Xanax For Sale

I was just going to write about another Benrik kind of day, but last night needs to be addressed. I was cleaning up some clutter in preparation for the move, and I came across some old photo albums. Photos mostly of the last few years, including photos of the wedding, the x, and the other dog. I had no problem taking off the wedding rings, but the photos remained. My mom and I played the game of me taking down my wedding portraits in her home while she wasn't looking, and she would put them up again when I was out of sight (freak). I knew these were still here, but still had not thrown them away. Only this time I was already emotionally drained, and so I pretty much lost it. I basically wallowed in my own self pity for a good hour. I missed the material things: the house, the pool, ALL my savings. I missed the other idealistic things, as well: a husband, the possibility of family, some sense of partnership against all odds. I pity texted a few friends, but it was D who rescued me. D works with me and although we've only known each other for a little while, in some ways I feel that we already know each other so well. He took me out, bought me drinks, and told me it was going to be okay, and that the crap in my head made sense to him (recipe for success). The best part was that I knew he really believed what he was saying, and in me. So, on Benrik Day 3, I am to throw something away that I like. I'm not sure I like the photos. They're just a pictorial representation of what I used to have at another point in my life. But now, the memories (the bad, the ugly, and even the good) will just have to make room for new ones.

My task today was to gaze at at everyone pondering whether they might be the "one" & act in consequence. This morning I was pretty sure I found my soulmate in the snoring pup at the foot of my bed. There was only one other person in the office today, and I must say she was not amused. She got rather sketchy whilst being gazed upon, started fidgeting, then offered me some Hershey's Kisses. Does that mean it worked? Not all the encounters were met with such bad results. Mr. Post Office Worker took an exceedingly lengthy time discussing my options regarding insurance and delivery confirmation. He was lovely, but probably a bit lovelier 20 years ago.

1.2.2004 | Dead Pool It's a new year, and it's time for a new Dead Pool. So far the girls have suggested: Ronald Reagan Pope John Paul Jerry Lewis Liza Minelli George Jones Kirk Douglas Walter Cronkite Michael Jackson Alan Alda So come on, who do you think will bite it in 2004?

1.2.2004 | It's always the quiet ones...
If you met me in my previous life, you'd say I was nice, but quiet. I speak when spoken to and answer when asked. I am usually not one who calls up just to 'chat' (although I am certainly working on being otherwise). I am the listener and commenter, not the ringleader and initiator. I think to myself inordinately too often. So yes, I am quiet. But as of late, I am bursting with things to say. I have so many things to say, inane and otherwise. Perhaps it is my head that is too filled with thoughts of this and that. Perhaps it is my heart that wants to shout out all of the beautiful and scary muck that's been churning inside to the boy who's caught my fancy but isn't available to hear it all (oh, the irony). Perhaps I'm going through dt without a girls' night lately. Perhaps it is the fact that I have nothing to do, no classes to teach, and have had all this time off for the last couple of weeks. Certain expectations are asked of the quiet ones. We are there when you need us, but would never dare ask you to sit back and listen to us kvetch about our horribly bad days. It is a bit awkward to convince you that those things do happen to us despite our reluctance to voice it. Therefore, this has been a pleasant outlet. A boy told me yesterday that he thought it was brave that I aired out my thoughts online. Brave perhaps, but the outlook would have been much more bleak had I not started this and my head imploded. It is you who read about the buzz in this noggin and hear me vent about ubiquitous nonsense. But a blog can only take one so far. So I ask myself: Would I be less quiet if I met you tomorrow? It seems we shall see.

D gifted me with the Benrik book this xmas. I have been enthralled, continually flipping through the pages and giggling to myself. As noted in my goals for the year, I will attempt to complete the days outlined in the book like many others will. Day 1 of Benrik is a warm-up, a good starter for the hysteria that will ensue. I had several options to choose a task from, and in some bold move I decided I would do not one, but two tasks to start the new year on a good note: Give your genitalia pet names: In a decidedly Polynesian flavor, I have named it Ipo. Insult an insect: Karma be damned, there was a rather large ant that needed to be told it was fat, had no purpose but to attack innocent bystanders, and that he should just go back to his hole and die.