Back to school

Ok, so you're going to think I'm crazy.

But then again, you think that about me relatively often if you are a regular follower of this blog. I'm ok with that.

Anyway, here it is:

I miss school.

Not the teaching part. And don't worry, just because my students are currently whining about going through Shakespeare and suffering from major cases of extremely contagious Senioritis does not mean that I hate teaching. Fact: I still love teaching.

No, what I miss is actually being a student.

No, no, no, OK, seriously, hear me out.

Come on, stay with me (See? I told you you'd think I was crazy!) just let me explain.

Tonight at youth group an amazing man came and taught us how to look at the book of Revelation through the filter of the book of Daniel. He went about a million miles per hour, was crazy enthusiastic, and brought handouts and a PowerPoint to go with it.

I was in love.

Seriously. I loved being a student. And tonight I was sitting there on the edge of the pew, pencil poised to catch every tidbit I could while I flipped furiously through my Bible trying to keep up with him.

Now, granted, in high school it was a little hit and miss. Trust me, I did not sit in math or history like that. In math I was too busy trying to make my notes look fun and interesting, and in history I was too busy either doodling in my notebook or wondering what my teacher had had for breakfast because pieces of it were still stuck in his beard and on his collar (true story).

And, if I'm honest, I didn't quite sit like that in English all the time. Except when we did a few novels that I really loved. Or poetry. I was always attentive for that.

But man, oh man. College was a different story. With the major exceptions of anything math-related, Psychology, or Linguistics, I was totally different.

Writing About Film was a revelation. I thought I understood films and how to read them. That class totally opened my eyes. I devoured every film clip we watched in class and then went home, rented the films on Netflix, and went over it again. I watched films over and over again, looking at the use of framing, cuts, color, pacing, angles, music, and symbols. This class gave me a greater love for Altman and more disdain for Scorsese and his overdone symbolism. We get it, he's a Christ-figure, does he really have to die in the crucifix position in slow motion?

Introduction to Logic was such an incredible class that I voluntarily took the Advanced Logic class. I convinced other friends to take it. I learned how to use people's words like math equations. It made me a better arguer, helped me understand syntax and how essential it is to meaning, and grounded me in reality. Not the depressing kind of realism. Just, well, real realism.

Anthropology was fascinating. Even though my father says that it's not a real science I still found it engrossing. Why do people operate the way they do? Why do we congregate? How do other cultures work? What makes them separate from us and what makes us similar? I found that I loved the differences and the nuances in each culture. And I also found that those differences make other cultures (And culture-groups within America) more precious. I love cultural differences and I'm not afraid to admit it.

And all my English classes. It's safe to assume that I love books. It's also safe to assume that I love analyzing literature; therefore, my English classes in college were great. Mostly. There were two with whats-her-name who shall never be mentioned again (she gave me a C once), but otherwise, they were great!

Ah, I miss it.

Oh, but not my education classes.

Sorry to all of you who are future educators, but wow. Those classes. If anything ever felt like a bigger waste of money . . . man. I learned more in my semester of Student Teaching than I did in the previous three full of classes about Diversity, Methods, and Management.

But hey. You gotta do what you gotta do.

And without them, I wouldn't be here.

So, it's all good.

Dresses and techno

It's been awhile, I know.

Things were tough that week. Not just that day. That week.

I cried. A lot. I haven't cried much since coming to Ashland. And that week the floodgates opened up. And it was legitimate, sure. No one likes being told they are hated. And me? Well, we know I take all things to heart, and I love everyone. And being hated by someone simply boggles my mind, I suppose.

Thankfully people reached out. And I felt loved. And comforted. And I'm grateful for all the people who soothed me, tried to make me laugh through the tears, and gave me some perspective.

Lots has gone on. I don't have space to get into it all. Many things are still the same. Loving my kids. Loving living here. Loving my surrogate family. Looking forward to summer. Still being a girl.

And speaking of being a girl, I went shopping for a Prom dress yesterday.

Let me remind you, my dear readers: I hate shopping. I'm too picky. And even worse, I hate shopping with people. So imagine my comfort while shopping for something specific (i.e. Prom dress) with people (i.e. my girlfriends) for an unspecified amount of time.

Don't get me wrong. I love my girls. And I loved seeing them. But I felt like I was dragging them along and taking up their afternoon while trying on awful dress after awful dress. Granted, the dresses were pretty and the girls were having fun (especially when I flashed them and hey, they asked for it!), but I still felt slightly uncomfortable.

BUT! This story has a happy ending! Prom dress has been procured! And wow. It's a beauty. It's a beautiful color, flowing and simple, yet very nicely shaped. I feel awesome in this dress.

It was, however much too long in the straps. And you know what? Today I actually acted even
more like a woman and shortened the straps myself. That's right, folks. Yours truly ripped seams, pushed down the straps, and sewed the dress back up. And it was successful!

Have I lost your attention my dear male readers? I know all this dress talk must be endlessly boring for you.

Hmm. How about this?

I saw HANNA as well.

Holy. Crap. What a movie.

It's beautiful and vicious. That's the best way to describe it. The fight scenes are Bourne-ish. The world is stylized and lush, even in stark places like the snowy forest. And the violence is unapologetic and incredibly in-your-face. These aren't characters who hesitate when it's time to pull the trigger. No. It gets done.

And the soundtrack? Oh my word. The Chemical Brothers. Not kidding, I was sitting practically
on my knees in the theatre chair because I was so excited by this music.

A sucker for kick-A fight scenes paired with hard, industrial techno and throbbing bass? Yeah, ok, you caught me. Guilty.

Here, take a listen to this one. Made the movie for me.

Don't like it? Well, no one's perfect. But I'll like you just a little bit less.

Confession

I have a confession to make.

Despite the fact that I am a self-professed nerd, I haven't actually seen any of the Star Trek films except for The Undiscovered Country and the newer Star Trek.

This might be a shocker to you until you remember that I veered off in the direction of all things Star Wars.

This means despite the fact that I grew up on a diet of Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek-themed murder mysteries being held at my home (complete with my parents in full regalia and face putty), and purchasing Data Christmas ornaments for my mother, I somehow ended up on the other side of the tracks.

All of this to say that I'm now working my way gradually through the many Star Trek movies.

Last night I began with Star Trek: The Movie. This is an oft-criticized film, mostly for its slow pace and lack of action. I now have to admit something, and it's going to place me in a difficult position as a nerd.

Not sure why?

Here, I'll give you a reference.

The position I will now find myself in is very similar to the position in which I would place someone who spoke of The Phantom Menace and said that it was "Not that bad." Those three words would spark a violent reaction in myself, accompanied by many vocal protestations and lashing out physically. Those are dangerous words to utter to she who aligns herself with the Wars.

So, without further ado, time to place myself into a difficult position.

And I defend myself because I found 2001: A Space Odyssey very good and I happen to like slow and plodding movies.

I found Star Trek: The Movie . . . .

. . . not that bad.

Wherein I display my true colors (with a timeline!)

I've been doing some soul-searching lately. Not the serious kind, mind you, just the kind that prompts one to take a step back from oneself and ask, "Is this who I truly am?"

You see, I don't often think about it, but I was raised by two people who dearly loved science fiction and fantasy, picking apart films, and not apologizing for it.

Oh yes, you see where this is going now. Be prepared.

And now that I've just said that I can see Scar looming over a canyon full of dancing hyenas. Awesome. I'm going to go listen to the Lion King soundtrack real fast. Hold on.

And I'm back. And I'm not kidding. I'm seriously listening to Jeremy Irons try to sing. And I'm helping him.

Anyway, the way I was raised naturally instilled a few natural tendencies in me. I remember spending the entire summer of my 10th year locked in my bedroom devouring my parents' novels about people who ride fantastical dragons on a planet named Pern. My parents had to throw my outside for an hour each day. I'd spend that hour poking around, dreaming about riding a gold dragon, and counting down the minutes until I could come back inside and dive back into that world.

Those of you who know me will not find that strange. I have obsessive tendencies. They come in handy when those obsessions line up with my current position in life. For example, my current obsession with being the best English teacher ever lines up perfectly with my current position as an English teacher. Lovely!

But one obsession I've always had has been my love of books, TV shows, and films that treat life in a fantastic way. The dragon books, Star Wars (both books and films), my love of Agatha Christie novels, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the Harry Potter world, Pushing Daisies, Spaced, and my ongoing attraction/repulsion relationship with horror films (but excluding torture porn). This obsession has always been in an up and down cycle in my life, often dependent on the people around me.

Here's a rough timeline for you:

 Ages 3-9:
Family time on Sunday nights included watching an hour of Nature on PBS, and then an hour of Star Trek: The Next Generation with a few bowls of popcorn topped with Parmesan cheese.

Age 10: 

Discover the Dragonriders of Pern series. Life is perfect. I vividly remember listening to my very first cassette tape (Alanis Morrisette, Jagged Little Pill-- that's right, I'm not kidding) while reading the first chapter.

Age 10.5:

Discover my parents' stash of Star Wars novels. Devour them all. This marks the beginning of my Star Wars fixation and the decline of Star Trek, sorry Mom and Dad.

Age 12:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer airs for the first time. Instant love. Who knew that TV could ever be so good? My parents buy me a t-shirt. I wear it like it's the coolest thing on the planet. My parents buy Star Wars in the brand new VHS release. I immediately run them into the ground.

Age 14:
High school begins. I realize that no one else likes the things I do. Or, if they do, not to the same extent as myself. I stop wearing my Buffy t-shirt. Much to my shame, I'll admit I also stop watching Buffy on TV.

Ages 14-18:

I begin my quest to know everything about film, cut back a little on the fantasy book reading, and think way too highly of myself. Seminal films for me at this time include A Clockwork Orange, The Shining, Moulin Rouge, Vanilla Sky, and The Matrix.

Age 18:

I go to college and vow to become a cool nerd. This is reinforced when I begin dating a boy who does not share my love for science fiction and fantasy (I should have known it would never work when he refused to watch The Lord of the Rings with me).

Ages 18-24:
Brief moments of shining nerdiness peek through: Attending two midnight releases of two Harry Potter books, debating the suckiness of the Star Wars prequels with friends, mainlining the extended editions of all three LOTR movies and all the commentary tracks (that's 60 hours of movie-watching, in case you weren't aware), and discovering Harlan Ellison. I discover Doctor Who.

Age 25:

The decline and subsequent end of my relationship with that boy prompts a resurgence of nerdom. My friends and I host Doctor Who watch parties for season 5, I attend a Star Wars watching party and debate various weaponry and technology with a friend, I begin my countdown to Inception in January. I discover Firefly.

Then I move to a small town and I live alone. I don't need to hide this nerdiness from anyone. I budget so I can go to ComicCon in the future. I finally see Spaced. My attention settles on successful and talented people in the entertainment business who embraced their inner nerd and it took them far (I'm talking about you, Simon Pegg, Nick Frost, Edgar Wright, and, of course, Bill Hader).

I realize that I can do this. Nerds truly do inherit the earth.

Or at least, they inherit the earth I care about.

And, on another note, I discovered this artist. His name is James Hance, and his artwork is exactly what I want. I'm going to buy some of his prints and hang them up in my home as my art.

And I don't care what anyone thinks of it!

Get Off Yer Keister!

I'm sitting out on my front porch listening to big, fat raindrops splatter on the ground as I write this.

It's nice.

You know, the pace of this town, the general feel of it, and the way I just sort of slow down here is nice. I've been enjoying my time here a lot because it almost feels like a retreat. Then again, a retreat is meant to be just that, a retreat, not life. I'm hoping that this slow feeling will disappear once school starts, and that I'll be busy.

One might well imagine that with all this slowness my ambition is slowly fading. And for those of who who imagine that, thank you for your thoughts, now please go soak your heads.

The truth is, my ambition is steady, but my drive is faltering. Does that make any sense? I'll completely understand if it doesn't.

I see all this time stretching out ahead of me. I feel the weight of age crawling into my drive and slowing me down. And heck no, I'm not old, but I look at the people who are currently doing the things that I want to be doing, and these people started going for their dreams at 18, 20, 22. I'm 25. And I won't get to start until at least 27. That means, minimum, 30 before I get any work (unless I'm insanely lucky)--more likely 35. So that's what I mean when I feel age weighing on my drive.

But I really need to get my rear in gear.

I'm like a big, fat, rock on a very gradually sloping downward hill (enough adverbs and adjectives, MB?). One push is not all it's going to take. I'll roll once, then the weight will stop me. I'll roll five times and the weight will still stop me. I need about a month to really get going.

I mean, look at this blog. Can you tell that it's taken a lot of work? That I've put a lot of time into it? And that I keep up with it really well?

It was discipline that made that happen. It was really fun at a few points, especially when I discovered how to do things, but most of the time it was work making myself post something every night.

Ugh, I'm boring myself. Ok, I'll go write now. And you can instead enjoy this very fun video from the production blog of the movie Paul. It stars some very funny people (including . . . I'll give you one guess), and I'm going to go see it when it comes out in March.

Also, they play some very funny improv games which I can't wait to do with my forensics students!

Close Call

I was musing to myself earlier today how quickly I seem to have recovered from a hard break-up.

Well, duh, life has a cruel sense of humor, so of course I had a sudden resurgence of anger.

And then God was like, "Mary Beth, here's a present for you. You like this song and now Youtube is going to recommend that you listen to it again."

And I did. Get over it. Thank you Pet Shop Boys. Thank you Youtube. Thanks Big Man.



In other news, I am so excited for Inception that I can barely contain it. I'm seeing it tomorrow at 6:45 and counting down the hours!

Just Being Honest

OK, ladies and gentlemen. We all know that blogging, by its nature, is a narcissistic act. The thought process basically goes: I'm going to write about myself, other people are going to read it, and their visits and comments will affirm just how worthwhile I am and my dribblings are.

Well, I definitely don't believe all my dribblings are worthwhile, so here is one that you can just chalk up to completely worthless.

But honest. Yes, people, very honest.

So, you've just seen a movie or a TV show that you found particularly funny/moving/interesting/inspiring. And most of it was because of one person. One actor/star/personality. Maybe you've heard of or seen this person before, maybe you haven't. Either way, you're suddenly fascinated.

Come on. Admit it. You know what I'm talking about.

And maybe, just maybe you've gone to www.imdb.com to look this person up and find the other works on his/her resume. Then you've started watching these works.

Or maybe you haven't.

Either way, if you're a savvy reader or someone who's been keeping up with me, you already know where this is headed. Man, you guys are so smart.

Bill Hader! Muah-hahahahaha. Oh how I love torturing you all with this.

But on a more serious note, while I have had my strange fixations before (and any of my friends can tell you that these fixations all focus on a singular body part: eyebrows), only once before this have I very actively sought out the work of a former fixation. And for your information, I have now seen more Elijah Wood films than I ever should have. But I think this fixation is stronger because of my love of comedy and studying it, especially the films that are at the current leading edge of comedy, because if you take a look at that leading edge, Hader is somehow attached to everything. The man can't be stopped.

Seriously. Will Forte and Andy Samberg have nothing on him. He is the next male breakout star from SNL. Just wait and see.

And by the way, judge all you want. You may think he is odd-looking, and perhaps he is. Will Forte is quite handsome and plays great, out-there characters. Jason Sudeikis is also handsome and plays a straight-man better than (almost) anyone on SNL. But when you look at Hader and see that he can excellently play the straight-man and the manic, crazy characters, then he takes the cake. Talent, talent.

Anyway, all of that dribble was to say that this led me to watch a movie called Adventureland. Holy cow. I was not expecting that movie to be that good. You'll get a review later, trust me, but let me just say that I was expecting to laugh out loud. It actually didn't happen that much. I did however, find myself touched and thoughtful afterward, which is much more rewarding.

It's always nice when movies surprise you.

So. Now you've been tortured. Let's see how much longer I can hold off from mentioning Mr. Eyebrows again.

New Review Up!

Check out my new review for Twilight: Eclipse here.

Also, I'll admit it. Though the movie is overwrought and very ridiculous in many ways, I still love the soundtrack. Especially because Florence + The Machine is included. Please, please, take a listen to her. And a watch.

"Heavy in Your Arms" 



"Cosmic Love"



I love this woman's voice and the power she puts into her music. She is well worth a listen or two. Or three thousand.

A Dream That Sort of Unraveled On Its Own In This Post

Office marathon today. Super fun. Oh, and I am full of pizza now. Not-so-super-fun.

Every now and then I get this urge to write for a TV show. Specifically, for an NBC comedy show. 

Two concerns here:

1. If this is a serious urge, it's going to require some drastic life changes. 

2. I'm not quite sure that I can create funny things like the people who actually write for these shows. 

First of all, serious life changes. I've got myself committed to Ashland. And I've got some nice financial obligations as well. 

Ugh. This post was going to continue in this vein and now I've already found myself discouraged away from trying to move to NY or Chicago to join The Second City or UCB. 

That's what I get for taking my responsibilities seriously. Also, I think it shows that my "dream" is definitely a dream rather than an all-consuming, life-changing passion. 

My ultimate goal in all this? Well, if you haven't guessed from the nature of my most recent posts, I'm quite enamored with SNL lately. That's Saturday Night Live for those of you who aren't in the know. I've found myself studying the humor, the way skits are constructed, how stars are fit into the show, and how the show morphs depending on who the guests are. It's actually quite a beast to behold. 

Those who love humor often bemoan the current state of SNL. And I find it especially funny that the "current" state of SNL is always criticized, no matter what season the show is in. People will always have problems with it, I suppose. 

I personally think that the show is entering a brilliant new phase. I could go into it more here, but instead I'll leave it for a review on my TV tab. Keep checking back. It's not up now, but I'm sure I'll have it up soon. 

Anyway, we all know about my strange fixation on Bill Hader, but it's so much more than that. The talent on that show right now is amazing, the writing is doing well, and the guys from The Lonely Island (the guys behind the SNL Digital Shorts) are taking the show into the future one awkward video at a time. 

And now, just for you, because I know you wanted it, another picture of Mr. Hader, this time with glasses. Why don't all people wear glasses? 

Oh, and Hader's crazily versatile voice talents will soon be appearing in this movie, coming out in August. Listen carefully for the voice that says "Combo" around 1:45. Come on. It looks crazy fun. And hilarious to boot. I need to find some way to see this since I'll already be an hour away from the closest theatre that would show it.

New Review Up!

My first review is up for the movie, TiMER.

Check it out!

Bright Star Indeed

So I know that my posts have been shorter and on the less informative side as of late. But to be honest, I didn't feel like I had much to write. Maybe someday you'll hear about my horrible adventure on Sunday, but don't count on it.

I just watched Bright Star, a film about John Keats and his relationship with Fanny Brawne. And let me tell you. I adored this movie.

Most people would watch this movie and about ten minutes in decide that it would be more fun to clip their toenails, but I loved it. Slow, quiet movies make me happy. If you need any more proof, check out The Girl With a Pearl Earring. One of my favorite movies and very, very slow.

I loved Bright Star, however, for two reason. First, it's a romance set in the 1800s. And it stays in the 1800s. By this I mean that there is no unnecessary sex. Or any at all. It's restrained and achingly beautiful. Second, it's all about Keats, and this means it's all about poetry. It's about poetry as life, finding the inspiration for poetry, and learning how to be in poetry.

As Keats says in the film, "A poem needs understanding through the senses. The point of diving in a lake is not immediately to swim to the shore, but to be in the lake. To luxuriate in the sensation of water. You do not 'work the lake out.' It is an experience beyond thought. Poetry soothes and emboldens the soul to accept mystery."

Amen, brother. Amen.

For those of you who may not have a special affinity for poetry, this may sound rather dull or quaint. But for me, a film like this fills a special place in my heart that not many films can. Yes, I really love film, but a film is not a poem. And rarely does a film address poetry in any meaningful way or at all. I mean, when the ending credits are backed by the recitation of Keats' poetry, you know it's at the forefront of the movie.

And listening to poetry while watching the credits instead of a cheesy pop song made my heart sing, by the way.

I would encourage anyone with a love of poetry and/or period romance to see this movie. It might help you understand your own love of poetry or why those around you love it. It might also make you cry. It definitely made me cry. Man. Heartbreaking.

Watch this, then watch the movie.



p.s. For a laugh, check out the new recommended video.

My Music Tool

For some reason I have a hard time finding new music. I think it's because I'm one of those people who finds a favorite and then just really loves that favorite.

You know, like my thing with pad Thai. Oh I am positive that Thai places have excellent food. I've watched many other people eat numerous dishes, tried bites, and loved them. But . . . but . . . if I don't order pad Thai then I won't get to enjoy my favorite taste combinations. A hint of lime, peanut, soft chewy noodles, a warm spiciness that radiates through me . . .

OK. Enough of that. Go to your corner, pad Thai, and stop distracting me.

So when it comes to music, unless someone else introduces me to new things, I tend to not look for them. Until recently, that is.

I realized that soon I'll have to take on the mantle of the "cultured, big city" girl and that people will be expecting me to know all sorts of cool, artsy things. Well, I've got movies covered, but that's just because of my ridiculous obsession. See, if I could just team up with someone who is as obsessive about music as I am about movies then it would work very nicely.

And I'll have just come from seeing Inception, the movie I am most looking forward to this summer. Check out the link over on the right for the official site and the trailer. You might think, Wow, this chick should be attending Comic-Con and dressing up at Harry Potter movies with all her geekiness (and hey, your thoughts aren't too far off, for if it weren't for funds and me being a chicken, both would have happened already). But if you are intrigued, do yourself a favor and go see that movie!

Dangit. Movies. You sneakers. Stop trying to squeeze music out of the picture!

Anyway, Pandora has been helpful for me recently, so I thought I'd share some of what I come across as I listen. Today I'll share with you an artist I use to find other artists because I love her sound so much. Her name is Sara Bareilles. And yes, I will warn you, this is a piano-playing, slightly angsty, woman who sings about lost love and finding herself. And whose music usually makes other girls cry while they eat a pint of ice cream and over-identify with the sad, sad lyrics.

Stop judging, people! I reserve the right to like my stereotypical woman-music!

Here's a link to my current favorite of hers.

I hope you enjoy her stylings. If you like that sort of thing, that is.

Encouragement, Excitement, and Er . . . Freedom?

Today was a good day. Ups and downs and side to sides. Okay, I don't even know what that means, but it seemed strange to leave "ups and downs" all by itself.

My mom went home just this morning. You know how sometimes your day is so full that what happened first in the day seems a week away by the end of the day? Like I've just lived today more than normal.

Which, frankly, is a nice feeling. The days have seemed to crawl by this last week.

This morning I had two great conversations from two wonderful ladies. My best friend from elementary school, S, and my best friend from high school, L. So, some people believe in coincidences. That's great for them, and I'm sure that they enjoy their lives that seem to fall into place willy nilly, but I don't. I mean, how have I been feeling lately? Pretty alone, huh?

And, duh, I'm not stupid. I know I'm not alone. I have lots of friends who would love to hang out with me. But sometimes in a state like this, it takes a friend or two to plunge a hand through the fog that perpetually hangs around you and wake you up. Sometimes that hand smacks you in the face, sometimes it just waves hello, and sometimes it just cups the side of your face and reassures you that everything will be OK.

And two friends with whom I do not speak regularly plunged a hand into my fog today. And they sort of woke me up. Not that they healed my heart. Far from it. But they helped me realize that I need to get out there. I am so grateful for both of them, especially L. It's a long story, but our friendship has only really revived in the last two years, and I used to beat myself up for driving away a dear friend because I "did something wrong." Turns out, the things I beat myself up over created a longer last, deeper friendship with L. It just took awhile to see it. I was so encouraged.

That motivated me to do something with my day. I talked to a lady in Ashland about her house, since I'll be buying a home instead of renting (at least, I'm about 80% sure that's what will happen).

Oh man, people. Can we all just hold our collective breath, cross our fingers and toes, and pray fervently that this house is as good as it sounds? Even when I imagine the house with all the reality I can shove into my ever-optimistic brain I keep coming up with the cutest place to live, ever. If it weren't for the fact that all this is, you know, OPEN on the internet, I'd post the address for you so you could look at it on Google maps and see the street view of this place.

The outside of the house is entirely built out of this reddish stone with cream stripes. Not a strip of siding, wood, or brick in sight. Two stories. Separate garage with a carport. Cute landscaping on the sides. A porch with a porch swing. Now, as some of you may know, houses these days are not built with adequate porches at all. Not this house. Oh no. This house has that full, cover-the-entire-front-of-the-house kind of porch. The one with the large posts on either side of the house, the ledges of stone, and the stairs leading up to the house.

I think my heart just skipped a beat. Didn't yours?

Hello? Are you tracking with me?

Anyway, inside the house are two bedrooms, one-and-a-half baths, a large living room, a great kitchen, a sort-of finished basement, and all the appliances I could want.

That's right. If you're still reading this then you've just realized the best part: I won't have to buy a single thing for the house. Washer. Dryer. Refrigerator. Stove. Microwave. Lawnmower. 100-year-old dining room table. Oh yeah, did you catch that? I could get furniture with it too!

Ok. I need to take a second to breathe. Pause. Calm down.

Maybe I'll visit this subject later. My head is on a one-way track to the clouds and if I don't stop it I won't be able to get it out for the rest of this post.

That's right. REST of this post. Maybe you should get a snack. Take a bathroom break.

Tonight I changed my mind about hanging out with some friends. I had originally said no. Mostly because I was not interested in the movie we were seeing, Prince of Persia. Then again, I saw it with my mother last night and it was fun. Cheesy. Not fantastic. But fun.

So, even though I saw it last night, I decided to head over to my friend MW's. It was so good to hang out with her and a few other friends. We enjoyed some tasty salad, burgers, Kool-Aid, brownies and ice cream, then headed over to the Warren Theatre for some movie action. We were joined by four other people and soon we had an entire cadre of people.

Can I admit something to you all? And it's even hard for me to say it, but I've resolved to be honest here, no matter what.

I was glad to be single this evening.

No worrying about sitting next to a guy. No wondering if I'm talking too much to any one person in particular and whether I should spread it out. The chance to chat with my single lady friends about this guy and that guy (and I promise it was not gossip). The freedom to hand out a smile here and there without worrying whether or not it would be taken as flirting.

And no. No fireworks. It's not like I met someone tonight and fell hard for him. But I had fun. I've had lots of fun. But it's been six-and-a-half years since I've had fun like that.

And yes. Driving home, alone, I still got a pang in my stomach. Not from guilt. Not from fear. Just from loneliness. From a habit built of years of grabbing my cell phone first thing when I'm on the car ride home. My immediate debrief at the end of the day with the man I'm sharing my life with.

But for an unknown stretch of time there will be no debriefs. No sharing. Just me, riding in the car, alone. Hopefully someday soon I will relish that time, but for now, I wish I could just go straight from fun and people to asleep in my bed.

And speaking of that (and if you're still reading you deserve a prize), I better head that way. Tomorrow is another busy day.