s ‘This Kiss‘ takes me back to singing karaoke at the hometown tavern a mile from my home after a successful opening night of the first summer stock show I starred in, leading role and everything. ‘The Joker‘ will always and forever bring me back to my cousin’s wedding when my most recent ex-boyfriend and I were the only ones tearing up the dance floor, and I never smiled so much in my life (and he wasn’t that much of a dancer, either.)

This Kiss…oh yeeeeeeah

These moments are heartbreaking, smile-inducing, and embarrassing. Along with the great dancing moments, there are the songs that played in the background during first kisses, first dances, and innumerable  flirtations. A warning for all: the Rascal Flatts is not the best tunes to be playing when you think things may go beyond kissing. Seriously, heed my words.

The Rascal Flatts are meant for very sentimental and heart-breaking moments…not for heated can’t-keep-my-paws-off-you instances.

We’ve all been there, we’ve all been transported back in time to that one moment specific to the song. Music is a magical thing and speaks to us in way normal words never will.

It brought this family back together (via August Rush!)

Yoda knows this. He gets it.

Maybe I’ve found my dream man after all.

On second thought….THIS is my dream man (and he can sing, too!)

Although, truth be told, I did end up talking to a coworker for, like, an hour out of the blue. So out of the blue and so lost track of all time. It was so out of this worked that my boss came looking for me to tell me she was heading to a meeting…and I was still standing there talking. What can I say? My job is to be social….but probably not that kind of social. I really hope this doesn’t come back to bite me in the butt.

Hey, I know you! And you too!

Tomorrow’s plan? To be chained to my desk. Hopefully, I am not wearing spandex shorts underneath whatever I don as my apparel choices for tomorrow. It is highly uncomfortable…but I probably shouldnt be wearing a dress in the middle of 27 degree weather either. It’s winter, girl. Get home, and put your fuzzy pajama pants on. Lay on the couch with your DVD player and cry your eyes out as the horse drama plays out in front of you (and no, I am not kidding. Watch the movie ‘Flicka’ if you’ve ever had a problem with your father and you will weep like a baby. Or I’m just incredibly emotional ALL THE TIME these days.)

Father and Daughter should always work on the same page….but it’s not quite so easy.

Is this what happens when you give a large part of your life to the higher beings? When you fully place your trust in them to take control of any aspect of your life, and let be what will be? Does everyone become an emotional mess when they have no control over certain things? Like my never-ending need to shove chips and chocolate down my gullet? I did have a salad the other day, so I can’t be treating myself THAT horribly.

Ugh, but I do love my ice cream.

On a happier note…Kate Middleton is expecting! I was so happy to hear the news, I started jumping up and down. My next course of action? To unofficially start planning a baby shower in her honor. How sad am I? But what a great party idea! I’m looking forward to seeing what sort of stylish pregnant mommy looks she’s doing to bring to the front page of every fashion magazine in the world.

So incredibly excited!

One thing is for sure…unless pushing out an 8-pound baby knocks a few screws loose in her noggin’, I don’t think she’ll be posing nude with her pregnant belly like some other notable celebrities. Demi Moore, cough cough. I’m glad women are very proud with their enlarged and pregnant bellies, but keep it covered ladies. I’ll deal with it and see it first hand when I’m carrying a child of my own.

The infamous magazine cover in question.

Until then, cover up!

“My kids are sane.”

The every-so-lovely Michelle Obama speaks her mind on her finest achievement during her first year of being her ladyship, the First Lady. I hear ya, Ms. Obama, and I’m sure the Duchess of Cambridge will have the same thought running through her mind when her little one is born in a handful of months. The whole world will be watching, all too closely for anyone’s taste. (I sure do hope she has a little girl. A little princess born to the perfect fairytale couple. Oh no, I’m getting weepy again…)

Classy lady in so many ways. She’s a new idol of mine.

It’s my hope and dream to be what I call a “hot mama” when I rock the baby bump. Fit, stylish, and not the least bit afraid of how I look because giving birth is the miracle of life. It’s a miracle I really look forward to taking part in one day. On a different thought, is this what happens when you give up on your love life, even if temporarily? Do you start daydreaming about babies and pregnant bellies and weeping at the sight of every itty-bitty tiny child you come across? If so, I’m a goner.

They even write books about it! So it’s incredibly possible.

I went to a new brew house’s opening night to, of course, try the beer, and the food, and I ended up sitting at a table next to a very cute little baby boy. Definitely going to be a flirt, that one. He wouldn’t take his eyes off of me! It had nothing to do with the funny faces I was making at him, but still! I didn’t mind. He was adorable, and his smile? Gush-worthy. (Do you hear me talking? It wasn’t even my kid and I can’t shut up about him.)

Could you resist a face like this?

What kind of mother will I be? Embarrassing. That;s a no-brainer. I kind of look forward to the day my kids tell me I’m “so embarrassing…like, seriously Mom!” I bet I’ll be holding a lightsaber when they speak these fated words.

Yes, darling, I know. I should stop, but I won’t/

God save the man who provides the second part of the equation to my carrying a child.

Run while you can. I’m warning you.

It basically makes me feel like I’m hung over all the time when people act like this.

An impressive question to ask this bright and beautiful first day of December, but something that kept me awake a portion of the night. I don’t remember the last night I actually slept like a little itty-bitty baby. There are too many thoughts swirling around this skull of mine! Real-world problems, personal issues, creative road bumps, family concerns, all of that and more. There is never a moment of silence with this brain of mine.

Too easy to avoid putting the pen to paper. Seriously

Jedi Lesson #45 (or something like that…It’s a core lesson every Jedi starts to learn from day one): Learn to quiet your mind and hear the Force speaking to you.

Sounds so easy, right? “Quiet your mind and listen.” Except its much harder than that. Meditation, zoning out, letting a higher spirit talk to you. It all sounds so simple…but have you actually tried it?

So not as easy as it looks. If you’ve ever watched “Eat Pray Love:, there’s the a part where Julia Roberts talks about how she can’t quiet her mind…that’s what is it like EXACTLY.

This might explain why I’ve been having such wacky dreams as of late. I’m serious! Just last night? Let me tell you all about it:

“Once again, I find myself in the White House (Am I on a powerful struggle as of late? Why else would I keep placing myself in such a significant place of residence?) except this time, my hair is slicked back in a sleek ponytail, carrying a briefcase, and holding a pack of Bubble-Yum Gum in my hand. The floors are made of hardwood and went I’m sliding around on them with bare feet, and I don’t think my toenails are painted any particular color. Nude, maybe. (Who walks around the White House in bare feet and no nail polish? Yikes.)

Not allowed…unless you’re under the age of 10 and living in the White House.

Next thing you know, a child or two bursts through the door behind me, and I’m telling at them to slow down or no dessert for dinner (Yet, I don’t believe I am their mother…Glorified babysitter? I really don’t know.) My cell phone rings, and I’m being alerted my presence is needed in the conference room. Immediately. With the gum still clutched in my hand, I turn around and sprint down the hallway (I’m not talking a fast-paced walk…I’m full-out sprinting, yelling at people to get the f*ck out of my way or I’ll personally have them killed.)

They would have gotten the hell out of my way if I was riding the Batman motorcycle.

I get to the conference room and a large group has gathered. No one has a pleasant look on their face. Very stern, very strict. (Whatever the heck is going on, it’s not good.) Next thing, someone has brought up a PowerPoint (does the White House actually use PowerPoint in their highly top-secret meetings?) and there’s a giant picture of a meteor on it. A larger than the state of Texas meteor is headed towards the United States, and supposedly I’m the one holding the solution to this giant crisis. (Sounds a lot like Armageddon, I know, but I have not watched that movie in months…so where this is coming from is beyond me!)

Apparently, I’m a problem solving genius.

Someone from the front of the room near the projector screen calls out my name, and asks me to present. I push my way through the crowd, land my briefcase on the table, open and pull out three different Barbie Dolls. No one acts like this is strange, or widely inappropriate given the graveness of the situation.(They are Nurse Barbie, Holiday Barbie, and Rock Star Barbie, in case you were wondering.) I set them on the table, and proceed to reenact my solution using the Barbie dolls. What I said or what my plan was, I couldn’t tell you. (I think I was distracted by the fact I was demonstrating a solution to this world ending problem using Barbie dolls. Wouldn’t you be?!)

The solution to our epic problem.

I finish my presentation, and my phone rings. I answer it, throwing up a ‘Hold On a Minute’ finger to the speaker who called on me in the first place, and I’m off sprinting again. My mission this time? To pick up four different kinds of pizzas for a birthday party happening on the other side of the White House. I packed up my Barbie’s, and ran out the door. I’m still barefoot, by the way.“

Yeah….it still makes me feel like I’m speaking alien when I try to decipher my dreams to others.

Pretty strange, right? I’m going to have fun deciphering this one later. I wonder what Holiday Barbie means to Freud.

“I have terrible short-term memory loss, which I like to think of as presidential eligibility.”

Paula Poundstone, the comedy circuit staple, has a point here. If I keep having dreams located in the White House, I’ll be just as qualified to run this country as George W. Bush. (Come on, think about it…Was he really qualified to be Commander-in-Chief? I think not.)

Clearly, she doesn’t know what to make of it, either.

It’s the start to the weekend. Be safe out there!

Delicious food is a weekend requirement.

Beautiful, too.

Spending as much time as I want roaming the aisles of Barnes and Noble (and getting an approving nod from several guys as I checked out the Star Wars and Lord of the Rings book sections), splitting a burger and fries with my sister, and enjoying a cold pale ale.

One dream? To have a floor-to-ceiling book shelf holding nothing but Star Wars books.

I’m a happy clam right now. Plus I have a new Hunger Games calendar to peek at while watching Love Actually for the first time this holiday season. Throw in an iced tea and a bowl of ice cream, and I’m crawling into bed with a wide smile on this face.

Victory! *Applause Applause!*

Why was tonight so great? I really don’t know. It was leisurely. There was good food. I was surrounded by shelf after shelf of new books just waiting to be cracked open. Every once in a while I’d catch a whiff of coffee from the Starbucks shop off over my shoulder. There were several good-looking men who apparently never realized a girl could be into really geeky things (Hello? I’m the Modern Jedi )

Dance party happening.

Now I’m watching The Office (I still can’t believe its the final season!), and I’m giggling my butt off. I may or may not still have some of that beer left in my system.

What the hell is so freaky funny?

It was simply nice to sit down with my sister and talk about things, like the wedding of the year, the groomsmen of the wedding, the jerks I’ve dated in the past couple of months (okay, not all of them were jerks, but a majority), places we want to travel in the next year, how I’m doing in the professional world, how if I’m not married by the age of 32 how I’m heading down to the sperm bank and choosing the future father of my child, and things my sister wants to improve upon in her new house.

“Maybe it will take a woman to clean up the House.”

Nancy Pelosi, a Congressional leader, has always been at the top of my Awesome Ladies List, even though not too many people can be counted among the ranks of her fans. She’s a ballsy lady. She took the lead of Congress, and quite frankly, made men step back and listen to a new perspective.

Let’s get this thing done.

Trust me. My vision of being the Press Secretary to POTUS? Still very much alive. They need more of a female touch throughout the government. I’m talking the entire federal system, and they need women who haven’t shut down their emotional sides. Women who feel, hear the words being spoken to them, but those also not afraid to swing a heeled foot at a man’s crotch seam when he over steps his boundaries using the reason “he’s a man using his God-given right.”

Good thing I know how to cause a good scandal or two.

Men and women were created equal. Oh, wait. No we weren’t. We have the capability of carrying a child inside us for 9 months and then pushing anywhere from 7-13 lbs of a screaming, crying baby out of ourselves. Men and women were not created equally. If men could give birth, I don’t think they’d be quite as obnoxious when it came to PMS.

I really want Adele to sing a deep, power ballad that’s secretly about how men honestly don’t understand PMS.

I really shouldn’t be so mean towards men. But, given past experience near and far, it’s hard to have a different view of them. The same could be said for the other side. Ugh, why do I always get caught up on this topic?

Old habits are incredibly hard to break. I’m working on it.

Just a little irritated. No big deal or anything.

They come completely out of nowhere, too. Well, that’s not entirely true. Lately, I’m set off my the littlest sign of affection between two people clearly in love with each other or clearly enjoying the genuine flirtation of another human being towards them. The worst? When I’m in a room and my sister decides to start macking on her husband. Yes, I realize they are newlyweds and this is totally acceptable behavior. When my lucky day comes when I get to walk through  my front door and come home to a delicious hunk of men, I hope I do the same thing.

I get it. I really do. They are so totally and undeniably in love! (Aaack!)

But right now? Not only does it make me want to chuck a teacup at the back of their heads, but I also want to vomit. After the wave of nausea passes, I then proceed to sulk out of the room. I could exit with my own theme music blaring through the room, and I bet you they wouldn’t even notice. So now what have I started to do? Whenever they happen to enter the room I’m inhabiting, I just slip out. Unless I’m cooking. I can’t exactly leave the stove on with a pot of soup about to boil over.

Every single time…Can I just have some alone time where you two aren’t sucking face every time I turn around?

I knew this was going to happen. It was bound to. It’s not like I didn’t have enough forewarning. But lately, I just can’t handle. Why? Oh, I don’t know…Maybe because another member of the male race reared his ugly head and proved just how downright awful men can be. Now, let me stop you. I’m not saying all men are scum. Not true. Each of my sisters has found a gem, and they better hold on to them with all their might.

I need a hero.

Me? I’m keeping the scum occupied so every other woman on this planet can find their true, genuine soul mate while I’m left in the dust wondering what the hell just happened.

“Good judgement comes from experience, and experience comes from bad judgement.”

Rita Mae Brown, a high-profile book writer, where were you when I started to get all interested in this dating business? Where were you to shake my shoulders like the demon devil himself was festering inside of me? To be fair, I can’t really say no said ‘I warned you.’ There were plenty of warnings. I simply made the decision to “have fun” and see where the wind would take me, but even “having fun” starts to wear on a person’s soul pretty heavily.

Of course she would be holding a cat. Of course.

Is this going to be the never-ending story to my love life? I really hope not.

Look at all those blank pages…waiting to be written….yikes.

The fact is, I let myself be happy for a few minutes. I was aware I was letting my guard down, and as I walked to my car one night, I felt it all trickle in. I felt the ooey-gooiness take over, and I reminded myself not to feel like that. Something was bound to happen (the wise and powerful Force speaks loudest when we need to really hear something). So I made a choice. I allowed myself the drive home to smile like an idiot, to sing wildly to the songs on the radio, and fall onto my couch with an equally ooey-gooey romantic comedy to settle down for the night.

Literally let myself skip to my car, and let out a high-pitched giggle.

Not even ten minutes after I hit play, I read a text message that I had forewarned myself against. Good thing I was prepared, and my defenses weren’t far behind. What I couldn’t prepare for? Two days later, it was like walking through a door someone booby-trapped with a bucket of water. Drenched and unsuspecting, I sat staring at the text messages on my phone, and vowed right then and cut off all ties.

If my subconscious had a facial expression at that exact moment…this would be it.

God and I had a very serious talk that night. I told him I was done with duds. I was done with being run over and taken and being thought of as a piece of pie. I am done with putting in too much with no hope of getting anything back in return. I told him a few choice words, too.

No, I will not be put on hold. I want to talk to the Big Man Upstairs NOW!

The best part? Once I was done, I didn’t feel frantic, scared, or worried I would never find my match. Instead, I felt incredibly calm, like God was patting me on the back, saying “No worries, girl. I got your back. Until then, you’re going to be okay. Promise.”

I sure hope you’re right, G-man.

Ahhh nom nom nom!

Mine was awesomely fantastic, and I really want to go back and relive the long weekend. It’s so heartbreaking not knowing the next time I might see my entire family all together in one single place again. It will happen, there’s no doubt about that, but as to when? It’s a major mystery to be sure.

Until we meet again!

Instead of dwelling on what may not come, I shall recap the highlights of the glorious weekend:

Thursday: Woken up by a 6-year-old boy jumping on me screaming “Happy Thanksgiving!”. Changing into my newest purple sweater (Thanksgiving is always a sweater holiday). Playing Mario Cart with my nephew until lunch was ready. The BIG Thanksgiving feast of turkey, stuffing and mashed potatoes. Falling into a food coma. Exchanging family Christmas presents (I got a new pair of pjs and a gift card.) Played more Mario Cart, and then fell into a very deep sleep.

She’s wearing my sweater. Damn her.

Mario Cart races alllll daaaaay looooong.

Who hates getting and giving presents? I don’t know anyone.

Friday: Coffee with my girls at the breakfast table. My niece Lizzie fell down and bonked her head pretty good, and started to cry from a combination of pain and tiredness, and when I picked her up, she promptly fell asleep on my shoulder (I heart little baby cuddles!) Pizza for dessert and a Wii dance party (Note to others…It’s a good idea to wear a bra when playing this game.)

Except it was around our kitchen tables, not a posh cafe bar.

Except we’re humans…not cats.

Bust a move, or bust a hip.

Saturday: My morning to cook breakfast for 14 people. Total success! My nephew Avery actually complimented my scrambled eggs and he never, ever eats eggs. We exchanged knucks. Played a few board games with my family. Drank our holiday slushie while eating tacos for dinner. Wrote my latest guest blog. Chased my nephew Aidan and spooked him after his idea of “hiding” was laying on the floor behind Lizzie’s new pink Princess Shopping Cart. Watched my godson Domanick for my brother and laughed until I cried when he pulled apart a toy potato (held together my velcro) and then growled like a bear after he succeeded.

No easy feat, but I pulled it off with style.

Likewise!

Sunday: Early morning coffee with the girls again. Took care of my 2nd godson and instead of getting upset with me, he simply fell asleep in my arms. For an hour, and it was wonderful. Ate a huge breakfast. Went upstairs and packed up all my bags, made my bed, and started the tearful goodbyes. (No one ever thought I would be the blubber of the family, but guess what? I am.) Slipped Josh Groban’s Noel into the car CD player. Drove through numerous snow flurries. Made it back in time to unpack, watch a movie or two, and fall asleep to end the weekend.

How do I leave with more than with I came?

Just as painful as saying good-bye to the love of your life.

He knows how to make my heart melt.

Can I do it all over again? Puh-leeeze?

“Human beings are sloshing sacks of chemicals on the move.”

Diane Ackerman, a noted naturalist, sure knows how to make a girl feel good about herself. Especially one who is already a big ball of tears every time something upsets or moves her in a new way. I hate to admit it, but I cry more often than not. I don’t think there is a movie out there that I haven’t cried at.

I hope she realizes she has to include herself with this statement.

Ah, yes, it is my curse to bear. I’ll live with it.

No, I don’t have ADHD. Okay, so I might a little bit, but I’m not on medication or anything so clearly I am not one of these so-called “short attention span” victims. Ugh, my heart is literally racing right now. What’s the deal? And now *just like that* I am sweating profusely. What is up with me right now?

I may be having a caffeine attack…except I had milk for lunch. Hmmm lack of caffeine possibly? I had a smoothie for breakfast, a cereal bar to hold me over until lunch, and then for lunch I had a turkey sandwich…and I haven’t had anything since. A mint. I had a mint. Those are like .00006 % caffeine. So what is going on here?

So THIS is the reason people lose weight…Yeah, I’m not having it.

I realize I should put the forewarning out there again that I will not be writing for a few days. I’ll be heading back home for the quickly approaching holiday of Thanksgiving, and will be out with no laptop around me. Honestly? I’m looking forward to being able to plop down with a book and a handful of magazines, and then maybe get some writing done at the same time. While I miss having a laptop, and hopefully will have a new one soon, I don’t mind the disconnection from the internet 24/7. I like being able to break away, and I fear once I own a laptop again, I won’t be able to break myself away from it long enough to acknowledge that I live in the real world. Isn’t that a scary thought?

Zomg! If only!

These racing emotions might be due to the fact that I have a last-minute date which was prompted from a message of ‘I have to see you before you head out for Thanksgiving.’

Doesn’t this make a thought or two race across your mind? Why ‘must’ he see me? I know we’ve hit off on the last few dates we’ve been on, but I didn’t think it warranted we were on a ‘must’ see each other basis before heading out for the holiday break. Maybe we’re not on the same page? I should bring that up tonight…HA! No I shouldn’t. We’ve been on a handful of dates, and I was honestly settled with the idea of not seeing him until next week sometime…but now this changes things a little bit. Not dramatically, but it changes things.

We’ve had our fair share of dinners. So what now?

Either that, or he’s looking for a way into my pants. Not going to happen, broski. (Yes, I did just use the word broski.)

“In adult life I  discovered that November was, astrologically speaking, the month of sex, death, and regeneration, and that November First was the Day of the Dead. It still wouldn’t have been much good for birthday parties, but it was just fine for poetry, which tends to revolve a good deal around sex and death, with regeneration possible.”

I like the way you think, Margaret Atwood, a Canadian literary sensation. The dream I had last night? Totally falls underneath the columns of Death and Regeneration. Maybe a little sex…eh, not really. There were flames, but not of the heart and loins.

You weren’t a very happy child born in the month of November, were you?

“I’m walking across a prestigious looking college campus (Think Yale or Harvard) and there’s a small group of people following behind me. We’re decked out in black attire, my hair is loose around my face, and there’s something clanking against my leg every time I take a step. I look down and I’m carrying a rather large rifle in my hands (WTF? is my first though immediately. Seriously, what am I doing with a giant rifle in my hands?)We’re not trying to conceal ourselves, we’re not hiding, but we are walking with purpose.

We were decked out like this, except in all black. Fearsome, right?

One of my teammates turns to me, and says, “Oh, hey. I meant to return this to you earlier.” He hands me a silver spoon with a blue handle. (This is the SAME EXACT spoon I’ve been carrying around in my work bag for the past couple weeks because I keep forgetting to return it to the work space kitchen. Weird…) I thank him, when suddenly a siren goes off. Oh my God, it’s happening. The negotiations or whatever didn’t go well, someone shouts behind me, and suddenly we’re running like I’ve never ran before. The rooftop lines erupt with gunfire from people I had not noticed, and my black-clad brethren and I are breaking for a stone wall a couple hundred yards in front of us. Somehow, I know this is the safe zone from what is coming. (How I know what’s coming, I have no freaking clue…My subconsious is really, really smart sometimes.)

He distracted me with a freaking spoon! I wonder what this might mean to Freud.

The ground shakes underneath my feet, and I fall to the ground. Looking over my shoulder, I see a bright whitish-yellow mushroom cloud burst upwards into the dark night sky, and my heart drops as I realize I have not only fallen behind everyone in my team, but I’m not even close to the “safe” wall and if I don’t make a move now, I’m probably going to die. There’s a whitish-yellow wall of hot smoke rushing towards me, and instead of running forward, I turn and run for a cobblestone veranda hut off to my left. Instead of running full-out, my body suddenly feels like frozen rubber and it takes immense effort to put one leg in front of the other at a running pace. (Picture this…If you’ve seen either of the Sherlock Holmes movies starring Robert Downey, Jr. and Jude Law, it’s like the effect of the fight scenes and when they’re running through the woods amongst machine gun fire. Suuuuuper slow and you can see every single muscle ripple beneath the skin, the air blowing the hair from my face, the fabric of my shirt creasing against my body…all of it in Hi-Def and slow-mo.)

But…I’m noooooot….getting…aaaaaanyhweeeeere!

Every little wiggle…you saw it perfectly.

Somehow, I make inside the hut and leap for my life behind the cobble-stoned wall, and I hit the ground hard. The blast erupts over the top of me as I curl into the fetal position and hug the wall as tightly as my body will allow. It’s hot and I can feel the wind against my ears. It hurts, and all I can think is “I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.” (The whitish-yellow light was really beautiful, if you can throw that thought in there, too.)

Pretty bright lights…of death.

It grows quiet very quickly. Carefully, I stand up. No one shoots at me, no one fires. Or breathes. Or moves. It’s eerily quiet. All I see if blackness and charred stone from the building that barely stands before me. I hadn’t noticed, but chunks of cobblestone lay around me, blackened and broken. No longer the proud maroons and greys it once was a mere few seconds ago. I look behind me and see the “safe” wall still stands, but no one has emerged from behind it yet. (Pulling into he parking lot at work this morning? Same eeriness and it creeped me out!)

What now?

I adjust my hat, look around me again, but still don’t see a living being. I walk the short distance to where I dropped my rifle prior to the blast, pick it up, and cock it once. Somehow, it still works just fine despite sitting in the direct blast path. I take one deep breath, raise the rifle to my shoulder, and walk towards the “safe” wall.”

Time to find out…

I may have watched the Red Dawn trailer starring Chris Hemsworth a little too much last night. Dark, and very, very creepy when I got out of my car and there was NOTHING to be heard around me except for my own breathing. Then, we had an emergency evacuation test run this morning in the office, and that did not help my mindset. Not after a dream like that.

I may or may not have just called him Delicious.

It’s not going to be so dark anymore because Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I’m going to be with my family. So enjoy the start to the holiday season, and enjoy the crap out of your families. I don’t get to see them hardly enough, and the food! I’m drooling already. Be safe in your travels, and I shall see you around, my fellow Jedi.

Bring it on, stomachache!

Until I return…May the Force be with you!

Damn you, cramps!

Well, I was drinking, but not to the point where I am throwing my guts up in the morning. My female body as turned against me as it is that special time of the month. I HATE this time of the month. Plus I’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for almost 36 hours, and my feet are starting to hate me as much as my lower abdomen is. I haven’t been able to bring myself into the bathroom quite yet, either, so my mouth is tasting rather funky still.

To-do list #9: brush teeth

The joys of beings an awesome lady!(Are you grossed out yet?)

My thoughts exactly.

Yesterday I had brunch with a group of ladies I used to work with and it was a melancholy reason why we were getting together to share memories and have a few laughs. One of our past coworkers, someone who was my direct manager, is dying. Breast cancer decided to take it toll on her, and there was a brief amount of time where we thought it had all been beat. We weren’t so lucky. It’s now spread into her brain and spine, and doctors are giving her from a few weeks to a few months to live. Chills still wrack my body thinking about this sudden mark of death. Less than three months ago, she was walking around our office, a big smile on her face, saying ‘Aloha’ to everyone while bringing us a granola parfait because she knew how many of us are awful at eating a good breakfast in the morning.

I wish it was this sort of brunch.

Why her? Why someone like her? It’s a question we’ll never have an answer to, and it makes me incredibly sad knowing I’ll open my email one morning, and there will be the final email telling us all the bad news. I’m not looking forward to that moment.

You don’t realize how much someone as affected your life until they are gone. Such a sad reality of life, but so  so true. She’s taught me a lot over the years, and she’s seen me grow from an awkward Academy freshman to s confident, ready – to -take-on -the – world super senior. There’s another teacher about life i will greatly miss, and his name is Mr. Feeny.

Big man on campus!

“I’m not a witch.”

Christine O’ Donnell, a Tea Party politician, speaks the words many woman must feel like proclaiming when they are being attacked for expressing beliefs that make sense to dozens of other people. I’m sure Feeny himself had this thought run through his head a million and a half times as student complain and hate his guts.

What do you know, a pretty politician!

There are a handful of lessons Mr. Feeny has taught us throughout the years, and I’m sure my supervisor only capitalized off of them the longer I worked with her. I’m sure you’ve all had a mentor, or more than one, at some point in your life, and they’ll touch on a variety of things that will stay with you long after you and they part ways.

Here is what I have learned from several greats in my short lifetime — and I’m sure there are plenty more to come.

1.) What a true hero is: “But, to me, a real hero is someone who does the right thing when the right things isn’t the easy thing to do.”

2.) Take risks: “Sometimes a sure thing is not the best thing.”

3.)  Be yourself: “If you let people’s perception of you dictate your behavior, you will never grow as a person.”

4.) Don’t worry about what other people think: “Unfortunately, we live in a society where they tell us we have to look a certain way, so we’re all under pressure to live up to unrealistic expectations.”

5.) Life is crazy: “We live in a random and chaotic universe.”

6.) Technology should benefit you, not distract you: “Gutenberg’s generation thirsted for a new book every six months! Your generation gets a new web page every six seconds. And how do you use this technology? To try and beat King Koopa, and rescue the princess. Shame on you. You deserve what you get.”

7.) Family can be anyone: “You don’t have to be blood to be family.“

8.) All about love: “There is no greater aspiration than to have love in our live.“

9.) What friendship is: “Friendship, for example, is a real gift. It’s given with no expectations and no gratitude is needed, not between real friends.”

10.) You can change the world: “See, it’s not enough to leave school and just desire to succeed in this cold, cruel world. Because then you’ve simply become a part of it. You must also have the desire to change it. And to change it, you’ll need your fine mind, and his good heart.”

11.) That the things you hate the most might just be the things that mean the most: “Sometimes the things we complain about most are things you care about most. Unfortunately, we don’t always know that until it’s too late.”

12.) Do good: “Believe in yourselves, dream, try. Do good.”

13.) And finally, a megaphone always makes you important:

My prayers and thoughts are with my supervisor more and more each day, and I send out a wash of prayers to those who have suffered or who are suffering through this same fate. To put it bluntly, it sucks and it’s not going to be better for some time.

May the Force be with us all.