He had the day off from filming yesterday. How do I know this, you ask? Because he came to see the show and of course he sat in my section, because awesome/famous people always sit in my section (I really lucked out with that assignment at the beginning of the summer). I didn't notice him until intermission when I saw him sitting all by himself and realized he had been the annoying guy sitting next to the show's costume designer whispering and laughing uproariously at everything the whole first act. Wow, good thing I hadn't shot him a nasty "shut up!" look!

Well there he was, in all his adorable splendor, sitting alone as the costume designer had left to attend to things. Eee I want to go up there and tell him I think he's awesome, but that's not really appropriate. I'm supposed to stay here and man my spot. Damn. Ok, I will will him to leave the theater so he'll pass by me and hopefully I'll have the balls to say something. Willllllllllll. It works. He gets up and I'm searching my brain for something I can say that isn't obnoxious or groupie-esque but he's not heading for the exit. No, no. He is heading straight towards me.

"Hi! How are you? It's so good to see you," he says and then gives me a hug. Like we bonded during the show. Like we're old friends. Like he's at least talked to me once before in our lives. Planning my line? Fuck that! Not even my imagination considered this.

From where I stood there are two choices, play along or let the fact that I've never talked to him before ever and think he's very talented and the fact he's already achieved most of my life goals take over. No contest. For the entirety of intermission me and this Tony-nominated, the next hot thing, golden boy of Broadway are bffs. We talk about the show, how it's been since he left, how filming's been, laugh when some guy comes over to talk to him and ends his "I saw you in this show, you were so great" spiel with: My friend sitting up over there. It's her birthday. She wants your dong. The guy quickly leaves and my new bff laughs and confided in me, "That's one I've never heard before- 'She wants your dong.' And did you see how fast he went back to his seat? I bet that was a dare." Oh commiseration, that makes me feel even more like we're bffs.

Before I know it, intermission is over. The light's are dimming and so is our friendship.

It was so great to see you! Good luck with the film! Enjoy the second act!

Thanks, you too. I'll see you later. He says and gives me another hug before returning to his seat.

I can't stop smiling.

It's a good thing I'm 97% sure he's gay (you can pretty tell on stage, which often limits the credibility of a character portrayal but in this show it really made his character stronger. If he is not gay, he is a truly brilliant actor for that. His replacement doesn't have the same vibe and it makes the whole show a little weaker in my opinion) other wise I would be head over heals in love. Such a sweet, modest, respectful, awesome person. It's moments like these when I feel like the minimum wage I get paid is totally enough. Who am I kidding, I would do it for free.

On a side note, I woke up today at 5:30 for no apparent reason other than someone was on my mind and I couldn't stop dreaming/thinking about them. Finally I started praying for them but when I tried to fall back asleep my brain had already awakened and I was up for good. Needless to say I was not about to sit around and do nothing until my 9am alarm clock rang. So what did I do? I gathered up my camera, my newly acquired ipod, and drove downtown and started taking pictures.  It was pretty fun. I've never actually walked the downtown streets before, and doing so at 6 o'clock in the morning was pretty exhilarating.  I definitely wouldn't mind doing that again one day. So here's just a few of the shots that I took. I'm calling the series, Urban Sunrise.

You can go here for more of my stuff: http://www.flickr.com/photos/immashutterbug/

After that, I came back home and got ready for school. Walked out to my car, got in ready to head on my way only to have my car die on me. No rumble, no reving of the engine. Absolutely nothing. Thankfully, Davina hadn't left her apt. yet, so I walked the 10 minutes to her house and rode with her to school. This afternoon Bobby came buy and jumped my car-yea for dead batteries, right?! I barely made it to the auto shop. I'm driving up this hill on Western only to have to stop because some idiot cars don't know that green means go, and they decide not to drive and as I'm sitting there my car decides that it doesn't want to live anymore. Shuddering, shaking, and continually turning itself off and then on-it freaked me out so bad! I kept praying, 'Jesus, just get me to the shop. I'm almost there. Just get me to the parking lot!' Jesus answers prayers people; that's all I'm saying. I was able to make it into the parking lot and as I was pulling into a spot the car started shuddering and shaking again. I was barely able to actually park before it turned itself off. Yea for new batteries though, because now its working again!

This evening I've gotten a good amount of homework done so I'm quit proud of myself. I did my reading for my fiction writing class for tomorrow, although I definetely need to write that story this weekend. I also did a bit of studying for my econ test that is next friday. My first test of the semester. I'm GOING to do well!!! (thats what I keep telling myself)

I get to meet with a lady in the english department in the morning. I'm excited. I believe she's the dean, and if so, then she'll be able to help me figure out how to switch majors. So I really hope that goes well. In any case, its my bed time and Im in some major need of sleep (hopefully I'll be able to since I did take a 2 hour nap today).

-immashutterbug

She is still my best friend and always will be.  She is positive, gives her time to me (knowing I need it so much right now).  She is creative, funny, different, kind, beautiful inside and out, smart, contains more wisdom than she knows and has a strong faith in God.  We are different but so much alike in ways too.  I can identify with her. I am blessed and I wanted to give this testimate for her.  She deserves all the beauty life has to offer.  She is my best friend always and forever, until the end. 

(I am praying for a move closer to her. Then we can live out some of our dreams together...we'll see :) )

Me entiendes, te entiendo, nos entendemos, soy tu cómplice y eres mi cómplice, nos comprendemos.

Tenemos los mismos gustos (já), y hemos sufrido las mismas situaciones,  me dá coraje y maldigo si te encuentras mal... y  sé que has sentido lo mismo por mi... nos hemos dado nuestros zapes y al final siempre nos damos cuenta que todo, todo, tiene una solución y que cualquier cosa mala, pasará...

Te quiero, y te quiero mucho... y espero poder un día verte, abrazarte y decirte de frente lo importante que eres para mi. Esto si es amor del bueno. Love you lil'sis.

Si, es *Eme....

Shh (Donora)

I like I like when we whisper soft to each other

I like I like when we're quiet with one another

I like I like when we're n-nice nice to each other

I like I like when we surely like one another

For you and me

"Good love is on the way..."

Y ya.

So for those of you who missed it (and might I first congratulate you on successfully finding a better way to spend your time), I thought I'd fill you in on a few of the major plot points the season premier touched on. So far, we've got:

1. Cheating boyfriends
2. Not one but TWO high-school pranks
3. 2 token minorities
4. An illegitimate child
5. A 'hot' teacher
6. A new principal
7. One false new friend
8. One back-stabbing former best friend (with matching tattoos)
9. The new girl taking over the school's musical with her exceptional talent (and horribly enthusiastic dancing)
10. One convertible Bentley
11. A first date w/ the school's hottest guy...who drives afore mentioned Bentley
12. Above mentioned first date took place in San Francisco (destination was reached by way of hot guy's private jet--of course!)
13. An alcoholic granny
14. A plagiarised term paper
15. Several scenes at the infamous Peach Pit (Nat hasn't aged a day, by the way)
17. A drug deal (hidden in a cubby cut out of a fake text book...very stealthy)
18. A Sweet-16 party that would put MTV's "My Super Sweet 16" to shame
19. A bevy of catchy, pop/rock/emo bands providing the soundtrack
20. Oh--and one Porn King

I figure in Episode 2 we'll have our token teen pregnancy...and then I'm not sure what they'll do. We may be bidding farewell to America's most stereotypical zip-code earlier than expected.

Poor Aaron Spelling....is nothing sacred anymore?

You were the best friend who lived in her neighborhood. I was the best friend from birth, because our parents were close friends.

I admit to being jealous of you over the years. I was a selfish friend, and I wanted her all to myself, especially when we were all girls.

I know very little of your life as an adult, but N remained a close and true friend to you, as she did to me. I know you faced difficult decisions and a serious illness.

You don't need me to tell you this, but you did the right thing. You were braver than I could be. You were braver than I was. Stronger and more true.

As you know, N is moving, going to Palo Alto. In theory, as we haven't seen much of each other since marrying and starting our families, you may think this is no big deal. But knowing she has been in Columbus or Chautauqua has been comforting. It was easy to think, "Well, I can just get in a car and see her" even if it only happened a handful of times. But now she's going clear across the country, which means plane tickets and plane rides and 3000 miles instead of 300.

You have taken a much longer journey, have left N and all of your friends and family much, much further behind than a mere cross-country uprooting could encompass or compare to.

N misses you, of course. And part of what she misses of you is the "other-side" that you played to our coin -- the coin that was you and me. We were the "best friends for life" that N always had in her pocket.

I didn't know you well, but I will miss you too. Miss you for your son. Miss you for our best friend.

I hope you found peace while you were still here. I hope you find rest.

"For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation."
-- Rainer Maria Rilke

My oldest daughter had surgery twice this summer, both times we took her out of state to see a specialist, and our insurance did not cover hardly any of the doctor fees.  I can't see Tom maintaining only one job soon.  I've noticed since he took the finanaces away from me he has been paying off his student loans instead of putting the money towards our daughters medical bills.  His answer is they both need paid.  I agree, but we make a monthly payment already on the student loans, our daughter had a tumor removed from her face.

Our oldest daughter started back to school two weeks ago, just shortly after her last surgery.  i have been having a lot of trouble with her misbehaving, nothing new, she's a very head strong individual.  It got so bad I gave in and decided to try a suggestion from a parenting book my husband recommended.  So I "kicked her out of the garden of eden."  striped her bedroom of everything but furniture and clothes.  It hasn't phased her yet.  I just think my daughter's problems stem from my martial problems, but Tom denies it.  He says she's been acting like this for a very long time.  Yes she has, and so have our martial relations.

My middle child went to preschool this year.  He loves it.  I couldn't be happier.  I know have a few days a week where I have mornings to just me and Edith.  I have been working on a project for publication and hope to have it finished soon.  I've also been starting this "flylady" concept to clean up my house and get rid of clutter.  Tom is a real pack rat and with all the kid's toys our house looks like a tornado swept across it and no one bothered to clean it up, even though daily I am vaccumming and tossing toys back in the box, and scraping food from the floor beneath our dinning room table.

I've come to realize this morning what a lonely life I lead amongst my family.  I've spent the past few days trying to become one with my husband.  I miss having a best friend.  You know the type where you can tell them anything, be vulernable, expressive, and they will do the same unto you when they need someone too.  I haven't ever had a friendship that lasted longer than highschool or college since I met Tom.  I know now it is because I'm one of those "needy" friends who complains about there life, needs a helping hand very often, and talks alot.  I just don't have anyone else to talk to, not even Tom. 

I had hoped since we moved here, to this new place, that it would be different.  I still hold that hope.  I have been a MOPS mom for almost six years now.  I have one friendship, longdistance now that we moved, that I still hold dear and keep connected and several here at our new home that I hope will stick with me dispite my husband.  It seems that when people meet Tom I lose friends.

Right now I feel as if I've even lost Tom.  I've spent several days trying to be intimate with my husband.  I've sent him poetry through email, even though I hate having to communicate with him that way.  I've tried making conversation - asking about work, all jobs, telling about our day without him.  I long to cuddled, to hear him say he loves me, but waiting I suppose will just go on.  I sit here this morning after my twelth attempt of trying to be close to him, but he just turns his back on me.  It hurts. 

I'm lonely.  I feel as if Dr. Martin's theory of Tom's passive aggressive behavior is coming into play.  Tom in his subconsious way is punishing me for all the times I did things he didn't like or just couldn't give him what he wanted when he wanted.  What ever the reason is - I'm lonely.  I yearn for something all wives have in a marraige, and yet I may never be able to obtain.

I miss my best friend, I miss that intimate relationship of secret smiles and soft whispers.  Cherished moments and idle conversation.  Meaningful words of love and experssion.  Warm embrasses that make you melt down to your toes, and eyes that you could drown in their depth of their wanting to be with you.  I guess that in itself is poetry, for I swear I had it once, and I miss it.

Yearbook's People Page

[ during official review of the yearbook by school staff, it was rejected, and had to be redone. aka: replaced crossed out eyes with wizard hats, bubbles and heart. Yes, I know how lame.]

Student Expressions Logo

[created for the Student Art section of the yearbook, I had a long (and still have) a wide obsession with the fleur-de-lis. ah,  theres a reason why my grandmothers last name is Francois!]

FU**

**CK

[ I honestly have no idea what this is or why i made it? i'm going to blame it on a boy most likely and relate it to me being an cheer up emo graphic designer kid. (but i must say i love the orange|hotpink-ness with the wood) ]

Los Senores, Senior Class Shirt

[ ahh, now this I was commisioned by my good friend Grant Bristow (ASB senior class VP) to create a cool and sexy shirt for our graduating senior class, I guess our theme was mexican? But whatever, it was impressive to see my sexy mariachi bandgeek on every seniors shirt. ]

I've expressed to my friend Jamie that my first post would involve me exposing the hardships of Vancouver's rental market, to serve as a warning to all those bright-eyed, optimistic youngsters out there who don't know any better.  So: don't move to Vancouver if  a) you don't have a clear sense of when someone is trying to scam you out of money, b) you don't want to spend hours searching for a place only to be immediatley dissapointed when it goes the same day it was listed, and c) your friend's landlord where your staying thinks you're trying to rob the place even though you've made prior arrangements to stay there.  If I sound pessimistic, well, I am, but I'm sure my attitude will change once I'm living in my two bedroom rental in Kits, only minutes from the beach. In fact, I just got a call for a place on 1st and Stephens, two blocks away from the beach and a mere $700+ a month. VanCity is not cheap.

It's a good things I have my two best friends here, the lovely Jamie and Julia, to keep me from becoming totally hopeless. In fact, I'm here on Granville Island while the girls attend their first classes of the school year at Emily Carr. How happy it makes me to be able to support two of the people I love the most - well it's just too tender to talk about.  Jamie's been good in reassuring me I will find my beachfront property, that I just have to be patient; and Julia has been there to push me to explore all my housing options, so I feel pretty covered on both fronts of my house-hunting consciousness. I think I'll make it with these two around.

So there is my very first post, it wasn't about art per se, although finding a place in VanCity to live is an art in itself, in some twisted way.

it's so fated=))

ok now talk about in school=)

ok, think tts all for today

I heard the familiar incoherent cursing and dreaded what I would see this time as I made my eyes look toward the source. Mom was on the back steps with the door to the kitchen at her back. She was there hoping for a miracle to occur within the boundaries of the walls that held our home, or perhaps just a moments peace from the unending bullshit that always spewed from a drunkards mouth.
I watched as the back screen door opened at moms back. As a version of a man I hardly knew reached out with his strong arms that were being controlled by a numb mutated brain, and grabbed mom at the back of her head, grabbing as much hair that would fit into the big hands. I sat in the back yard 2 doors down, and watched as moms head snapped back as she was dragged back into the kichen by the hair on her head, her back being dragged across the metal threashold. Back into the world that had become her hell.

When I was four years old my parents moved my family to a middle class suburb in St. Louis county. When I looked around our neighborhood I saw a sea of white faces. Our family was one of only two black families in the neighborhood. The ramifications of that didn’t hit me until the first day of kindergarten when I walked into the classroom wearing a brand new pink frilly dress and white patent leather shoes only to find myself greeted by looks of disgust and distress from my fellow students.

By the time that first day was over I had been pushed, spit at, called a monkey, and ignored by my teacher. I went home in tears and announced to my parents that there was no way in hell I was going back to that miserable place. My parents responded by telling me that there are ignorant racist people all over the world and, sadly, they teach their children to be ignorant and mean too. The basic message was that I was going to have to learn how to cope because my parents held the value of a good education over the pain of prejudice.

My parents came of age during the 1950s and 1960s, so they were well aware of the pain of in-your-face racial prejudice. But their generation had risked their lives to get a decent education and both of my parents felt that a few bruises or hurt feelings were par for the course for any person of color trying to get ahead. As far as they were concerned, I was learning a lesson young that I was going to have to learn eventually.

So I suffered and learned how to cope. I sat in the back of class and knew better than to try to make friends. After a particularly vicious beating in the girl’s restroom, I even taught myself to hold my pee until I got home. Yeah, I was coping but I was also miserable and terrified. And I wasn’t learning much other than school survival skills either.

All that changed the next year when Cookie transferred to my school.

Cookie was also black –- a pure dark chocolate brown some people are blessed to be born with. She was solid where I was skinny, fearless where I was cautious, and she became my first friend at school. With Cookie I could conquer the world or at least conquer my phobia about the girls restroom. She talked loud and didn’t take crap off of anyone and I quickly became her fan club of one. I began to laugh and play and ask questions and some of the other students began to hang out with me.

When I looked at Cookie I saw a strong black child and I began to realize that the weeks of racial taunts and physical attacks had taken something very precious from me. I realized that Cookie hadn’t inspired something new in me, but that she had revived a spark that had died such a quiet death that I didn’t even notice its passing.

I recall swinging on the playground next to Cookie one Friday afternoon, thinking that I was having fun and that I couldn’t wait to come back to school. I couldn’t wait to share my weekend news with Cookie over lunch and gossip about the other girls or our older sisters. I remember going to the bathroom without fear of assault, my head held high as I walked past girls who used to haunt my nightmares but who now held no power over me. And I remember hugging Cookie goodbye and getting on the bus, not knowing that everything would change that weekend.

That Sunday after dinner my mother sat me down and told me that Cookie’s mother had called.

Their family was moving because of a work transfer.

Cookie was moving away.

I cried as if someone had died, but my mother said that I should save my tears for a real tragedy. I was well grown before I learned the meaning of that and, at the time, I thought Cookie moving away was the world’s greatest tragedy.

Our parents took us out for burgers and fries but neither one of us ate. We promised to write and call and that we would be friends forever. But then Cookie turned to me, took my hands and leaned forward and whispered in my ear.

“But it’ll be okay if you don’t write or call.”

She pulled back and looked me directly in the eyes.

“You’re going to be okay … you know that, right? Because we made a memory and that’s what’s really forever.”

I nodded but my throat closed up and I couldn’t form the right words.

“Come on, girl.” Cookie said, and stood up with a smile. “Let’s go play!”

And off we went to play together for what was to be the last time.

We quickly lost touch after Cookie moved away, but I thought of her often over the years. I hope she’s happy and as confident as she was when we were young.

The cool thing is that Cookie was right.

She moved away but she left me with a memory and she also left me with an awareness that I am worthy of kindness, friendship, and laughter.

And that is still one of the most precious gifts of my childhood.

I have lived through more tornadoes than I can count, but the thing with tornadoes is that they are sudden; the conditions that spawn them exist for 12 hours at most. If a tornado does actually form it might last an hour or two. It does not lake a leisurely cruise through the Gulf Of Mexico before finally arriving at your home. You don't have to watch them come for you for a week or more. I cannot begin to imagine what that must be like. I can only pray that all of the people down south come through this; that none of my friends have to go through what so many  of them went through three years ago.

Enough; let's talk about the good parts of the weekend.

Saturday Gerald and I drove to Ripley Mississippi. Every month on the weekend before the first Monday in a month there is a huge flea market on the outskirt of Ripley. Gordon met us there, and three of us spent a couple of hours exploring the merchant's wares. I wish I'd had some money to spend because there was a lot of neat stuff hidden among the typical flea market crap: antique tools, antique cast iron pots and pans, lots of other collectibles, and lots of animals. I had a problem with the animals.

There were dozens of peope selling puppies, rabits, chickens, guinea fowl, doves, etc. The poultry I tend to see as livestock, not pets, so it didn't really bother me to see those animals in wire bottom cages. However, it bugged the hell out of me to see the kittens (and I don't even like cats) and dogs in the same kind of cage. Bugged me a lot.

Of course, it bugged me even more to see people actually buying pets in that kind of market. If you want a pet, either adopt one from an animal shelter, or, if you must have a registered purebred, go to a reputable breeder. For the love of all gods, do not get one from a man selling a litter of underfed puppies in a wire cage at a flea market. Most of the people with animals for sale didn't even bother to put a water container in the cage. No way in hell I'd buy an animal from a person that didn't care enough about them to provide water.

Despite what I viewed as mistreatment of the animals on sale, Idid enjoy wandering around the flea market. I always try to imagine where merchants at those markets get all the items they have for sale. One guy had dozens of heavy cast iron cauldron, several of them big enough to boil a pig in. Those are not items that people come across every day. Another guy had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Hot Wheels cars, all of them in original packaging.

Sunday morning was spent doing my weekly review and planning for the coming week. That project took all of an hour, but it has become an important ritual for me. Helps me to know what I have accomplished, and more importantly, what I need to accomplish in the upcoming week.

Sunday afternoon and evening was spent with good friends, having good conversation, and eating way to much good fun. In other words, The House of Three Dragons had a cookout at Gresch and Chiere's house.  There were ten of us there, and as always when we get together, there was good conversation, good advice, a bit of plotting and planning, but mostly there was laughter.  We can't seem to spend ten minutes in each other's company without something making us laugh. Not a bad way to spend a day at all.

Cormac

There is one man who got me through this day. There is one little man who never judges me, will kiss away my tears, snuggle close to me when I'm cold or in need of a hug. There is one little man who forgives me no matter what I do or say, and is always estatic to see me even when I'm not the most pleasant person to be around. He never complains if I want him to watch some sappy chick flick with me or just lay out in the yard watching the clouds. He takes long hikes with me and is the best listener I know. Yup, he's actually quite amazing with his unconditional love. That little man would be Schattzie Wray, my mutt. :) Why don't they make human men as good as him?!?! lol

Most people would agree with what Thomas Jefferson wrote over 200 years ago: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal..." But what T-Jeffs left out (besides women), was a disclaimer: that although all men may be created equal, the "we are all equal" statement holds little weight from person to person. There will always be a social hierarchy: we each form judgments about who we like and don't like, and the way we treat these people is anything but "equal".

Because individuals still have these biases and prejudices, a we-love-everyone-equally Pleasantville is an impossibility... and it's so far-fetched that even the prospect of living in such a world is frightening. But this historical digression leads us to our relationships today, and how complex our personal caste systems have become. Today, we have levels upon levels of relationships, even amongst people we like. We have best friends, good friends, semi-good friends, friends we like to party with but can't trust, friends we can trust but are kind of boring, friends we haven't seen in years, friends we've seen last week... all types of friends.

So, how do we manage all these relationships, especially as impending weddings force us so stratify our friends even more? Instead of taking the "I like everyone equally" route, we can find a few lessons from history to classify our friends...

So, for this purpose, imagine yourself as an all-powerful despot circa the Middle Ages:

Serfs (unfree peasants under feudalism): You know those people that you call "friends" but are really glorified acquaintances? These are serfs. You don't really pay attention to serfs: you can't remember their names, occasionally forget what they look like, and get them confused with other serfs. The serf is the middle child, the forgotten Ninja Turtle (Rafael), and the guy you squint at on the subway because you think he looks vaguely familiar. We all have our serfs, and we all are serfs... sans the hard labor and bondage (for most of us).

Peasants (agricultural workers living on small plots of land): Peasanthood is what you strive to achieve when you're a lowly serf... that level of friendship where at least there's mutual recognition. Peasants are people you associate with a venue: an English class, a student organization, a volunteer event, work. They're usually one degree of separation away (friends of friends, or friends of family). They are the friends you'd actually stop to have a conversation with on the street (versus doing the quick-wave or head-bop), and friends who you'd wish happy birthday for... through Facebook.

Merchants (the medieval businessmen you'd lend money to): These are the people you'd consider good friends... They are the friends you went out with every now and then, have some fun stories about, and could incriminate with photographical evidence of less-than-stellar moments. They're a step above peasants, but not the friends that you would necessarily confide in with all your deep dark secrets. They are the friends that you wish you got to know better, but for some reason, you never did. Perhaps they were just too busy selling opium to children.

Nobles (the landowners who you invite to your extravagant dinner parties while the serfs and peasants starve): These are your really good friends. These are the friends you always go out with, the ones who know you well enough to take you home before you make a bad life decision. They are the friends who you keep up with often and genuinely care about. They know your quirks, your pet peeves, and your weird habits. Even though they may not be your "best" friend, they're the Phoebe to your Rachel and Monica. They are a part of your "crew" and know all your inside jokes... and who will definitely be at your wedding, if not in it.

The Court (the friends that you let live in your palace...your medieval entourage): These are your best friends. These are the friends who will take you home AND make sure the trash can is angled directly under your head. These are the friends who will listen to you ramble on for hours about your alien theories, and then gently convince you that scientology really is crazy. These are your friends who you'll call on the toilet, and they'll know it even before you flush. Even your dad knows the names of these friends. They've seen you angry. They've seen you cry. They've made you laugh when you were upset. They know all your embarrassing stories, and you know theirs... and you know the secrets will stay untold. You know you can trust them with anything, without fear of judgment. They are the ones who you'll call at 3 am for no good reason at all, if only to sing a few verses of Bleeding Love, burp into the phone, and say "I love you."

Ultimately, we have few nobles and even fewer members of the court in our lives: the majority of the people we know are merchants, peasants, and serfs. But we can't be landowners in everyone's feudal system. It's hard to climb that ladder, and the designation of nobility is sacred; too many nobles can dilute their importance, and then we often must discern between our good friends and peasants/serfs in disguise.

This exercise--and squeezing the most we can out of this analogy--may seem like a vain attempt to label something (friendship) that transcends categorization. However, like everything else, not all friendships are created equal in the eyes of individuals: we all have to figure out a way to pare down the wedding invite list. So yes, invoking the feudal system to describe modern-day relationships would make Jefferson recoil... but hey, sometimes history repeats itself.

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Greu de crezut că trupa este de origine suedeză şi mai ales că toate cântecele de pe cele două albume, ascultate recent, sunt reuşite.

Este genul de muzică pe care o poţi asculta pe repeat, fără să-ţi zgârie timpanul după prea multe audiţii şi din care descoperi sistematic magia. Ar merge ca fundal sonor în hypermarket, cafenea literară sau magazin de parfumuri.

Ca sound mă duce cu gândul la un cocktail Coldplay, Keane şi Aqualung. Doar din depărtare pentru că stilul este distinct iar versurile au ceva de spus de fiecare dată.

De fapt, ei sunt The Perishers şi nu prea pot să-i confund cu alte trupe de rock alternativ. Alte piese pot fi ascultate aici.

Best Friends (download aici) face parte din albumul Victorious, apărut în 2007. Aşa mi-au atras atenţia şi nu-mi pare rău deloc!

[audio=http://anaayana.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/best-friends.pdf]

My Heart (download aici) aparţine albumului Let There Be Morning, din 2005:

[audio=http://anaayana.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/my-heart.pdf]

It's my heart you're stealing
It's my heart you take
It's my heart you're dealing with
And it's my heart you'll break

It's my heart you're taking
It's breaking bit by bit
It's my heart you're dealing with
But you don't know about it

If you'd feel like I feel
And if you'd know what I know
I don't think you'd ever play me
I know you'd never play me

"Can we talk?"

And so, we talked.
(Well, he bullshitted, and I listened.)

"I didn't mean it, any of it, it was just pre-wedding jitters, and I'm sorry.
I know I'm an asshole for complicating things, so can you just punch me or something so we can go back to normal?"

How can it be 'pre-wedding jitters when they have literally only just got engaged? Everything should be full of excitement and love!

I tried very hard to explain what was preventing us from going back to 'normal', but he just didn't get it.

It wasn't that I wanted to marry him, it wasn't that I wanted to entertain the idea of anything more than friendship between us, it wasn't that I didn't want him to marry her. It was quite simply just that I didn't want him to make a mistake.

As far as I'm concerned, we'll probably both end up settling for someone who isn't quite everything we've always wanted. But I don't see why that matters, if you go into it with your eyes open. I don't need a husband who's going to be my best friend, I just need a husband (applications in the post, please!). I see no problem with keeping those roles completely separate. He, however, seems to have an issue with being closer to me than he is to his fiancé. But you can't steal someones history, all you can do is make your own, over time.

He loves her, she loves him, I like her - how could I possibly think that their marriage will be a mistake?
Because, before he's even got the ring on her finger, he's trying to change her into someone else.

And that, is a recipe for marital suicide.

As for us, we're trying. Everyone makes mistakes, and our motto has always been to forgive and forget.
We're not 'back to normal'. The dynamics of our relationship has changed in such a way that, I'm not entirely sure I know him as well as I thought I did. Forgiving is a given for us, but forgetting.. How do you forget something like that, when wedding plans are being forced in your face on a daily basis?

I think he's making a terrible mistake, and I hope to hell and back that I'm proved wrong.

Anyway..... it's my mum's birthday and my mum & dad's anniversary on Friday, but that's the day they go on holiday so the birthday tea is tomorrow night.  I got them cards today but I haven't got any presents yet so I'll need to get them tomorrow.  I have no idea what to get.

MM started his new job today :) while I was out shopping for mum & dad's stuff I got him a New Job card and one of those chocolate plaques from Thornton's and I got the girl to write in icing - Hi bigmigo xoxo :) it looks so cute!  Bigmigo is a nick name.  When I was on holiday in Spain I phoned him once and called him amigo.  Quick as a flash he called me weemigo :) how cute!  So he's Bigmigo and I'm weemigo.  I wrote it down for the girl in Thornton's and she even done the dots on the i's as little circles like I do :) I can't wait to give him it :D

I'm at my work just now but I finish soon.  Don't think I'm doing anything tonight so most likely I'll be back updating this ha ha xoxo

Kelley rolled a "J" in the Borders bathroom the second we had gotten there. I frequently asked her if she was okay, just so no one expected any thing and just thought she had diarrhea. We walked around a parking lot, smoking the last of the most delicious mary jay I have ever bought or even had, and enjoyed it as it came to us like a punch in the face. We wandered around, really happy, and just enjoyed every thing around us. It was very nice and simple, my favorite. The night before, we sat up drawing, talking, and laughing hysterically at NPR, "This American Life" until we couldn't bare having our eyes open any more. The usual us. I drew my current favorite illustration of "Cerebral Palsy Erica" and had the worst phone conversation in the world. I haven't been talking to Robert much, in fact I haven't called him at all. He calls me on occasion, and the phone call last no more than five minutes. This one lasted at least thirty, and I still don't understand one word he had said to me. He was on the brink of insanity because his mother was fucking the man next door. I put him on speaker phone, and wish I could of recorded it. I took some notes, as he told about green lights, means to an end, royal tough titties, estrogen levels, and too much nitrate in the hotdogs my mother bought. I don't like hotdogs, they almost made me vomit. Nothing he said made any sense, but only made me bitter. I hung up, Kelley's jaw was practically sogging downwards, latched off, in awe. She looked at me and sighed a "what the fuck." Shortly after, we wrote ranting pages on what had just happened. I need a new sketchbook. I have found the ability to draw daily, without the help of drugs. I think last night was the first time Kelley and I hadn't been on drugs but still managed to draw for countless hours. I feel satisfied. We made a lot of promises today on the hammock, after having a cigarette and doritos and cranberries off the bulk head. They won't be broken, they never are. Even if we don't see each other for ten months again.

My stomach is gurgling; I still don't understand how I ate pasta while watching a tv special on the world's largest man and woman. I mean, nothing against the super morbidly obese humans out there, but dear lord! I don't understand how they can get themselves to 800+ pounds. It was so sad that it was nauseating.

Yeah, I don't know.

If I was her, I know I wouldn't want to stay there ...

I would probably go insane.

Well, I hope they settle their problems becuase I don't want to see someone i've known for so long in pain.

She also said "Mike is 18, I'm leaving, he can take care of you.  You can fend for yourselves!".  Gina started running out of the house crying, while Mike was also bawling, with Gina saying "Just abandon us like dad did!"  Gina's father had did years earlier.  Gina ended up gonig to her neighbor Kimba's house, but called Becky and me, because we have been best friends since we were all seriously about two years old, so yeah.  She needs her best friends.

I will update you on this.

Best Friends Rushes 3,000 Animal Carriers to New Orleans To Support Families Encountering Pet Evacuation Problems
Amid reports that some families boarding evacuation buses are not being allowed to take their pets aboard unless they are in proper pet carriers, Best Friends Animal Society will rush 3,000 of the carriers to Terrebone, Jefferson and St. Bernard parishes in New Orleans as Hurricane Gustav bears down on the city.

“It’s unfortunate, but many people forget to prepare for natural disasters by keeping a carrier handy for easy pet transport,” said Rich Crook, rapid response manager for Best Friends and a veteran of Best Friends’ six-month deployment in 2005 to rescue animals during Hurricane Katrina in 2005.

“Our team will rush in 3,000 carriers tonight to supplement immediate needs at evacuation centers and we’ll get more tomorrow as needed,” said Crook. “This is looking like a very serious storm, much more powerful than Katrina, and people need all possible help to make sure their pets are out of harm’s way.”

With Gustav predicted to reach landfall as a possible Category 5 hurricane as early as Monday, Best Friends’ rapid response personnel deployed to New Orleans this week to help finalize animal evacuation plans in Jefferson Parish, the west suburb of New Orleans. In addition, Best Friends has conducted on-site assessment in St. Bernard Parish to ensure that an evacuation plan is under way.

Just three years after helping to rescue more than 6,000 dogs and cats following Katrina, Best Friends finds itself back in The Big Easy, but things are a bit different this time around.

“Compared to three years ago, everyone seems much more prepared for a storm,” Crook said. “But while transporting animals from shelters have been moving along nicely, we are also troubled by reports that some families evacuated their homes, but left their animals behind.”

Once the storm passes, Best Friends’ rapid response personnel, depending on weather conditions, will switch focus from evacuation support to recovery and rescue.

“We will be there as long as necessary to help local agencies with evacuation and recovery efforts—whatever the situation dictates,” said Paul Berry, chief executive officer of Best Friends Animal Society.

“Our rapid response team is well-trained, experienced, and will monitor need around the clock. And our Best Friends Network is the single largest animal rescue volunteer network in the country, so we’re well prepared, no matter what the scale of effort.”

Check their Rapid Response web page for more info on Best Friends preparations for the hurricane season.