Obviously, it's been a while.

If I had to wait for the urge to strike to write, it would be a while more.

So here's a post I like to call "all the drafts that I started writing and never finished over the past year."

So, here they are. Completely unedited since their Original date of almost-publishing. Most of them, stopping mid-sentence. All never posted for various reasons. Most recent first, going backwards, just like the blog itself.

Have fun.



June 14th, 2007
"Tonight, I tried to write an e-mail I've been putting off writing for months. Didn't work.

I tried to tell him, the person I owed the e-mail to, that mistakes were made, and that I didn't think we could come back from them. That I was sad our friendship at was at an end, but not ambiguous about it. Had it been true, I might have been able to finish.

I tried to tell him that I didn't expect him to forgive me for my mistakes; that I hadn't forgiven him for his. I tried to tell him that my mistake was that I couldn't do for him what I'd done for my other friends: accept his faults, and love him despite them.

Then I stopped and took stock of what I was saying-- I've been doing a lot of that lately, especially when it comes to this particular subject, this particular fight. I thought of the friends I've had in the long term, the real ones, and whether or not I accept their faults. I thought of the people whose friendships go back longer than mine and his; then I realized that there are precious few.

Elorza, well, he's a belligerent ass when he's drunk, which is a whole lot of the time, or when he's sober and just feeling the urge to be a belligerent ass, which is a whole lot of the remaining time. He spouts these crazy ideals and then criticizes you for not living up to them, but it's all talk, and he knows it, and he does nothing to live up to it.

But he looks you straight in the eye when he's talking about something important, and when he's laughing or crying, my god, he's the most beautiful man in the world. He's funny and charismatic and brings life to any gathering of people. When you're nervous just before you see him for the first time in three years about whether or not you should hug him when you see him, he walks right up to you, puts down his backpack, and wraps his arms around you with incredible strength and sincerity. He's put up with so much of my crazy ass bullshit over the years, and recognizes and appreciates how much of his I've put up with. And while he can't say it nearly as often as I've wanted to hear it, he's somehow communicated his love for me in a way that makes me believe it-- and tolerated my selfish and psychotic obsession with the related language at every turn.


Emily has a tone about her when she's in a mood that makes you feel small; or wrong, even if you're talking about something you truly know more about than her. Her availability is strict; she's never been the person I'd feel comfortable calling in the middle of the night, if I needed to." (Quick note: The fact that I never got to writing the "But" section on Emily makes me hesitant to post this, but I really need to work on regaining my confidence as to posting what I feel, which has severely lacked lately. This being said, Emily should know she's incredible. Perhaps my first post coming back from my dry spell should be a tribute to her.)

June 10th, 2007
"A few quick notes, for everyone's benefit:

-Residents of Cumberland and York County of Maine: Want to learn a language? Heard Rosetta Stone is the way to go, but hesitant to pay the multiple hundreds of dollars it costs? Did you know that you're eligible for a Portland Public library card, and, further, that that card makes you eligible to use Rosetta Stone online from your home, free of charge? Okay, so phrasing it like a question makes it come out all infomercial-y, but I'm seriously very excited about this cool service, so I thought I'd share. This service is actually available through all kinds of libraries throughout the country, so people not living in these areas can probably find a library that offers this service in their area-- if not, consider purchasing a non-resident card: Portland Public Library's non-resident cards cost $20 a year, for instance, versus $159.95 for a six-month subscription to Rosetta Stone online.

-"

April 4th, 2007
"I can't remember the context. Maybe on the train, maybe in the kitchen. But there was him, looking at me with those slightly wet eyes, telling me, slightly drunken, but fiercely sincere, that I was so much stronger than him. Had it been the first time I head it from someone I loved and trusted, I would have written it off. But it wasn't.

Months earlier, maybe even almost a year, and there I was, in a familiar basement, on a familiar couch, draped, crying, across the lap of someone I felt a familiar love for. I told him that soon I'd have had enough-- I was so weak, so strung out, and I was so convinced I only had one last thread to cling to. If it happens, it happens, I told him. If it wants to snap, I will let it go.

Then, in that voice that I had such divine trust for, and still have-- to this day-- incredible respect for, he told me, "I always thought you were stronger than that."


This entry was supposed to go a different way-- about how I wondered if people saw me that way, strong, wondered how they could. It was supposed to be full of self-questioning, but, ultimately, it was suppose to square off at the end, and be a neat little package, a testament to, well, if not to confidence, then at least to possibility. "


January 16th, 2007
"Probably, my biggest problem as a writer is that I'm not an expert on anything: in this blog, I have free reign to write about my own life, experiences, and feelings, but during periods when that well starts to run dry, or fails to get the attention I crave, I have nothing to talk about. Casey's doing this the right way, majoring in Political Science with a minor in journalism-- he'll never run out of subject matter, just so long as the government keeps on running it's tragically hysterical show. I fancy myself as being, perhaps, a Carrie Bradshaw in the making, but I feel unqualified as a sex expert until I, you know, can actually have sex. I commented to Casey, once, that my niche as a writer would be very similar to Nick Hornby's, writing as a single thirty-something male, except that I'm a married, twenty-something female.

This is probably a big part as to why I've longed so badly for David Sedaris-style fame, and go so far as to hail myself as "Sedaris-esque" in synapses of this website that I put on others: here is a man who rhapsodizes about everyday absurdity, tiny seeds of humor in every day life, nurtured by his somewhat neurotic genius. Two of his most consistent inspirations are his family and the horrible jobs he's endured throughout the years; sadly, it may just be that my family, while plenty dysfunctional in most of my memories, the teary-teenaged girl, distant daddy thing might be just a bit too cookie-cutter to be a bestseller. "

December 19th, 2006
"My Cavalier Approach to Human Decency Presents:

SuedeCaramel's thoughts on Music em>Dirty thoughts on music:

• I've discovered that the only acceptable way to dance to the guitar solo in Smooth is to pretend that Santana is using your clitoris for his guitar strings, and react accordingly.


• My last major success in writing poetry was a poem that equated sex to music, so I've decided now to write a song equating sex to currency. I have no choice but to go somewhat hip-hop style, because I can't sing, and I'm too self-interested to let anyone else get famous off of my song. Let's see what happens with this.

"

December 13, 2006
"Borders Rewards sends me e-mails saying that I've earned $18.19 in my Holiday Savings Rewards program, which is a 5% back incentive program. What it means is that I've spent over $360 dollars in the past two months on books and hot cocoa. I haven't earned a dime of that $18.19.

That's the problem nowadays. Big chain stores and credit card companies have us thinking that spending is earning."

Novermber 29th, 2006

""O ailing Love, compose your struggling wing!
Confess you mortal; be content to die.
How better dead, than be this awkward thing
Dragging in dust its feathers of the sky"

In the episode of The Gilmore Girls right after Rory and Dean break up, Lorelai spends most of the episode trying to convince her stubborn daughter that what she needs most is to wallow. She says that what is needed is buckets of ice cream and a sob movie, and to spend the whole day in bed eating and watching and having herself "a good cry", explaining to Rory, in her infinite wisdom, that wallowing is part of the process of getting over a break up.

I've never been in love before, not the way I am now, and I'm learning a few things about bein hurt by someone else that I really don't have a clue about. Who am I to fight the advice of a pro?

There's no food or good sob movies in my house, so in the wake of the news that I have been lied to, yet again, I find myself travelling to work. It's no news to me"

November 18th, 2006
"The store is now open, shifts are now normal, and the trainers have left. I remain with the memories of the fourteen hour days spent building something I believed in, the three nights spent socially with my colleagues, the two songs I sang in a Kareoke bar as the trainers cheered me on, and a sense that things were better.

I can't tell now if they are.

I still enjoy my job and love my store, but when I leave it at the end of the day, I don't find myself anywhere worth being. I carved a comfortable little niche as the party girl with the false confidence and perverted wit, but when I shed that at the end of the night, I lay and bed with no better sense that the real me is someone worth being.

I regret now that, upon seperation from them, I gave most of them both my personal e-mail and the address of this site: the forces within me that vie, on a deep, impractical level, for ultimate acceptance from those I care about often usurps the more pramagtic side that wants to get through the day with the actual roots"


November 1st, 2006
"As people more politically informed than I am have known for weeks, a new player has joined the hypothetical race for the 2008 presidential election: Barack Obama, a well-spoken democrat who's just published a best-selling book and is hugely popular with the mainstream media right now.

Also, he's black. Or, at least, black-ish.

I've told many people over the last year and a half or so that I'll be voting to break the glass ceiling this time around, meaning I had every intention of voting Hillary, and re-registering as a democrat (currently an independent) so I could do so in the primary. My reasoning is simple: barring any insane standpoints, or political deal-breakers for me (IE, wanting to overturn abortion, not supporting gay rights), I'm looking at this opportunity to have something other than a white, christian male in office and I'm realizing that it's the first real opportunity we've had, and maybe the only we'll see for a while, and I'm thinking one way or another this is the time to make that all-important progress.

Then the black man gets into my clear thinking and muddies it all up.

Now I have to think about who to vote for in the primaries-- the white woman or the black man? I think my loyalties stay with Hillary, who probably has a better overall chance and"



How great was that? Don't worry much, those of you who still poke around here. Just seeing the inside of this blog for the first time in months has put the itch in me. I'll be back with you before the end of the week.

On with it.