You, me, and the Devil makes 3. Plus insomnia!
I'm obsessed with this song, this band, and Eicca Toppinen.
I've always loved Apocalyptica but seeing them in the flesh really shoved my gear into overdrive.

I just popped one of my Ambiens so that means I've got about 15-20 minutes of cognitive clarity. I've figured it down to a science. The last time I 'winged-it' I wound up stumbling down the stairs, stepping on my mom's coat pocket, and setting off her car alarm.
Goddamn insomnia.
Postpartum insomnia is the worst.

I was doing okay with Alex being gone. I went to work and was a-OK, despite feeling like I was in a meat market[1]. I even held my resolve through the entire phone conversation on my way home where he told me how much he missed me.
Passed with flying colors.
Until I found the bandaids that he stuck underneath the driver's seat of my car when his fingers hurt from hangnails.
Then I got sappy and teary.

Waaahhh.
Fuck you, Elkhart[2]. Fuck you Indiana.
I want my mohawked baby back.



Sigh.
I'm going to go cut out photos and work on his gift.

[1] the presales and walk-ups at work (Whitecaps) have been awful. It seems the only people who show up are gangbangers with miniature versions of themselves and their baby mamas. And decrepit season ticket holders. Whenever I help out and cashier, I feel like I'm competing with the other ladies to get the next customer.
Look cute.
Smile.
Wink.
Finger beckon!
And I may as well call myself Cherish, and start collecting wigs, because I feel like an entertaining stripper.

[2] Apparently there's a Lowes in Elkhart, Indiana that needs some serious automatic doors - a weeks worth.

Bound to your side and trapped in silence, just a possession.
Is this sex or only violence that feeds your obsession?
You send me to a broken state
where I can take the pain.. just long enough.

Then I am numb - then I just disappear.



So go on, infect me.
Go on and scare me to death.
Tell me I asked for it.
Tell me I'll never forget.

You could give me anything but love.

Doctors and starters and poop, oh my!
Sorry for the lack of postage. I'll make up for it.

Today was an all right wind-down of the weekend. I guess. Even though the starter in Alex's Jeep decided to shit its pants on him today, and I had a very personal appointment with my new lady doctor.
We talked about my tattoos and third kidney to numb the awkwardness.
Buuut I can't complain.
Especially when Alex and I are going to see Apocalyptica tomorrow.
Oh.
That's right.
These guys:


Yeah.

This is going to be a big media post so bear with me. I'll understand if you don't care enough to read through it. I'll probably go back and read through it enough times for all of us, because I'm a creepy perfectionist lady and I'm into that.

So while I'm (illegally, shh) downloading music for Alex, I'll enlighten you to our weekend and such.

Friday was our 'dead night.' Friday's usually are. They're Alex's full days of work (no class) and he's usually beat. These are the nights we rent scary (when he lets me) and cute movies to fall asleep to. The 'Burbs, for instance! Except we rented Madhouse (even though I've seen it) and the Orphanage (because we both loved Pan's Labyrinth.) Both scared Alex and he spent the entire 3 hours huddled behind me on the bed.
He rented two seasons of Bones.
Psh.

Saturday we went riding.
Dirtbike riding.
I'm still considered a newbie when it comes to this shit so of course Alex would bring a bike I haven't ridden yet, you know. Makes perfect fucking sense right? I know.
Totally.
Anyway- for those of you who don't know, I'm a measly 5'1" and therefore, have issues reaching the high cupboards of our house. So when he brings me THIS thing, the day's about to get rough.
I did okay but eventually threw out my back trying to kickstart and bounce to the other side to clutch and shift real quick.

So I did what ANY girl would do.

I threw the bike down on the trail, promptly declared, ''FUCK" at the top of my lungs, and stomped off through the woods towards the house, stripping off my boots and gloves all the while.

Ohhh it was an IMPRESSIVE bitch-walk. I almost wish you all could have seen!

But I digress.

Alex finally coaxed me out of my bed and we settled for another dead night with Johnny Depp in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Alex usually looks at me with, 'Seriously?' eyes but winds up loving the movies I pick. Just like Alvin and the Chipmunks, which he is OBSESSED with. He was giggling like Willy Wonka all night, only to wake up and go out to lunch for my Cam-Cam's 10th birthday!






Dad and a giggly Cameron.

*sniffle*



I think that's aaaaalmost a media overload, so I'm going to go ahead and leave you with a few videos from Thursday before Alex and I took Cam to her softball practice.
Read more..

I love you all.

Goodnight!

Letters written, torn, yeah yeah..
I just want to let you all know that I took it upon myself to reserve another account here on Woohu. It's under the name cJessicaPyne, as that's my alias on every other site out there.

I've been in increasingly good moods lately (despite my aching back). Even busted out ye olde Tripp skirt:


..and talked my mother into buying me new shoes.
Because, you know, I really need them, mom.


I also want to give a big THANK YOU to you ladies for the praise on my letter. Nothing else matters like you do! The praise was definitely what I needed after a day of work and oil changes.
Correction, oil change. Singular.
But it was one more oil change than I would have liked.
"Turn your lights on, please."
"Kay!" Lights.
"High beams?"
"Oops!" Fog lights.
"Blinkers?"

Cue the windshield wipers!

He humored me mostly and changed my spoiler light for free, so that was awesome.
Still felt like an idiot though.
But it never fails. I always do.
But it's okay; I had my new shoes.

Here's a smile for you guys to let you know that I'm really not that depressing :P



Bop on over to Alex's and tell him to get his updating-ass in gear.

A letter
Dear friend,
One of these days you're going to realize that no matter how many times you change your username, address, or phone number, change is still going to find you.
Your issues are still going to be there shuffling awkwardly around you.

And until you change everything your username, address, and phone number revolve around (ie: you), said issues will never be resolved.

I'd give a lot to have the guy that I met all those years ago. The guy that could supply me with unknown music, say 'this is the shit,' and I could take you at your word - because it always was. The guy that wrote notes and took camera phone photos just to make me smile. The guy that didn't care if it was 4am, because this was better than sleep.

And maybe it's my fault that things collided and fell apart. In fact, I'll go ahead and sign my name on that one. I made a lot of mistakes and you were genuine and brilliant and warm, and you forgave me. You took me back into your world and smiled that rare awkward smile. For awhile, you were that guy, and I was that girl.

You did a lot more for me than you ever had to.

But as I sit here in the dining room of my grandparents' house, linoleum replaced by tile, photos peeling at the corners, I want to tell you that change is all right.
Change is okay.
And I still love you.

You'll get retribution for everything you've done right (or haven't done wrong) and you'll find the love you're looking for. You'll move to a glamorous west coast city like you've always wanted and live in a house with your cat, guitar, and girl. And you'll play Warcraft sometimes when you're bored at home and have nothing to do. You'll sell your car maybe for something less pricey even if it is slower because you're you, and you don't care about things like that. You would rather spend your money on friends and whiny 'life-sucks' music because you like that kind and, man, that's okay.

I'll still love you.

If we can't match up like we did before, that's fine. If we can't make time for one another or decipher each other's cryptic messages anymore, that's all right too. If you won't ever pass over the doorstep of me and Alex's house, or I yours, okay.
If we've lost our touch - so be it.
I'm not mad if you hate me, even though I know you don't, and you know I won't ever hate you.

But if we can't talk anymore just know that I listened to all of your songs today, I found all of our old pictures, and I still have your painting with the secret message on the back.

If you go your way and I go mine, I'll still love you.

I'll look up at the stars in a few years and wonder if you can even see them where you are, or if it's too bright in the city you picked. I'll stand on a ledge in the winter and hold my arms out wide with my face up towards the heavens, catching flakes in my colored hair. I'll scrawl xLN in chalk on the driveway with my children in the summers and no one else will know what it means - what ANY of this means.
Except you.

I found you like sifting through records at a thrift store, dusty and hidden away beneath piles of the truly worthless. I pulled you out, cleaned you up, and took you home with me. You were my best friend for years. You were Joey: Keeper of my Secrets, Prince of Listening, Lord of Late Night phone calls. I think, honestly, you still are.

I've never been one to admit it's too late for anything.
But if we need to let go, friend, I'll still love you.

And what remains is just a feint of what was meant to be.
If a ton of my old photos don't work on here it's because I took my discontentment out on Flickr.
I'm just so hellbent on new beginnings now.

I have a headache, which is rare, but it hardly matters. Today's been a good one, especially in comparison to last night.
I amaze myself sometimes over how much I can salvage.
Mostly how much some things mean to me.
I never thought I'd need someone so much..
love someone so much,
miss someone so much,
grow in someone so much.

But hey! you learn new capabilities every day.
My basket's just overflowing.

My butt's sore from letting Alex convince me to ride one of his dirtbikes. I already knew the basics; the clutch, how to shift, starting, braking, leaning, etc. Thank god for male cousins. But I'm lucky if my feet even touch the ground.
Things got a bit more fun after I got the bike unstuck from the landscape bricks I plowed through.


He says I did wonderfully.
So there.

Now we're off to my house to grab some old N64 stuff and head off to Mitch's for the party. Alex is itching for a fight, which is convenient because we just might find one.
Apparently we stole my sister's cat and she's got a bounty on our heads.
Among other accusations.
But let's not open up that wound.